Chapter Text
“Black goes with black, hun”
Izzy flinched. He’d been in the store for more than twenty minutes now and this was the first the salesman had said to him beyond a basic acknowledgement of his presence. Though even this was just a passing comment as the salesman dashed from the changerooms back to the front counter.
The store had been busy this whole time. In fact the entire mall was bustling, the air thick with late-afternoon sweat and struggling air conditioning. Izzy longed to get home, take a long cool shower and be soothed by a quiet, empty space. No sickly discount store fragrances assaulting his nose, no frenetic boppy music offending his ears. Just cold, sweet silence.
But Izzy needed something nice for Jackie’s wedding and his usual black on black on black probably wouldn’t cut it.
What the fuck was he even doing, holding a brown button-up shirt and black trousers. He was out of his depth.
“I won’t be too much longer, hun, I promise.”
Izzy was ready to scowl in response but the tall, young salesman winked and Izzy felt his fury melt a little. It wasn’t the salesman’s fault the counter had been at least three people deep at any one time with a separate queue for the changerooms. Maybe this late of an afternoon they didn’t bother putting on a second salesperson, Izzy guessed.
He abandoned the shirt and trousers back to their respective racks, taking care to put his size back in the correct order. He noticed the rack of shirts was out of order so he rearranged them while he waited.
The young guy had made quick work of the remaining customers and the store was finally clear.
“I’m all yours,” the salesman cooed with another wink as he walked from the counter to where Izzy stood. “I’m so sorry, someone called in sick and it’s been manic.”
“That’s ok,” Izzy replied despite himself as though the last excruciating twenty-seven minutes had been nothing.
“Now,” the salesman said with a little sigh that seemed to reset his focus, “what are we shopping for today?”
“A suit,” Izzy replied, gruffness already returning.
“No babe,” he said with a winning grin, “what’s the suit for? For work? An event? Just for funsies?”
Funsies? Izzy shuddered. Why did people insist on inventing stupid new words.
“A wedding,”
“A wedding. Okay. So what I like to do is start with one piece that I would absolutely die for and then build out from there. You get me? So, tell me, do you see anything you can’t live without?”
Izzy looked up into the man’s face, really looking at him for the first time. He’d been a vaguely good-looking tall man in a nice blue suit up until this point, flitting around keeping customers moving, flirting with everyone but never taking so much time as to hold up the queue.
He was surprisingly handsome up close: fresh face lined with manicured brown stubble; bright, sparkling eyes that hinted at mischief; and a manner that was somehow warm, flirtatious and professional.
Izzy flicked his eyes down, not wanting to get caught staring. But his gaze found a name badge and he had to squint to read ‘Lucius’ . Fuck he should wear his glasses out.
“Lucius,” the salesman confirmed, clearly catching Izzy staring. “Not Luscious like some guy called me this morning, can you believe that? At least he was cute.”
Izzy wasn’t sure how to respond to this so he put his hand out to shake and said, “Izzy.”
“Nice to meet you, Izzy,” Lucius said, shaking his hand with a little laugh. “Now don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you.”
Izzy blanched and let go quickly. Lucius waited patiently.
“There was a blue tie I didn’t hate,” Izzy admitted slowly. “But it didn’t go with anything.”
Lucius smiled knowingly and hurried off to find the tie Izzy meant. He returned only to usher Izzy towards the changerooms.
“But… I need more than this…” Izzy spluttered.
“Don’t worry hun, I’ve got you. You get started without me and I’ll bring you things.”
Before long, Izzy found himself standing in the changeroom feeling like an absolute git. He was in a crisp white shirt, buttoned up with the tie done up loosely, with nothing on the bottom except black cotton boxers and black socks. He’d folded his dark charcoal jeans and black tshirt and stacked them on the chair in the corner of the changeroom.
How Lucius had even known his size without him offering it was beyond him. Maybe that was just a working-in-retail skill.
Christ he was grateful for his steady job at the hospital. Not that he was down on retail work, he just hated the idea of working with people. He scoffed. Like he didn’t work with people? Well, there wasn’t a lot of chatter when he was either operating or doing quick surgical consults.
He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked tired. There were bags under his eyes and he hadn’t bothered shaving this morning, grey and white stubble already coming through. He’d slicked his salt and pepper hair back at least, though he could see a faint band of sweat breaking out across his hairline.
He was too old for this shit; weddings were a young person’s game. What the fuck was Jackie thinking marrying again. How many even was this now? She’d been divorced from the last one, what, eight months now? How’d she even found a new one so quickly.
But he owed her too much not to show. At least he’d manage to wriggle out of the engagement party with a well timed double shift.
A pair of dark blue trousers and a matching jacket were suddenly slung over the the top of the changeroom door, breaking Izzy’s thoughts.
It was a different blue to Lucius’ suit. Lucius’ was a very rich blue pinstripe paired with a peacock green tie; the colours shouldn’t have worked together but somehow the boy pulled them off. But he’d picked out a different blue for Izzy, it was unpatterned and a slightly greyer blue, almost navy if it had been darker.
“You ever wear blue, babe?”
“I prefer black,” Izzy replied through the door.
“Well, your choice of tie suggests you’re ready for a change.”
Izzy didn’t reply. Ready for change. What the fuck would this kid know. Like he hadn’t been through enough changes in his time. But he pulled the jacket down to hang on the hook while he slid the trousers on.
Lucius’ voice sang out again, “you know this suit would look fab with a dusty pink shirt. I could even hook you up with a pink pocket square moment to pull it together.”
Izzy wrinkled his nose in disgust and wondered how to respond without being too much of an old bastard.
“But something tells me you’re not a pink kind of guy. All good. Just come back out when you’re decent, gorgeous!” Lucius called.
Fuck, enough with the pet names. Why was everyone hun and babe and gorgeous? It was sickening. Izzy would have felt flattered if he hadn’t overheard Lucius saying the same to literally every other customer who’d come through here.
Izzy exited the changeroom and was glad to see it was still just the two of them. He secretly hoped no one else would come in and take Lucius’ attention away from him. It was near to closing now so his chances were good. He would hardly admit it, but he was actually having a good time having someone’s full attention. It had been a long time…
Izzy turned to look in the large full length mirror on the back wall but Lucius grabbed him lightly by the shoulders and spinning him to face away.
“Not til I’m finished, babe. Gotta wait for the big reveal.”
Izzy rolled his eyes but relented.
Lucius clicked his tongue, looking him over. “What are you, forty-two?”
“Fifty-five,” Izzy stammered, caught off-guard.
“No hun,” Lucius laughed kindly. “Your shoe size. But I adore your honesty.”
“Oh,” Izzy replied, blushing. “Eight? Nine?”
But Lucius was already walking away. “We carry European brands, so European sizing,” he explained, returning with a shoebox.
Izzy stepped back to sit down on a far-too-plush lounge to do the shoes but Lucius motioned to him to stay standing.
“Don’t sit, babe. You’ll crease.”
Izzy thought of the lines either side of his mouth and the crow’s feet at his eyes and only held himself back from saying “too late” when Lucius unceremoniously dropped to his knees in front of Izzy. He put long delicate hands on Izzy’s calf to lift his leg.
Izzy looked down just as Lucius looked up to meet his eyes. Izzy looked up hurriedly and busied himself counting ceiling tiles. The last thing he needed was to get wet at the look of this man on his knees in front of him. Fuck. He felt like such a creep.
Lucius made quick work of lacing up tan-brown shoes. He produced a container of sewing pins from a pocket and put one between his full lips. He rolled Izzy’s pant legs up and pinned them in place before returning to his feet.
“I have black leather shoes already,” Izzy complained.
“Black goes with black, remember? Blue goes with brown. Hmm… and you’ll need a belt.”
“I don’t need all of this.”
“Oh, no pressure to buy, babe. I promise. I just live for dressing people up. You could walk out with nothing but the tie–or even nothing at all–and it won’t have been wasted time. Just trust the process, okay?”
Mustn’t work on commission then, Izzy thought cynically. Or maybe this is part of the sales pitch. Reassure people they can leave with nothing and make them feel guilty if they don’t buy everything. Well, he wouldn’t be drawn in.
The wedding was in the same church as Jackie’s last three weddings and the reception was in her backyard. After more weddings than he had fingers, she must have finally come to her senses about blowing money on fuss and pomp. Why she didn’t just go to the courthouse, he couldn’t understand. Or why get married at all.
Anyway, the point was he hardly needed something this fancy. But he never went out these days. He couldn’t explain why but he wanted to look nice for a change. Even if no one ever noticed him.
“If the weather was cooler, I’d put you in a waistcoat too. You’d look good in a waistcoat.”
Izzy smiled despite himself. He thought he looked good? Then he remembered Lucius calling every guy in here babe and his smile dissolved to a frown. More sales pitch bullshit.
“If you were my date, I’d grab you cufflinks, a tie pin and find you a matching watch. But let’s keep things simple.”
Izzy blushed at the thought. He wondered if Lucius was single and wondered if there was a subtle way to ask. He didn’t have a date to the wedding. He never brought a date. Though he knew Jackie’d keep a plus one open for him if he ever did. But this guy was far too young and far too handsome. Late twenties, maybe even early thirties? And who the fuck could just pick up a stranger like that.
Lucius strode away to browse a cylindrical rack of pocket squares. He twirled the cylinder in frustration, fingers running over fabric but not settling on anything. His nails were painted dark blue to match his suit. Izzy hadn’t noticed before.
“Damnit,” Lucius said, clearly not finding what he was looking for. He looked up with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I’m not off the clock yet. Gotta keep it profesh.”
Izzy would have smiled at this little glimpse of the real man behind the salesman, but profesh? Ugh.
Lucius reached up to his own immaculate suit jacket and pulled the pocket square out. He shook it out and refolded it then crossed to Izzy and arranged it in Izzy’s breast pocket.
“But that’s yours,” Izzy started.
“Nonsense, it’s the store’s. And it must be our last one so you’re in luck.”
Lucius didn’t move away. He finished puffing the pocket square up like it was some kind of flower arrangement and slid Izzy’s tie off. It seemed far too intimate, almost indecent. But Lucius was completely focused on the tie.
“You need a double Windsor with your build, babe. The single’s not bringing out your best. And you’ve got a lot of best to show off.”
Lucius popped Izzy’s collar up against his neck and slung the tie back over his head. Izzy took a breath to disguise his nervousness at this unexpected closeness and couldn’t help but breathe in Lucius’ scent.
It was an intriguing blend of smells: sharp and citrusy like grapefruit but warm and spicy. Ginger maybe or amber. And something more complex underneath. Cardamom? Maybe even coriander. Christ, what kind of wanker walks around smelling like what you’d get if you ordered a ‘salad’ at one of those stupid fucking swanky cafes. God, it suited him though: sour, warm, spicy, complex.
Izzy couldn’t really feel Lucius’ hands over the layers of fabric but a finger brushed his neck and he felt goosebumps ripple up his skin. He hoped Lucius wouldn’t notice. This was humiliating.
Lucius stood back, tilting his head to the side and running his tongue over a canine tooth. He nodded in satisfaction.
“Are you ready to meet yourself, Izzy?”
Jesus, what was this? One of those makeovers that seemed to always be playing in one of the many hospital waiting rooms. Not that he’d ever be caught watching that crap. Not by choice. Maybe if there was nothing else on and he was on a quiet night shift and there was no one else around to catch him getting far too invested in the reveal…
Lucius whirled him around to face the mirror.
Izzy was surprised to find he looked good. Really good. Younger. And handsome. Striking, even. He didn’t know he could look like this.
Lucius was standing next to him, studying Izzy’s reflection appraisingly. God, even the younger man wasn’t outshining him, just complementing him in his own suit.
Fuck it, just ask him you bastard.
But he knew it was the clothes and not him. This was stupid. He just wanted to get unchanged and leave; he wouldn’t even buy the tie.
“You know, you’re reminding me I have a wedding coming up,” Lucius said absently. He turned away from the mirror to glance around the store. “I really need to get something for it.”
Just ask.
“Your boyfriend must like it, you dressing like this all the time.”
Fuck that was awful. You’re the fucking worst.
“Oh yeah,” Lucius preened. “He loves it.”
Fuck.
Izzy was panicking. This had gone off the rails so fast. He hadn’t worked out what to say in this eventuality.
“Well I hope… I hope he treats you well.”
Oh god. Just kill me.
“Actually he’s taking me out straight from work. Got a nice dinner planned at my favourite restaurant.”
“I’m glad,” Izzy said awkwardly and wondered how many dress pins he’d need to bring about his own swift death.
Lucius returned to fussing over Izzy’s suit, pulling the shoulder seams to sit up higher and folding a seam at either side of his waist, adding a few more pins as he went. He gestured for Izzy to take off the jacket so he could pin the shirt as well.
“You’ll need these tailored, of course–”
Ha! He knew it was all a scam. He opened his mouth to protest but Lucius had hardly paused.
“Don’t worry, it’s included in the price. That is, if you’re still interested…?”
If he was still interested…
Lucius leaned in conspiratorially. “You want to know a secret?”
Izzy felt his heart race. He nodded, unable to find the sounds to make up the word ‘yes’.
“You know how movie stars look good in literally everything? It’s coz they have every item tailored or made for them personally. Nothing off the rack. They’re not better than us, just better-dressed. That and makeup. And lighting. But a few hems and darts here and there and you’ll look like you should be modelling men’s fragrance.”
This was stupid. Izzy was stupid. Crushing on some complete utter stranger half his age who was taken anyway. And all because he, what, did the job he was being paid to do and said Izzy would be good looking if only he wore different clothes? Stupid.
Though he had to admit there was something sexy about people who took pride in their job (regardless of what they did). It showed passion and precision. And he respected that.
Five minutes later Izzy was back in his own clothes and standing nervously at the front counter while Lucius rang up the absolutely exorbitant sale.
“Do you have brown socks? Or even just ankle socks, doesn’t matter what colour?”
Izzy looked panicked.
Lucius smiled and added a pair of ridiculous-looking blue and brown argyle socks to the sale. Though Izzy had to admit the colours did match perfectly.
“Rewards card? Or just give me your number,” Lucius looked up with a cheeky grin.
“Excuse me??” Izzy’s eyes went wide.
“Your phone number and I can look you up in the system.”
“Oh. I’ve never been here before.”
“Alright, let me sign you up.”
Izzy shook his head but Lucius continued.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get ten per cent off with sign up so it’s worth it just for that. And I’ll need to take your details anyway so we can text you when your suit’s ready to pick up. We say a week but it should only be a couple of days. The rest you can take home today. So, Mr Izzy…?”
“Hands,” Izzy said reluctantly. He hated giving out any information about himself.
“Hands,” Lucius repeated with a smirk.
Izzy wasn’t sure if he hoped Lucius would be here when he picked up the suit or desperately hoped he wouldn’t.
He paid and Lucius handed him a bag with a string of thank you for shopping with us style nonsense. Izzy hardly heard it.
He wandered out of the store in a daze, wondering if he’d done that right. He turned back to say thank you but Lucius was pulling an opaque white shutter down with a rumbling crash.
Izzy checked his watch. Five minutes past close for the entire mall. Shit.
He walked back to his car and placed the bag gently on the backseat, worrying it would tip over in the boot. He shut the door and paused, wondering what to do next.
He had an early tomorrow so he shouldn’t eat too late. He knew there was nothing in the fridge but he didn’t feel like grocery shopping right now. And he hated ordering takeout if he had time to cook. But he hadn’t been out to a restaurant in the longest time. He locked the car again, grateful for free local parking and suddenly keen for a stroll down several blocks to the strip of restaurants.
He took his time, indulging in stepping over every crack in the footpath and noticing small details like a group of succulents clustered at the base of a lamppost or the way some green traffic lights were a cooler green than others. Was it an older bulb or a variation in the coloured plastic cover? Were they even bulbs these days or LEDs? Something to google later, if he remembered.
He should get into walking again. He tended to work out in his apartment but there was nothing like a walk through the town at dusk. He missed having a dog to walk. Just another heartbeat to go home to really. But he couldn’t look after an animal with his job. It was just too unpredictable and he couldn’t bear the thought of an animal going hungry waiting for him.
Izzy looked up as something caught his eye. He stopped in front of a Thai restaurant and then stepped quickly into the shadow of a protruding side wall as he recognised Lucius sitting at a table in the front window. Izzy was glad Lucius hadn’t looked up.
He studied Lucius for a long moment. There was no one sitting opposite but he’d likely only just got here and there was a table setting laid out for a second person. If Izzy lingered for a while maybe he could catch a glimpse of the boyfriend.
He told himself this was a totally normal thing to do. Noticing succulents, noticing lights, noticing people. That was fine, right?
Lucius didn’t seem to be waiting for someone. At least, he didn’t look up to see who’d entered every time the front door swung open. And he wasn’t checking his watch or his phone. In fact, he’d pulled out a book from a satchel hanging over the side of his chair and began reading it. Izzy couldn’t make out any detail from this distance but it had the distinctive look of a textbook.
If only Izzy still smoked. You could get away with this as a smoker. Just a dude savouring a quick ciggie, glancing nonchalantly over the world. Take away the cigarette and you’re a creepy old man hiding in the shadows.
Izzy took a step further back as an impeccably handsome man approached Lucius’ table. But he didn’t sit. There was a short exchange and the man dragged the empty chair away to a different table.
Izzy sighed with relief.
Oh god, what if Lucius had been stood up? Maybe the boyfriend texted before he left work and he just decided to get dinner anyway. But Lucius didn’t have the look of someone who’d been disappointed. He looked neutral. Content if a little lonely.
Izzy needed to eat. He’d never eaten here before, favouring a Vietnamese place further down. He could walk in, pretend he hadn’t seen Lucius, take a table opposite. Catch his eye or even wait until Lucius noticed him first. Would Lucius walk over with some charming line? Or would they both gesture at each other awkwardly, both indicating they’d be the one to move to the other table until they both smiled and laughed.
Why say he has a boyfriend if he’s single? Or where is the boyfriend if he does have one? Izzy’s mind ran through a number of possible explanations but couldn’t move past the undeniable truth: he didn’t want slimy fucking fifty-year olds hitting on him at work. Or hitting on him at all.
Izzy moved away, suddenly nauseous that he was basically stalking this kid. He’d order his usual from the Vietnamese place and eat at home like the fucking loser he knew he was.
~
Izzy transferred rice paper rolls from a paper bag and cardboard tray onto a proper plate and laid it on his dining table in front of a single lit candle and a glass of water. He may live alone and eat alone, but he liked the ritual of eating at the table.
In the background his favourite aria played. Martern aller Arten (Tortures of every kind) from Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail (The Abduction from the Seraglio). He’d put on the full opera initially and then decided he was fooling nobody but an empty apartment, and put the aria on repeat.
As he ate, he subconsciously cast himself as Pasha Selim and Lucius as Konstanze. An odd choice perhaps when Konstanze had been kidnapped by pirates and was spurning the advances of Selim in favour of loyalty to her beloved. Why not cast himself as the hero?
What was wrong with him that the libretto made him wet?
Willingly, unflinchingly
I choose every pain and grief.
Well then, command, coerce me,
Roar, fulminate, rage,
Death will liberate me in the end.
Were these really the words he longed for someone to say to him? Consensually, of course. With a smirk or a wink or some kind of indication this was goading, that they were both in on it. Hurt me, daddy. Break me, daddy. Not the unwavering, virtuous defiance of the actual Konstanze. And Eva Mei in this particular recording. What a voice. Talk about sexy and passionate and precise.
Kostanze trilling and scaling on endless ten minute loops in the background, Izzy washed up his plate, made a small pot of peppermint tea and headed to the bedroom to unpack his purchases. The items seemed too small and too elegant laid out on his bed: shoes, socks, belt, tie, pocket square, cuff links and tie pin. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get talked into the last two. Or any of it really. He’d go back tomorrow and return it all.
Except he couldn’t. No returns on tailored items. Well the suit he could wear, but he didn’t need all of this junk with it.
He noticed a bit of frayed fabric at the edge of the pocket square. He picked it up to look closer and realised it was actually the original tag. It had been cut neatly along the line of the seam and the white plasticy material was greyed and fraying slightly. The silk itself was completely intact. So this wasn’t the last of that particular product line, borrowed from a mannequin or display at the start of his shift.
Izzy held the square to his nose and breathed in to confirm his suspicion. Citrus and ginger and spiced amber. This was Lucius’ own. It surely wouldn’t smell that strong if it had just sat in his front pocket for the day.
Kostanze reached a high C and held it for several bars somewhere in the distance while Izzy felt suddenly overwhelmed, unable to process this information. Was this a gift? A hint? Just someone so dedicated to their job that they would sacrifice their own personal property to what they considered a worthwhile cause. Was that what Izzy was? Worthwhile?
Izzy put the items away in his closet but kept the pocket square out. Kostanze sang on, looping back around again to the familiar words “Nur dann würd’ ich zittern” (only then I would tremble, or perhaps only one thing would make me tremble).
He took his tea back to the kitchen and washed up the pot and cup. He turned off the music, brushed and flossed his teeth, and stripped down to his boxers. Dirty clothes went in the hamper, the emerald ring on its chain at his neck went on his bedside table along with the other essentials.
Phone, pager, glasses, ring.
He needed to get up early for a seven to seven shift. He was used to the twelve hour stints, it having been his life for his entire career, but he could never be sure if twelve hours would turn into sixteen or twenty if he was needed. He tried to keep a strict sleep schedule so he could at least bank on a foundation of eight hours sleep.
But often it was a strict eight hours of rest. Sleep never came easily to him. He couldn’t take medication as the hangover would mess with his work. There were times he gave up and did housework or read a book or watched trash on tv. Or times when he’d lie awake staring the ceiling, catastrophising his past actions and future choices. And before that, he’d had someone to soothe him to sleep. But that was a long time ago.
He’d been trying a new thing the last few months: he would keep the light off, try to keep his mind blank and try to imagine his organs doing whatever they would be doing if he actually was asleep. It only worked about half the time, but half was better than nothing.
He lay on his back now, covers only pulled up to his waist on such a warm night. There was another thing he could try. Sometimes it knocked him out after, sometimes it woke him up too much. One thing would make me tremble.
He tugged the flat sheet up higher, up to his armpits, not wanting to distract his mind from a fantasy with the reality of his own body. He slipped a hand under the sheet, brushing fingers over chest hair to find a nipple. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes at his own touch, mind already cycling through fantasies before settling on something deliciously forbidden and uncomfortably recent.
He didn’t usually fantasise about real people. Just figures: composites of old flames, fictional characters and people he’d seen in porn; gender indiscriminate or fluid; body parts changing depending on what was sexiest for the scene. Sometimes he’d flicker in and out of being both people: fucking or being fucked, giving or receiving, domming or subbing. It didn’t matter; it was all fluid. But today, as dirty and wrong as he’d feel about it later, there was one person on his mind.
They were in Izzy’s bedroom. Lucius was on his knees, running hands up Izzy’s calves. Izzy looked down just as Lucius looked up through long lashes, tongue pressed up against parted lips.
Izzy rolled onto his right side, more comfortable like this. His right arm was stretched out to the side, but his left hand moved to find his other nipple, brushing it with his thumb til it hardened, then alternating flicking with an index finger and pinching lightly. The sensations seemed to run a direct line to his clit and he tipped his pelvis back and forth, longing to fuck down on someone. He moved back to his other nipple, trying not to let one get too numb or over sensitive to his touch.
Lucius raised an eyebrow suggestively and he ran his long fingers up Izzy’s legs, blue nails catching the light. He grabbed Izzy by the waistband, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. Lucius reached into his black boxes to pull out his cock and Izzy watched his face light up with glee at the length and girth.
His left hand slid over his body to rest over his boxers. He smiled at how wet they felt. He rubbed idly, tracing the shape of his vulva with the flat of his fingers. He was tempted to thrust under the fabric, rub his clit, plunge fingers into his cunt. But he’d been doing this a long time; he knew what would and wouldn’t get him off. It was strange, his brain interrupted, the things he liked from another were so wildly different from what he wanted from his own hand.
He steered his mind back to the fantasy.
Lucius was clutching the base of his cock, squeezing slightly. He ran his tongue from the underside from base to tip, flicked and kissed the tip teasingly and then suddenly rocking forward on his knees to take Izzy’s full length into his warm, wet mouth. Izzy grabbed a fist of his hair to fuck his face.
Izzy’s hips thrust upward against his hand but he kept stroking gently. With his right hand, he pulled his tits together and stretched thumb and middle finger out so he could rub both his nipples at the same time.
Lucius pulled back from sucking Izzy’s cock and licked his top lip slowly, savouring the taste of Izzy’s precum. “Let me fuck you,” Lucius pleaded. “Let me fuck your ass, daddy. Let me show you how I take care of men like you.”
Izzy was breathing hard. He rubbed fingers into his boxers more deliberately, trying to touch himself the way someone else would, rubbing his clit or sliding down the slick, smooth channel inside his inner labia. He cursed, frustrated and rolled over onto his back again.
“Men like you.”
He pushed pillows out of his way, not caring if they were knocked over onto the mattress or onto the floor—they could knock his lamp down to smash to pieces for all he cared in this moment.
He gathered up a section of sheet and blanket at his side, bunched it up and pulled it between his legs. He rolled over with it, holding it in place with one hand and letting it wrap under his body. Face down on the mattress now, he turned his head to the side, not wanting to crush his nose and prevent himself from breathing. But he tried not to turn his head too far to avoid pulling a muscle in his neck.
“You want to know a secret?”
He held the bedding in place with both hands now, experimentally grinding down onto it. He reached around to his back to curve the bedding in against his ass. Both hands stationary on the bundle against his cunt, he brought his legs up to kneeling so he could grind down using his ass and thighs.
“You feel that, daddy? That’s my cock. That’s me fucking your ass. Can you take me?”
Izzy ground down harder, the pressure against his clit and ass perfect. He could feel his pleasure mounting as he panted harder. It felt like running up a hill sometimes, unsure if you’d reach the top. But he found the peak sooner than he expected, grinding into fabric and his hands even as he knew Lucius was thrusting into his ass.
“I’m going to come in you. I’m going to fill you. You’ll feel me drip out of you and down your legs, you filthy fucking whore.”
Izzy moaned as he shuddered forward, trying to hold the bedding exactly at this spot and rub against it, drawing out his orgasm.
But it was over quickly. Almost an anti-climax.
Fuck he needed to get laid properly. This was pathetic.
He was alone. The cock at his ass was just a rolled up bit of his own stupid, rumpled bedsheet.
He propped himself up on an elbow to wipe a line of drool from the corner of his mouth and was disgusted to see a larger circle of it than usual where his mouth had rested on the mattress.
He got up, pulled the sheet and blanket straight again and rescued his pillows. His lamp had tipped over but not broken, thankfully.
Fuck he was pathetic. A wave of guilt and shame washed over him. Lucius was just some nice guy who went to restaurants and tried to sell washed-up middle-aged jerks like him pretty clothes so they could pretend they were young and beautiful too.
Izzy wouldn’t think about him again.
He reached for his phone from the bedside table to check the time but was instantly distracted by several missed texts.
Jackie >> 21:26
Hey you still coming Sat after next? Youd better have rostered your dumb ass off. None of your on-call shit ok?
Jackie >> 21:27
Call it exposure therapy amiright?
Jackie >> 21:29
And dont worry about a date. Therell be some single babes there. One guy in particular exactly your type. About time you got lucky. Xx
Izzy texted back a simple ‘Y’ like it was a confirmation to the dentist, rolled over and tried not to think about the pocket square burning a hole in his bedside table drawer.