Takumi, he decides, looks much better when he's not talking. The improvement lies in the silent curve of his cheekbone under Leo's palm, brown-silver hair mussed over a familiar expression. That much hasn't changed, at least-- there's still balefulness in his eyes, rebellion stamped over his cheeks and mouth. Leo smiles at him, pushing a gloved hand through the pale strands twined through his fingers.
"Don't make that face at me," Takumi mumbles against Leo's thigh, hands pushing his knees apart, mouthing over red-bitten skin. Automatically, Leo's expression turns sharper, all teeth and lidded eyes as he curls his fingers into the soft hair under his hand. "It's irritating."
Leo sits back in his chair, elbow propped carelessly on the plush armrest. For a moment, he says nothing, tongue caught between his teeth-- he lets himself revel in his own silence as he takes in the sight of Takumi on his knees, cheek brushing over his bare skin, eyes flickering with mixed heat. There's a deep, smug satisfaction in having him this way-- in having a prince knelt before him, mouth bruised and bitten, head between his legs like it belongs there.
"Why ever not?" He drawls, spreading his legs wider, languid. The air is cold over the wetness Takumi's mouth leaves behind. "Gods forbid I act like I'm enjoying this." The laugh that follows edges into a wince when Takumi bites his thigh again, annoyed.
"I don't like you," Takumi intones, nails digging red indents into his skin. His breath is warm, body solid and radiating heat in front of him. The rustle of his clothing, the faint puffs of his breath-- Leo feels this, almost dizzying, and it's with a jolt of heat that reminds himself this is real. "Don't get any wrong ideas." His palms leave searing paths in their wake, and Leo swallows hard.
"Is that so," Leo says, an unsteady murmur, cursing himself inwardly at the audible lapse of control. Takumi's dark eyes flash up to his face, calculating-- he's smart, Leo reminds himself, lofting an eyebrow in response. He'd sense any weakness in a fraction of a moment. "Your current position would indicate otherwise." Another laugh, and he digs the heel of his boot into Takumi's side. Derision rises high in Takumi's eyes once more, but Leo waves his palm dismissively before he can speak-- "I'm still waiting for you to put your mouth to better use."
For a moment, the look Takumi gives him makes him afraid he's going to get up and leave. With an uncharacteristic turn of obedience, however, he sits up higher on his knees and shifts his hands further up Leo's legs-- thumbs pressing into the soft skin on his inner thighs, firm in how he keeps them apart. Leo sits back again, feeling heat twist through his gut, feeling himself stir when Takumi mouths over his hip. The skin of his stomach jumps when teeth dig into the jut of bone, dragging, leaving a scornful red mark behind. They already litter his thighs, the bites, bruising red and purple under Takumi's derisive mouth.
Get to it, he thinks, impatient, fingers steady where they card through his hair. It's long, meticulously tied-- he wants to pull it. Untie it. Tangle it into wrecked knots. Much like the rest of him.
The thought leaves him when Takumi reaches up, fingers finding where his cock lies hard and untouched against his stomach. Reflexively, he tenses, hissing out a little breath as those calloused fingers shift, grip him tight, thumb rubbing slow over the thick ridge of the head. He's already leaking clear, slick where it's smeared over heated skin-- he clenches his fingers tighter in Takumi's hair, a little shiver rippling through him unbidden. When Takumi moves, then, mouthing deliberately wet and sloppy over his dick, Leo lets his head tip to the side with a shiver.
The chill of the air is forgotten in favor of Takumi's tongue, hot and flat and laving over his cock in controlled, even movements-- Leo's mouth shapes silent around the word fuck, throat suddenly dry, free hand curling into a tight fist where it rests against his cheek. He sees smugness, then, flash brief over Takumi's expression-- it suits him, somehow, to manage to look like a complete asshole even while on his knees like this. Leo clears his throat, willing his voice to steady, tugging Takumi's hair in a sharp jerk.
"Do you know what you're doing?" It's a demand, tinged with a hoarseness that definitely wasn't there before-- Leo almost doesn't recognize the heat in his own voice, want rough and gravelly in the hard lines of his words. "Get to it."
Somehow, that makes Takumi laugh-- muffled against his skin, disdainful, fingers teasing where they move slow over him, eyes almost knowing where he can see him through his lashes. Insufferable.
Another comment begins to bubble high in Leo's throat, scathing, but he bites it back when Takumi finally inhales a quick breath-- and takes him into his mouth, little by little, mouth unbearably hot and slick around him. He tenses, then, breath catching and fist clenching in Takumi's hair-- his eyes squeeze shut, exhale shuddering through his nose. He's hyperaware of the sounds that reach him, then: the slow shifting of fabric every time Takumi moves, obscene wet noises where he takes him down, slow, throat and mouth all flexing heat.
"Oh," Leo sighs out-- then again, harsher, strangled-- "oh," when Takumi swallows, fuck, cheeks hollowing with the force of it. Heat's thick in the back of his throat, choking, settling heavy behind his hips. He wants-- wants to hold Takumi's head still, fuck into his mouth until he chokes, wants to see him panting obscene and breathless with it. As if sensing the very thought, Takumi's hand flies up, pinning Leo's hip back, disallowing movement where his other hand works taunting and wet over where he can't quite swallow all the way.
A tremor shakes through his thighs, anticipation quivering tense down to his core before Takumi hums out a noise, somehow satisfied, and finally moves-- head bobbing under Leo's hand, slick noises bouncing off the silent walls, shameless and filthy and somehow, somehow in control of it. Leo grits his teeth against the sudden onslaught of heat that slams into him-- tries to stop himself from squirming, from letting out the gasp threatening in his chest, from whining out undignified, incriminating noises.
Still, he can't help how his hips jerk forward against his hold, wanting faster, deeper, thick and full over the softness of Takumi's tongue. There's a haze fogging through his head, heat clouding his eyes and patching over his skin, cheeks dusted pink-- he doesn't realize he's biting his lip to silence himself until it starts to sting. Maybe Takumi knows what he's doing, maybe not-- either way it's good, throat working around him, rhythm steady and building heat like ocean waves higher and higher in his chest.
Any other thought in Leo's mind fades in favor of how Takumi moves under his hand, barely hesitating in how he swallows him down, deliberately sloppy and loud and still fucking smug, somehow, wringing stamina from him in wet increments. It builds harsh in his stomach, legs twitching around Takumi, breath uneven and erratic-- somehow, he finds it in himself to be disappointed in the encroaching peak, eyes glued to Takumi's face. He wants-- vehemently, wants this image burned into his mind, wants Takumi like this, slotted perfectly between his legs. He looks best this way.
"I'm--" he finds it in himself to roll out a warning, voice wavering only slightly, something coiling tighter and tighter in his throat and stomach. Takumi's eyes flash up to him once more, heated and self-satisfied, and he swallows around him hard, pointed. An ugly fantasy emerges foggy in Leo's mind, then, right on the edge-- before either of them can do anything else, he yanks hard at Takumi's hair, hard enough to pull him off with a startled wet noise.
Leo meets his eyes, reaches down and takes himself into hand, hard and wet and so close-- and smiles, pumping himself jerky and slick, before the heat snaps and he comes all over Takumi's face.
He lets his head fall back, then, hips rolling as it stripes sticky over his cheek, mouth, hot and smeared white over Takumi's skin-- the last ebbs of pleasure are still rippling away when Takumi lets out a furious noise of indignation, yanking himself out of Leo's grip.
"Fuck you," Takumi spits when Leo laughs again, eyes falling down to where he's vehemently wiping cum off his face, expression screwed up with anger.
"That's the general idea, yes." Leo answers, breath finally slowing, smugness of his own reflected in the white of his smile. The air is cold against his skin, again, and when Takumi shifts to pull away he almost tugs him back. He ignores the answering huff, watching him stand, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve as well.
Another quick movement takes him by surprise-- Leo jerks back, shocked, when Takumi stands halfway before shoving himself into his space, knees bracketing Leo's bare thighs, perched menacing and pointed, crowding him back in the chair. For a moment, he's silent, before amusement curls its way back into a smile, meeting Takumi's eyes unflinchingly.
"I like you better," Takumi says, voice rough, a hand jerking to grab rough into Leo's hair, "when you're not talking."
"Interesting." Leo's hand comes to Takumi's thigh, then his hip, knowing eyes scorching a trail down his body. "I could say the same for you."
Takumi bares his teeth in a twisted mockery of a smile, eyes flickering, grip tight. He mirrors Leo in expression, in posture, in the layers of meaning threaded through every touch-- and that, above everything, tells Leo more than Takumi could ever say.