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Of French and Leather

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Everything was going fine, ok?  He was in control, he could handle this.  There was absolutely nothing left of his very short feelings for the block of ice known as Antonio Salieri.  Maybe if Wolfgang kept repeating that to himself he’d make it through this stupid French class so he could escape back to composing without making a bigger fool of himself.

This was the second French class he had with the other man.  In the first, he’d been so excited to have a class with Antonio Salieri, the only other composer at the school whose talent was equal to his own.  His hopes of working with the man had quickly been crushed when he was cold and borderline rude to Wolfgang.

 So now Wolfgang refused to think about how dark Antonio’s eyes were, or the way his mouth moved to form perfect French words, or the way his forehead creased when he was thinking.  Nope, he didn’t think about any of that.

He’d actually been very good for the last few weeks, burying any stray thoughts underneath nights of drunken parties when he managed to fuck his way through as many people as possible.  It usually did the trick.  At least this semester he’d stopped having to jerk off in the bathrooms right after class.

Everything was fine, it was under control.  And then Antonio Salieri walked into class wearing a dark blue shirt with a leather tie and everything went to shit.  Wolfgang’s mouth went dry and he had a vision of shoving Antonio up against the classroom door, dropping to his knees, unbuttoning those jeans and just—

“Monsieur Mozart!”

“Huh?”

“If we could have your attention please?”
The French professor called his attention back to class, or tried too.  Wolfgang pretended to take notes while he feverishly tried to call his mind back from the fantasies.  For once, it wouldn’t listen.  It just kept supplying him with the phantom feel of leather against his wrists, over his eyes.  It teased him, insisting on wondering what Antonio would taste like on his tongue, feel like buried inside of him.  Wolfgang had never been this turned on before and all over a stupid tie.

He snapped back to attention as his professor started to announce pairings for whatever they had been practicing.  “Now pair up and practice, Wolfgang and Antonio…”

He was going to die..

 

Hearing that he’d been paired with Mozart, Antonio sighed to himself, but moved his things to be next to the hyper man-child.  Mozart had been out of it all class period, and wasn’t likely to snap back.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Mozart.”

“Salut Salieri, ca va? »

"je vais bien, et toi?"»

Mozart grinned at him in reply, but then looked around at the rest of the room.

"t'as entendu ce qu'il a dit?" Antonio demanded, annoyed.

"j'avais d'autres choses qui occupent mes pensees"

"on parle des vetements"

"oh... “ Mozart thought frantically, trying to focus on anything other than Salieri’s tie, and failing miserably as the part of his brain operated by his dick took over “ta cravate me plait beaucoup...elle est tellement...suggestive"

Salieri froze, trying to figure out if Mozart meant what he thought he meant.  His tie was leather; it’d been a gift from an old mentor at a demo over the weekend, not a collar, just a gift from a Domme who’d enjoyed mentoring him.  But Mozart couldn’t possibly understand, could he?

"Uhm...qu'est-ce que tu chantes-la?"

Mozart felt himself start to panic, searching for words that could wipe away the implications because this was Antonio Salieri who was probably the last person who would be interested in BDSM.  Just as he opened his mouth, the professor swept over, asking how things were going.

Seizing the chance, Salieri told her, “"j'etais juste en train de complimenter monsieur mozart sur son collier étoilé, » and pressed his hand over the pendant on Mozart’s chest, feeling the other composer’s heart start to pound.

"tres bien, monsieur salieri.

“Merci.”

She moves away, and Mozart is staring at him with wide eyes, heart still rabbiting under his palm.

“"As-tu compris?" Mozart asked, voice a whisper.

"Ouais" Salieri wondered what Mozart would do if he slide his hand up a little bit, if he put some pressure against the other man’s throat.

As if in answer, Mozart leaned his head back just a little, calling attention to his long neck and Salieri wanted to mark up.

Things had been difficult for Salieri.  Wolfgang Mozart was compelling, with his beautiful music and his carnal energy, but Antonio had been raised to devote himself to his music, and while he had in college finally found time to handle his sexual desires, he was not prepared for a potential distraction to his music.  That hadn’t stopped him from looking at Mozart, and aching for him.  Hadn’t stopped him from wondering what he would look like with rope marks.  Now here they were, in the middle of French class, dancing around something new.

Salieri licked his lips, "je crois qu'on doit repeter un petit peu plus, est-ce que tu veux prendre un cafe avec moi en discutant les...vetements?"

He felt Mozart’s heartbeat steady under his palm as the other man nodded, "ou?"

Reluctantly, Salieri withdrew his hand and quickly wrote down his address and a time on a notecard, handing it to Mozart.  The other man took it, tilting his head and smiling up Salieri through his bangs.  “I’ll see you then.”

Oh, he was beautiful.  Salieri struggled to appear calm as he gathered his things and left the classroom, mind whirling, repeatedly asking him ‘Did you just do that?  Did you really just ask Wolfgang Mozart to your house to discuss a possible BDSM relationship?’  Maybe he’d misinterpreted what Wolfgang wanted.  What if he just wanted a quick, kinky fuck?  What if he wanted more?

Wolfgang was almost floating as he left the classroom, still feeling Salieri’s hand on his chest.  It had been warm and perfect.  He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through his next class.

The professor droned on and on, and Wolfgang tried to doodle music, as he normally would, but his brain was still scrambling.  Now it was reliving the conversation over and over.  He could have misinterpreted, it was possible that Salieri truly had just been discussing clothes.  Wolfgang shut those thoughts off brutally.  He’d partaken in too many liaisons to allow doubt to screw him over.  If there had been a misunderstanding then Salieri would just hate him more than before and they’d go on their merry way.  He certainly wasn’t going to curl up on his couch with Tiramisu flavored ice cream and cry while watching Firefly.

“Wolfgang, Wolfgang!”

“Hmm?” the composer snapped out of his reverie to look at Lorenzo.

“Where is your head today?  Are we going to continue working on the opera this afternoon?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.  Something came up.”

Lorenzo glared at him, “Something always comes up!”
“I know,” Wolfgang shrugged, “But this is really important.”  He dodged his friend and headed towards the bike rack.

“Damn it Wolfgang, please tell me you aren’t going to try to woo Aloysia again.  That turned out terribly last time,” Lorenzo had followed him to the bike rack.

“Aloysia?  I have forgotten her,” a complete lie, but those memories were still too painful to think about.”

“Is it Constance then?  Her sister, that is also a terrible idea.  Leave the Weber’s alone.”

“You’re starting to sound like my father,” Wolfgang snapped, putting his bike between them.  “I promise that what I’m going to has nothing to do with girls.”  No, it was all about a brooding Italian with dark hair and eyes that promised to make Wolfgang loose his mind.

“Fine.  But tomorrow.  We have to get this act done.”

“Tomorrow, later Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo lifted a hand, but Wolfgang was already halfway down the block, pedaling as fast as he could towards Salieri’s apartment.

Salieri sat in his kitchen, watching the clock.  It was two minutes until Wolfgang was supposed to be there.  He’d brewed himself a mug of tea, and then discarded it.  He’d brushed his hair and put it back in its ponytail.  He’d taken extra care to make sure his tie—the one that had incited this whole thing—was perfectly tied.  He was ready, whatever the afternoon had in store.

Precisely on time, there was a knock on his door.  Salieri opened it to reveal Wolfgang.  “Come in.”

He’d rehearsed this.  He was just going to ask straight out, if he’d understood what Wolfgang wanted correctly, but the other beat him to it, leaning back against the closed front door.

“So, I didn’t realize you were into leather.”

“It is a relatively new development for me.  I haven’t seen you in local munches.”

Wolfgang shrugged, “I wandered through when I first got here, but I didn’t find any Dom’s I liked.”

The heat that had been simmering under Antonio’s skin began to spread at that, and he stepped closer, into Wolfgang’s space, “So you are a sub?”

Adam’s apple bobbing on a swallow, Wolfgang nodded, eyes flickering between his tie and lips.  There was still a lot of talking to be done, but Antonio was sure neither of them would focus until some contact was out of the way, Wolfgang’s eyes already looked a little rabid.  He cradled the smaller man’s face in his hands, “May I kiss you.”

“Please,” and Wolfgang pressed up off the door to meet him halfway.  Immediately Antonio knew that he’d underestimated how strong his attraction to the other was because he didn’t want to even think about talking.  He just wanted Wolfgang’s skin under his hands.  He wanted to see if he could make the other man gasp again.

When Antonio kissed him, everything else fell away as all of the lust that had overwhelmed him in class surged back to the surface.  Wolfgang needed things to go farther, faster than was strictly safe.

“Wolfgang,” Antonio mumbled, trying to pull back, but failing, “we have to talk.”

They pulled back just far enough to be able to speak, still breathing the same air.  “I want you, I want this, please—“ Wolfgang stopped.  Salieri had called him by his first name, but was he allowed to do the same?  “Please, sir?”

Hearing ‘sir’ drop off of Wolfgang’s tongue nearly made Salieri loose himself enough to just slam the other man against the kitchen table and fuck him until they both went hoarse.  Almost.  He suppressed the shudder, “We have to talk limits, safe words, jesus Wolfgang, we barely know eachother.”

The other man leaned into him, “I trust you.  And I haven’t stopped thinking about how much I want you to tie me up since you walked into class wearing that leather tie.”

That fucking did it.  No serious discussions were going to happen until orgasms had been achieved. “I want to put rope marks on your neck,” he growled in Wolfgang’s ear, feeling the other man shudder and rut against him, “will you let me do that?”

“Fuck yes”

Antonio led Wolfgang into his bedroom, flicking on his lamp to fill the room with soft light.  “Undress for me.”

Wolfgang did so, pulling his shirt over his head, toeing off boots and socks, sliding his jeans down his legs.  He grinned impishly at the strangled noise Antonio made upon seeing his purple lace boxers.  Before he could take those off, he was stopped.

Purple lace boxers should definitely be illegal because the way they looked on Wolfgang was sinful.  “Someday, if we continue this and if you’ll let me, I want to spank you in those.”

“I am so on board for that.”

“Good.” Antonio went to the chest at the foot of his bed and brought back a length of rope.  He held it up for Wolfgang to see.  “Do you want a safeword?”
“Just ‘stop’”

“Okay, nothing I do should restrict your breathing but if you can’t say it, I want you to lightly hit me, understand?”
Wolfgang nodded, body tingling, “Please.”

“Sit in the chair,” Antonio arranged him so that he was sitting sideways, legs over one arm, back to the other, with the Italian behind him.   “Take them off.”

It was entirely possible that Wolfgang had never taken his underwear off so fast.  Naked, he leaned back into Antonio’s stomach, looking up at him.

“You’re gorgeous.”  Antonio brushed his hand down one side of Wolfgang’s neck, lightly scratching his nails where the rope was going to be.  He watched his body react, nipples perking, dick releasing a dribble of precum.  “You look like you’ve been hard for hours.”

“Since I saw that tie,” Wolfgang confessed, eyes closed.

“We’ll have to take care of that.”  Antonio wound the rope into a loose circle, sliding it over Wolfgang’s head and situating it under his Adam’s apple.  He let his other hand continue to brush over the man’s upper body and neck, trailing touches followed by harder scratches.  Wolfgang gasped and arched into his touch, mouth falling open.

Antonio continued that for a few minutes, waiting until Wolfgang had acclimated to that and then he began to tighten that loop, moving to play with his nipples. He kept tightening, pulling back harder and harder until the blood had been cut off and Wolfgang was gripping his arm. 

The tight feeling of the rope around his neck threatened to send Wolfgang far away but the continued touches on his chest kept him aware of how desperately hard he was.  He was aware that his hips were thrusting into the air, searching for friction and finding none.

Just as he started to loose consciousness, Antonio loosened the rope, and pulled Wolfgang into a kneeling position as his hand went to the other man’s dick, pulling him to orgasm in three quick tugs.

The blood suddenly returning him to consciousness and the hand on his cock made Wolfgang’s eyes snap open, crying out as Antonio drew his orgasm forth.  He sagged back, allowing the Italian to guide him back onto the chair.

Wolfgang was shaking slightly, curling into him, and Antonio climbed into the chair to cuddle him through the aftershocks.  Slowly he came back, nuzzling into the leather tie Antonio was still wearing.  “I want to—“

Wolfgang slid to his knees, facing the chair, hands resting on Antonio’s knees, intent clear.

“You okay?” One last check in.  When he nodded, Antonio let his legs fall apart.

The other man nearly purred, leaning forward to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, moving aside boxers to get to his prize.  “I thought about this in class,” he muttered, licking the head.
“Oh?”

“Yeah, I wanted to press you up against the door,” Wolfgang decided that talking was less important than getting Antonio’s cock in his mouth and promptly began sucking Antonio to the root.  He tasted just as wonderful as Wolfgang’s brain had taunted him with and in a post orgasm state, Wolfgang had no problem deep throating and letting Antonio fuck his mouth.  One hand fisted in Wolfgang’s hair, the other gripping the arm of the chair, Antonio came down Wolfgang’s throat.

Wolfgang climbed up into his lap, curling around him.  “That was intense.”

“Good intense, or so bad you never want to see me again?”

Wolfgang chuckled, “I didn’t know you have a sense of humor.  Maybe I should suck you off more often.”

Antonio let his hand grip Wolfgang’s side, “Maybe you should.”

Wolfgang tilted his head up to meet his eyes, “So we’re continuing this?  I mean, I’d love to.  We can get to know each other.” His eyes cut away, “That’s what I wanted.”

Antonio sighed, he wanted it too.  He wanted to learn Wolfgang—from how he took his coffee to how he sounded when he was spanked.  But “I don’t want this to interrupt work.” 

It was possibly the weirdest way he could have phrased that, but Wolfgang understood.

“It won’t.  I promise it won’t.”

Antonio sighed, already thinking about how his life was going to be a lot more complicated in the future.  “Then yes, we’re continuing this.  But, no more drunken fucks with other people.”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t—You will- we are” Wolfgang paused, “I thought this was going to be a relationship thing, not just a fuckbuddy thing.  And I would never cheat on my boyfriend.  Or my Dom.”

Eyeing the bruises that were already beginning to show, Antonio mused, “We’ll need to get you a collar.”