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TW: sex, drugs and crime. Eskel/Letho.
The dealer spat a torrent of blood over the leather cladding of Letho’s desk and groaned as Auckes twisted his arm behind his back. Letho frowned at the mess before him.
The dealer spat a torrent of blood over the leather cladding of Letho’s desk and groaned as Auckes twisted his arm behind his back. Letho frowned at the mess before him.
Both the man in question and the oily, coagulated blood oozing over his paperwork. There was a shard of tooth in the centre of the pool. Auckes didn’t pull his punches. He was merciless and loyal; an odd dichotomy that Letho valued highly. “Are my instructions a little clearer?”
The dealer groaned again, only to yelp when Auckes twisted his arm a little harder. “Yes,” he gasped.
“Good,” Letho leaned back in his chair, the side of his jaw pressed to curled knuckles. “Get him out of here. And make sure every asshole from here to the docks sees his face.”
“Good,” Letho leaned back in his chair, the side of his jaw pressed to curled knuckles. “Get him out of here. And make sure every asshole from here to the docks sees his face.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Auckes chirped, smirking openly, before dragging his dazed victim out of the office. Yet another lowlife scumbag looking to chip a little off the top to pad out his pockets, hoping that Letho wouldn’t notice.
Thinking that Letho didn’t run a meticulous eye over the figures every day, seeking out the tiniest glimmer of betrayal. He couldn’t afford to let anything slide, not with Haute-Bellegarde breathing down his neck.
“Lemme get that for you, boss,” Serrit murmured, melting from the shadows to clean Letho’s desk. He was used to cleaning up his brother’s mess and had brought the cleaning caddy from the cupboard down the hall.
By the time he was finished, dusting cloths and wipes saturated in blood, Letho’s desk was gleaming again. Serrit stood back, hands planted on his hips, and surveyed his work.
But Letho’s attention had drifted before the first squirt of disinfectant spray. There was only one thing that could distract him from the complex web of shadows in which he existed. His boy.
Eskel had been there the whole time. Sitting unobtrusively on the low couch at the far end of the office, obscured a little by a tall, potted dracaena plant, trying to read the novel grasped tightly in both hands. They had bought the damned plant together.
At a garden centre of all things. Serrit and Auckes had spent an hour competing on the most dangerous bomb they could make by combining the various chemicals in the pesticides department, while Eskel had pawed at the houseplants.
“Need somethin’ that likes sun, somethin’ that’ll make you open the curtains now and then.”
Letho smiled into his knuckles, because the line he’d conjured next was one of which he was still inordinately proud. “Only ray of sunshine I need is you, darlin’.” Eskel had turned the colour of the silk claret shirt he’d been wearing at the time.
A shirt that Letho had bought him because he knew it would feel good against his scarred and weathered body. But he’d bought the damn plant that needed a shit ton of sunlight and watched Eskel bask on the couch in the evenings...
...the setting sun adding orange highlights to his untidy mop of black hair.
Serrit followed Letho’s eyes and smirked. “Call me if you need anythin’.” The door closed softly behind him and Letho’s attention drifted back to his desk. The blood was gone, but it was still tainted. His space, his damned furniture.
It needed to be purified, every trace of defilement removed. He needed something pure and right to take its place. “Eskel. C’mere.”
Eskel shifted on the sofa, then hesitated before closing his book. Letho waited patiently. There was no need to rush or cajole. Eskel always came to him. It was an irresistible draw. A magnetism that neither of them could really explain, but Letho had a hunch.
Letho figured Eskel was excited by danger. He liked flirting with the threat of power and violence, knowing he was cradled safely against it
He’d be hard, his cock straining against the fly of his slacks, his pulse hammering in anticipation. Not because of the blood, but because of the effortless way Letho wielded his authority. Murderers that would serve Eskel tea and biscuits at Letho’s command...
...hardened criminals that shied into the shadows when Letho walked by. Why else would a man as intelligent and downright fucking beautiful as Eskel stay at Letho’s side?
Eskel drifted over at long last, walking stiffly. He was trying to hide his anxiety with an insolent little slouch; indifference and feigned confidence. Letho turned in his chair, appraising Eskel’s broad form as it finally halted at the side of his desk.
He took a moment to admire the flare of bared collarbones, with the slightest hint of black chest hair against dark skin above the top button of his shirt. Narrow hips, broad shoulders, thick biceps.
All perfectly framed in the neat, expensive clothes that Letho had placed in his wardrobe.
Letho pushed back to make space between his chair and desk, indicating it with a subtle jerk of the chin. “Let me see you properly, pretty thing.”
Eskel’s lips twitched at the nickname. He wasn’t used to it, not even after all this time; the praise, the worship. Society had told Eskel that the scars on his face made him ugly, unworthy, and Eskel had internalised it until it became fact.
They had been working on reframing the word for nearly a year now. Letho sat back as Eskel shifted awkwardly into the space made for him, hands fidgeting from the edge of the desk to the sides of his legs and back again.
“Relax,” Letho whispered, sitting up to run his hands up the outside of Eskel’s thighs to his hips. The starched material rasped under the calluses on Letho’s fingers and Eskel sucked in a sharp breath as Letho pressed his face to his groin...
...nuzzling the hard length of his prick through the fabric. Letho hadn’t been entirely sure what he wanted before, he only felt a vague need to have Eskel close, but now that Letho could smell Eskel’s arousal, feel the heat under his palms...
he knew exactly how to sweep away the nastiness of the last hour.
Letho pulled open Eskel’s belt and took great pleasure in easing his trousers and boxers down the plush curve of his ass. Eskel’s prick bounced free of its confines, dripping a bead of precum as Letho’s breath teased over its head.
Letho nosed along the satin skin of Eskel’s shaft and pressed his face into the soft curls at the base. Eskel shivered, letting out a soft, strangled sound that hinted at fracturing control.
“You smell delicious,” Letho breathed and Eskel’s cock flicked in response, his palms floundering against the edge of the desk. His composure only cracked further when Letho mouthed over his sac, watching Eskel’s face dissolve in awed pleasure.
Letho’s smirk of triumph was hidden by his mouthful and he rolled his tongue around the weight of Eskel’s balls thoughtfully. Letho could see the thrill in Eskel’s hazel eyes; the excitement of being held so tenderly in the jaws of a predator.
It was dizzying, almost too much to handle. Eskel’s legs shook and he held his breath to steady himself, to stop the freefall into breathless abandon. Well, that wouldn’t do at all. “Up.”
Letho tapped the desk and Eskel obeyed, lifting his naked backside onto scrubbed leather. There was another shiver and Letho tutted, his smile knowing. Eskel liked being on his desk. Any desk, really.
Their relationship had started on Eskel’s desk at the university; one desperate, heady tryst after an evening of exchanging glances and clumsy flirtations in an expensive bar. Eskel had been there to meet a friend that hadn’t appeared; Letho had been there in search of obscurity.
After that, Eskel had been pulled apart on several desks in the most spectacular ways, his thick thighs spread, his barrelled chest heaving as Letho fucked into him, hard and deep; biting and sucking his ownership onto skin where Eskel couldn’t hide it.
But tonight, Letho had something gentler in mind.
He eased Eskel’s shoes off, allowing his trousers to follow them to the floor. The socks could stay simply because they were attached to neat black suspenders that framed the thick muscles of Eskel’s legs perfectly.
Eskel was still a little coy, only the press of Letho’s thumbs on the inside of his knees kept him spread and accessible.
Letho slipped his fingers beneath those carefully arranged suspenders, teasing with soft caresses as he mouthed wet kisses over Eskel’s thighs. Strained grunts became breathless gasps, coyness melting under the heat of wanton need. “You good, darlin’?”
“Yeah,” Eskel replied, hands bracing behind him as Letho swallowed his cock seconds later. Letho shrugged one leg over his shoulder, drawing Eskel close so that he could feast without straining.
The office filled with the noises of wet slurps and Eskel’s increasingly desperate moans as he was devoured. Eskel pressed his heel into the middle of Letho’s back, trying to pull him closer, and Letho resisted just to listen to Eskel growl in frustration.
