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It turns out that, for all the fuss that was made about it, this dance is actually very boring.
This is only just barely a surprise; any event that requires chaperones is an event that Lindsay generally doesn't look forward to. But it is true. Lindsay has had maybe a bit too much to drink, by now — he's accustomed to Bacchanal rites; the feeling is hardly unfamiliar — and successfully slipped away from his chaperone, and yet it is still boring.
"Beautiful, precious, brilliant," he's leaving kisses all over Leo's face, "my beautiful brilliant Leo."
"When I see you sometimes I forget how to breathe." More kisses on Leo's neck, on his shoulders. "My Leo, my lovely loving Leo —"
Ash's head is thrown back and he's breathing heavily.
Probably in most situations "being ignored while your husband kisses and praises someone else" is not enough to get Ash hard. But he has kind of been having a lot of sex lately.
In lieu of hiding his face in a pillow, Leo hides it in Ash's shoulder, and then promptly realizes that this is a terrible plan because hiding your face in the very muscular shoulder of a guy who is making little whimpery noises does not reduce sex-related embarrassment.
Leo is wearing too many clothes. He should be wearing fewer clothes.
No, Leo is wearing the exactly right number of clothes, because if he is wearing this many clothes no one has to look at him.
He might fight a little bit.
Lindsay makes a soft confused sound and clings to him and — doesn't fight him.
Burying his face in Ash's shoulder was totally ineffective last time but he is going to try it again. For science.
"He's right," Lindsay says, very softly. Leo's neck needs kissing.
Nononononononono absolutely none of this should be happening it's terrible
Lindsay kisses down Leo's breastbone, and down his stomach, and down —
aaaaaaaaa
He clings to Ash.
It's-- nice, when he wants something, and is frightened of it, not to have any say in whether it happens at all.
This, Lindsay has quite a bit of practice with.
He's very enthusiastic, and he knows Leo very, very well.
"Nononononono-- please--"
Leo doesn't get any choice in it. Leo can be as scared as he wants, he can ask Lindsay to stop, and Lindsay will do whatever he wants to him anyway. It feels safe, and uncomplicated, and freeing.
Ash buries his face in Leo's hair and whimpers and can't stop himself from thrusting up a little bit for friction.
It's so hard to think, and so unpleasant, but he doesn't have to; he can just be carried away on the waves of sensation. Little details keep clicking into focus: the hitch in Leo's voice when he pleads with Lindsay to stop, the way the light shines on Lindsay's hair, the pattern of the cloth on the chair, the way his clothes suddenly feel too constricting around his body.
Lindsay is intimately familiar with Leo's signals, with the way his thighs tense up, would be able to tell in an instant if Leo actually wanted this to end. He moans around Leo and doesn't end it, doesn't slow down —
He's Leo's he's Leo's he's Ash's he's Leo's — Lindsay is safe and owned and wanted and loved — he moans again, moves his tongue in the way he knows Leo likes —
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