Unmaking Percy

Part III - IV, continued (The Dizzy Tent)

It was a tiny nook, filled with nothing but colourful mismatched cushions and the heated perfumes of all who had lingered there before. The air would have been too thick with scent to breathe comfortably, were it not for a small window cut into the fabric, through which poured the fresh silver water of the moon.

Leo sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor and reached out to him with a hand and a smile. Percy stood, wondering how to bridge the impossible distance of those five feet separating them, until Leo gave him gentle a push.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

Percy dropped on the floor by Leo's side. Part of him almost wished it would be clumsy and hasty: that way, he would not have time to worry about what he did that he should not be doing, and what he was not doing that he ought to do. But another part of him thought, it would be a shame to rush through this, all this, and miss most of it.

Leo guided him gently to sit on the cushions, positioning him with his back against the dark red fabric that partitioned the little nook off from the other rooms. Percy did not know what to do with himself, nor with Leo. His previous experiences had always drawn him taut with the tension of performing. But Leo moved and kissed and slid with a languid ease, pouring a slick heated oil over every second. He seemed so rid of any expectations, and so steady in his pleasure of giving pleasure, that Percy felt none of the rigid anxiety that had taken hold of him before in such moments, grinding his enjoyment to a few poor crumbs.

The golden tree clasp that Percy always wore, pinned to his cloak or vest, fell to the floor with a muted thud. Leo freed him of his tunic, and Percy barely noticed himself helping Leo out of his, until they were both bare chested, warming themselves with the sight of the other. Percy reached a hesitant hand to stroke the soft cream of Leo's skin. The lutist smiled and kissed him once more, pouring his warm oil down Percy's throat, coaxing a little moan from him. When they pulled back, Percy, drunker with panic and eagerness than he was with wine, trailed his lips over Leo's neck and collarbone. His fingers traced fire, caressing Leo's chest, his waist, his thighs, grazing every inch of their weakness and ache. For a moment, Leo was made entirely of helpless sounds and helpless tremors. Percy grinned.

The situation reversed quickly.

He could feel Leo's body stiffening sweetly next to his, his skin sweating gold under the light of the lanterns. His hands caressed Percy's chest, and then whispered a promise down his stomach, his waist, the inner softness of his thighs. And Leo broke promises in the most blissful, maddening way. He would linger with his lips, but deny his mouth; brush with his fingertips enough to make Percy ache for his hands, but keep them to himself. His hands – his hands were long and lithe, and Percy could see the delicate work of his fingers, eager to mould Percy's pleasure into strange shapes.

He was used to concealing most of what he felt, but now Leo gripped him with an honesty that brought him intense joy at being found out. His senses tightened around a single point of warmth in his body. Kneeling before him, Leo rested his hands on Percy's parted knees, bowed his head down, and then tilted it back up at him.

"May I?"

Percy overcame a gasp and nodded, so feebly he barely moved his head. He was drunker than he should be, and not as drunk as he wished he was. He could not stop the moan that bloomed from his lips now, and the shame of it seared him with an odd delight. He glanced at the fabric that hid them from the other rooms: flimsy, barely there. He stiffened a little. But the honeyed warmth of Leo's mouth on him melted every resistance he tried to conjure. His hands stroked Leo's blond hair; his eyes were closed, so that he might better see with his touch; his lips were parted in a rushing silence. He focused his all in doing nothing, so that another might do everything to him, and he feared he might spend himself in the effort.