Something about Leo had always drawn Elliot's eyes.

He supposed that had been the problem from the beginning: he simply couldn't look away. Even when his servant wasn't his servant and was instead a scruffy orphan within the confines of the House of Fianna, Elliot still couldn't look away.

In fact, he was certain he wanted to touch instead. That was the logical progression of looking, wasn't it? At least, that was what his mind and body told him wholly as he found himself seated cross-legged at the end of his bed within the Nightray estate, watching Leo stretch up to place a book back onto a high shelf within Elliot's room.

Leo had a certain awkwardness about him that he found incredibly… attractive. Elliot wagered that it had something to do with while Leo was small and petite, he was mostly legs – long, lean legs, rather like those of a colt's, as tall as its mother's and yet no where near as coordinated. Still, even with that slight clumsiness, Elliot found himself entranced by the way Leo would tip back onto his heels, contemplative as he organized one book after the other, and the noble wished, deeply, that he could run a hand from ankle to thigh, feeling every slender piece of sinew wrapped in fabric that honestly did nothing to flatter his servant's form.

Perhaps it was best that way, so no one else's eyes would linger for too long.

Leo's head tipped to the side, and Elliot found himself suddenly wanting to touch the fall of his hair that followed. Glossy and thick and pitch black, so black it reflected near-purple in its intensity. He wanted to drag his fingers through it, to yank and tug and pull Leo's head back so that he could fasten his lips to the side of his throat and feel his pulse jump, hard and hot, underneath his tongue.

Oh. Oh. That wasn't the only thing that was hard and hot in that moment, and Elliot flushed, attempting to shove his attention back to anything, anything else, even though he had certainly forgotten what he was doing before he got this point. His eyes crawled down the slow arc of Leo's back, and when those small, slender hands came to clasp loosely at the slope of his lower back, Elliot's gaze fastened there, and then just a bit lower.

He wished that the folds of clothing were no longer in the way – desperately, in fact, so he could see the full details of the curve of Leo's rear bared to him. Elliot knew the softness of his skin well enough, the paleness of it and with every wicked thought that crossed his mind – of how he wanted to dig his fingers into that flesh, to knead it and part it and shove himself deep inside –

As if his arousal weren't apparent enough, the flush that sharply cut over his cheeks made it even worse. Elliot bit his lower lip in an attempt to stop a low groan, but stifling it at this point was nearly impossible, especially when Leo turned and simply looked at him over the edge of his glasses, a certain slant of light making it all to easy to see the dark glitter of his eyes beneath his bangs.

Elliot's breath caught in his throat.

"Were you staring at something, Elliot?"

"No!"

The answer came far too quickly, and Elliot swallowed as he sunk back. He belatedly thought to draw his knees up to his chest, huffing into them as he glowered at his infuriatingly beautiful servant. Leo always did this to him. Always. "I'm not staring at anything."

"No?"

Elliot gulped down his next breath of air as Leo slowly drifted towards him. There was that awkward, elegant grace again – all legs, Leo was, and he was all the more lovely for it. Legs and hair and small, but long-fingered hands – talented, talented hands, that when wrapped around him, Elliot always swore he would die from the perfection of their every stroke and slide –

"I think you were looking at me." Elliot could almost hear the arc of Leo's eyebrows, no matter if they were unseen.

"I-… I wasn't!"

"Did you like what you saw?"

There was that blush again, hot and unyielding as it spread down his neck. "I said I wasn't – "

"I can't blame you if you didn't," Leo casually continued, and Elliot could only continue to stare as his servant's hands lifted up to the collar of his coat and began to unlace the ribbon there first. It floated to the floor, and following it, Leo began to make swift work of the buttons down the front of it. "Seeing me in the same thing, day in and day out, can be a bit… tiresome."

The coat hit the floor, and Leo started with the shirt underneath immediate. Elliot couldn't move – couldn't really breathe, actually, with his eyes transfixed on the sight his servant made, stripping in front of him as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do. Anyone could walk in, at any moment – oh, god, he should at least lock the door –

Elliot jumped up at that single, frantic thought, making a dive for the door to turn the lock. Leo, unfazed, didn't spare him as much as a glance as his shirt dropped to the carpet as well, and it was then that Elliot turned and properlystared.

Leo – beautiful, pale, delicate-boned and slim-framed Leo – wrapped up in the trappings of a simple, but no less alluring corset. It was an elegant, dark purple affair, a slightly shiny fabric that was more than likely satin, with the barest hint of lace around its edges, and bound tightly in the back by a pair of trailing black laces, tied in a neat bow. It drew his waist in just slightly – but god, Leo was already so slender, it made him look narrow enough that Elliot thought he could wrap his hands around him and maybe touch his fingers on either side.

He needed to remember how to close his mouth again.

"L-…Leo! What are you wearing – "

"Oh, this isn't all of it."

Elliot continued to openly gawk as Leo so very calmly undid his belt and fly, and toed off his shoes before slipping his pants off entirely.

Elliot expected to see bare legs.

Elliot did not see bare legs.

Instead, his servant was wrapped up in barely opaque, flimsy material, but this time, Elliot could find no reason to complain. Simple, but starkly black panties were the first thing to draw Elliot's eye, with the delicacy of lacy garters dangling overtop. The garters' teeth were digging into the tops of equally black thigh high stockings, with a sheen to them that denoted some kind of terribly soft material.

Where did Leo get his hands on this stuff?

To hell with it. Elliot didn't even care. More importantly:

"… Have you been wearing that all day?"

Leo turned partially towards his master, hair swinging over bare shoulders, every sinful tense and twist of muscles cording along his legs seeming intent on tormenting Elliot further. "Yes."

Elliot's mouth went dry. In an instant, there went his resistance – his urge to snap at Leo and tell him to put some decent clothes on so he could unlock the door and get back to – to whatever it was he had been doing before.

"… Get on the bed."

"What?"

"I said, get on the bed."

Leo eyeballed him for a moment longer, obviously amused by the crack in his voice that Elliot desperately wished hadn't been there. Then, without another word of protest, he lifted a hand, tugging away his glasses and placing them upon a low table on his way to the furniture in question. In one easy movement, he was upon the bed, seated primly upon the mattress and leaning back onto his hands, watching Elliot with a little smirk playing upon his lips.

"… On all fours," Elliot belatedly, lowly muttered, the last minute addition making him swallow again. Leo paused at this, but didn't seem inclined to protest. If anything, Elliot could see a tiny shiver of anticipation rake down his spine at the suggestion before his servant slowly turned to do as he was asked.

There was no helping the urge to pounce then, and Elliot swept forward, a knee upon the bed before he even realized he was that close again. Leo did shiver, then, with the creak of the mattress underneath his weight, with the slight dip in it, and Elliot's hand reflexively went to the lacings of his corset as he leaned over his servant – no, his lover, fastening his lips to the back of his neck after nuzzling his hair aside.

"Don't – " Leo protested on a breathy huff. The noble nearly whimpered at the sound of Leo, so eager and riled this early into their encounter. "Don't unlace it just yet."

"I'm not." Even still, Elliot's hands fisted into the lacing and Leo squirmed, shooting him a glare over his shoulder. Elliot shuddered at that look – those eyes, equally aroused and irritated – and as he settled himself properly behind Leo, his own knees between the dark-haired teen's legs, it was impossible for him not to let his own body lurch forward, the hard line of his own erection pressed within he cleft of Leo's bottom, the barrier of material doing little to conceal anything. Leo hissed between his teeth, fisting his hands into the bed as he arched his hips back automatically, and Elliot gasped, jerking forward, snatching his hands back at the same time and yanking the corset that much tighter.

"I'm… tightening it," he finally clarified, a rough edge to his voice. As if it wasn'tobvious at this point.

"O…oh." Leo seemed to sag into the bed, sliding down to his elbows and Elliot nearly grimaced at the sheer heady arousal that swept through him at the sight. He couldn't see Leo's face, but he could imagine what it looked like between the fall of his hair and the press of the duvet cover – flushed and a little sweaty, his lips parted as his chest heaved for a full breath that was long in coming courtesy of the corset cinching so tightly to his form.

Elliot's mind finally clicked into gear enough to reknot the lacings and his hands fell next to the fastenings of his own pants, fumbling with his belt and by the time he finally took himself in hand, he was panting, hissing out little breaths as he watched Leo wriggle himself back to press against his bare flesh. The sight left him groaning, gripping at his lover's hips to jerk that lithe body back into his as he ground himself against the too-soft, silken material of those damnably sinful panties.

"Elliot," came Leo's insistent growl, thrown over his shoulder as he dug his nails into the sheets. "Hurry up."

In the process of yanking that scrap of silk down and bunching it around Leo's thighs, the garters became tangled in the mess of it and one strap snapped free. Elliot found the dishevelment, no matter how slight, all the more alluring, especially when one stocking begins to slink its way down Leo's thigh as if it had wanted to do that all along, all day even, while Leo was walking around the Nightray manor with this absolutely lewd outfit underneath the layers of perfectly normal clothing.

All of the little mewls of encouragement made it impossible for Elliot to hesitate. Normally, he was gentle, careful, but in that very moment all he could bother to do was slicken his own hand with saliva, a quick, but thorough jerk of it down the length of his arousal nearly enough in and of itself. Leo didn't seem to mind. If anything, Leo seemed all the more eager by the prospect of rough treatment, judging by the bloody whorish way he arched his back, pressing back into Elliot and quite nearly taking the noble into his body on his own volition.

Elliot's grip on slim hips prevented that much, but only in favor of his own hips jerking forward. It was a long, tense slide into Leo's body, the friction nearly unbearable and leaving him gasping and panting into Leo's shoulder as he bent over the too-taut form within his grasp. He was certain Leo was groaning too, whining, maybe keening out a mix of Elliot's name and curses as he nevertheless squirmed against Elliot, not away, and oh, god, was that such an intensely good thing to feel – every muscle drawn tight, tight tight around him, shivering and tense and hot, so hot that sweat beaded all the faster upon his brow, made him lurch and heave for a full breath as he slowly withdrew, aching with every ache of Leo's body in turn as he shoved himself back in and dragged his hands down the glorious lines of his lover's sides, unable to tell when the softness of skin and satin began and ended –

He fucked Leo as slowly as he could manage in the drawn-tight state of his own body. Even as badly as Elliot wanted it to last, it was all he could do to hang on, to dig his hands into Leo's hips and jerk him back into every hard, rough thrust, to groan and tip his head back when he simply couldn't stand to look at the perfect sight of his servant beneath him, cheek pressed to the bed, sprawled out like a harlot – his harlot – and moaning encouragements with every jerking movement that left him breathless. Leo had to be lightheaded. The corset was too tight, the pleasure – maybe pain – was too intense, but neither of them seemed to care, least of all Leo himself.

It was Elliot who lost himself first, with his nails claws into Leo's hips, his breath hot against the back of his neck and his hips shoved forward as tightly against Leo's body as they could possibly be. He panted, hardly feeling like he was drawing any air into his lungs at all, his body trembling and shivering with every potent aftershock that brought him to grind himself against the all-too consuming heat of Leo's body, and to fumble, clumsy and shaky, around his lover's waist, grasping Leo's aching, neglected erection to stroke it. Leo thrashed within his hold, and Elliot felt every muscle in his body curl and clench and tremble, wringing gasps from his own lips as Leo became little more than a sinuous, writhing thing in his grasp, all brilliantly clashing nerves that were undoubtedly singing in several different tunes, all out of key.

Watching Leo, he was certain the servant blacked out for a moment. Spilling himself over Elliot's hand, Leo lurched and clawed into the bed before with a shaky, panting gasp, he went still, eyelashes fluttering, breath reduced to deep, heaving gasps that drew no real air into his lungs. With a fumbling hand, Elliot thought to loosen the lacings of Leo's corset – just enough – and gulping air, no mater how much his body continued to quiver, Leo seemed to calm, pale skin flushed, hair sweaty and damp and even more in a disarray than normal, with his stockings bunched to his knees and his corset practically dangling off of him.

"Remind me," Elliot attempted a moment later, when he finally dared to separate their bodies, wincing from the lingering sensitivity and collapsing to the nearest unsoiled portion of the bed, "to stare at you more often." He refrained from mentioning that he would most certainly be imagining corsets and thighs underneath Leo's clothing henceforth.

Leo only smiled wryly at him, infinitely amused, and Elliot found him more beautiful than anything, no matter how mussed (or perhaps because he was so very mussed). "Gladly."