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Thrice Shy

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Everything is quiet.  The bus is insulated, empty but for Lúcio as they roll through Germany towards the next stop on his tour.  He’s been to Berlin before, more than once; it’s always a great crowd but he feels tired thinking about performing again so soon.  Some sleep would probably help. It’s just past five in the morning.


Lúcio keeps scrolling through bullshit on his laptop anyway, dressed in nothing but briefs and sprawled out on his bed.  He’s leaning back into his pillows, computer propped on his knees, headphones pouring soft music into his ears. They’ll be in the city soon.  When they reach their hotel he can take a scalding hot shower, climb into a king size bed, and pass out for an uninterrupted ten hours.


Then he can wake up, and go to work.  Press, and fan events, and his performances.  Two nights of shows, one right after the other.  


Everyone wants to meet him, wants to watch him, wants to talk to him.  


Europe passes him by outside the bus, hundreds of millions of strangers, and Lúcio feels a knot of loneliness swell in his chest.  It’s always like this on tour. Rushing to get from one place to the next, filled with hours of emptiness in between.


Buried in a crowd of thousands, or utterly alone.  Lúcio turns up his music, and sighs.


The soft beats are interrupted by the chime of his text notifications.  He taps on the icon that pops up on his tablet, and frowns.


It’s self-preservation that makes him hesitate to click on the link Hana’s sent him.  


He’s lost count of the number of times he’s been redirected to the most cursed images or videos imaginable.  She’s not even trying very hard to trick him tonight; it’s obviously a link to a porn site, the thumbnail next to the web address showing two mostly naked dudes leaning in to kiss one another.  Lúcio sucks air through his teeth and shakes his head as he texts her back.




Little dots pop up immediately, Hana’s answer chiming through.


bitch what do you mean no i didn’t ask you anything i’m performing a public service


Lúcio grins.


you really aren’t


He doesn’t have to wait long for a response.  


hey they’re your type not mine i’m being helpful


Lúcio looks at the link again— it’s the address of a cam site, and if he recognizes the domain right away, that’s nobody’s business but his own.


c’mon hana, i’m not trynna spend money jacking off to amateur twink porn. it’s good to know I’m in your thoughts and prayers, tho


Hana sends an emoji back first, a bunny rolling its eyes.


it’s literally free but be that way i guess


And then—


they’re live rn btw


Hana’s icon goes dim with a soft trill.  She’s logged off, or she wants Lúcio to think she has, but it doesn’t really matter either way.


It’s been a while since he’s even thought about getting off, and he’s weak.


Hana wouldn’t have sent it to him unless it was something either very good, or very bad.


He eyes the link with suspicion before tapping on it like he expects it to bite him.  The site loads quickly. It’s nothing new; Lúcio doesn’t spend a lot of time watching porn, but he’s busy and he’s lonely and it’s hard connecting with people when everyone has a preconceived notion about the kind of person he is based on what they’ve read online or watched in interviews.  There is no such thing as anonymity, not when he’s trying to find a date or get to know someone, and after several disastrous attempts of late Lúcio has stopped trying.


So he’s found himself clicking through archived videos on cam sites more than once, but he’s never stumbled across these particular guys.  It’s a joint profile from what he can tell. All the videos have the same two faces in the thumbnails, kissing or fucking or sucking each other off.  Lúcio can’t make the details out very well without loading the videos, but the flashing icon at the top of the screen is unmistakable.


Hana was right, they are streaming right now.  The beginning of a show, only a couple of minutes in, and Lúcio can’t resist the temptation to activate it.  He already has an account, laptop logging him in automatically with the information. The screen stutters for a few moments, his music pausing as the site audio takes over.  It takes a bit to even out, and then Lúcio blinks in surprise.


It’s… it’s a cowboy.   Or— it’s a muscular, hairy guy in a cowboy hat, at the very least, shirtless and wearing nothing else save a pair of red briefs.  His left hand is a prosthesis of some kind, gleaming metal with a skull etched into the forearm.  Lúcio hardly notices.


He’s incredibly attractive, from the messy hair falling around his face to his bright eyes, lips full and pink against his beard.  He’s big, biceps thick and chest defined, bulky in all the right places.  It’s a little jarring to see someone like him on a site like this, where the landscape tends to be dominated by smooth-shaven twinks on pastel sheets with moody lighting. Lúcio’s eyes linger on his features— he never really understood what people meant when they called someone ruggedly handsome, but he thinks he might get it, now.


Or it could just be the hat.  He’s very tired.


There’s only a couple dozen people in the chat, which is pretty low for a stream like this, from Lúcio’s limited experience.  Probably something to do with the way this guy looks like he could pick Lúcio up and throw him without breaking a sweat, as opposed to the other way around.  The viewers banter in a practiced way, like they’re all familiar with one another, regulars watching their weekly show.


The cowboy is still running through his intro when Lúcio stops simply staring and starts listening, as well.


The cowboy— Jesse, he says, tipping his hat at the camera with a grin— has a thick accent.  Definitely American. Texas comes to mind, but Lúcio’s only been on one US tour so far and he  doesn’t know enough about it to be sure.


He does know he likes it, the thick drawl on Jesse’s words, the way he emphasizes all the wrong sounds and drops other letters off entirely.  It’s not even anything suggestive yet; Jesse’s talking about his week, and someone Lúcio assumes is Jesse’s roommate, based on context.


Just the honey thick sound of his voice is enticing enough that Lúcio feels himself getting hard, warmth rising in his cheeks and pooling in his stomach.  He palms himself through his briefs, turning the volume up louder as he listens to Jesse ramble for a while. Jesse laughs at something he’s said, a low, rumbling chuckle, and Lúcio throbs in his clothes.


It has to be some kind of pathetic, getting so turned on because of someone’s laugh, but he shakes the thought away.  He’s on an amateur porn site; no one is winning any dignity points here.  


Lúcio hadn’t planned on interacting, but he also hadn’t planned on being so drawn in by something as simple as a heavy accent and some big muscles.  No one knows him, here.


He’s just another name in a list of viewers, and the allure of being a total stranger is heady.  Lúcio taps a message out into the chat and sends it before he can stop himself, short and to the point.

dropthebeat:  I like your voice


The other people in the chat light up, teasing him good naturedly, welcoming the newbie.  Jesse notices his comment and grins, biting his lip and leaning in a little.


“Well hello there, sweetheart,” he says, pitching his voice low and breathy.  “Ain’t never noticed you around before, always nice to see a new face. Like the way I sound, huh?”  Jesse starts rubbing his hands slowly up his abdomen and over his chest before dragging them back down again, fingers teasing under the edge of his briefs.  Lúcio whines low in his throat, and taps out an honest answer.


dropthebeat: yes


“Like me to whisper in your ear, baby?  Tell you all the things I’d do to you? How I’d make you feel nice?  Get you off listenin’ to me tell you how good you are so many times I ain’t even gotta touch you, yeah?  Just the sound of me talking’ll have you ready for me.” Jesse leans back and rubs his palm over the bulge in his briefs, sitting up straighter and easing his thighs apart.  Lúcio swallows, the sound of it loud in his ears.


“Think I could do it.  Think it’d be easy. Think you’d be easy for me, falling apart at the sound of my voice, shaking when I say your name.  Whaddaya say, darlin’? Wanna tell me yours? Give me somethin’ to say when I come?” Jesse pauses, waiting, and Lúcio groans.  Covers his face with his palm, and drags it slowly down, skin warm under his fingers.


There are a lot of Lúcios in the world.  No one is going to automatically assume it’s really him on some shady porn site.  


His fingers are moving before his brain can really register the decision.


dropthebeat: Lúcio


He has a brief, panicked moment of regret.  Lúcio feels like he’s let go of a balloon, and is watching it sail up into the air, never to return.


Then Jesse grins victoriously, and throws a wink at camera, and it’s hard to think at all.


“I’ll keep that in mind.  Can’t get you too worked up yet, though, can I?  Show ain’t even really started. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make you feel welcome.  We are, as always, open to suggestions.” Then Jesse laughs, and shrugs one shoulder. “Well, most suggestions.  You start to get weird, you gotta pay up, yeah?”


Lúcio can’t help but grin.


He’s forgotten about the other guy entirely until someone in the chat asks about him.


gjmstn: no sparrow?


Jesse opens his mouth to answer when a figure comes into frame behind him, walking across the room.  It’s hard to make out much more than a pair of black briefs, along with a huge, elaborate dragon tattoo across his back.  Lúcio squints at the screen, as if that will help it come into focus. Then the figure moves closer, bending down until his face is next to Jesse’s, smiling bright.  He’s talking to Jesse, something quiet the mic isn’t quite picking up, and oh, fuck.


This guy— this Sparrow— is gorgeous.   His hair is vivid green; still wet from the shower, the barest hint of black showing at the roots, thick brows and dark eyes.  He’s got scars on his face in several places, but they don’t detract from the cut of his jawline or his high cheekbones or the pretty curve of his lower lip.  His smile is so genuine it makes Lúcio a little breathless.


Then he stands up, and Lúcio gets a look at the rest of him.  


He’s leaner than Jesse, but it’s only by comparison that he looks any kind of lithe.  He’s muscled all over, moving with the kind of confidence Lúcio tends to associate with fighters as opposed to porn stars.  There are more scars on his chest, one on his stomach; knife wounds, if Lúcio was to guess. No one got those kind of battle wounds sucking dick for tips on the internet.


Lúcio can’t help but think that once upon a time, all that strength had been more than just for show.


Jesse’s voice draws Lúcio out of his head, and back into the present, where he’s urging Sparrow to turn to around.  He does so with a laugh— it’s not as low as Jesse’s, but it sounds so fucking euphoric— and Jesse leans to the side so that Sparrow’s ass is visible, palming it with both hands as he grins at the camera.


“We all know this is what y’all are here for.”


Jesse squeezes, giving Sparrow’s ass a slap, and Lúcio swears under his breath.  He’s… probably seen a nicer ass than that, somewhere, but he certainly can’t remember it right now.  There’s a lot of it, and Jesse’s fingers dig in hard for a moment before easing off. He rubs slow circles there, then bites one cheek lightly before slapping it again and letting Sparrow turn around.


There are a litany of demands in the chat, get naked already, lose the briefs, show us your ass.


You too, Jesse, let’s see that dick, we aren’t getting any younger.


Sparrow straddles his lap with a smirk, arms coming up around his neck.


“Y’all fuckin’ know better!  You ain’t paid your dues yet.  Well, maybe newbie doesn’t know better, but they’re being patient.”


Sparrow leans forward, glancing at the side of his screen at the chat log with interest.




“Yeah, we got some fresh meat.  Say hi, Lúcio.”


Jesse says his name like it’s something illicit.


Something he needs to keep secret, and safe.


Lúcio tucks his face into his elbow this time, silently cursing Hana.  She knows him too well now if she’s sending him something like this, targeting him so perfectly.  He can probably get away with murder if he goes about it right.


dropthebeat: hi Lúcio


Sparrow snorts, shoving his face into Jesse’s throat and licking a stripe up the side.  He sucks at it, kissing his way over Jesse’s jaw and licking into his mouth. It’s wet, messy enough that Lúcio can hear it; if asked, he would have said that was a turn-off.


In this instance, he would have been wrong.  He slips his left hand into his briefs to take himself in hand as he watches them kiss.   Not stroking, yet, just holding himself, thumb rubbing circles over his crown. Jesse and Sparrow moves together like they’ve done it a thousand times, effortlessly intimate.  The kind of familiarity that comes from being lovers, and there are others in the chat asking questions and making suggestions so Lúcio doesn’t feel too strange typing out his own.


dropthebeat: you guys together irl?  what’s your relationship?


They could be strictly working together, but Lúcio doubts it.  He watches Jesse cup Sparrow’s jaw, watches Sparrow run his fingers through Jesse’s hair.


There is something adoring in it; Lúcio can’t look away.


A few minutes of this passes before Sparrow leans over to scan through the chat, Jesse licking at his throat all the while, palms clutching at his ass.  He seems to be skimming most of the chatter, and then he stops all of a sudden and laughs.


“Newbie want to know what our relationship is,” Sparrow says, smiling at the chat log.  Jesse looks up from where he’s sucking a mark into one of Sparrow’s collar bones, a corner of his mouth quirking up.


“Roommates,” he says, kissing at Sparrow’s throat, keeping eye contact with the camera.


Lúcio looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes.


“Oh my god.”


He hasn’t been this flustered by anyone in a long time, and they’re thousands of miles away and have never even seen him.  When he glances back at the screen Sparrow is waggling his eyebrows, and grinding into Jesse’s stomach.


“Gals being pals,” he adds, and Jesse slaps his ass.


“Be nice to the newcomer!  And the rest of you lot, eight hundred tokens to lose the clothes, yeah?”


They start making out again, Sparrow’s hips rocking against Jesse as tokens slowly begin rolling in with musical chimes.  Fifty, thirty, seventy-five. Lúcio gives himself a long, lazy stroke, eyes occasionally drifting over to the token counter.  At this rate it will be a half hour or so before Jesse and Sparrow get naked.

Lúcio is far too keyed up for that.  Between Jesse’s voice and build and laugh and Sparrow’s ass and scars and smile, he’s wet against his palm and aching for relief.  The site already has his credit card information, even if he’s never actually paid for anything there so far. Lúcio clicks a few buttons, brings up the token screen, and reads over it.  He’s not sure about the conversions, but it looks like eight-hundred tokens is… only around 100 US dollars? Lúcio frowns at that.


Surely they want more than a hundred dollars to get naked for whoever happens to tune into their stream.  It’s definitely worth more than that to see them without clothes on.  He tips them three times that— they need the money more than he does, probably, and fuck knows he’s got too much of it anyway.  The chime that announces the tips sounds different this time, and Sparrow and Jesse stop kissing to check the counter.


“Holy shit.” Jesse takes in the amount with a raised brow.  “Newbie’s eager. All then, Lúcio.” There it is again, that way Jesse says his name, all low and sultry.  He can’t decide if telling them was the smartest thing he’s ever done, or the dumbest. “Let’s give you exactly what you want then, baby.  Get these clothes off first, yeah?”


The two of them wait, both looking at the chat.  Waiting for Lúcio to respond.


Forcing him to interact, and it affects him far more than it should, having to admit so directly that he wants this.


dropthebeat: please


“Oh, a gentleman!”   Sparrow says, then pauses, and backtracks.  “Or gentlewoman. Gentleperson?”


dropthebeat: gentleman is fine


Then, with too much honesty—


dropthebeat: whatever you like is probably fine, right now


They both laugh.  


“You watch any of our other videos before, or is this your first time?”  Sparrow asks, and Lúcio smashes out a quick reply.


dropthebeat: first time


“So you’ve never laid eyes on the finest ass this side of the Mississippi?”  Jesse asks, and Sparrow shoots him a half-hearted glare.


“Just this side, then?  What about the other side?”

Jesse kisses his chest, arms around his hips.


“Topside, baby.”


“Mmm-hmm, sure.”


Lúcio smirks.  He’s not quite as hard as before, but the arousal hasn’t stopped building in him.  Hot all over, heart beating fast; he taps out his answer, having to backspace when he adds too many letters in his rush.


dropthebeat: nope, have not


“In for a treat then, ain’t you?”


Sparrow sits up on his knees where he’s straddling Jesse, and Jesse slides his palms down Sparrow’s back, and eases them into his briefs.  Down, and down, until the curve of his ass is entirely exposed, Jesse rubbing wide circles over it.


It looks even better out of the briefs.  Jesse slips his hands intermittently between Sparrow’s legs to tease him, and Sparrow rocks into the touch, hips rolling.  His thighs are thick. Athletic.


Lúcio wants to bury his face between them and let Sparrow crush him.


He tips them another hundred dollars.  They’re busy working Sparrow’s briefs the rest of the way off, cock bobbing half-hard between them.  It’s uncut with a little bit of a curve to it. Nothing Lúcio would complain about, certainly. They both stand up, repositioning their laptop so it’s at the foot of their bed and climbing onto the mattress.  


Jesse faces the camera and Sparrow kneels up behind him, sliding his hands down Jesse’s chest and into his briefs.  He tugs them down, allowing Jesse’s cock to slip free, and Lúcio whines again. High, and loud, flexing his thighs together, rock hard again under his own palm.


Jesse is… big.   Big.   Girthy, and long, and Lúcio’s mouth waters just looking at him.  Sparrow closes his hand around Jesse— most of the way around, as far as his fingers will go— and gives him a stroke, looking over his shoulder at the camera.


“Did we break you, newbie?”  Sparrow asks, and Lúcio has to take a minute before he’s capable of typing.


dropthebeat: no


dropthebeat: yes


dropthebeat:  idk


Sparrow jerks Jesse off with one hand and plays with his nipple with the other, teeth scraping over the curve of his shoulder.  Jesse has one fist buried in Sparrow’s hair, the other reaching back to hold onto his thigh. The two of them together is the hottest thing he’s ever seen.


He tips them another hundred dollars, and grits his teeth against the urge to stroke himself.  It isn’t going to take much to make him come. A couple dozen rough pulls, maybe.


Lúcio doesn’t want to waste it when they haven’t even really started.


When they realize he’s tipped them twice more they share a wide-eyed look, speaking quietly to one another before sidling up closer to the camera.


“Alright, baby, you been very good to us tonight and we ain’t even done nothin’ yet, so pick your poison.  Tell us what you want, ‘n unless you’re a lot kinkier than you’re lettin’ on so far, we’ll do it for you. Wanna watch Sparrow take my cock?  Wanna watch me take his? Suck each other off, bust out some toys? We don’t got a lot, but there’s enough to torment either one of us pretty nice, if you’re feelin’ inclined.  Got some rope, too.”


Lúcio wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and squeezes against the sudden need to make himself come, fast and hard, right this instant.  Breathes in, and out, sweat starting to shine on his skin, the room hotter than he remembers it being.


“I’m sure I can come up with something to do while you decide, if you want some time to think on it,” Sparrow says, lilting and suggestive.


Lúcio knows exactly what he would want to do, were he there.  He’d bury his face in Sparrow’s ass, and eat him out until was shaking all over.


Then he’d put him on his hands and knees, bury his cock in him, and spread his own thighs wide so Jesse had plenty of room to work.


Fucking Sparrow while Jesse rails him into next week isn’t an option, though, and Lúcio doesn’t actually know what to request.  Anything sounds good.


Everything sounds good.  It takes a few tries to get his fingers to cooperate, but he eventually taps out an answer.


dropthebeat: what would you do if no one was watching?


“Awww,” Sparrow coos with a grin, “he’s a romantic.”  


“If no one is watching,” Jesse says, ignoring Sparrow but inclining his head towards him, “we tend to do whatever he wants.  I like taking care of him. I’d like taking care of you, too, I bet.” His voice gets all fucky again, deep and intimate. “Want me to show you how I’d take care of you, baby?”


Lúcio shivers.  Nods even though no one can see him.  


dropthebeat: please


“You heard the man, sweetheart.  Anything you like.”


Sparrow knocks Jesse’s hat off and buries a fist in his hair, holding onto it as he rolls over onto his belly.  The camera has a side view of them both as he lifts his hips high and spreads his knees on the blanket, tugging Jesse’s face forward until it’s buried between his cheeks.


“Get to work,” he says, still arched back, fingers clutching at the messy strands of Jesse’s hair to hold him in place.


As though they’re reading his mind from thousands of miles away, and Lúcio lets out a rough breath through his nose.  His hand moves on its own— slow. Tentative.


He wants to make this last.


Jesse has no such compunctions, holding onto Sparrow’s ass with both hands and letting his eyes flutter closed, moaning as he eagerly follows Sparrow’s order.  Lúcio doesn’t know if he’s doing it deliberately or not, but it’s loud enough that he can hear. The wet sounds of Jesse’s tongue as he licks into him. The quiet groans of appreciation he makes, like just the taste of Sparrow is all he needs.  


Sparrow lets go of Jesse’s hair and crosses his arms on the bed in front of him, head pillowed on them with his face turned toward the camera.  The swell of his ass is beautiful; the way his spine curves, bangs falling in his eyes. His tattoo stretches beautifully over his skin, and his lips part a little as he rocks backwards, pressing himself tighter against Jesse’s mouth.  


“Fingers too, don’t be a tease.”


It’s spoken absently without any kind of sharpness.  Casually bossy, like someone who is used to being obeyed.  Jesse doesn’t hesitate, pawing through the blankets on the other side of them and coming back with a half-empty bottle of lube; he pours some onto the fingers of his right hand and tosses it away again.


Jesse slips them into Sparrow quickly.  First one, then another, fucking into him for a few seconds before leaning back down to run his tongue around them.  


Lúcio can’t see exactly what’s going on with this angle.  It’s just Jesse’s face buried in Sparrow, but with all the implied details, it’s more than enough.  Jesse’s jaw works open and closed, wrist twisting as he thrusts his fingers deeper. Sparrow’s breathing gets louder, cheeks going pink.  He’s got his hands fisted in the blankets, then deliberately lets go, sliding his arm down between his legs to stroke himself instead. Lúcio catches flashes of Sparrow’s cock now, hears Sparrow moaning.


Hears himself moaning, and the chime of tokens as the other viewers start tipping.  Lúcio had forgotten he wasn’t the only one watching for a moment, but the periodic bells and endless stream of filth in the chat still isn’t enough to distract him.  His palm is slick as he works it up and down himself, hips rocking instinctively. It’s better than it should be— Lúcio is all alone in the back of a stagnant tour bus watching strangers get off online.


Paying them to get off.  It doesn’t matter.


He’s shivery.  Overheated. Tense all over, back arching and toes starting to curl.


Close to coming already, and then Sparrow looks back at Jesse over his shoulder.


“More,” he says.  Demands. His voice brooks no argument.  “Fuck me already.”


Jesse hums into him, withdrawing his fingers and giving Sparrow’s ass a slap.


“Yessir,” he replies, sitting up and giving himself a few strokes.  Lúcio watches Jesse, his fingers wet already, slicking up his cock. His fingers do close around it, but only just.  Jesse looks into the camera— looks into Lúcio, through two separate screens and around the world.  “Most of these heathens can’t decide if they’d rather sit on my cock or sit Sparrow on theirs. What about you, newbie?  Tell us what you want.”


Lúcio will tell them anything they like.


dropthebeat: anything


dropthebeat: everything


dropthebeat: keep going


“Yessir,” Jesse says again with a wink, spreading Sparrow’s cheeks apart with his hands and pressing in slow.


There is a lot of him, but Sparrow takes it all with a sigh and a smile.


“Yeah,” Sparrow breathes, still jacking himself in lazy, distracted little pulls, grinding back into Jesse.  So used to opening for him that it’s effortless.


Something he aches for, and gets without fail.


Jesse starts fucking him, but Jesse also starts talking.   To Sparrow, telling him how gorgeous he is, how perfect, how tight.  To the audience, ain’t he fucking beautiful, feels so good, look how nice he takes it.


To Lúcio, you still listenin’, baby?  Is it good for you?


The question is rhetorical, but Lúcio answers it anyway, as best he can with his fist moving furiously over himself.


dropthebeat: yyes


Sparrow’s hips start to drop, knees slipping wide as Jesse pounds into him with increasing viciousness.  Jesse curls an arm around his belly and tugs him back up into place, holding him there as he grinds forward.  Sparrow’s making whimpery noises, telling Jesse to go harder, faster, right there, fuck yeah, just like that.


Don’t stop, Jesse, don’t, don’t—


Jesse gives him what he wants, and Sparrow comes over his fist with moan, mouth open and eyes closed.  He doesn’t stop, even as Sparrow gets shaky underneath him, trembling and oversensitive. Swollen lips, pupils blown dark, hair in his eyes.  Jesse’s breathing hard, muscles flexing as he fucks him rougher, working him through his climax. They’re so beautiful together.


Lúcio finishes, too, so suddenly that it takes him by surprise.  He twitches out his climax, come dripping onto his stomach and soaking into his briefs.  His ears are ringing, but he doesn’t miss what comes next, Jesse’s voice soft and laced with affection.


“That’s right, baby, so good for me.  Perfect.”


Jesse isn’t talking to him, but the words it him right in the gut all the same, reaching into Lúcio’s chest and making his heart beat too fast.


He ruts into Sparrow a half-dozen more times before pulling out, splaying one palm out on Sparrow’s back and stroking himself in a blur of motion.  Sparrow sinks down onto the mattress, and Jesse swears, spine bowing as he comes over Sparrow’s tattoo. Everyone is panting— Jesse, Sparrow, Lúcio himself.  Jesse takes a moment to just breathe before glancing over at the camera, giving Sparrow’s ass an absent pat before he walks over towards the laptop on his knees.


“Hope y’all enjoyed yourselves.  Specially you, newbie. Forgot to say your name, though, didn’t I?”  Jesse smiles, wiping his hand off on the blankets. “Guess we’ll just have to owe you, yeah?  You want some one-on-one attention, we’d be more’n happy to offer you a private show. Send us a message, yeah, baby?  Get on voice chat and talk to us, I’ll say anything you like.”


Lúcio’s muscles are tight from how hard he clenched them all when he came.  He’s still a little dizzy from holding his breath. Voice chat sounds like an accident waiting to happen, but a private show does not.


He tips them a few thousand tokens just to watch their faces.  They go wide-eyed, and then laugh together— glee edging on mania.


“Oh, sweetheart,” Jesse says, leaning in to look at the camera, “you have gotta come see us again sometime.”


Lúcio doesn’t think that will be a problem.