Elliot was well aware that most of his thought processes were not like a normal 15 year-old boy's, especially when it came to girls. To be frank, he didn't see the point of them; he wasn't at a point in his life that he had to marry any of them, and the ones his father currently, casually pushed at him were simply boring. He was polite, as was expected, tolerant to an extent, but at the first opportunity, certainly came up with an excuse to get the hell away from them.

His sister, privy to this information, teased him relentlessly on the subject. Perhaps he just wasn't old enough to be interested yet.

Elliot was sort of inclined to smack her for such an insinuation. He liked girls, but that was about the extent of it. He didn't feel anything beyond that – certainly didn't want to do anything beyond that. But whatever flux of instinct that came with becoming a teenager was definitely there – just, well, a little awkwardly directed at times.

Specifically, at Leo.

Which made things complicated.

First of all, Elliot tried to make the entire thing make sense in his head. He likedgirls. Emphasis female. Actually, for the longest time, he wasn't entirely sure if Leo was… well… not a girl. Leo was short, barely touching Elliot's shoulder, and slender in ways that weren't entirely caused by a childhood spent in an orphanage. His voice, soft and a little breathy, didn't help, and his face – what few glimpses Elliot had procured of it – definitely did not. Because Leo was pretty. Not in a handsome-pretty way, but in a simply pretty way, with delicate boning and long lashes and lips that almost formed a pout even when Leo wasn't trying and –


Secondly, Leo didn't seem interested. At all. Elliot had, awkwardly, attempted to flirt a few times. It came off as a bad joke and Leo had just looked annoyed. Admittedly, Elliot couldn't blame him. He was pretty awful at this 'flirting' thing – courting he could do, because it had been banged into his head since day one and there were certain ways one courted noble girls and it was all pretty formulaic.

But others guys? His servant, for one? God.

It was the cause of many headaches.

And finally, there was the fact that Elliot often found himself getting into spats with his servant rather than flirting. He couldn't help it. As much he enjoyed Leo's company, and as much as Leo seemed to enjoy his, they argued. A lot.

It was little things, usually. First, Leo teasing him relentlessly about finally getting into Lutwidge, and the struggles surrounding that. Elliot was far from stupid, but it was no secret that he hated schoolwork – it was pointless and time consuming for all of the wrong reasons – and once he was in the damned academy, it took up way too much of his time: so he struggled.

Eventually, Leo, after letting him dangle like a fish on a hook for the first semester, had politely stepped in and snatched the rough draft of a very important essay off of Elliot's desk. Within an hour, it was returned, marked all to hell with red ink and Leo had simply smiled and told him to fix all of it and he'd get an A.

Elliot, so beyond caring at that point, had done it, and his teacher had been all sparkles and rainbows, praising him over his improvement.

"How the hell did you – where did you learn stuff like this?" Elliot had hissed at his servant, who merely looked at him through glasses and bangs, amused.

"I read."

"Yes, I'm aware; that's all you do. But have you ever even had formal education, or – "

"I just read a lot, Elliot."

"… Holy Knight isn't going to make me write like this."

"You're right," Leo had seamlessly agreed. "I read every book in the House of Fianna's library and I'm quite sure I'll be done with the Nightray's soon."

Elliot had found himself staring. "… Every? But – even encyclopedias and – "

"Oh, well, yes. If one is bored enough…"

Elliot, grudgingly, attempted to expand his horizons in the world of literature, at least enough to feel like he wasn't twenty steps behind.

The other thing that got on his nerves when it came to Leo was music. Leo was self-taught on the piano and better than him in some things about it, which miffed Elliot a bit – though not for the reasons one would expect. No, he was more annoyed that Leo refused to acknowledge it, even when it became glaringly obvious.

Elliot was pretty damned sure his servant had perfect pitch. Upon hearing a piece of music once, maybe twice if it was more complicated, Leo could replicate it within its exact key and while jealous – Leo needed to teach him how he had gotten such an ear, goddammit – Elliot was most annoyed that Leo dismissed it as nothing, flushed and a little standoffish when the topic was brought up and so Elliot, exasperated, had left it alone, an argument for another day.

Thus, between all of the confusion, disinterest, and general bickering, Elliot had struggled to find the time to properly… well… seduce Leo. And that was such an awful word for what he wanted to do, anyway.

He decided, one day, that this would be his final, forward attempt. If Leo rejected him at this point, that'd be the end of it; he'd chalk it up to Leo honestly being uninterested and Elliot refused to force anything upon him, no matter the position of power he held over the other teen. No, if he was going to have Leo, he'd have him willing. Very willing – and the images surrounding that in his brain pushed the attempt off for another few hours until school was over and done with, they were in his dorm and Elliot was struggling to keep his attention on homework: another damned essay. Because that was what he needed to do instead of come on to his servant.


"Leo." Elliot shut his book awkwardly, glancing up at the servant, currently preoccupied with making tea. "Will you come over here?"

Leo looked over at him for a moment before seeming amicable enough to the idea – but that was how it always began, wasn't it? Elliot mentally groaned, resisting the urge to rise and flee while he still could.

"Writing problems, Master?" The address was teasing, as it always was, and Elliot struggled not to put it in a lewd context, considering the place his mind currently was.

"Ah, no. Um."

Elliot could imagine an eyebrow arching. "Then…"

"If you don't like this, just tell me and I promise I won't ever try again," the noble exhaled on a single, rapid rush of breath before simply reaching up, catching Leo by the collar, and tugging him down over the chair to awkwardly, clumsily kiss him.

Leo was perfectly still for a good moment and Elliot began to panic. There was a very good possibility that he had just messed everything up. Leo was his friend first and foremost – his confidante, his only confidante – and if this put a wall between them, there was a good chance Leo would just take off and leave him –

He really wished he could see Leo's face in the moment that he pulled away and silence fell heavily between them.

"… I'm sorry," Elliot fumbled, embarrassed and with a hefty dose of wounded pride beginning to wear at him. He really should have known better –

"You're pretty much an awful kisser."

The response floored him, leaving him gaping like a fish out of water. "Ah… wha – haaa?! That's your response?!"

"Un." And then, quite calmly, the book was shoved to the floor and his lap was full of Leo instead, who had apparently decided to bail him out of the incredulous, embarrassed stupor where Elliot found himself wallowing. Elliot's mind did summersaults. "And the only thing that can fix that is practice."

It was then that Elliot found himself being kissed – a kiss, initiated by Leo, which was something his mind couldn't even begin to process. He was sure he was slack-jawed and useless for a moment before it occurred to him that kissing back would be a good thing, but he couldn't even begin to figure out where to start with Leo's lips, warm and soft against his own, parting to allow a tongue slip past and into Elliot's own mouth. Elliot sunk back with a startled groan at how good it felt to have that slick tongue brush against his own, the roof of his mouth, guiding, twisting, coaxing –

Okay, so Leo was a very good kisser. Nothing too strange about that, he supposed…

They broke for air, and Elliot's breath was decidedly rough. He felt heat rise to his face once more, realizing all too acutely the reason he felt so damned light-headed and why each inhale hitched like a schoolgirl's. Aroused – painfully so – just from one kiss. The evidence was trapped between them and layers of clothing, erection a hard line that he knew Leo had to feel from how he was straddling Elliot's lap.

From the way Leo wriggled against him, scooting that much deeper so that their hips brushed, that was very quickly confirmed.

"L… Leo – " Elliot protested, voice cracking on another accursed hitch and ragged inhale. "I don't – "

"What?" The servant sounded amused, but Elliot was satisfied to hear that his voice was a little breathier than usual. "You don't want to keep going?"

"I – " Swallow. A dry swallow. More highly inappropriate images flashed across his mind of Leo naked, in his lap, doing all sorts of things and oh god he was never like this, why was he like this now – "I don't expect you to, to, well, do anything else, s-so – "

"But what if I want to?"

Elliot's heart skipped a beat. "I… can't exactly argue with that," he dimly managed.

"Well then."

Leo slipped out of his lap, and Elliot nearly whimpered at the loss of his servant's weight against him. His erection throbbed and he reached down, fumbling with his belt. If they were going to do this – and Leo seemed pretty content with them doing this – then hell if he was going to wait around. His riled blood simply wouldn't allow it.

Fortunately, Leo seemed of a similar mind – how long had he wanted this, if he was so eager and willing? – as he quickly disappeared into the attached bath of the suite, returning only a moment later with a bottle that was set upon the small table next to Elliot's chair. Elliot would have contemplated rising, moving to the bed to throw Leo over it, but that apparently wasn't an option as his servant's pants were unbuckled, unzipped, stepped out of and kicked aside. Elliot wasn't sure what was so attractive about Leo in nothing but a long, untucked button down, collar open and the length of it brushing just past the tops of his thighs. He couldn't get over how thin Leo was, and he was momentarily frozen by both the image in front of him and the thought of somehow, being clumsy and so inexperienced in this, breaking him or –

"You look like a deer in the headlights." Leo's voice was suddenly against his ear and Elliot shuddered as he realized his servant had made his way into his lap again and slim fingers were at his fly, deftly plucking open the button and easing the zipper down. He sucked in a sharp breath as Leo's hand was on him, wrapping around the hard length of his arousal, shoving down his pants enough to pull it free with a smooth, skilled touch that made Elliot's vision spark a little white. So much better than his own hand. So much –

"Leo," he managed to gasp, jerking into his servant's grasp and dumbly reaching out to grab hold of Leo's hips, needing something to hold lest he completely lose his mind. Fortunately, Leo didn't seemed concerned with his inexperience and simply continued – a thumb rubbing over the head of his erection and making Elliot moan something incoherent that might have been the other teen's name again.

Leo shifted, attention going first to his glasses – shoved off, to the table, then to retrieve the bottle he had set aside. Oil, apparently, from the dripping down Leo's palm and against the dress shirt Elliot still wore, but he simply didn't care the moment that hand, now slick and wet and somehow warmer still, was wrapped around him once more. Elliot bucked, then groaned as he sunk backwards, nails biting into Leo's sides hard enough that he was sure he was bruising but god help him if he could stop right then. Leo didn't seem to mind – his breath was hitching, a little wild, and his fingers would sometimes twitch and tighten, seemingly on their own accord. Elliot could feel his erection trapped between them, hot and hard and occasionally grinding against his own, and the noble bit his lip to contain himself from losing himself on the spot.

"Elliot, give me your hand." Numbly, Elliot did as he was told – prying his right hand from Leo's side and stretching it up. More of the same oil was spread over his fingertips, and before he realized it, his servant was guiding it back, down the curve of his rump. When it finally did click in Elliot's brain, he hesitated, flushed and jerking back, just slightly. Leo merely looked at him in that put out way of his, except this time he could see the glimpse of his eyes beneath thick bangs. "Second thoughts?"

"I… no," Elliot managed, breathlessly, flexing his grip a bit and biting the inside of his cheek. He would not admit he liked grabbing Leo's ass. Would not. "I just… I don't want to hurt you."

And then Leo's expression shifted to something exquisitely, wryly fond. Elliot felt his pulse flutter a little bit. "You couldn't."

"But I – "

"You wouldn't. Come on, Elliot."

And Elliot couldn't argue with that, either. He bit his lip in a mix of worry and concentration as slowly eased an oil-slick finger inside, almost stopping from the soft hiss that escaped between Leo's teeth, if not for the following, quiet urgings to continue. The digit slid into the second knuckle, encased in muscle drawn so taut that Elliot found himself swallowing again, forcibly reeling in far more base reactions and simply continuing, twisting the single finger and pressing it that much deeper.

Leo sagged. His body shuddered around Elliot as his hands fell to the noble's shoulders, gripping as his face buried itself within his master's neck. Elliot couldn't have imagined better encouragement and methodically, adjusting just slightly, began to work a second finger inside, carefully stretching. His servant's back arched with a low, breathless groan, and Elliot could feel the strain through the lithe form as Leo pressed back into the intrusion, seeking more. Mindlessly, Elliot twisted his hand, curling his fingers within the tight confines of Leo's body.

The resultant mewl was unexpected, as was the violent shudder that raked straight through Leo's core, easily felt from his vantage point beneath the smaller teen's body. Elliot could barely dare to look as the sight of Leo, bent forward over his lap, panting and sweaty and mussed with Elliot's fingers inside of him causing him to be this way – god. A strangled sound left Elliot's throat before he could even begin to process the short, simple statement that he wanted to form: "… Good?"

"U…un." Leo's voice was breathy and unhinged. "T…that's enough, Elliot."

Elliot could only dazedly nod, withdrawing his hand and shuddering himself at the tension that remained there still. How could that be enough? He wasn't given enough time to contemplate it though, as Leo's knees slid up a bit further, steadying himself over Elliot's lap as he lifted his hips. Slim fingers were around his erection again and Elliot couldn't suppress the soft moan, swearing he'd lose his mind from that single, fleeting touch alone –

But then Leo shifted back and was wriggling his way, slowly, onto that stiff column of flesh, all the way down so that their hips fell flush once again. Elliot could scarcely breathe, buried completely to the hilt inside of Leo as he was – encased by slick, tight heat and his hands clamped mindlessly to Leo's hips again, bruising pale flesh underneath the thin cover of a shirt.

At that point, Leo moved, tense and hot, and Elliot lost the ability to think. His servant's hands were on the back of the chair, above his head, clamped into the top of it for support as he rocked, dragging his hips up, then down again, twisting in a way that made Elliot positively writhe beneath him. Even still, his gaze remained locked upon Leo, to the way his lips parted when he sucked in soft, fast breaths, the heated flush upon his face, the cling of damp hair to his cheeks and the occasional sway of his bangs to the side that would let him see a glimpse of lidded, pleasure-glazed eyes. His muscles twitched around Elliot and the noble jerked up, deeper, harder on reflex, and Leo's tongue flicked out to wet his lips with the pleased gasp that escaped him and dearsweetgod Elliot was sure he had never seen anything so erotic in his life.

He was helpless to control himself, more so now that Leo painted an image of every single one of his fantasies that Elliot didn't even know he had prior to this. On their own accord, Elliot's hands slid lower, grasping at the pliant flesh of Leo's ass, relishing the gasp and tremulous moan as Leo rode him, the movements between them increasingly jerky, sharp and rough as both found themselves just barely lingering with minimal stamina. It was Elliot that lost himself first, buried as deeply as he could be – a twitching, quivering mess as he came with a last, upward jerk of his hips. Every nerve sung. Every nerve ached, but his sight remained sharp, trained upon Leo, who only seemed more aroused by the sensation of his master having spilled himself inside of him – that is, if he was to judge by the deep reddening of Leo's cheekbones, the rapid quickening of his breath, and the sheer way that his body clamped around Elliot.

It made the noble positively tremble, to know exactly how much Leo enjoyed this in kind.

One of Leo's hands dropped between them, wrapping around his own, neglected erection, though he only lasted a few, final strokes before he climaxed messily between them with a sharp intake of breath. Elliot, for once, couldn't care less about being a mess and grabbed hold of Leo then, clutching that shivering body against him, feeling every slim line quake as it was pressed to his own.

"Why'd you wait so long?" was the hazy murmur against his neck, and Elliot flushed, squeezing Leo a little bit tighter.

"… Busy."


"… Didn't want to mess things up." An amendment that made his flush deepen.

"Mm." Leo snuggled that much closer. "Better. Essays are not an excuse."

Fortunately (unfortunately?), Elliot remembered that, the next time he found himself stressed all to hell with finals, and had found Leo, so very sweetly, demanding that he be thrown over something right then and there. That something ended up being his desk, and the essay on top of it had to be rewritten courtesy of smudged ink and… other things, none of which Leo was particularly sympathetic about.

Elliot's writing hand hurt for some days after that.