This boy is the boy that will change everything for him.
This boy is the boy that will erase him.
That's why Vincent has no issue falling upon his knees before him, even the plush carpet feeling like a punishment as the folds of his nightshirt flutter upward with the movement. Rug burns – he is no stranger to them, and they sting, remind him that he's still alive, too alive, and that he wishes, so desperately, that he wasn't.
Leo says nothing – doesn't even look at him. Instead, his chin merely rests upon a delicate, white palm, a smirk upon his face as he glances off to the side as if bored. He doesn't react when Vincent trails his palms up smooth, lean thighs, when his fingers pry open his belt, or even when Vincent pulls out his already erect cock.
No, all he does then is hiss out a soft breath, and lift the hand not elegantly resting upon his face to fist it into honey blond hair and pull.
Vincent understands. He doesn't have to be told. He's a good servant, especially to such an amazing, perfect master – a master that so generously offer him what he wants in exchange for his services. And so he tips his head forward, tongue hot and wet as it trails from base to tip of Leo's erection, swipes over the head in a sticky, messy slide and drags the head between his lips only to release it with a slick, audible pop.
Vincent can see his master's teeth grit, then, muffling sounds of what are, undoubtedly, pleasure that he wishes he didn't feel.
And then Leo's grip tightens – surprisingly strong for such a small boy – and shoves him down. Vincent's eyes flutter, his cheeks hollowing with the next pointed suck as he simply swallows all of Leo, breath a sharp inhale through his nose and fingers splaying to the inside of narrow thighs. Gladly, gladly he'll do this. This is nothing, this is fine, as long as Leo will grant his wish.
Leo drags him back after another moment – looking at him, finally looking at him, or is it looking past him, through him? His eyes are glazed, face flushed, lips parted and tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip as he drags Vincent's head forward, cock rubbing against the side of his face – pressing into his cheek slick with saliva and precum. Vincent huffs out a hot breath and Leo jerks against him, turns his head aside, makes Vincent kiss along the length of him, lap at the head and taste him so completely before he comes messily over the blond's face.
"Clean yourself up." And as simply as that, he is shoved away, disheveled and thoroughly dirtied. Vincent lifts a hand, swiping it over one cheek and brings it to his lips afterward, slowly licking each finger clean, tongue a squirm up each digit. Leo's disgust is palpable, but Vincent doesn't even care.
"Yes, my lord." Because what else will his answer ever be for such an incredible master that he has?