Teaser For Upcoming Doomcio Fic
Lucio blushed furiously, struggling to keep his breathing steady. Akande was enormous.
He was enormous, and kneeling between Lucio’s legs, which meant Lucio had to spread his thighs to accommodate the literal mountain of a man that was currently cradling one of his prosthetics like it was made of porcelain. Like it–like Lucio–was something precious and breakable.
Lucio tried to recall the last time anyone had ever made him feel this vulnerable. His mind came up blank, a static of white noise interrupted by a single, clear, bright note of a thought: This man could literally snap me in half. Climbing him would be like climbing a literal tree. His thigh is thicker than my waist.
That probably shouldn’t be getting me hard.
As it was Lucio resisted the urge to squirm, his hardening dick pressing insitently against the tight fabric of his slacks. He began to sweat. Akande was right there. If Lucio got hard, there’s no way the intimidating man wouldn’t notice.
Though, judging by the way he was now carefully tracing the smooth curve of Lucio’s ceramic calf, that might actually be the intent behind the other man’s handling of him. Now Lucio just had to figure if this seduction was to win him over, blackmail him, or because for some reason this breathtakingly handsome, charming, genius millionaire Nigerian tech mogul was interested in a 5’3’’ DJ from the favelas of Rio de Janeiro.
The urge to squirm only increased when Akande looked up, piercing eyes keen and dangerous as he regarded Lucio. “Your prosthetics are rudimentary at best,” he rumbled, sliding one large hand up to thumb at the line where Lucio’s flesh met the metal socket. Lucio twitched, unable to suppress a small gasp. Akande seemed content to ignore it, though if Lucio had been focusing on the man’s face rather than the wall two inches over his holy-fuck-huge shoulder, he would have noticed the flash of covetous heat in those brown eyes, or the challenging turn Akande’s small smile took.
“They’ve done okay so far,” Lucio choked out.
Akande shook his head, swiping his thumb once more over the smooth brown skin connecting flesh to metal. “For a man of your stature such poor prosthetics are unacceptable. I will make you new ones.”
And here was the thing. Akande wasn’t asking here, not really. He’d decided Lucio needed new prosthetics, better prosthetics, and that he’d have them. Built by Akande’s own hands, if possible.
He met the small musician two hours ago and Akande already felt the same sense of proprietary affection for him that he did for his more eccentric members of Talon.
Lucio snorted. “Was that a short joke?”
Akande raised a brow, then leaned up and in. Even kneeling, he towered over Lucio, looking down at him with half lidded eyes. His fingers still lightly caressed Lucio’s legs, large hands having inched further and further up Lucio’s clothed thighs. He smiled, slow and satisfied like a cat with a mouse. “You think I would stoop so low?”
Holy crap, Lucio realized, and his dick was becoming a real problem, here. He makes puns. I hate him.
A/N: more to come in a week or so when my work lets me near a laptop again, but this pairing has been eating my brain and I had to get something out there. Size difference, ideological spats, and fighter/healer dynamic oh my!