Back Row

Leon was surprised, to say the least, when Piers suggested they go on a date to the movies. Not that he was upset with the idea, just that it’s so...normal. Piers usually likes going to concerts and obscure anarchist bookstores and all sorts of places that Leon has never been, but is slowly coming to appreciate more and more. They do his things too—his long walks in nature, his visits to the beach (only with appropriate coatings of sunscreen), and the long days lounging in bed that they both agree are good for their souls.

But this is the first time Piers has suggested something so regular, so Leon goes along with it almost out of curiosity.

They see a spy movie.

That’s a surprise, too. Piers normally likes foreign films, from Hoenn and Kanto and Kalos, or slasher flicks that are heavy on the splatter and light on the plot. Leon secretly likes those ones too, but it’s another reason why he was surprised that Piers would pick a movie that’s mainly men talking tensely into phones, interspersed with occasional fight sequences and exploding cars.

He doesn’t even get it when Piers asks to sit in the back row, or when a cool hand lands on his knee about twenty minutes into the film. Just a boyfriend being close, that’s all.  No big deal.   

The hand moves up, and Leon barely notices. None of it even begins to fall into place until that hand is resting right over the crux of his thighs, and all of a sudden, as gunfire erupts onscreen, Piers clamps down.  

The gesture has Leon squirming in surprise, but Piers only hushes him despite the scene not having any dialogue. What’s he doing? Why is he—  Why is he pulling Leon’s zipper down and undoing the button of his fly? Why are his clever fingers reaching in and—  

Leon almost squeals when Piers’ fingers graze his sex, but when he looks over at his boyfriend, Piers’ eyes are glued to the screen. One rough fingertip slides over the head of his clit, and Leon clamps his thighs together.  

“Piers, what are you—“ 

“Shh, babe. Just watch the movie.” His voice is low and languorous, and so is the pad of his fingertip as it swirls up and down. Leon doesn’t know if he’s more shocked at Piers’ actions, or the way heat starts to build instantly in his gut. The surprise and inherent shame is heating his cheeks, but the way his body responds is with pure arousal. His heart is hammering in his chest, but he feels his cunt slicking, and why why why is that happening?  

“Piers, we’re in public, someone could see, we could get arrested or at least banned from the theatre if you keep—“ he rants under his breath, though for some reason, he still hasn’t grabbed Piers’ wrist to make him stop yet.

That’s the funny thing about Piers. Leon could make him do so many things, but Piers always erases the reasons why before Leon ever gets that far.   

Up, down. Gathering the wetness and spreading his folds, tugging slightly on the thick patch of curls even though anyone, anyone could walk by and see this.  

He whines, and Piers sighs next to him. “Someone’s only gonna see if you keep makin’ noise, and attract their attention. Trust me, I’ve done way worse in the back of a movie theatre before. People ain’t looking back here.”

He’s so stunned by the sudden revelation that Piers has had sex in public before—or at least, done sexual acts—that he doesn’t notice the rocker reaching over to the spare seat to gather up his leather jacket and toss it over Leon’s lap.  A tiny modicum of dignity. Swallowing hard, Leon looks around them, left and right in the darkened theatre. It’s a matinee, so there aren’t as many people; he and Piers are the only ones in this row.   

But there’s still the head of someone else not five feet away from him.

Five feet from where the Galarian champion is having a finger pushed into his pussy, and greedily clamping around it. It’s actually happening. He’s getting off in public, and no one but Piers knows about it.

Wetness soaks his boyfriend’s knuckles, and Leon’s own are white with his death grip on the arm of the theatre seat. Fuck. This is a monumentally bad idea, even with the jacket in place, there are so many ways this could go wrong and it would be a huge scandal and he’d never recover and why the fuck does that make him so horny?

“Pull your pants further down. Around your thighs. It’s hard for me to finger you like this,” Piers murmurs in his ear, voice low enough that the shouting onscreen likely covers it.

His ears are ringing, but he does it. Everything feels distant, a little numb, but also so close and real it’s almost painful. Leon’s fingers feel stiff as they clench at the waist of his jeans, and he shimmies them down far enough that Piers’ wrist is freed underneath the covering of the jacket.

Two fingers curl inside as his reward, stroking against his g-spot in a wicked beckoning motion. Like Piers is coaxing the orgasm right out of his cunt, and it pulses around those fingers, wanting more and more even as Leon’s face burns with shame.

“Good boy. You’re so fucking soaked for this, better bite your fist when you cum.”

It’s cruel, and it’s depraved, and Leon should absolutely be putting a stop to it. He shouldn’t be doing this at all, and the guilt is almost but not quite good enough to outweigh the pleasure of Piers taking his clit between two fingers and pumping it slowly, teasing the hardness and then withdrawing his hand.

Leon is about to cuss at the unfairness when Piers sucks his fingers clean, and then reaches for his drink, like he’s washing the taste down.

Then he goes right back to what he was doing. Onscreen, two men in grey suits are talking seriously, but he’s missed so many plot points he no longer knows what’s going on. Is the guy pulling the gun the protagonist, or the villain? He can’t remember. Piers is speeding up, the movement of his hand noticeable even under the jacket. If someone walked by and did a double-take, it wouldn’t be hard to guess what they’re doing. Is his pussy making those sloppy wet noises yet? Leon swears he feels a trickle of slick down his thigh, but the movie is loud enough to cover the sounds.

They’re surrounded by other people and he’s getting fingerfucked like a slut and loving it. That’s the reality of this, no matter how he tries to justify it, and yet that only makes him clench all the harder, body straining to fall over the edge, hungry for it.

Out of desperate curiosity, he looks to Piers’ crotch and sees that he’s hard too, a tent in the dark leggings he wore today in lieu of proper pants.

Piers notices him looking, and reaches down to peel back the waistband and give Leon a look.

Hard, ready, but still lazily tucked away. Another explosion onscreen paints Piers’ skin red and orange for a moment, then fades away, and Leon wants that cock in his mouth almost as much as he wants to get off. Or maybe inside him, fucking him.

Has Piers ever done that before? Would he? Would he just keep going if someone saw them, force Leon to cum in front of an audience? It’s so, so wrong, and yet...yet the thought pushes him higher.

Piers tucks himself away again, and leans close to Leon’s ear, breath warm and ghosting across the sensitive skin.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it when we get home. Just watch the movie, love, can ya do that for me?”

Leon nods once, quick and sharp. He’s so close. Just a little more, just—

Someone’s phone rings. There’s a collective groan, and a quick apology from the offending party, who stands and rushes towards the door.

He’ll pass right by. He’ll see. Leon’s heart is frozen in his chest, and his blood runs hot and cold. He’ll know and it’s all over and Leon can hear the footsteps, feels himself sweating bullets as they get nearer and Piers still doesn’t take his hand away from its steady thrusting.

He’s close. So is the stranger. If they look, they’ll see Leon with someone else’s hand down his pants...

And he’s not entirely sure he wouldn’t orgasm on the spot.

Piers slows as the stranger passes, too wrapped up in his phone to even glance at them.

The tension snaps, and Piers’  palm grinds down on his clit hard as his fingers shove in deep, driving mercilessly into where Leon needs it most.

“Cum for me,” he whispers in Leon’s ear, though the command is rough and hard-edged. “Fucking cum, Lee, right in my hand. Now.“

The orgasm that rips through Leon is so hard and brutal he actually sees sparks floating in the darkness, and his hips shake uncontrollably as pleasure fires through every nerve of his body. So close. Almost caught, and it’s sending him over the edge. He’s cumming his brains out in public, and Piers is only fingering him through it, until with a final tremble, his body relaxes into the seat again.

Piers gives him a few final strokes, and then draws his hand free again to be licked clean. If not for the hardness in his pants and the faint blush Leon can just barely see in the pale light of the screen, he would almost seem unaffected by this.

Meanwhile, Leon has to sneak his jeans back up and deal with the mess of slick in his underwear, soaked and bunched up against his oversensitive sex.

Fortunately, after twenty more minutes, Piers declares the movie “boring”, and takes them home.