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A Raihan —>Piers/Leon voyeurism request for Melodie! Thank you so much for your support!

It’s late at night at some hotel in Wyndon, but the details don’t really matter. Raihan isn’t supposed to be at the door that links his hotel room with Leon’s—seriously, could the League not spring to get them bigger suites? He’d expect the Champion of all people to have his own floor, but no. Which is good for Raihan, because he’s bored and ready to bother his friend-slash-rival for evening entertainment, especially when he notices that housekeeping left the door that connects their rooms slightly ajar.

He’s planning to jump out and scare Leon when he comes in, but when the door opens, he quickly realises Leon isn’t alone.

Piers is there. The skinny, bad-attitude punk rocker from Spikemuth is walking in behind Leon, closing the door, and...locking it?

Raihan has all of ten seconds to be confused before Leon turns, grabs Piers by his scrawny waist, and drags him in for a searing kiss.

They’re surprisingly beautiful together, really. No one would expect it, with the distance they keep in public—how many times has Piers said “I don’t really know him”? And how many times has Leon deflected with a cheery “oh, you should interview him instead!” when the press ask questions about his rockstar rival?

Have they been lying all this time? Or is there something else, some other name for what lies beneath that thin veneer, now cracking away before Raihan’s eyes?

It’s hard to say, and harder to focus on anything else but the way their bodies tangle as they hurry to strip one another. Leon is gorgeous and always has been; he’s a perfected form, all heavy muscle and handsome swathes of chest hair, tan skin burnished and exfoliated until he gleams. Permanently photoshoot-ready, even though Raihan has heard him complain about it more often than the weather.

Piers is...a contrast, in every way, but a delicious one. Slender, too hard, knobby in certain places and invitingly curved in others. Androgynous to a level of artistry, and for a moment, Raihan expects him to be the one laying back on the bed and spreading those surprisingly plump thighs for Leon to fit between. Yet all at once, that softness melts into hard, lithe muscle, and Piers’ smile turns to a mean curving of the lips as he shoves Leon’s shoulders and halfway throws him back on the sheets.

The bed is between them and the door Raihan is hiding behind, so his view isn’t the best, but it’s still more than enough. He doesn’t get more than a glimpse of their nude bodies, especially in the low amber light of the hotel’s bedside lamp, but it sends an electric jolt rushing through him. Raihan knows he should move away, should silently close the door and maybe put in headphones and do anything he can to distract himself from the fact that Leon and Piers are clearly about to fuck in a hotel room like a pair of newlyweds.

Or adulterers, depending on how you look at it. True, neither of them is in a relationship, but it’s hard to describe this as anything other than a tryst.

Leon goes down beneath Piers’ body, and Raihan can’t see his face at this angle, but he wonders if it’s anywhere near as shocked as his own expression. Perhaps not, if they’ve done this before—and the graceful confidence in Piers’ movements says it’s not the first time he’s been in this position.

Wolffish. That’s the only word for him as he leans over Leon’s body, hair cascading down around his arms as the muscles in them bulge and flex with the effort of holding a larger body down. Those eyes burn like patches of the sky in his head, clear blue cutting through the clouds, and he rakes his nails meanly down Leon’s side. Raihan’s faint gasp is overlaid by Leon’s wanton moan; he likes the pain?

Piers falls on him like a succubus, and all Raihan can see is the coursing movement of his shoulders, the undulation of his hips, and the crown of Leon’s head as he twists on the bed. It isn’t hard to guess what’s happening, though, the attention that Piers is paying to his throat, applying that wonderful mouth to every sensitive spot.

Leon’s hand shoots out and grips the sheets hard, every tendon standing out beneath his knuckles, and that sight alone is enough to clench with raw lust in Raihan’s gut.

“Turn over,” he hears Piers purr, in that sultry voice he only uses on a few of his tracks. “C’mon, Champ, show off for me.”

Raihan ought to leave now. He’s already seen far, far too much out of both of them, he doesn’t need to witness his rivals actually fucking each other. His face is stinging with the heat of his blush, and his heart is pounding so hard he’s lightheaded, swaying in place against the wooden doorframe.

Leon murmurs something he can’t hear, but then rolls onto his stomach, and lifts his hips into the air.

Raihan can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard Leon say fuck in public, and now he’s propping himself up on his knees, face buried in a hotel bedspread as his hands hold his ass open for Piers to admire. It’s lewd, it’s vulgar, it’s erotic.

And Piers makes a show out of his looking. Takes his time, caressing the hard length of his cock as his free hand skates up the inside of Leon’s thighs, as though weighing him up. Appreciating him like the work of art he surely is, before sliding off the bed backwards to pick up a bottle off the bedside table.

Lube, but no condom. They do it raw?

Raihan swallows again, trying to exhale through his nose to keep it quieter as he wonders whose idea that was. Who likes the thought of Leon being bred more?

Piers circles back behind him, and again, Raihan would kill for a better angle.

Wait, no the fuck he wouldn’t! He’s not supposed to be watching this, he isn’t supposed to be seeing the Galarian champion getting fingered by one of their country’s most famous musicians and he’s definitely not supposed to be getting off on it!

There’s the plastic noise of the cap opening, and the gross squelching noise of the lube coming out. Leon tenses, holding perfectly still, golden gaze somewhere on the tacky patterned carpet, until Piers raises a hand and his shoulder twists and Leon moans again.

Low, rough, needful. Leon’s moans are beautiful, and the part of Raihan’s brain that has been taken over by a demented lust and is currently overriding his sanity understands why Piers likes being on top.

From the motion of his arm, he must be finger-fucking Leon slow and deep, and Raihan watches Leon’s face go slack with the pleasure of it. He’s better than any pornstar, so much fucking better, they both are. There’s nothing at all fake or forced about any of this, and every soft plea out of Leon’s lips as he asks Piers for another finger is nothing but genuine.

Piers smirks, and gives him another one. Two? How many are inside Leon’s ass right now? How does his rim look stretched out around them? His hips are rocking back and forth now, and Raihan’s tongue is heavy in his mouth at the sight of Leon fucking himself on Piers’ hand.

Raihan trembles, because he isn’t sure who he’d rather be. The tip of his erection is pressing against the doorframe now and he leans into the pressure, hungry to take the edge off, even as he imagines both of their places. Leon, facedown in the bed, with Piers’ clever and guitar-calloused fingers pumping viciously inside him, undoubtedly seeking out every pleasurable spot. Erasing the thoughts out of his brain, until all Leon can think about is his ass and his cock and the satisfaction between them.

Or to be Piers, having all that power. How many times have they imagined conquering Leon? Getting that proud body to kneel, seeing him prostrated and defenceless before them? A shaky breath echoes out of Raihan at that thought, though his teeth sink into his lower lip to muffle it. Dominating the king, there’s a power rush waiting to happen. The heat in Piers’ eyes says he’s enjoying the exact same thing.

Then, all at once, those fingers pull out and Piers lands a resounding smack against Leon’s ass. Glistening streaks of lube smear in the places where his fingers touched, and Leon yelps even as he strains back, greedy for more.

There’s something visceral in watching one body mount another, and Raihan’s knuckles are clenched tight on the doorframe as he sees Piers seize Leon by the waist, dragging him back and fitting him onto his cock. Even without the explicit visual, it’s still clear the second the head breaches him, with the way Leon jerks and his strong thighs shake with wanting. Piers grinds into him almost lazily, taking what he needs from Leon an inch at a time, groaning out a “Fuck, Lee, you’re gonna tear my dick off,” with a chuckle on the end of it.

Piers’ hands find the curve of Leon’s hips, and he starts thrusting with practiced, targeted snaps of his hips. They’re not reinventing the wheel here; people have been fucking like this since the dawn of time, and yet something about watching it makes Raihan feel like he’s seeing it all for the first time. Maybe because it’s them, maybe it’s because he shouldn’t be seeing it at all, maybe it’s just because Leon is holding himself up on his elbows and his face as he takes Piers’ cock makes the entire world seem new. Virginal, yet not.

“Harder,” Leon moans, and his voice is so rough it takes Raihan a moment to realise that was a word. “Piers, please, I need it harder—“

That plea has Raihan’s insides shivering, because he never thought that Leon would ask for it harder. Never imagined him getting fucked like this, much less begging for more. Yet he hardly has time to dwell on the thought, because Piers’ hand shoots out and fists in Leon’s lavender hair, sinking in and wrapping it around his fist to use as leverage. Leon’s head is yanked back at the same moment Piers’ hips drive forwards, and the noise that wrings out of him is guttural, almost animalistic with need.

Raihan watches Leon’s face as he gets fucked, and silently humps the doorframe. There’s too many details, too many little things for him to focus on to ever have a hope of concentrating; the crimson flush across Leon’s cheekbones, the strong jaw hanging slack, the way his golden eyes are unfocused in his lust and how his entire body shakes in the rhythm of Piers’ thrusts.

Watching Piers is almost as good. Sinuous, prideful, serpentine and glorious. The buds of his nipples are standing out like rosebuds against the paleness of his chest, and there’s unexpected muscle under the skin of his stomach as he keeps the vicious pace with ease. Raihan doesn’t have a name for the expression on his face as he pulls Leon’s back into a deeper arch, other than pure revelry at his conquest.

Piers fucks Leon like he’s taking something from him, and Leon gives it all up with a chorus of eager groans.

On the other side of the door, Raihan is on fire. Every inch of his body tingles, and adrenaline courses in his veins. Damn it, the fact that he shouldn’t be seeing this is what’s making it so good; he never thought of himself as a voyeur, but now that he has the chance to watch, he could look forever. Maybe he’s a sick pervert, maybe he’s going to hell. Maybe Piers and Leon would hate him forever if they knew he was out here, rock hard from watching them screw. But he can’t stop. This is the ultimate fantasy, and if he gets to the end of this, it’ll be good enough for the rest of his life.

All at once, Piers shoves Leon away from him, and Raihan gets a glimpse of his cock bobbing between them, wet and clearly aching. His own lips form the syllable of Why? at the same second Leon cries it, and Piers might as well be answering to both of them when he sighs and sweeps his wayward hair behind his back once more.

“‘Cause you’re a slut. You want it that bad? Fuck yourself on it. Show me what a cockwhore Galar’s big champion is.”

Raihan almost steps into the room at that, or rather, he feels the urge to more strongly than he has this entire time. Leon of all people doesn’t deserve that sort of humiliation, that casual dirty-talk like he’s some kind of cheap call boy.

Yet Leon is the one who hurries to move backwards on the bed, reaching for the base of Piers’ cock and guiding it back towards himself. “Give it back,” he mumbles, and Piers smirks as he watches Leon use him like a toy. Like he needs to get off so badly that anything will do in this moment, like he would crawl and beg and be every inch the whore Piers just called him.

Leon’s face as he tries to make himself cum with Piers’ cock is what has Raihan’s hand finally sliding past the waistband of his joggers. Dammit, he needs this. He needs it as bad as Leon, as bad as Piers, as much as anyone has ever needed anything. Even his hand feels too good, and he can’t possibly last long watching them like this. Not when his whole body is pulsing, twitching, precum slicking his fingers when he barely brushes the head of his own dick. It doesn’t matter that the angle is awkward and he’s trying his damndest not to be heard, it feels so fucking good to be touching himself while watching his first greatest rival make a slut of himself all over the second.

At some point, Piers grows bored of this game.

He bends forward over Leon’s back, stretching enough to be able to nip at his shoulder, and wraps one thin forearm around the front of his collarbones. Just like that, he’s setting the pace again, and all of Leon’s needy attempts to ride him were just that, just useless effort, because Piers fucks him brutally. So hard it has to hurt, at least a little, and yet that has Raihan standing up on his toes because fucking hell if Leon likes it rough then Piers is the perfect person to give it to him. Their hips are slamming together audibly, a filthy noise that’s so loud in the air that there’s no way Raihan wouldn’t be able to hear them even if he weren’t standing at the door. Arceus, do they know how loud they’ve gotten?

Leon’s eyes actually roll back in his head, and every thrust is shaking a shocked noise out of his throat, and Raihan can see the moment he submits. Limp under Piers’ effortless domination, too wrapped up in his pleasure to even pretend that he isn’t a bitch for this. Piers is just taking him, just finding his own enjoyment in the depths of Leon’s body, and Raihan’s hand speeds up under the cover of the noise they’re making together.

“Nonono Piers, Piers—I’m gonna cum you’re making me cum—!” Leon sobs, his voice breaking in a way Raihan has never heard before, and he sees the white of Piers’ teeth flash against the side of the champion’s neck.

“Then do it. Cum your fuckin’ brains out.”

Raihan can only gape as Leon follows the command, unable to go anywhere with Piers’ arms wrapped around him and therefore shuddering in place as he cums thick ropes down onto the bed, untouched. Holy fuck. Raihan can just barely see it, the few seconds that it lasts, but it’s enough to set him onto the track of being unable to stop his hand anymore. So close, so close to his own edge that any second will have him—

Piers’ gaze flicks up to meet his, and he smiles at Raihan like he’s known all along.

Raihan cums so hard that the sound of his seed hitting the doorframe is actually audible, and he could no more hold it in than he could stop the turning of the tide. Piers has him rooted to the spot, helpless to do anything but spill himself, leashed and held by nothing more than eye contact. It burns through him, from the soles of his feet to the top of his skull, and the sensation it brings is beyond pleasure, beyond fear, beyond the ecstasy of orgasm into something Raihan doesn’t even know how to name. It lasts maybe all of ten seconds, but when Piers smirks and turns his eyes away, Raihan falls spent against the wall, knees barely able to hold himself up.

Dazed, he watches Piers empty himself into Leon’s body, biting meanly on the meat of his shoulder and burying his cock as deep as it will go. A shudder wracks him and Leon echoes it, their bodies swaying where they’re united before Leon finally drops down to the bed, and even Piers’ breath is wobbly as he pulls back and out.

There’s a moment of silence that belongs to the three of them catching their breath, and then Piers brushes a few strands of hair off his sweaty cheek and looks to the door.

“So, you gonna just stand there all night and jack off, or are you gonna join us?”