Sweet & Sour

cw: degradation, humiliation, rough oral 

Piers loves to humiliate Leon, but he also loves to care for him.  First he treats him rough and mean, fucking his face and using the Champion’s mouth like his own personal fleshlight. Gagging him on his dick, making Leon’s pretty eyes well with tears and spit drip lewdly down his chin, spattering onto the floor.   

“How do you think your fans would feel if they could see you like this? If they knew their king was nothing but a cock-hungry whore?” He pulls Leon back with a fist in his hair, and that red tongue still curls out towards the head of his dick needfully, a silent plea that has him barking a harsh laugh.   

“You call yerself the Champ, but all you are is the champion of cocksuckers. Fuckin’ slavering for me.”   

Snapping his hips forward, he buries himself into Leon’s convulsing throat until his face turns red, and when Piers lets him back to breathe, Leon can only cough and choke for a few seconds before obediently opening his swollen lips for more.   

Always more with this one, never enough. Piers loves it.   

“Hey, I‘ve got an idea.” 

He reaches down to the ground and snatches up the fallen cap Leon always wears, and places it back on the sweaty mass his hair has become. “King of the Sluts deserves his crown, don’tcha?” 

Leon’s only response is a broken whimper. Perfect.

“Look up at me when I use you, like you’re grateful for my cum,” he commands, fingers seizing that proud chin and forcing Leon up into a sitting position when he feels himself drawing close.  

There’s nothing he loves quite like spraying that pretty face with his seed.

Thick ropes of it land across Leon’s cheeks, and Piers stretches up on his toes to make sure it gets in his hair and even a few drops on that stupid ‘crown’, too. He wants the symbol of Leon’s pride soaked in his jizz. Every inch belongs to him.   

The last of it is wiped clean on plush, bruised lips, and when he looks like a dream, Piers releases him and pulls out his phone.  

”C’mon, give us that winner’s smile. Aint’cha proud of being Galar’s best whore?”  

Leon is too far gone to smile, but he does turn his wrecked face to the camera, eyes hazy. Piers uses the flash, so he can capture the glisten of cum and tears on that glorious, handsome visage, and revels in the way Leon’s thick lashes are clumped together messily. A real piece of art, fuck galleries.  

 It’s not going to be seen, of course.

These pictures are for their eyes only, and when Piers taps Leon’s cheek and asks him if he’s ready to end the scene, all the teasing about broadcasting his state far and wide evaporates. Just that, just play.

Leon is a powerful man, but sometimes he wants his will crumpled up in a ball and tossed aside. To feel like nothing, like he has no responsibility beyond his body, that all of his darkest desires are perfectly acceptable. And Piers accepts every bit of him.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let me clean you up,” he murmurs, slowly guiding Leon off the floor and up onto the bed. Leon is dazed, not very talkative when he slips into that fuzzy nether-space, but Piers presses a gentle kiss to his sore mouth anyhow.

“Did you enjoy tonight? Nod for yes, shake for no.”  

Leon nods, and his eyes make brief contact. He loved it, then. Piers’ lips curl in a wry smile; Leon is never dishonest with him about this, and it makes his heart soar.   

“I’m glad.”

Then he rises and goes off to get Leon a damp washcloth to clean off his face with, and a glass of clean, cool water. Piers takes a few breaths at the edge of the sink to bring himself back to the present moment, shaking off any remaining energy.

When he returns to Leon, he cleans off the mess with tender swipes of the cloth, chuckling a little at just how sloppy they both got. He leaves kisses as he goes, across high cheekbones and the mole Leon tries to hide under his beard.   

“Precious thing, y’know I adore you.”

Leon does know, and pulls Piers down to lie beside him, wanting the reassurance of his presence. It feels warm and comfortable, this space between them, and Leon rides out the distance he’s taking from his own headspace with a relaxing weight in his arms.

Piers guides him through it, goes through a bit of his own vacation as he nestles his face against the sweaty side of Leon’s neck, listening to the steady throb of his slowing heartbeat.   

Instinctively, his hand comes up and begins to comb long fingers through Leon’s hair once more, playing with the lengthy, silky strands. Leon’s hair is thicker than his own, more voluminous, and Piers loves to fling it around his fingertips before combing it straight and even. When he comes back to himself more, Leon rolls over and settles his weight on top of Piers’ thin frame, getting a soft laugh out of both of them. Sometimes Piers pretends to complain about it, but tonight that weight is only a comfort. 

“Arceus, Piers, you always know how to take me apart,” he mumbles, and Piers feels his cheeks heat at the praise. Leon’s voice is rough from the abuse of his throat, but the reverence in those words is genuine enough to make his heart squeeze.

“I mean it, you push just far enough. That was incredible. You’re incredible, and I love you,” he says, placing kisses along the stubbled line of Piers’ jaw, along his pulse, down to the hollow of his throat.   

“I love you back,” Piers returns.

After another long minute of nuzzling and kissing, Leon sits up and drains the last of the water Piers brought him. There’s a shake, and he’s back to his usual self. Almost. There will be a few more tender hours, but he feels nothing but calm on the inside. Pleasantly emptied.

“Can we take a shower? I wanna wash you off—“ he starts, and Piers is one step ahead of him, sliding out of bed.  

 ”Good, ‘cause I feel fuckin’ rank. And you’d better try not to get too handsy.” 

 Leon follows him to the bathroom, and decides to push the unspoken ‘or else’.