So, we were out here, memeing as we always do when I realised that a very specific Gordon Ramsey meme would fit perfectly with goat boy, and so, here it is!
And yes I know it’s incredibly short for what I’ve been writing recently but I promise to get back on track with all that! I’ll make a post with what I’m planning on writing!
Pairing: Lucio x OC/MC/Reader
Rating: Mature.... probably?
A summers evening coming to a close, sweat dripping when doused in too much sunlight and the cold gripping your shoulders when in the shade for too long - there was no equal balance.
A rowdy Count had asked you for dinner, and so here you were in a half bathed sunlight. The first in days that wasn’t making you perspire quite as badly.
The veranda overlooking the gardens was blessed with a cool breeze and infinite charm, White Roses tastefully decorating the marbled rail and stone arching.
He sat opposite you, white suit without the flurry of robes and furs - sash tucked away in his room nearby. Without all that fancy doohickies you could admit that he looked good in white.
“Have I caught the apprentice staring?’ His lips pulled into a smug grin, head in hand and peering at you.
You scoff and turn your attention to the garden, voice unimpressed but cheeks coloured, “You say that like you haven’t been staring at me.”
Blossoms stretched as far as the eye could see, maze laid out to your left spiralling towards the centre where a large, lone statue carved from marble stood - the tip of it barely poking out from where you could see it.
You could feel the counts hand taking one of yours before you actually felt it. Raising your finger tips to his lips, caressing them each with a kiss, down your palm, softly biting on the pulse point in your wrist. Gaze salacious, pointedly staring at you.
He had no shame, absolutely none.
“Darling, I’m on my best behaviour! Don’t act like you’re not interested in me and all that I could do to you.”
To be completely honest, he had been. Even when the servant had come out already with the wrong dish three times now.
The sun deep in its setting now, Lucio visibly annoyed but not saying anything quite yet.
You frown a little, your empty plates in front of you and glasses empty of his own wine and your beverage of choice - not even your choice really, Lucio had insisted that you had some and asked ever so politely for it.
He catches you frowning, his face setting into creases with a worried frown of his own.
You smile, your hand finding his and holding on to him. “More than okay Lucio..... just a little hungry.”
His grin returns, fingers of his other hand not clasping your own unbuttoning as far down on his suit as he could without being entirely inappropriate, “Darling, there’s always a free meal right in front of you if you so desire.”
You snort a laugh and have to hide your wide smile with your hand. He chuckles to himself at your reaction and hoists himself closer to you at the intimate table, no longer completely opposite you.
He looks you up and down, his other hand resting on your thigh, the cold metal nipped your warm skin. The tips of his fingers grazing across the fabric, threatening to tear.
He lowered his voice, lips finding the shell of your ear.
“You’re always quite the meal yourself darling, I may just have to send the servant away for good when they come back.”
The balcony door slammed open, a nervous servant with two plates of food almost tripping in their haste through the door.
They pull themselves upright and approach the table cautiously. The food warm and not quite right, but ready for any food you almost tuck right in but find that Lucio is tutting.
“Take these back to the kitchen, and don’t come back.” The servant is wide eyed, ready to beg for mercy by the seems of it. You give Lucio a pointed look and he sighs.
You had been working on this with him. He could do it, he just needed to get into the habit of it.
“Take it back to the kitchen, servants and the kitchen staff are free to have it as their own meal. Thank you.”
They stutter for a second, grabbing the dishes before Lucio can say anything else. Dashing from the balcony, almost tripping over their feet.
“Why did you send it back? It was perfectly good?” You hadn’t expected him to say that the staff could have it.
Least of everything that was expected was when he stood and lifted you by the legs up onto the table, glasses and cutlery be damned as he knocked them off carelessly.
His lips immediately attacking at your neck, biting, kissing, sucking, anything to get you to mewl for him.
He lifted his head, eyes primal, searching yours. Lips trailing a path down over your clothed chest and to your groin where he began to palm through your clothes.
A whine of satisfaction left your lips. His voice raw and low, “Finally, a good fucking meal.”
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