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He's never one to make too much noise beyond the occasional word of encouragement, and in this case, a few 'mind the fabric's while they were biting his thighs.

"Such admirable strength for such a slim little thing," he smirks. And it's not just empty platitudes either- the Duke would be the first to admit that lifting his stomach is sometimes a two-person job. (And he does admit it, frequently, as a half-joking explanation for why he could never commit to being monogamous.)

Could he have found a different position, let gravity give Lip a bit of assistance? Certainly, he could've. But that would deny him the fun of getting to test them, and see how willing they are to do all the work. For a second he gets the urge to grab a roll of fat and provide Lip with a bit of assistance, but he resists. If Lip didn't have his cock in their mouth they'd insist they were more than capable.

Lip can be petulant. They test his patience from time to time. But in the end the Duke knows that they are eager to please.

The rub of their thumb on the underside of his belly coaxes out a long, satisfied groan.

They squirm a little closer as they swirl and stroke with their tongue. God, they love the way that even just sucking the Duke's cock is a full-body experience. His thighs press lightly against their sides. The strain of holding his belly up is starting to feel like warmth down their arms and between their shoulders. It only makes them more eager for it. Even the growing feeling of breathlessness is fucking hot.

His breaths are heavy, punctuated with low rumbling moans of arousal. He feels the trickle from Lip's cock, hears them in his mind. A smirk crosses his face as he realises Lip has no way of feeling just how turned on they're making him.

"Do you remember the fairy tale about the princess and the pea?" He teases, only just loud enough to be heard over the music. "Somehow I'm reminded of that story now."

He leans back and hums innocently in response to their petulant remark.

At his refusal, they whine, burying their face against his shoulder. “You,” they pant, “Bastard. F- finish what you started, or- or-”

Or they might still be right here when the lights come up.

If they were still sitting beside him with his hand between their legs, no one would notice, probably. Hell, even if they'd taken a seat on his lap like an obedient pet, they might be able to get away with it. But like this- legs spread wide, straddling his belly, their body all but plastered against his- there's no hope of feigning innocence. Everyone would see. Everyone would know what a filthy little slut they are for the Duke-

They moan aloud, their thighs squeezing him a little tighter. Maybe they could cum hands-free before the curtain goes down. But the music's changed, and more than anything they want it to be his hands that tip them over the edge.

The Duke gropes Lip's backside while they straddle him, unable to stop himself from letting out a little moan when their thighs squeeze together on either side of his gut.

"Well, it is an expensive one to get dry-cleaned," he says with a short laugh, before quaffing the rest of his champagne and setting the glass aside. "But there's an easy fix for that, isn't there?"

He slips his hands between Lip's body and his own and un-does a couple of buttons, starting from the bottom up, exposing a section of skin.

When the Duke reaches underneath them, they tilt their hips, presenting themself to his touch- but he isn't actually going for their cock. They feel the fabric shift, then the warmth of bare skin underneath them. Their eyes widen as they catch his meaning- here, now?

Fuck.

The roll of their hips is almost involuntary. The wave of sensations that comes in response- his soft flesh swaying and pressing back against them- makes them gasp and whimper, dropping forward to lean their torso against his. He's all but brought them to heel, and just by dropping the leash. Fuck. They keep grinding.

At home or in one of the clubs they frequent, they'd rub lube on his belly before riding it like this - the skin-on-skin friction is different, but not unpleasant. It certainly makes the trickle of pre-cum more noticeable. Fuck, Duke, can you feel how wet I am for you-

The music swells again, and Lip is aware- acutely aware- that they could orgasm from this alone. But they can't help it; something about the Duke makes them insatiable. They ask for more.

He chuckles lightly when Lip's stomach growls. Poor thing- he knows they hardly eat enough when it's not a little game like this.

"You really needed this, didn't you, pet?" He holds the fork towards their lips. Once the bite is in their mouth he doesn't miss a beat before getting them another. He's a well-practiced feeder, the movement from plate to mouth and back to plate is deft and elegant. After another bite of cake, another strawberry. Then he lets them take a sip of tea. It's almost certainly just in his imagination, but he likes to think he can see the colour coming back to their cheeks, bit by bit.

“Mm. 've tried that. Didn' really work out.” But those memories slide out of focus with surprising ease as Lip takes the next chocolate-covered strawberry.

“I've heard there's these cows that they massage, like, every day. And they feed them champagne and... and fresh grass, and then...” They drag a manicured nail across their scarred throat. “Best steak you've ever tasted. Is what I've heard, anyways.”

It's the most they've spoken since the bite, and while they've been talking they haven't been eating. They take a moment to catch up with the forkful of cake the Duke's offering them.

Dessert with the Duke makes eating feel easy. Maybe it's something to do with the man's reassuring presence. Maybe it's something to do with the fact that Lip tends to be high as a kite by the time dessert rolls around. Either way, it's nice. He opens his mouth and takes a bite of the strawberry right from the Duke's hand, juice dribbling down his chin in a defanged parody of the Duke's own mess earlier. He doesn't seem to mind.

He can't help but moan aloud at the taste. The Duke knows just how Lip likes it. The chocolate so dark it's almost bitter, the strawberries just half a shade past peak ripeness, so that they're even juicier than they were at their technical prime. In his own way, Lip loves excess just as much as the Duke does. He takes another bite, leaving only the stem and a nub of pale, dripping flesh in the Duke's fingers. How beautifully tame, eating from the predator's hand. Lip chews, swallows, and sighs.

"You're so dear when you get clingy," he purrs, "I promise I'll never leave you alone for a second longer than necessary."

Clinginess is appealing to the Duke, to a point. It's nice to feel needed, to feel essential to someone else's happiness. That's why he likes running a food truck.

Lip's moans are like music to his ears. He loves finding new ways to tease that sound out of them.

"Tea, of course." He brings another berry up to Lip's mouth. "It should go very well with the cake, which I expect you to eat every bite of."

He wipes a drop of juice from the corner of their lips.

This close, they can smell their own blood lingering on his breath. All warmth and iron. Their stomach growls.

"A deal can be arranged. I am...for better or worse, at your mercy."

Lip's cock slides between his rolls of fat and he bites his lip hard enough to hurt. Enough, he's screaming inside his head, enough enough enough.

"I'm afraid those are on reserve for someone else," the Duke huffs, re: the chains. Then - "Absolutely out of the question," re: the name. (This one also comes with a laugh)

Lip implores him to beg, and he can't help himself but let out a growl of frustration. Ever the brat, even when they're in control.

"You drive a hard bargain." His voice drops low. "I'll beg, if that's what you want."

He licks his lips, takes a deep breath.

And then, of course, he caves. And how lovely it is to hear. Lip rewards him by beginning to thrust, slowly at first, his thighs gliding over the other's cock, his own cock pressing deeper into the Duke's folds.

"You're welcome."

He loses the veneer of composure for a second, his eyes going wide as Lip brings the drop of blood up to his lips. He sucks the blood off, ravenously. He has a thought, for a moment, that he could bite the tip of Lip's finger off. Would they thank him for that, as well?

He pushes the thought out of his mind long enough to briefly set Lip down and fetch dessert.

When he returns, he has an ornate tray piled high with delights.

"Chocolate-dipped fruit, and strawberry cream cake. I envy you, you know. I wish I could eat this...."

He offers a strawberry.

Dessert with the Duke makes eating feel easy. Maybe it's something to do with the man's reassuring presence. Maybe it's something to do with the fact that Lip tends to be high as a kite by the time dessert rolls around. Either way, it's nice. He opens his mouth and takes a bite of the strawberry right from the Duke's hand, juice dribbling down his chin in a defanged parody of the Duke's own mess earlier. He doesn't seem to mind.

He can't help but moan aloud at the taste. The Duke knows just how Lip likes it. The chocolate so dark it's almost bitter, the strawberries just half a shade past peak ripeness, so that they're even juicier than they were at their technical prime. In his own way, Lip loves excess just as much as the Duke does. He takes another bite, leaving only the stem and a nub of pale, dripping flesh in the Duke's fingers. How beautifully tame, eating from the predator's hand. Lip chews, swallows, and sighs.

The cold metal of the claws on his skin makes him hiss and makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. The Duke is aching, but unfortunately, also too proud to concede defeat just yet, even with Lip attacking him on two fronts simultaneously.

Instead of begging, he does what he always does- offers a bargain.

“I wouldn't mind hearing how you intend to punish me.” The breathy quality to their voice indicates that wouldn't mind is understating the case a bit. “But cutting a deal will probably get us there sooner.”

They withdraw their hands to reach for the bottle of lube they'd set on the bedside table. It's a new flavor they'd saved special to try out with the Duke - cucumber aloe, in a frosted glass bottle. Refreshing, sophisticated, and a little bit luxe. They pour a portion into their hands, carrying one palmful underneath to massage into his cleft and around his rim. The other hand spreads lube on their own inner thighs and dick.

“There's so much I could ask for,” they muse. Deftly, they position his cock between their wet thighs, which they bring in to just barely touch him. “Oh, what about that set of gold chains you just got in? I think they'd look lovely on me.”

Their own dick slides between his fat pad and the lowest roll of his belly, but they don't thrust. Not yet. “Or I could ask your name... joking, don't worry. I like calling out ‘Duke.’”

Gently, slowly, they start to work one finger into him, spreading the lube further inside as they go. Just a little bit, for now.

He holds Lip, cradling their head in the soft crook of his arm. His eyes linger on the scars on their neck, and he can't help but wonder whether the vampire who caused that ever had the same compunctions that he does.

"You've earned your rest, pet." He dabs at the corners of his mouth. "You made yourself such a delectable meal for me...far too delicious to let waste away. Lay here for as long as you need to, with me."

He rubs Lip's shoulder gently.

“You've been so good for me, baby,” they mumble with half a slur, looking up at him. There's a trickle of blood down his chin that he's missed; Lip gently wipes it away with their thumb, then holds their thumb to his mouth so he can lick it clean. “So good.”

His touch on their shoulder feels fantastic. They settle in leaning against him with a contented moan. There's a gentle drowsiness that fills them, here in the safety of his secondhand warmth, and they know from experience they could drift off right now and not have a single bad dream all night. But then he mentions dessert, and they perk themself up for that.

Lip giggles deliriously, clearly teetering at the edge. Their fingers play with the Duke's hair. He could keep doing this for a long time if they let him, long after he's drank his fill and their fingers have gone limp and cold.

When he does loosen his lips away from the wound again, the skin is red. There'll likely be a bruise there later, and he's proud to think that he's left a mark behind that others might notice.

He changes tactics now, alternating between lapping at the blood and pressing his tongue over the fang marks to manage the bleeding a little.

They were bad at stopping within their limits as an athlete, too.

They whimper as the Duke nurses at the wound he's made, lavishing them with his attention and appetite. “Slower,” they whisper, and even they aren't sure who they're talking to - the Duke, or their own heartbeat. They want this to last. But their pulse still races, pouring themself into the Duke's eager mouth. There's a paradoxical warmth that spreads outward from the bite, and all they want is to bask in it. They loll against him, head tilted back, scarred throat up toward the heavens.

It's his voice that stirs them. Heavy false lashes flutter open, but their eyes don't quite focus. They check in with their body instead - and find, despite all their hopes, those delicate fingertip pins-and-needles that mean they're starting to push their luck. There's a whining sound that must be them. They don't want to stop, they don't want to let go—

But they did promise the Duke they'd give him the signal if they needed to.

Lip plays the tease well. They lay on the petulance- the Duke loves it almost as much as he loves doling out his little punishments.

"Well, I think you'll like sitting on my lap just as well," he takes on a slightly sterner tone. "The view might even be better. You'll have a soft place to rest your back. And I know you'll like what I do with my hands no matter where I put them." He traces a line down their inner thigh to prove the point.

They take a third option.

“My back?” They repeat. “I think it would be easier to fit if I...”

In a fluid, deceptively easy motion, they rise to their knees and grab the back of the couch, using it to lift and swing themself over to settle gently on the shelf of the Duke's belly, straddling him. They feel the sumptuous fabrics of his suit again, this time against much more sensitive skin. The drape of their skirt barely maintains their decency - if 'decency' is a word that could be used for any of this. They squeeze lightly with their thighs, taking hold of the Duke's opera scarf in each hand for balance.

"Only the finest for you, pet," he smiles knowingly as Lip pulls gently on the watch chain. "You know me, I prefer to keep myself surrounded by pretty things."

He chuckles.

"Oh, we're all animals. Some of us are just better at hiding it than others."

They're starting to squirm now. The Duke's tongue passes over the tips of his teeth, then over his lips, in anticipation of what he's going to say next.

The orchestra and the singers are all world-class, but Lip can only focus in on the sound of the Duke's voice, the low burr of his chuckle. They like the way he says pretty things. They like the way it makes them shiver. They keep squirming.

“Mmm. But what if I like where I'm sitting now?” Lip answers the Duke's almost-innocent tone with their own, a teasing, mock-petulant whine. They even put on a pout. “I like my view of the stage. I like... mmh... like your hand where it is...”