Work Text:
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
I think they took this guy for your understudy without ever hearing him sing, horrible would be a giant understatement
Wolfgang chuckled under his breath, kicking open the door to his bedroom. It was dark compared to the rest of the house with a star projector serving as the only source of light. He threw his smartphone onto the bed, closed the door and locked it, then put his bowl of crisps and a can of coke on his nightstand.
A quiet ding! announced an incoming text message. He threw himself onto the bed and reached for his phone.
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
I’d say he has nothing on your angelic voice but then, nobody does
From: Wolferl
Aww did you miss me that much?
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Sweetheart, believe me, the whole cast did
Wolfgang laughed quietly before stuffing his mouth with crisps; he rolled onto his back and put the hand holding the phone down on his chest. Looking at the Virgo constellation passing right over him on the ceiling, he tried to imagine Sussmayr wheezing his way through Michelangelo’s solo at the end of the first act.
Ding! He picked up the phone.
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
How is your tooth?
From: Wolferl
All fixed now
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
And it wasn’t that bad, was it?
From: Wolferl
I guess not
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Good boy
He felt his stomach doing a flip, a pleasant tingle running down his spine, cheeks starting to burn. It was ridiculous how these two simple words from his boyfriend had him blushing like a virgin.
From: Wolferl
Am I?
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Well, have you been misbehaving?
He made an embarrassingly high-pitched giggle, turning back around to lie on his stomach. Grinning at the screen, he grabbed another handful of crisps and thought of a response.
From: Wolferl
That's for me to know and for you to discover, babe
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Is that so?
From: Wolferl
And how about you? Did you eat anything today?
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Lunch
From: Wolferl
And nothing since? Antonio, it's 8 pm
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
I'll order something later
From: Wolferl
You'd better
God how the hell are you so fit if you barely eat
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
It's for me to know and for you to discover, angel
From: Wolferl
Ha ha, fuck off
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
I'd rather fuck you
Wolfgang choked on the half-chewed mouthful of snacks, sitting up rapidly as he coughed and sputtered, the bottom of his face hidden in the crook of his elbow. Antonio had always been straightforward with him, especially when it came to sex; Mozart loved that about him—how he could switch from a perfect gentleman to a filthy-mouthed libertine and back again in a fraction of a second—yet it still took him by surprise each and every time.
From: Wolferl
Maybe I’d let you
What are you doing rn?
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Smoking, you?
From: Wolferl
Just that?
I was planning to watch a film
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
What film?
From: Wolferl
Titanic
I will block you if you make fun of me
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Why would I?
From: Wolferl
I dunno, it feels embarrassing
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
You have nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart
It’s a good film
From: Wolferl
Why does it feel like a trap
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Don’t you trust me?
And here I was about to ask if you’d draw me like one of your French girls…
Wolfgang was grinning so hard that his cheeks hurt, face burning as if he was running a fever. He was lying back down on his stomach, a pillow under his chest, trying with all his might not to kick his legs up like a schoolgirl.
He was twenty-five, damn it; a grown adult shouldn’t behave that way. He blamed it on his boyfriend—obviously.
From: Wolferl
That’s it you’re blocked
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
So you’re saying you don’t want to draw me naked?
The sole idea was enough to make Wolfgang shiver, his imagination working overtime to produce vision after vision, each more enticing than the last. When he closed his eyes, he could see Antonio’s beautiful body in every little detail, perfect skin turned to gold in gentle candlelight, the soft lines of his silhouette hiding solid muscle as he lay sprawled on a sofa with his head tilted slightly to the side and dark hair cascading down onto his shoulders, a sultry expression on his face. He made quite a view like that, as breathtaking as it was obscene. In his mind, Wolfgang could almost reach out and touch him—God, he wanted it so much.
From: Wolferl
Unblocked
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Thought so
He moaned quietly, grinding against the mattress, getting hard from nothing but a fantasy, heart pounding in his ears. He started typing out something flirty when a new message appeared.
It was as if they shared one mind.
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Are you alone, baby?
From: Wolferl
Yeah
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
In the mood?
From: Wolferl
Oh hell yes
Pls tell me that you too
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
I am
Do you want me to get you off or shall we play?
Wolfgang licked his lips, pretending to weigh his options, though the choice was obvious.
From: Wolferl
Let’s play, but don’t go easy on me this time
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
We will see how you behave
Do you remember your safeword?
From: Wolferl
Come on, do I even need it over the phone?
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
We’re doing this properly or not at all
From: Wolferl
Fine
Viola
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Good boy
Tell me what you’re wearing
From: Wolferl
Your tshirt
Pjs
Boxers
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
My t-shirt? I like that
Are you in bed?
Another breathy moan escaped him as he rocked his hips. He was getting hot, unbearably hot, because he knew where this was going.
From: Wolferl
Kinda, on top of the covers
You?
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Living room couch
Can you do something for me, angel?
From: Wolferl
Anything
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
I want you to reach under that t-shirt and start playing with your nipples
Wolfgang bit back a whine. He leaned on one arm and did what he was told. The feeling of his own hand moving up his stomach made him shudder with pleasure, goosebumps following the trail of his fingers. With eyes shut tight, he pretended it was his boyfriend touching him, thumb circling and flicking his overly sensitive nipple a few times before moving on to the other one.
“Oh fuck,” he hissed, rutting against the bed, face pressed into the pillow.
His phone chimed softly and the screen lit up with a new notification. He unlocked it with some difficulty, barely able to focus on the text.
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
How does it feel, sweetheart?
Are you imagining it's me?
Wolfgang groaned, pulling his hand out from under the T-shirt to text back.
From: Wolferl
You know I do, it's so fucking hot
I wanna know what you're doing
And wearing
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Magic word, angel
He bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from whimpering. He got a firmer grip on his smartphone with one hand and sneaked the other back down to his chest, desperate for any kind of stimulation.
From: Wolferl
Please?
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
There you go
I just got out of the shower, wearing a bathrobe with nothing underneath
Left my hair down because I know you like it
Holy fuck.
Mozart hid his face in the pillow again and let out a drawn-out moan, the image in his mind changing to match the description: Antonio’s hair spilling onto his shoulder, shining wetly in the low light of his living room, small drops of water running down his neck and collarbones, just waiting for Wolfgang to catch them with his tongue…
His hand sneaked down his torso, hips rising almost on their own volition when he slipped his fingers below the waistband of his sweatpants, but stopped himself before he could go any lower.
They were playing a game and he almost broke the rules. He reached for his phone instead.
From: Wolferl
Can I see you?
Please
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Depends, are you doing what I asked you to do?
Biting down on his lip, Wolfgang returned his attention to his chest, his whole body trembling.
From: Wolferl
Yes
I promise
It took less than a minute, but it felt like eternity. He clutched his smartphone tightly, staring intently at the screen until a photo showed up—and fuck, was it worth the wait.
Antonio didn’t reveal much of himself, he rarely did, but what he chose to display was enough to make the young man’s heart beat even faster. The picture showed half of his face—head tilted a bit to expose his neck—and went down to his chest, partially covered by the silky dark fabric of his robe, cutting off just below his sternum. Mozart could guess by the camera angle and the way shadows outlined his form that his boyfriend lay on his side, lounging against the armrest of the couch, exactly like he imagined. His skin glistened faintly in the dim light, long hair pouring onto his shoulders in soft waves. Still, none of those held his attention for long.
Wolfgang couldn’t stop staring at Antonio’s mouth, wet and open slightly as if he was moaning. He craved the taste of those lips, needed to feel them on his body.
Ding!
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Your turn, darling
With a groan, he rolled over onto his back. He pulled his shirt up as far as it would go to expose his chest, held his smartphone up above his head, and adjusted the angle. With the front-facing camera he saw in full what a mess he’d become—a deep flush covered his face and chest, nipples hard and reddened from his ministrations; his hair was tangled and stuck to his forehead with a thin sheen of sweat, eyes glazed over with desire.
He looked straight at the camera and snapped a photo.
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Gorgeous boy, look at you
You’re so perfect
You have no idea how much I want to touch you right now
I'd love to run my hands down your body and follow them with my mouth
I'd kiss every inch of you, leave some love bites along the way for others to know that you're mine
And if you behaved, I'd let you fuck my throat
“Oh-holy fucking shit,” Wolfgang breathed.
He was painfully hard and his body shook with uncontained need, begging for release. He palmed his cock through his pyjamas, the mere hint of friction granting him a brief moment of relief—but he needed more and he needed it right then.
He knew he had to ask for it first.
From: Wolferl
Fuck Antonio please
Can I touch my dick now
Please
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
Since you’re asking so nicely
Let’s undress you first, shall we?
Take off the bottom but leave the top on, I like the idea of you writhing and sobbing when you come wearing nothing but my t-shirt
Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.
Wolfgang bit down on his fingers to stop the cry that threatened to leave his mouth and alarm his family—the last thing he wanted in that moment was his dad banging on his bedroom door. He took a deep breath, pushing his pyjamas down along with his underwear, kicking his legs to get them off faster and ease the tension in his groin, if only a little. He released a shaky breath and spread his legs.
His phone announced a new message.
From: Hot Stuff 🔥
I want to see you, love
At that point, Wolfgang was so impatient, so consumed by lust, that he didn’t even try to pose; he simply put his phone camera over his head and took the picture. It was a little blurry but hopefully showed enough of his body to satisfy the other man.
For a moment, there was no response, so he just lay there, panting, one hand on his chest gripping the smartphone, the other on his cock, unmoving, waiting for permission.
The sound of his ringtone almost gave him a heart attack. He barely glanced at the screen before he picked up and set the device down on the bed.
“Antonio—” he moaned.
“Darling,” his lover spoke in a low, velvety tone, but there was something dark behind it—something sinful, possessive. “Are you being a good boy?”
“Yes,” Wolfgang choked out, a shiver running through his body.
Antonio made a pleased sound in the back of his throat akin to the purr of a panther.
“I know you are,” he chuckled. “I won’t keep you waiting… Go on and touch yourself, baby.”
Mozart whimpered pathetically when his hand started moving on his dick, spreading precum down its length. He heard Antonio sigh softly and knew without asking that the other man was doing the same thing; the mental image of him, lounging on the sofa in that silken black robe, lazily stroking his cock—it made Wolfgang's hips jerk wildly into his grip.
He would die to be there with him, to watch him, to touch him.
“You’re so stunning, sweetheart,” Antonio murmured. “That T-shirt fits you so nicely, you should keep it so I can fuck you like this in person next time.”
Wolfgang let out a needy moan, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggled to keep his movements in any kind of rhythm.
“Please—” he begged, not knowing what he was even begging for. “I—I need to—”
“What do you need, Wolfgang?”
He just whined.
“It’s okay, angel, I’ve got you,” his boyfriend whispered, the sentence ending in a raspy moan. “Just imagine my hand on yours.”
A shudder rolled through the younger man’s body, forcing a cry from his lips before he could stifle it with his free hand.
“That’s it, my love, let me guide you…”
He bit back another keening sound, his body twitching from the sensation; with his eyes closed, he was pinned down by Antonio’s dark, hypnotising gaze—could almost feel his firm but gentle touch on his cock, leading him by the hand as they steadily picked up the pace.
“Oh fuck, I—Shit, Antonio, please,” the words fell from Mozart’s lips without him realising. “I need you, I need you so bad—”
His lover exhaled sharply and took a deep breath, like he was trying to stay in control, but the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him when he spoke again.
“Oh, sweet angel, I’m here… All yours.”
“Ah-Antonio—”
“Will you do what I tell you, my darling?” Antonio asked.
The only answer Wolfgang was able to give him was a vaguely agreeable whine, unwittingly nodding his head.
“Put your fingers in your mouth.”
Once again, the young man nodded and followed the instruction. He didn’t have to be told what to do next, his body knew the drill. Hips undulating with waves of pleasure, his right hand stroking his dick, he pushed his index and middle fingers between his lips, as far as he was able without triggering his gag reflex, and sucked on them, saliva spilling from the corners of his mouth. The noises he was making must have been positively filthy, though they were mostly lost to his own ears.
Antonio kept encouraging him, praising him, and Wolfgang’s mind was filled with visions of sucking his cock.
“Turn onto your stomach, love,” his boyfriend said after a moment. “Can you do that for me?”
“Mhmp.”
His whole body ached in protest when he stopped touching himself and moved clumsily to lie down on his front again, the bed squeaking beneath him; he pushed himself a little higher on the mattress, head on the pillow, and stayed there motionless, gasping for air while he waited for another command.
“My lovely boy, doing so well,” Antonio murmured adoringly. “Now, lift your hips.”
“A’ight,” Wolfgang’s voice was so soft, for a moment he thought his lover didn’t hear him.
“That’s it—but keep your hands off yourself for now, okay?”
Without a word of complaint, Mozart did what he was told, spreading his legs for balance. He pressed his chest into the mattress, his boyfriend’s T-shirt gathered halfway down his torso. He felt feverish, on the brink of going insane, and Antonio was his cure.
“Don’t leave me waiting,” he breathed, “please—”
He heard a rustle of fabric and a muffled moan.
“You’re so polite tonight, angel,” his lover chuckled with apparent delight. “Let’s make sure those pretty fingers of yours are sufficiently wet before I let you do anything more, okay?”
“Yeah.”
He slipped his fingers back into his mouth, licking and sucking on them eagerly—too eagerly, perhaps, because he gagged, spit dripping copiously onto his pillow.
“Slow down,” Antonio said, amused. “We don’t want you to choke, now, do we?”
Wolfgang made an unintelligible grunt in response.
“Take your time,” his boyfriend continued, “and when you’re ready, I want you to reach down between your legs and give your arse some attention.”
Mozart pulled his fingers out from between his lips.
“I’m ready,” he pleaded, desperation ringing clear in his voice.
“Go on then.”
Ignoring his aching cock, he slid his hand along his taint and circled his arsehole with his middle finger, leaving a trail of saliva around that delicate area. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through his body, making him whimper.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” Antonio commanded, his words turning into a low, drawn-out moan that made the younger man shiver.
“Just—Fuck, just touching,” Wolfgang mumbled. “You know, around—”
“Good. You're being so good, my darling,” his lover praised. “Keep doing it, relax.”
“Mhm.”
“If you behave ‘til the end, I'll do it with my tongue next time.”
Mozart pressed his face into the pillow to stifle a cry; the memory of the first time Antonio had gone down on him like that was enough to bring him closer to the edge.
“Oh shit, please,” he whined.
“It’s all up to you, angel.”
Wolfgang groaned, rubbing his warm, wet fingers over and around his hole, stopping a few times to gather more saliva until he grew impatient. His thighs quivered from the pleasure and the strain; the tension in his groin was unbearable, he felt like he was going to explode. He instinctively moved his other hand to his cock but froze when he realised what he was doing.
“Antonio, please, I need to—” he started begging again, “I need to come or I’m—I’m gonna die, please.”
“I love it when you’re being dramatic,” his boyfriend teased, voice quiet and raw. “But you know you’ll need to earn it, don’t you, sweetheart?”
The game was still on and it was the sweetest form of torment; it made Mozart’s heart beat hard, like it was digging for gold inside his chest.
“Tell me what to do,” he gasped.
“Put your fingers inside you, but, darling—do it slowly.”
“Ooh-kay—”
The tip of his middle finger slipped in easily, his body relaxing around it as he pushed in deeper, a strangled groan falling from his lips. He kept his eyes shut, face pressed into the pillow; he slid his finger all the way in, then slowly pulled it back out to the first knuckle and repeated the motion.
“Holy fuck,” he moaned quietly, his hand shaking as he struggled to keep his self-control. “You’re really gonna--Ah—torture me tonight?”
“Isn’t that what you asked for?” Antonio sounded amused, but his laboured breathing told Wolfgang that the other man was inching closer to an orgasm. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”
Oh Hell no, he’d rather die than stop at that point.
Wolfgang imagined his boyfriend lying next to him on the creaky mattress, face flushed red with desire, dark eyes locked on his while his graceful hand moved up and down his cock, out of breath and just out of reach.
“Fuck, I’m gonna—”
He bit down on his pillow to muffle a cry when his finger brushed against his prostate; he did again, harder, then added another one.
“I wish it was you,” he started babbling. “You have beautiful hands, so beautiful—Your pretty fucking fingers, I want them, I want them in me—Fuck—On me, everywhere—”
Antonio whined.
“Oh yes, fuck—I’d get you ready slowly and carefully,” he told Wolfgang, his voice reduced to a husky whisper. “Take you to the edge with nothing but my fingers and my mouth and make you beg.”
“Oh shit, please—Please, dearest—”
“Tell me how much you want it.”
A sharp knock interrupted them in the worst possible moment, causing the young man to freeze, looking at the door like a deer caught in the headlights—fingers up his arse, panting as if he’d just run a marathon.
Another knock, more forceful, then someone pressed on the door handle.
Thank fuck he locked it.
“Wolferl?” It was his sister. “Hello?”
Mozart had no idea what to do; his cheeks burned with a new kind of blush, that of embarrassment. She’d walked in on him masturbating before, but this was so much worse: his hot, rich, older boyfriend was listening and a thought crossed Wolfgang’s mind that maybe the other man wouldn’t want him anymore after something like this.
“I know you’re not asleep!”
He bit his lip to stay quiet.
“I didn’t tell you to stop, darling, did I?” Antonio murmured, an echo of mischief in his voice. “Unless you don’t want to come after all…”
Wolfgang swallowed a whimper, a thrill of excitement running down his back at the suggestion; it was absolutely vulgar—so of course he had to do it. His hand began moving again and he nearly squealed.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Wolfgang!” Nannerl yelled, banging on the door, probably assuming he was using his headphones.
“Aren’t you going to answer?” his boyfriend teased. “It’s not very nice to ignore your sister like this.”
The young man took a deep breath to steady himself.
“What?!” he shouted back, his voice shaking just a little.
“Finally!” He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Dad and I are going out to eat, are you coming with us?”
“No, thanks—” his voice hitched, fingers curling against his prostate. “Grab me—Ah-a burger on the way back?”
“Good boy,” Antonio was like the devil on his shoulder. “Keep going.”
Nannerl made an overdramatic groan.
“I’ll consider bringing you veggie nuggets,” she threatened jokingly. “Seriously though, are you okay? You sound a bit weird.”
Mozart needed a moment before he was able to conjure up words and his lover’s egging him on certainly didn’t help.
“I’m fine!” he yelled in an absurdly high-pitched tone. “I’m fucking watching Titanic, okay?!” he added to mask it and heard Antonio stifle a laugh.
He was lucky that his I’m about to come voice sounded similar to his I’m not crying you’re crying one, or at least it sounded like that to Nannerl, because his sister seemed to have bought it.
“Wow, okay, sorry for interrupting,” she said with fond amusement. “Have fun then?”
Wolfgang didn’t dare answer or even make a noise until the front door slammed shut. Finally alone, he raised his head from the pillow and let out a long, keening moan that had been stuck in his throat.
“You’re delightful, my love.” There was something resembling pride in Antonio’s words; the younger man felt it like a caress on his skin. “So shameless and obedient, I think you deserve a reward.”
“Oh fuck, yes, please,” he begged with wanton urgency. “I need to get off, please—Can I?”
Antonio tutted at him in mock disapproval; Wolfgang knew he was slightly shaking his head, holding back a grin. It’d have been cute if he wasn’t dying.
“Oh, but that would be boring, wouldn’t it, angel?” his lover asked.
“But—”
“Are you going to complain?”
“No,” Wolfgang whimpered after a few seconds.
“Good,” Antonio said. “Close your eyes now, sweetheart, and I’ll get you there.”
Mozart inhaled deeply and followed the command, spreading his legs wider to get more comfortable.
“Think about me and nothing else,” his boyfriend breathed, stifling a moan. “Imagine I’m there with you.”
But Wolfgang was already doing just that; he could almost feel the heat of Antonio’s body behind him—inside him—ghostly hands firmly holding his hips. His wrist was starting to hurt but he picked up the pace, a string of short, sharp moans falling from his tongue.
“Running my nails down your lovely back, leaning down to kiss your neck,” his lover continued and so did his vision. “Taking you slowly to hit that sweet spot…”
“Ha-ah—Harder.”
“We can go as hard as you want, darling.”
His hand wavered, losing the rhythm, fingers repeatedly hitting his prostate, and he cried out in ecstasy, imagining it was Antonio’s dick.
“Oh fuck,” his boyfriend groaned, voice breaking as his self-control began to slip. “You’re being such a good boy.”
Wolfgang made a quiet sob, his body tense in anticipation, movements frantic and irregular. In his mind, he saw Antonio with his eyes closed and head thrown back in pure pleasure, thrusting into him in desperate pursuit of an orgasm.
“I’m gonna—Please, let me come,” he begged, his sanity unravelled. “Please, I need to—”
“Tell me that you’re mine,” Antonio’s voice was raw, his tone urgent and demanding, “That you’ll always be mine.”
“I am—I will, I swear, please—”
“Tell me again.”
“I’m yours,” Wolfgang whined, “only yours, completely—Utterly yours.”
His lover let out a long, rumbling moan; Mozart could imagine that he was arching his back, hips shooting up from the couch when he reached his peak—but in the young man’s vision, Antonio thrust into him instead, hard and deep, reaching down to grab him by the hair and pull him closer as he spilled himself inside him. And finally, he said the words Wolfgang had been waiting for:
“Come for me, my darling, scream my name.”
So he did.
His body went rigid, the unbearable pressure which had been building up in his groin unleashed at last in an outburst of sensation, pleasure taking over, coursing through him like electric current. He was shaking, muscles spasming around his fingers, his other hand clutching the pillow like a lifeline; he tilted his head to the side and released a wailing cry.
“Aah—Antonio, fuck, I’m—!”
Though his eyes were wide open, his vision turned white and he was still for a moment, basking in the bliss—then the moment was over and he collapsed onto his side, narrowly avoiding the stain of semen on the bedding. He lay there trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm, trying to catch his breath. It took his brain a while to catch up and register that the other man was saying something.
“You were so good for me, sweet angel,” he spoke softly, breathlessly, love resounding clear in every syllable. “You did beautifully, I’m so proud of you.”
Wolfgang made a pleased sound, unable to speak just yet. Antonio’s words felt like little kisses peppered all over his blushing face, though he wished he could receive them in person.
God, he missed his boyfriend so much.
“Holy fucking hell,” he whispered once he found his voice again.
He heard the other man laugh quietly before they both fell silent, the only sound filling the air was their heavy breathing. Mozart could feel his body cooling off, heart slowing down to its normal pace; he was exhausted in the best kind of way and it was making him drowsy. He knew he should get up, get dressed, get rid of his soiled beddings—still, he couldn’t stop himself from dozing off.
“Are you okay, darling?” Antonio asked, waking him up.
“Mhm. More than okay,” he mumbled. “I’m fucking fantastic.”
“Sleepy?”
“A little.” He yawned as if on cue, making his boyfriend chuckle. “If I take a nap, will you stay with me on the phone until I fall asleep?”
“Of course I will.”
Content with the other man’s answer, he threw the stained bedspread off the bed and crawled under the duvet, letting out a quiet sigh as he made himself comfortable.
“I fucking love you so much, Antonio,” he said, already half-unconscious. “So fucking much.”
He was pretty sure he heard his boyfriend say it back before he drifted off to sleep.