Commission by a v nice person who wants to remain anonymous. Lùcio with a ftm reader.
You hadn’t even planned on taking someone home with you – even less going to a complete stranger’s place, because you might be a tourist on vacation in Brazil but you weren’t a fucking moron.
You’ve just been looking for fun in one of the bar’s dotting the downtown; nothing too serious or promiscuous.
You remember the music; strangely alive and uplifting and… and soothing. And you remember the DJ, happy and grinning, head bouncing and thick braids swaying behind him, and how you pushed your way through the people and towards him; belly filled with the throbbing beats he was dishing out into the room.
You weren’t sure how you ended up in Lúcio’s little room above the club. You were only certain of the music thrumming through your body and making you feel nice and happy, and whole in a way you hadn’t felt in a long while – and of Lúcio himself, bubbly and nice, pulling you up next to him and clapping you on the shoulder, and staring at your face with some kind of confused scrutiny before grinning and opening a fresh lemonade up for you.
Maybe he could see the bewilderment on your face now, because he was suddenly there, not letting you look around his room too much, which was messy but not dirty, lit with neon green and yellow lights that made his skin look richer, and his eyes near luminescent.
His hands are on your shoulders, warm through the thin gloves he is wearing, and you can see the concern in his face – how he is about to ask you whether you’re alright, and you decide all of a sudden that yes you are. You want this, and you don’t want concern or pity, and you’re on fucking vacation, and you can nip his concern in the bud before it destroys the whole thing.
You grin sharp and impish and can see his surprise seconds before you kiss him. His pants are loose and baggy, but his tank is nice and tight. Enough for you to feel the tightness of his nipples against your palms when you cup them. He grunts into the kiss, and pulls back, eyebrows drawn up and a tentative grin on his face.
“Ok?” he asks and his smile widens when you nod in return. He giggles and darts in to kiss the corner of your mouth, his goatee scratching against your chin. His hands are on your shoulders again and he is pushing and guiding you backwards until the edge of his bed hits the back of your knees. You let yourself down until you’re sitting and look up at him, then around the room with a quick flick of your eyes. There are a lot of frog ornaments – cartoonish and with headphones on. It’s dumb, but it makes you feel calmer and more in charge.
You lean back onto your hands and look up at Lùcio with a grin.
“How about some music?” you ask and he seems excited and happy by the suggestion. He nods, thick braids bobbing behind him, and turns to fiddle with an elaborate music system.
When he turns back around, techno music thudding low and unoppressive through hidden speakers, he does a double take – obviously surprised that you’ve already started getting naked.
He’s staring and you feel the beginnings of self-consciousness start to roll through your body. Your hands are at your fly, shirt discarded next to you, and his eyes flick across your upper body. Before any doubt can creep up again – before you start overthinking – you take the situation in hand.
“Come here.” There’s a wavering lilt to your voice at the end as it cracks for a second, making your command more a question.
Lùcio blinks, then grins and bounces on the balls of his feet. “Man! Dude!” he says, and he sounds giddy as he comes closer, his own fingers playing with the hem of his tight tanktop. “You got it!”
His enthusiasm is a thing of beauty, and the last vestiges of nervousness begin falling away from you as he struggles to get out of his shirt while he drops to his knees. You spread your legs to accommodate him and push your hand into your shorts to give your cock a little nudge with your fingertip just to alleviate some of the tugging need behind your navel.
Lùcio’s mouth, when he finally wrestled the garment off and to the side, drops open as he sees you with your hand down your pants. He stares and you feel good about it – especially when you push against your underwear and let him have a glimpse of your slit; slick and parted by your fingers.
Lùcio makes a high, whistling sound in the back of his throat, and his eyes get glassy as he watches you slide your fingers through the beginning mess, then offer them up to him.
“Okay?” you ask, voice low and amused because he looks like he’s about to shake out of his skin in excitement.
“Damn,” he whispers, eyes large and dark and liquid as he looks up at you; stares right into your eyes as he leans forward to slowly lick your slick fingertips with an almost shockingly cherry red tongue.
When he finally lets go of them with a lewd pop, his hands are on your hips and rubbing mindless circles into your hipbones.
“Can I… Can I use my mouth on you?” he asks almost too low to be heard over the music. You clench down in acute want, belly feeling warm and full.
“Yeah? You wanna suck my cock?” you purr and push him back with your foot nudging against his chest so you can work your jeans and underwear down in front of his greedy, excited gaze. His hands are rubbing along your shins almost mindlessly, tickling through the hair until he grips your knees and pushes them apart.
“Oh you don’t know the half of it, dude” Lúcio murmurs, his English thick with accent, eyes never leaving the warm, wet space between your thighs.
He surges forward suddenly, mouth open and greedy and enthusiastic as he gives first your cunt, and then, after licking you open, your clit a kiss that has you shudder and close your eyes.
Your hand is on his head, trying to find purchase in the tight braids along his scalp before you reach farther back and curl it around the thick, neon green hair tie.
Lúcio groans against you. It feels like it twines together with the buzzing music around you, making your thighs tremble and belly muscles harden. He is easy on the eyes, kneeling before you with his shoulders making sure to keep your legs nice and open, and he lets you dictate his movements with your hand on the back of his head.
His tongue is dipping in deep, licking in broad strokes that feel silky and almost tickling at times. He is being curious and excited, and it shows in the way he nudges closer and closer, one hand creeping up your thigh until he can circle your opening with his thumb again and again, just teasing you with the promise of getting filled.
You’re breathing deep, chest heaving, and you want to reach down and get his other hand; pull it up to your pec so he can fondle one of your nipples while he’s busy eating you out with lewd, wet noises.
You don’t have the coordination to do more than grip his hair harder and keep yourself upright. You need to watch him; how his face is starting to get shiny from your slick and his spit, his dark eyes half open and staring into nothing. He seems zoned out and dedicated, and it sends almost painful want through your limbs, as your hips start moving, pelvis tilting up and into his kissing, suckling mouth.
His hand is forced away by the movement, the goatee of his chin rubbing where his thumb had been just moments before, making you grit your teeth and groan low and wrecked.
“Yesss,” you hiss, “suck me.”
You want more force to be behind your words, but they’re breathless and low, and you wonder whether he can even hear you over the music until he’s shifting slightly and his lips close around your clit; swollen and so sensitive, you can’t help but arch your back and dig your heels into the carpet.
Lùcio isn’t doing things by half; he’s sucking like his life depends on it, the tip of his tongue an occasional but very welcome addition as it soothes the sharp pleasure pain every now and then.
You are hugging his head towards you, and you’re not sure when exactly that happened, but your toes are curling and your body is hot and thrumming in time with the music.
His fingers are almost rude as they push into you; two all of a sudden, slim but there, forcing their way inside and rubbing up against spongy walls that already clutch and tremble in preparation for orgasm.
“Fuck, yeah,” you groan, forcing your body back to let him breathe – and to be better able to buck against him. You’re fucking his mouth ruthlessly, and Lúcio lets you do it, eyes no longer zoned out but very interested, curled up towards you big and warm, watching you come apart for him and using him for your pleasure.
You can’t fucking wait to get your hands on him. You want to press him down and let his silky cock drag between your fingers. You wish you hadn’t left your toys in your hotel room because you want to fuck him something fierce. Press your chest against his back as you ream him until he cries for you.
His mouth is messy, tongue out and wet whenever you tilt your hips back to curl them forward once more; fucking your cunt against the slippery muscle, and drag your clit carefully against the smooth wall of his teeth. The pleasure-pain makes you grit your teeth and reach for your own chest finally, pinching one flat, little nipple.
“Suck my cock. C’mon. C’mon, I’m so close,” you rasp, voice trembling and urgent. His hands are on your hips again, grabbing hard, thumbs digging into the soft part just above your hipbones. He’ll probably be leaving bruises; you hope he’ll be leaving bruises.
He presses you down on the bed, restricting your movements for the first time, and really goes to town on you; mouth greedy and jaw working against your messy pussy. There’s heat blooming in your belly, and the air is leaving your lungs in an almost violent rush. You’re surprised and delighted by his eagerness; no hesitation in how he seems to want to crawl right inside you, lips closing around your cock and giving it a hard, noisy suck that finally does it after all; pushes you right over the edge and into a warm, muscle clenching orgasm.
He licks you through the experience, first quick, doggish laps, then slow, leisurely drags of his tongue as you get oversensitive and the spasms in your thighs lessen.
“Fuck,” you groan, fingers clenching and unclenching in the sheets. The tips are tingling and you still feel horny and needy. “Get up here… get up here.”
You need your hands on him.
Cyberrat Writes 