Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Just outside the Décadence Theatre, an ornate sign displays three simple rules:

1. What happens in Décadence stays in Décadence.
2. Unless called upon to do so, patrons are not permitted to engage with the performer(s) verbally or physically.
3. Enjoy Pleasure yourself.

Heizou smiles as he presents his ticket to the usher. Wearing a yukata-inspired shirt and loosely fitted shorts, he certainly stands out as a foreigner, but by no means is he underdressed. Just behind him, another patron files into the theater wearing little more than a black lace shawl over a sheer leotard. Meanwhile, their partner stands clad in a latex crop top and matching latex boxers.

Tonight should be interesting.

Once inside, Heizou navigates the dimly lit gallery to his seat. He’s lucky to have procured a ticket for tonight, let alone one that lands him in the front row. The other front-row guests—regulars, by the look of it—have already settled into their chairs, so Heizou is forced to mumble half-hearted “pardon me”s as he sidles his way to seat A13.

Apparently he’s made it just in time. The ushers hurry in the final stragglers, and then the gallery falls into complete darkness. Heizou takes a deep breath, working to calm himself ahead of the spectacle that’s about to unfold.

“Welcome, ladies, gents, and non-biney fineys!” a voice calls from behind a large velvet curtain. The voice is smooth and silky—confident yet inviting. Heizou finds his mind already racing, trying to piece together what this mysterious performer might look like.

“How is everyone doing tonight? Are we ready to have some fun?”

The crowd’s reaction is immediate. Whistles and seductive sounds of approval echo throughout the theater. Heizou finds his own voice getting swept up in the cacophony.

"Is that a yes? I can't hear you~"

Goaded on, the cheers crescendo to a deafening volume. Despite being less than a minute into showtime, the crowd is insistent they’ve already been made to wait long enough.

"Now that’s more like it. Very well then. Let the show begin!"

Heizou grips the edge of his seat as the stage curtain rises, revealing the owner of that alluring voice. It's a young man, probably in his early twenties, with shoulder-length blond hair and a pair of mesmerizing lavender eyes. He's similar in stature to Heizou, if only a bit less toned, but every part of his body is perfectly accentuated by his "clothes". Sheer thigh-high stockings—held in place by a black garter belt—adorn his long, slender legs, while a pair of black leather shorts provide barely enough material to cover his crotch and butt. On top, a black corset highlights his small waist, ending just below his chest to expose a pair of perky pink nipples. Lastly, around his neck he wears a black choker with a large pink bow, branding him the star of the hour (or perhaps a gift to the audience?).

Heizou gulps back his sudden thirst. Being sexually attracted to another man isn’t anything new to him, but never before has the feeling been this intense—or this immediate. Something about the way this performer dresses, speaks, and comports himself makes Heizou just want to ruin him.

"Alright folks, you know the drill,” the showman exclaims. “It’s time to pick out our lucky audience participant for tonight."

The words have barely been spoken, and already a hundred hands have shot up around the gallery. Heizou's isn't one of them. Although he considers himself one of the most outgoing people in Inazuma, he’s willing to admit that this would just be one step too far outside his comfort zone.

Around him, other spectators have begun to whine—plead, even. Some have attended this show a dozen times already, desperate yet ever deprived of the opportunity to share the stage with the blond performer.

The showman sweeps his gaze across the gallery, stroking his chin as he ponders, until finally his face lights up in revelation.

"You there! Come on up!" he exclaims, pointing. Heizou turns his head, trying to locate the lucky individual who has been selected.

"No, I mean you, dear. With the gorgeous red hair and sparkling peridot eyes. No need to be shy; I promise you're in good hands here."

Heizou spins back toward the stage, a splash of horror coloring his face as realization sets in. Red hair and peridot eyes…

Of all the people in attendance tonight, the performer has chosen him?!

Common sense would tell Heizou that this is a bad idea. If he agrees to participate, who knows what kind of damage this could do to his reputation. What kinds of headlines might he return home to? “Inazuman detective seduced by Fontaine charmer”? “Tenryou’s ‘Cyclone’ masturbates in front of live Fontaine audience”? 

Even so, his intuition tells him that declining this invitation would be a mistake he would live to regret.

So with wobbly limbs, he pushes himself to a stand, his heart racing as he feels a couple hundred eyes on him, staring with envy. The path to the stage only spans a few yards, yet for Heizou it seems to stretch for miles. 

After what seems like an eternity, he finally reaches the spotlight.

"Welcome, love," the performer says, his tone warm and intimate, as if there’s no one else in the room. "I'm Lyney, he/him. What’s your name?"

"H-Heizou," the red-head replies nervously.

"Pronouns?"

"He/him."

"Very good. Take a deep breath; you're doing great!"

Heizou does as he's told, but still, his heart is going a thousand beats per minute.

"I can tell you're not from this area," Lyney continues. "If you don't mind me asking—Where are you from, and what brings you to Fontaine?"

"I–"

Heizou pauses, his throat suddenly parched. He's uncertain how much personal information he should divulge here. It seems unwise to give away his identity, but it feels equally wrong to lie. In the end, Heizou decides to put his faith in the theater rules. After all, what happens in Décadence stays in Décadence…right?

"I'm a detective from Inazuma. I was sent here late last week to work on a case involving a Ritou merchant. But since that case is mostly wrapped up now, I’ve decided to stop by this theater to…unwind a bit."

"Excellent! I'm so glad you could make it, and I sincerely hope you enjoy yourself tonight. As I mentioned previously, you’re in good hands here, so there’s nothing to fear. Isn’t that right, everyone?” Lyney says, turning towards the audience. “Let’s get a warm round of applause for Heizou, hm?”

As if a conductor directing his orchestra, Lyney lifts his arms in the air, and instantly the crowd erupts in a new bout of cheering. The level of adoration these patrons have for their showman only serves to heighten Heizou's nervousness—and his excitement.

"Alright, dear, here's how this is going to work,” Lyney goes on, addressing Heizou once more as if he’s the only person in the world who matters. “We're going to put on a show for these lovely people in the audience tonight. You're allowed to say whatever you want and do whatever you want. The only limitation is that you must keep your clothes on. If either of us becomes uncomfortable at any point, we can say the safeword 'curtain', and that will immediately bring our act to a close. Do you consent to these terms?"

Heizou’s brain is struggling to keep up with the showman’s words. It’s not that Lyney is talking particularly fast, but the situation is just so foreign that it’s taking him a while to process. With his arms resting awkwardly by his side, he's certain he gives the appearance of a deer caught in the headlights.

At last, he composes himself, even if just enough to offer a timid nod. 

"I'm afraid I’m going to need your verbal consent, love. Remember, you are welcome to say 'no' if the terms aren't agreeable to you."

This time, Heizou is quicker to respond, his mind finally starting to come around to the whole outlandish scenario.

"Yes," he replies confidently. "I want to see where this goes. Let’s do this.”

The smile that illuminates Lyney’s face is enough to steal Heizou’s breath away. He watches with interest as the performer strides towards the left side of the stage, to a table piled high with objects concealed by a thin, scarlet sheet. 

“The theater has been kind enough to provide a variety of props to help enhance our scene,” Lyney explains, half to Heizou and half to the audience. “I hope they’ll be to your liking.”

He places his hand on the sheet, then flicks it away in a single fluid motion. Heizou’s jaw drops as the motion unveils a cornucopia of sex toys and BDSM implements: dildos, butt plugs, blindfolds, gags, floggers… He’s never seen such a mouth-watering collection in his life.

"So? Anything catch your eye?"

"Um, yeah. A-All of it? I guess I’m not sure. I wasn’t expecting…any of this.”

Lyney chuckles quietly—a cute noise that makes Heizou’s heart flutter. 

"What about these?" Lyney asks, picking up a pair of handcuffs. He twirls them around his finger a few times before catching them in his fists. "Surely you've tied up a man once or twice before, Mr. Detective?"

"Y-yes. Just, not in front of hundreds of people.”

“Remember what I said: there’s no need to be shy. Here, let me help you get started."

Lyney gently takes Heizou by the wrist, guiding his movements. Before Heizou can fully register what's happening, his hand is resting on Lyney's ass, his palm cupping one of the performer's cheeks.

Heizou flusters immediately, his face turning a deep red.

“W—”

"How is it?" Lyney asks.

"G-good. You feel…good."

Heizou exhales deeply, sinking into the moment. He gives Lyney an experimental squeeze, savoring the feel of the other man’s flesh between his fingers.

"That's the idea," Lyney coos.

Out of the corner of his eye, Heizou notices several spectators shifting eagerly in their seats, some even moving their hands to their laps. So the theater wasn’t joking about Rule #3…

Encouraged by the audience’s reaction, Heizou comes up with an idea. Reluctantly removing his hand from Lyney’s butt, he swipes the handcuffs from Lyney’s grasp and pins the showman’s arms behind his back.

"I've made up my mind,” he announces, his tone suddenly confident and assertive. “Lyney, you’re under arrest."

Lyney’s eyes go wide with intrigue before his expression shifts into something mischievous. He sticks forward his bottom lip, pouting as if to ask for mercy. “But whatever for, sir?”

“Public indecency,” Heizou answers matter-of-factly, falling into character way quicker than he anticipated. “Seriously, what were you thinking, going out dressed like this, giving me and the people of Fontaine such unholy thoughts? A bad boy like you ought to be punished, don't you agree?"

“I—”

Heizou can feel his hardness growing fast, and with it, so too his boldness. He whisks a few additional items off the table, then leads Lyney back towards center stage, where a stool has been set up with a plush velvet cushion.

"Sit," Heizou commands.

Lyney does as instructed, positioning himself on the stool in such a way that his thighs practically spill out of his stockings. Looking down, Heizou can't help but notice the bulge straining against the fabric of Lyney’s leather shorts.

Fuck.

Heizou pulls Lyney's wrists together and skillfully locks the handcuffs into place. He watches as Lyney struggles against the restraints, shaking his arms and twisting his body atop the cushion, but to no avail. Heizou swears it’s unfair how much this is turning him on.

And he’s not even finished yet.

Kneeling down, he pulls out another two sets of metal cuffs and proceeds to chain each of Lyney's ankles to the feet of the stool, keeping the performer’s legs spread at a ninety-degree angle. 

Heizou stands back up, taking a moment to inspect his work before turning to address the crowd. "What do we think, folks? Like what we see?"

There's a round of hoots and hollers, accompanied by a harmony of lustful groans. At this point, several spectators have snuck their hands into their pants (or their partner's), and the mood in the theater has changed completely.

Heizou revels in the attention. The adrenaline rush is like a drug—a hallucinogen he risks becoming addicted to.

"Now then…” he says, returning his focus to the bound performer. “Considering the scant amount of clothing you chose to wear today, I doubt you'll mind if we reveal a bit…more?" 

He rubs his palm over Lyney’s bulge, eliciting a quiet whimper from the blond man. The sound travels straight to Heizou's cock. Though he's not allowed to take off any clothes while he’s on stage, he makes a mental note to find someplace quiet to relieve himself after this. 

For now, he’s only got a single mission: put on the best damn show he possibly can.

Positioning himself behind Lyney to give the audience a better view, Heizou moves one hand to Lyney's chest, taking a nipple between his fingers and twisting the bud gently. Meanwhile, his other hand snakes its way back to Lyney's crotch, slender fingers slipping beneath the leather via the leg holes. Lyney moans at the touch. Beneath the fabric, his member is hot—and wet. A drop of pre-cum leaks onto the detective’s skin, and Heizou reflexively pulls his hand out to present his finger for Lyney to clean.

From between swollen lips, a glistening pink tongue emerges to lap up the juices.

Fuck.

"What a good little slut you are," Heizou says. "Do you really do this every night? Dress like a whore and invite strangers to fondle you on stage?"

The words spill out as if rehearsed a dozen times. The circumstances have transformed Heizou into something unrecognizable, and a part of him hopes this show will never end.

Still, between bold lines, there's a momentary flicker of doubt. Has he taken things too far? Is Lyney even comfortable with verbal degradation to begin with? What if this act ends up hurting him in the long run?

Heizou keeps his ears peeled for any sign of the safeword, but none ever comes. Instead, the showman’s moans only grow louder and more desperate with each word and touch Heizou grants him.

The lewdness of it all is making Heizou so hard it's almost painful.

The detective drops his hand to the zipper of Lyney's shorts, yanking it down until the performer's erection springs free at last. He's not particularly big, but what he lacks in size, he more than makes up for in beauty.

The crowd practically yowls in approval.

Heizou is just about to wrap his hand around the other man's length when, all of a sudden, Lyney issues an icy command.

"Pause."

Shit. Has he done something wrong?

Heizou freezes in place, a wave of guilt washing over him.

Then again… If Lyney felt that a boundary had been crossed, he would have said "curtain". So, Heizou deduces, this must all still be part of the act. And only the Archons know which direction Lyney is about to take things next.

"You’ve got a knack for this type of performance, it seems," the showman remarks, causing Heizou to straighten up at the compliment. "But, as you may be aware, I'm a magician by trade. These late night performances are simply for a bit of extra fun. So, I have a proposal to make."

Heizou can't help but notice the shift in Lyney’s tone, his blissful breathiness replaced by something more cunning—almost sinister.

"I will attempt to escape from these cuffs currently binding my wrists and ankles. Meanwhile, you may continue to touch me. If you can get me to cum before I successfully escape, then I will grant you a special pass to join me for some additional time backstage."

The implications of joining Lyney “backstage” are clear. The prize sounds almost too good to be true. Surely, there has to be some kind of catch…

"Don’t worry, I promise there isn’t a catch,” Lyney adds, as if reading his mind. “Though, if you fail, I suppose I would just have to finish myself off after the show. So, dear Heizou, what do you say? Care to join me for one final act?”

Heizou inhales sharply. Everything he thought he knew about the situation has just been flipped on its head. The power trip he was on, the outpouring of love from the crowd—all of it was simply an illusion, fabricated by the Great Magician himself. 

There can be no mistaking now: Lyney is the master of this house.

"Okay. I'm in."

“Wonderful!” Lyney flashes him another heart-stopping grin. “We’ll start on the count of three, then. One—"

Heizou's mind begins to race once more, this time trying to throw together a plan to send Lyney over the edge as quickly as possible. He knows he can’t win simply by going rough and sloppy. He'll need to be strategic about this…

"Two—"

Sweat starts to collect on his hands, turning his palms slippery at first, then sticky. He can’t tell if it’s a result of being nervous, or if it’s from the stage lights beaming down on him, suddenly way too bright. Either way, this certainly isn’t helping his chances.

"Three."

Heizou drops to his knees, wasting no time wedging his head between Lyney's thighs. In this position, he can clearly make out the blond curls peppering Lyney's groin, can clearly see the ridges and the color of his cock, can even smell the saltiness of his pre-cum.

Leaning forward, Heizou experimentally swipes his tongue along the underside of Lyney's shaft. The magician squirms around him, nudging his tip against his lips. Heizou hopes it’s a sign that Lyney is already coming undone beneath his touches. But when he looks up, he finds nothing but focus and determination painted upon the showman’s face. It’s a terrifying look, really.

Next, Heizou brings his hand up to Lyney's lap, wrapping his fingers around him. He begins to stroke, starting up a slow rhythm while he gently sucks one of Lyney's balls into his mouth. He thinks he hears a whine, but still the magician maintains complete concentration, his hands and feet wiggling methodically against the stool.

Reaching his free hand around to Lyney's back, Heizou dips inside the waistband of his shorts, delving farther down until his fingers brush against the gap between Lyney's buttcheeks. He slides a finger through, pausing when he feels the unmistakable texture of Lyney's puckered hole. It’s wet, and already slightly stretched. Lyney must have prepped himself before the show, just for this exact scenario.

Fuck.

Heizou rubs his thumb along the rim, relishing the feeling of Lyney wriggling in his grasp. Surely, this is how he can claim his victory. Surely, he’ll be able to coax Lyney to orgasm once he’s gotten a couple fingers inside of him. Surely…

Heizou is just about to insert a digit when the clanging of metal abruptly drags him back to reality. He feels a tug on his arm, followed by another on his hair, and then he’s gently plucked from Lyney’s body, all too soon. The magician rises to his feet, broken handcuffs clattering onto the wooden floor of the stage. 

"Done."

At that precise moment, several high-pitched wails ring out from the gallery, giving away that certain patrons have reached their climax.

Lyney pulls his lips into a coy smile. "A valiant effort, Heizou. You managed to get me pretty close, but in the end, it seems I was able to hold on just long enough.”

Heizou slouches in defeat, the adrenaline from the past several minutes leaving his body in place of something uglier.

Sensing the Inazuman’s disappointment, Lyney bends over to help Heizou up, adding, “Keep your head held high, love. You were amazing, seriously. Thank you for doing this with me tonight."

His tone is sincere—so much so it almost makes Heizou want to cry. It’s hard to believe they only just met for the first time tonight.

Lyney brushes a speck of dust off of Heizou’s shoulder, leaning in to peck his cheek before spinning him around to face the crowd. He holds Heizou’s hand, reassuring him with his touch, and together they take their bow.

The applause is thunderous, following Heizou as he exits the stage and returns to his seat. It rings in his ears even as he stumbles back to his hotel room later that night and jerks himself off to completion—stays with him even as he wakes up the next morning and packs his bags to go home.

One thing is for certain: this experience at the Décadence Theater is one that Heizou will never forget. And while it’s unfortunate he wasn’t able to make Lyney cum in time, he’s proud of himself for having stepped outside his comfort zone.

Who knows. Maybe he'll just have to come back to Fontaine someday to try again.