Unable to catch himself & swallow the noise,
he moans out as teeth sink into the flesh of
his lower lip; the pain lighting a flame within
that pushes him further - gives him just a tiny
little taste of what the larger man is capable
of. He knows that this will be an addictive
kind of experience, & he’s okay with that.
He wants Mink to use him, to leave him a
sore mess - he needs him to.
The hands along his body get an arch, more
than happy to press into the touch. It feels as
if he’s being touched through a layer of what
he’s always described as thick rubber - but it
is still more than welcome, more than a little bit
appreciated too. The moment fingers grasp his
legs & he’s more than willing to allow them to
be pushed up; the needy edge that enters the
kiss once the elder settles against him is more
than apparent.
Pulling away for a breath, his relaxing inhale
chokes off when the man grinds up against
him, a helpless groan escaping him; blood
rushing to pool in his cheeks, flushing more
from the arousal than embarrassment. HIs
fingers grasping with a tighter grip to the
larger males coat, pushing himself up to
initiate another needy kiss.
There’s a part of himself that berates him
for giving in so easily, but it feels so good..
So fucking good to give up control to the
elder – maybe he’s been in charge of his
own life, of himself for too long. He’s been
alone, free for far too long, there’s another
thing he seeks from the man. Honestly, if he
would have him - if Mink would keep him –
he’d have no problem doing anything, & ev-
erything the elder asked of him.
( leaving the other a sore mess
would barely scratch the surface;
wrecking him, beyond knowledg-
eable comprehension? that was
still within his control, his rule over
the blonde’s pain and pleasure.
and, furthermore, even with such
actions, there was still the assurance
that the manic could do his job as
a tool, as tech-support. )
And then he’s tugged ( not pulled,
it was too weak to be defined as
a pull ) into kissing the younger male
back into submission, waiting for
whatever respite he would allow.
He kisses hard, pulling back only
after draining the breath from the
other, dragging a palm to thread
into the golden locks and pull hard,
to reveal the pale curve of his
neck.
( the other hand finds its path lower,
sizing up the button, tracing hard
the length of the maniac’s, clothed
& smothered & pitiful. )
( he bites into the skin, harsh enough
to leave marks, to drag blood to the
surface, even as he makes to undo
the pants restraints. )
