It was not the time or place for such a situation. It was really not the time or place for Marvel to decide that he was going to be a sadist in the situation, either. Ryder had lost track of how many times he had been brought to the edge before the other had stopped. Sometimes the taller had even pulled away from him like he wasn’t bothered at all. The blonde hated to think of what kind of picture he painted — How desperate he must look not only to Marvel but whoever was watching. Because, before his mind had turned into pure frustrated pleasure, he had been reminding himself that they were being broadcasted. And why wouldn’t the Game Makers take advantage of the little show that the two were putting on? “Marvel.” Body writhed underneath the Career’s. A small attempt at getting some kind of friction by grinding up against him or, maybe, trying to urge him into moving. “Q-quit being a fucking tease. Are you going to let me cum or not?” The small stutter did not help his attempt at sounding annoyed.
God, he loves seeing Ryder like this. He's not stupid, he knows how these games are going to end. There isn't a happy ending, there's no light at the end of the tunnel. They're running on borrowed time and within the next few days it's likely one of them will be dead. Forming an emotional bond in the arena may be the stupidest thing someone can do, and yet here Marvel is, slowly falling for the boy with the golden hair. How could he not fall in love when Ryder gasps and moans so beautifully? The way his body arches into every touch, the moans that escape him, the way all restraint has been stripped away. When he was flirting in the training center it had been different, it was just fun flirting. But now... Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? Putting on a pretty show for the Capitol wouldn't give them a happy ending, not a real one. Maybe it would earn enough favor for one of them to end up victorious, but Marvel's beginning to question how good being a victor could really be. The stutter makes him grin, all toothy and cocky, a perfect picture of a career. The only thing missing is the thirst for blood he's supposed to have. Paying too much attention might convince someone that they see genuine adoration in the brunettes eyes, but that's something that the boy would never admit to. He gasps mockingly, featherlight touch as he strokes at Ryder's cock, only a short and teasing moment before his hand is pulling away again. “You're so desperate.” Gentle teasing, though its clear that Marvel likes it. Even if he wasn't making it so obvious, the straining in his pants is beyond noticeable. “You sound so pretty like this, hm? Putting on such a pretty show.”
