Lance daring Keith to wear a remote controlled vibe (that wiggles) all day until both are in their respective rooms. Lance calls Keith via video and tells him to beg to be able to cum.
<3
Keith loves a dare because he loves a challenge. I mean, all it takes is Lance saying something in that haughty tone, that ‘I betcha can’t–’ whatever, to get his competitive nature going. That’s why right now at this very moment he’s got one of Lance’s fun toys in his ass, vibrating and writhing like the tendril of some alien octopus inside him searching and pressing on his prostate. And all of it at Lance’s control.
It’s been a test in his self-control all day, though multiple times he’s had to bite his lip to keep from coming in front of someone. Lance told him he couldn’t come. That he wasn’t allowed to unless he begged Lance for it. Otherwise, he loses the bet.
Keith’s never begged for anything in his life and certainly not for permission to come. Whether he’s riding or plowing Lance, he always comes when he damn well feels like and not a moment later. This dare is starting to wear his willpower thin though because by the time he gets to his room that night he’s panting and exhaling weak noises as he makes it to the bed. Two more hours and it’ll be the full day like Lance bet him but…he finds himself video calling Lance who answers with a smirk.
“Give up?”
“N-No,” Keith stammers despite his frown. “I just…thought this would be more difficult. It’s easy really.”
“Well that’s because I haven’t used the highest settings,” Lance grins while showing the controls to Keith. He hits a button and Keith cries out with surprised pleasure. “See? Harder now?”
Harder? Keith is biting his fist to keep from coming as his body shakes and jolts on the bed. He had no idea there were more intense settings, no idea that Lance was going easy on him. Jesus, he’s starting to tear up from the divine sensations wracking his body. He’s got his cock out and it’s dripping all over himself but clutching it tight is keeping him from exploding.
“L-Lance,” he moans through clenched teeth. “I-I c-c-can’t–ahH!”
“Can’t what?” Lance grins on the other side of his video call. “Can’t beg? Because that’s all you gotta do…it’s easy…all you gotta do is say please.”
Keith swallows back another ragged mewling noise as he tries not to tip over the edge. How’s he supposed to win now? He still has over an hour and part of him is sure this isn’t even the highest setting. Lance just looks at him through the camera with that haughty and powerful look on his face.
“Say ‘please, Lance, let me come like a cock hungry slut’ and you can come, I’ll even consider it a win in your favor,” Lance promises. “But you gotta say it…”
He still gets to win their bet? That means topping for a whole week…
And all it’ll cost is a little of his pride?
“P-Please,” Keith breathes out, his fingers tugging at his hair to keep calm but nothing can get rid of that red flush on his face now. “P-Please Lance…I-I…want to come…like a…a slut…P-Please…”
“Mmm…again. I want to hear it again,” Lance says and only now does Keith see that he’s stroking himself in full view of the camera. “Beg for me, Keith…”
“L-Lance, p-please…I need it…I-I w-want to…to come…so bad, p-please!” Keith begs as he holds his cock tight at the base. God if he lets go– “Please! I can’t…hold off any more…” he whimpers.
“Come then,” Lance says and bites his bottom lip with a smirk. “All over yourself like the desperate slut you are,” he adds and clicks the remote again.
That final setting sparks light behind Keith’s eyes and within seconds he’s blinded by the screaming orgasm that shakes him and the bed his laying on. His come shoots in huge spurts and half of his sticky come splatters onto Keith’s face as he moans. Lance sees the display and comes too, telling Keith he looks so good like this. So good that he wants to do this bet again sometime because he loves what it does to Keith. Turns him from the tough, in-charge person in their relationship to the submissive slut begging for more.
It’s a side of Keith he could get used to seeing more of.
