Face feeling hot, Shane shrugs again, trying his best to keep the movement casual. “I don’t live under a rock.”
The grin that Rozanov gives him is self-satisfied and smug, and really shouldn’t be so attractive. At least not while he’s asking, full of the swagger he carries into the ring, “Even boring shut-ins know my name, then?”
Shane sputters. “Boring?”
“Mm, yes.”
“Says who?”
“Me.”
Shane lets go of Rozanov’s arm and steps back slightly, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.” It doesn’t come out as dismissive as he’d like. He straightens his shoulders and eyes the offending arm again. “What’s the most comfortable position to rest it in?”
“So you do watch it?” Rozanov sets his arm down so his hand is face-up in his lap.
Snorting, Shane makes a note of it, shaking his head. “No. I’m not into that stuff.”
“What, sweaty men on top of each other?”
Stiffening, Shane peers up at Ilya, frowning. He’s looking back at him with a pointed, curious look that makes Shane’s face feel warm again. He coughs once and says, “Hurting one another for fun.”
Ilya makes a soft, disbelieving sound. “Strange coming from-”
“I just don’t see the appeal,” Shane says tersely.
“Winning,” Rozanov says plainly. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like nothing else could possibly be the answer. Shane understands maybe more than anyone. Still, he just shakes his head.
“You can win at other things.”
Looking at him sidelong, Ilya rolls his shoulders, seeming to consider the question. After a moment, he turns to face Shane fully. Shane tries not to cower under the attention, instead tipping his head up in challenge.
stuck on the idea of Ciel having a panic attack while he and Sebastian are intimate.
I see it going two ways.
the kinder route: Sebastian would notice and would put a stop to it. After all, he seeks to be the epitome of a butler. His master's comfort must come first. The boy had asked him to bring him pleasure, to make him feel good, but his health and safety came first. And, beneath his butler facade, the demon does harbor affection for the wretched little thing. He seeks to make the boy comfortable.
Ciel would shake and heave and send himself into a frenzy, and Sebastian would stop fucking him and disengage. Eyes wide and frantic, Ciel would lay prone on the bed sheets, peering up at the demon.
Sebastian is familiar with his little lord's past, after all, and it's not hard to see how the boy could get caught up in his memories with such a large body over him. It must feel much like being trapped all over again. The boy's breathing is shallow and quick, slowing with each stroke of Sebastian's hands. His body sags against the sheets.
But he doesn't tell the demon to stop. He only sighs and melts and gasps, letting Sebastian calm him down. His hands lay limp on the bedsheets. He inhales through his nose and out through his lips, closing his eyes and focusing on Sebastian's hands smoothing delicately over his chest, grounding and soothing.
"Are you alright, young master?" Sebastian would ask, words soft.
"Let me catch my breath," Ciel would murmur, feeling his heartbeat slow in his chest.
"You're pale. Would you like me to fetch some tea?"
"Don't go," Ciel would whine. "Stay there until I tell you to go."
Sebastian would grin fondly. "Of course, my lord."
the more realistic route: Sebastian would notice and instead press on that vulnerability. After all, he seeks to be the epitome of a butler. His master's orders come first. The boy has asked him to bring him pleasure, to make him feel good, not look after his health and safety. And, beneath his butler facade, the demon does hunger for the wretched little thing. He seeks to dampen that innocent soul further.
Ciel would shake and heave and send himself into a frenzy, and Sebastian would squeeze his little waist and move faster. Eyes wide and frantic, Ciel would lay prone on the bed sheets, peering up at the demon.
Sebastian is familiar with his little lord's past, after all, and it's not hard to see how the boy could get caught up in his memories with such a large body over him. It must feel much like being trapped all over again. The boy's breathing is shallow and quick, speeding up with each rock of Sebastian's hips. His body jerks against the sheets.
But he doesn't tell the demon to stop. He only shudders and heaves and spits, letting Sebastian fuck into him harder. His nails claw at the butler's arms. He sucks in sharp breaths through his lips, squeezing his eyes closed and focusing on Sebastian's groans above him falling like daggers on his ears, low and hungry.
"Does that feel good, young master?" Sebastian would sneer, words sharp.
"Don't bloody stop until I say," Ciel would grunt, feeling his heartbeat jackrabbit in his chest.
"You're pale. Is this too much for the poor little lord?"
"Don't stop," Ciel would whine, "Keep going until I order you to go."
Sebastian would grin greedily. "Of course, my lord."
this was an exercise in me trying to use the same sentences/structure for different emotions. carry on.