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[disgustinggf]

[bettingonhouse]

The sunset he was focused on still while he held the bucket with a slightly tight grip. The anticipation of what was waiting in the room was making him forget all problems he had. Which was the perfect point of this whole thing. The arousal had only dimmed a bit, due to the seperation and such. But when the door opens and Lon is reveled again. Dressed down more, shirt unbuttoned, tie undone, shirt sleeves rolled up.

Then that large hand is grabbing Robert by the back of the neck and closing the door behind him. The knots in his stomach are tightening, as his eyes scan the room quickly. Seeing the toys and instruments Lon had laid out. The bucket is plucked from his hand and Lon is once gain being skilled at single handedly if not a bit sloppily putting ice in their glasses.

Yet, the amber liquid doesn't find Robert or Lon's lips. Robert's mouth was open slightly as his tongue swipes over his bottom lip as his eyes catch sight of more things. Noticing the items on the bedside table, before Lon's cold thumb is brushing over his lip. It's gentle surprisingly, and Robert's eyes lock on the other's again and he feels small. The tenderness isn't off putting. His eyes almost soften for a moment, as his head leans more into the other's hand that cups his cheek.

Then came what he was expecting, and he hisses in response, his hands moving to clutch at Lon's shirt as his eyes close shut tight. Groaning in their kiss, the feel of the other biting his lip over and over, causing the wound to reopen, to feel Lon tear open a new wound over his bottom lip. To crave that pain, as his hands clench at Lon's shirt. A reaction to the painful stimuli, his body's first reaction wanting to push the other away, but his deeper desire just grips the other's shirt tighter. The tongue running over the cut he chases with his own, as the blood seeps and and gently streams down his lip and over their tongues. That strong iron taste from earlier was back, but this time it was his own blood they got to enjoy. And to Robert it was more intoxicating, just how eager Lon was to taste him.

When his head is pulled away, his eyes open again and he is panting from their kiss. His lip slowly trickling blood down his chin. The painful throbbing that he felt pumping through his bottom lip, was matching what his dick felt like. It was throbbing and hard as well. Though his dick was a laughable size if they were comparing. But it was certainly hard, and Robert was wet, he can feel the heat pooling between his legs. Feel that stupid stickiness that is soaking through his briefs. His hands are still gripping the other's shirt, his chest heaving a bit as he tries to catch his breath. But then Lon is demanding he gets on his knees.

fuck.

It sent a shot to his core, and he was dropping to his knees in a instant. Using Lon's shirt to help anchor himself a bit so he didn't drop so hard and hurt his own knees. Head still tilted upward as Lon's hand in his dark hair has him looking up at him like a twinkle eyed pornstar on his knees right now. Robert's hands were scarred slightly, not entierly as soft as most might think. Running down the others chest and releasing his shirt his hands begin to praise the other's body.

Robert's face was red, he was flustered and hot, and he was eager to be used. Tilting his head a bit into the others hand, wanting whatever was given to him. Gentle or harsh, Robert was desperate for Lon, his breathing was labored, as he is trying hard not to just be a filthy whore. One hand is stroking over Lon's cock for as long as he can, before he knows the other will lose patience and shove it down his throat. If Lon was pent up especially because it had been over a month since their last encounter. Then Robert may have to withhold more often, because he was really enjoying how desperate they both seemed to be for one another. Robert was so eager to be used, to become nothing but a tool for the other's pleasure. But is also fully aware that as much as Robert was here to be used he was also getting plenty out of it himself. This was much preferable than his drunk back alley encounters anyways. This lasted much longer, and in the end, was much safer.

Robert gnaws a bit more on his bottom lip, letting the blood seep and trickle down him more as his hand rub's Lon's cock through his pants. He's daydreamed a few times about their past encounters and, being used in the past.

"Use me." Abuse me, fuck me, please

Robert groans as he looks up to the other with a slight desperation to his brown eyes. he doesn't say the last few things, his hand shakes a bit in eagerness on the other's erection. He was barely holding it together, he was so desperate for the abuse, for the agression, for the praise, but most of all. For the sick pleasure of it all.

[unlicenscd]

He can’t help but look down to Robert when he gets on his knees and simply watch him for a moment. The sight itself is intoxicating: blood smeared on his face, he panting and eager and waiting for Lon’s arousal to fill his throat—and knowing that he’s done this, that he’s made this big shot of a man bleed and beg to be fucked, to be used… His own head is filled with a high that no amount of med-x can replicate. Feeling Robert’s warm blood on his own lip, still wet, he uses his thumb to push some into his mouth; his eyes roll back and flutter closed at the taste and knowledge of what he was doing. He sucks it clean, lips smacking. “So delicious…”

He keeps one hand tugging the poor man’s hair so he can keep his eyes on his gorgeous, desperate face, the red-tinted saliva plentiful in his mouth making his heart race and his cock throb almost painfully. As his other hand goes down to undo his own fly, it gives Robert a playful slap, just as he had tested the waters with earlier in the alley. “You’re ready for it, aren’t you?” he teases maliciously, as though the open awaiting mouth isn’t an answer already. As soon as his cock is finally free from its cloth confines, its head is gently pushing past Robert’s lips, where, for a moment, he lets it sit so he can admire the view of bloodied lips against it.

For a moment—which ends with him sliding his length all the way into Robert’s mouth until he feels a nose poking into his navel.

Two hands hold Robert’s head there for a few seconds, Lon’s own hips still. When it comes to moments like these where it can be easy to push limits too far, Lon thinks of his own preferences: when he’s cock-high and eager to please, all he wants is for a man to use his throat with his comfort a concern seconded to the phallus's own pleasure, pushing him past what he thinks he’s capable of. Likewise, there’s nothing he enjoys more than showing a gorgeous, dire little thing what their body can do. His hands hold firm until Robert shows signs of a true struggle, and even then they only let up far enough for him to manage a quick breath, Lon looking down to admire (and check in on) the state of him, and the exhilarating sight of blood streaked with saliva down his length. “That’s it,” he says in breathless encouragement, although the words somehow sound like a condescending insult at the same time. “Keep that mouth open, that’s right…”

And so the expectation is set. Lon begins to fuck Robert’s mouth, moderately at first while his cock works itself up further, giving him short breaks only when his throat constricted so tightly that Lon knows he needs one. His meat isn't something to raise eyebrows at but it's not small, either, and he wields it with confident care from this not being Robert's first time to handle it. At some point, he can be heard lighting a cigarette up above, not caring at all if it were a room not designated for it, and the air around them begins to fill with the mix of clove and tobacco as exhaled between his held groans.

He doesn’t care if blood and spit drip to ruin Robert’s shirt, the carpet, or if it mixes with any mucus as Robert’s sinuses struggle to keep up: all that matters is that the man between his legs is doing as he’s told—and that this might be the hottest head he’s ever gotten.

[unlicenscd]

I'm loving how Lon is trying soooo hard in this thread to appear calm so he can seem better in control, bc his fc sort of gives an illusion of that being easy/intuitive for him. Meanwhile average minute-by-minute Lon expressions are as thus:

[bettingonhouse]

It was something to get used too, but not something he didn't enjoy. Lon was rather intimidating in a good way, and the way he commanded the space was refreshing. Robert to the world is presented at this very eager man. A man with multiple ladies on his arm, and who is always being seen around town as a young playboy. But, not very many knew that the real Robert was in desperate need of some grounding. So far, Lon was very good at keeping him grounded. And he certainly wasn't bored enough yet to let Lon go so, here he is. A bit flushed at the other coming in so close and so hot. With those damned eyes that Robert thought only he himself had perfected. It was a hunters stare and it was hot as hell.

When Lon brushes past Robert, he lets out a slow breath from his nose, the smell of the other's cologne was very intoxicating, as was the sight of that Leather briefcase. Which,, had some very fun toys in it last time. So His heart beats a bit faster at the sight of it. Admiring the others bent over form for the moment before his brows shoot up with surprise to see the glasses and whiskey. It was a bit touching that Lon remembered what he liked.

Then Lon is pouring him a glass of the amber liquid and putting it in his hand, and telling Robert then to go get ice. It was Robert's turn to be the lacky he supposed, he made Lon and his boys clean up his mess. It's the least he can do...Especiall y if it's just for cause to get him out of the room so Lon can set up.

A hum and a pause for consideration if he was going to really do what was asked of him. He takes his time to appreciate the liquid in the glass. Smelling it, before he swallows the contents down in a single polite gulp. His throat burns but in a way he enjoys, before he sets down the glass on the table near them both.

"Alright, you are the boss."

Robert tells Lon simply, giving him that control, even as it makes a shiver run down his spine for giving it up. He bites on his lower lip a bit, can still feel his split lip from the punch, and the bruise has darkened his lip just slightly. But he heads out of the room for now to go and get a bucket of ice for them both. He would return a few minuets later, taking a bit longer, just incase Lon needed more time to do, whatever it was he was doing. Knocking on the door to be let back in when he is back. The sun was setting, and made the him squint a bit as he admired the pinks, purples oranges and violets blending gently together. Vegas was about to come to life. And so was this seedy motel room.

[unlicenscd]

Lon watches with an unblinking gaze as Robert swallows the warm whiskey he’d poured for him, his eyes dipping down to admire the resulting movement of that delectable throat. Something alights in his eyes when he spots those bruises of his from earlier: beautiful dabs of color on a living canvas, like an unfinished masterpiece. They make his hand twitch below in desire to continue his work and deepen their hue. (In due time.) Being called ‘boss’ triggers even more of a spark in his stare. It’s all very thrilling, to be given the power to hurt and control someone as he sees fit, contrary to what the stillness of his being may communicate. His chest heaves with a deep breath used to soothe himself, air sucked in through his teeth.

The second after the door clicks closed, whatever hardened and disciplined form he’s managed to build loses shape: he leans back against the side table sharply enough to make the bottles loudly tap against one another; his shoulders slump; his head tilts upward; a hand goes up to cover his mouth as a groan tries to slip through, his mouth quickly resorting to biting its fingers to further the effort. For fuck’s sake—his cock is already rock hard again and they haven’t even really started. Transitions in this context can be difficult, he knows from experience: typically it's a time where the air of lust starts to naturally dissipate and must be coaxed back with care. If either party resists, it can be a futile effort—and he is certainly determined to earn that deep, blank, blissful look in Robert’s eyes as he had in the alleyway. He needs to get a grip and think. Sipping his own drink, he looks about the plain, typical space they have afforded to them, and begins to scheme.

The knock surprises him. For a moment, he looks about in confusion before skittering over to the door to confirm through the peephole that it is Robert’s awaiting form and not some meddling maid or room manager. Yes, of course he wants Lon’s permission before entering! How considerate and servile, like putting himself on a plate for him. He allows himself a big, hungry smile before once again subduing his affect, opening the door with a pleased but still starved look.

“You found it. Good.” At once, a hand extends to the back of Robert’s neck, firmly pulling and leading him just inside; it stays there, warm and heavy, as Lon plucks the ice bucket from him and sets it on the table by the drinks.

The room will appear mostly the same to Robert as when he left it. Lon’s briefcase has been left opened and half emptied, its internal shelves fully extended to show a peek at an array of some smaller tools within. At the bed’s far side, the room’s complementary ironing board has been stood up to display a few larger playthings in an arranged line indicating future selection and use: some of which Lon knows Robert enjoys, and others placed as utility of suggestion—and intimidation. At the bedside table is a type of lubricant that Lon knows pairs with Robert’s body well; beside it, his preferred brand of inhalant. Two new glasses of whiskey have already been poured, and Lon scoops some ice into each of them with his free hand just sloppily enough that a few small drops of liquid splash down the sides. He himself has removed his coat, loosened his tie, and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

Hand still on Robert’s neck, Lon turns to him then and cups his chin with his other to tilt it upward, surprisingly and suspiciously gentle. A thumb made cold by ice and astringent by spilled whiskey touches where the man’s lip had previously been split open. It's a soft little tap, admiring. Lon slowly leans in to kiss him—

—But the moment their lips make contact the idea of gentleness is gone. The hand at the back of Robert’s neck has moved to his head, holding firmly it in place while the other clutches tightly at his jaw to do the same. Lon kisses him with animalistic fervor—indeed, a low growl escapes his throat as he bites down right on target, re-opening the wound he’d just irritated. Blood comes forth into their mouths once again. His tongue laps at it, and his teeth bite down again, and again. When at last he grants Robert mercy and pulls away, pulling the man’s head back by his hair, there’s red smeared across his handsome little lips and dribbling still from the renewed puncture. The sight leaves Lon even more breathless—delicious, god, he’s delicious—and gives him the idea to see just how much red they can spread.

“Get on your knees, now,” he commands through clenched teeth. The moment Robert obeys he'll unzip his trousers and take out his cock, it seeking wet, warm lips of its own impatient accord.

[joeinct]

Pierre Hogard, Berlin, Photo by F. C. Gundlach, 1960

[bettingonhouse]

This was exactly where he wanted to be, under the pressure of someone else's hand. Relishing in the feeling of being made to feel small. He wasn't a tiny man, but he was by no means a towering height of one either. Only standing at 5'10, he feels their dynamic was a pleasing one. Who called the shots in their business was clearly himself, but when it came to their 'business', well, Lon was doing a great job at leading those affairs.

The hand squeezes at his throat again, and a faint groan of approval leaves Robert's lips. His hand on Lon's cock slips when he is forced back against the wall again. Though a open mouthed smile appears when the other went to lean in to kiss him. The feeling of Lon's hand forcing his head in place. Robert was eager to kiss the other again, but when the other's lips dont meet his own he almost groans in protest. But was rewarded with the other's spit instead hitting the back of his tongue. Making him choke for only a moment before he swallowed the other's spit down.

Hungry for more, he tries to bite the thumb that wipes the trail of spit from his lower lip. Robert's eyes were full blown lustfilled. And wasn't exactly thrilled when Lon began to remove himself from his body. The slap to his cheek was a bit helpful though. Making Robert remember to breath again. His mouth still savoring the other's saliva, as Lon parts from him, telling him to get them a room and then moving off to yell at his lackies.

Robert looks to his car blocking the other end of the alley and adjusts his jacket. As if that would really help with his current state, as if he wasn't an entire blood covered mess. Lon asked him to get them a room, and Robert could play the big wig, and get them some presidential suite. But Robert didn't feel like driving all the way across town just to get there. There was some seedy motel nearby that could certainly suffice. With a tilting of his head, his neck cracks in a rippling of pops, and he straightens himself out one final time.

"Theres a motel down the street." He says to the other "I'll meet you there..." Robert pulls out another cigarette from his inner pocket of his jacket and lights it up. Needing to keep the head high up since his arousal was forced to wait. And with a wink, the smoke trail follows after Robert as he heads for his car to drive himself to the motel. Where he does pay for a room, and had to clean himself up a bit to do so. Thankfully he had other clothes in the car as well.

When he got to the motel room, he was cleaning himself up a bit, the room was small, very beige. Robert's bloody suit was in the car, only a few bits of blood splatter linger on his neck and in his dark hair now. His car was parked directly outside the room he was in, and his tie was in the window as a look out mark for Lon.

Robert's shirt collar was open and he stands in the shitty bathroom washing his face, he was wearing his more casual outfit. A short sleeved nice black and white shirt with a nice open collar to expose that throat of his. He tilts his head to the side and notices faint bruises on his neck that match the exact place Lon's fingers had been not too long ago and he chuckles a bit. Hand trailing over the green and yellow marks on his throat before he hears a familiar car outside. He turns his head and wipes at his face with the handtowel before heading to the door to open it up for the other. Smirking when he see's Lon again.

"Forgive me, I had to clean up a bit to get the room..."

Which was a shame, Robert would of loved Lon being more feral with their bloodlust. Though he's almost certain it really didn't matter what Robert was wearing or covered in, Lon probably didn't care.

[unlicenscd]

By the time Robert situates himself enough to speak, there’s a freshly lit cigarette between Lon’s fingers and lips, his body standing only a short distance away as he watches his men finish up. He’s thinking and overseeing; the corpses are out of sight, but he still needs to make sure the next van of supplies arrives before he can leave the site himself, and there’s the concern with what to do with Mr. House once he gets his hands on him again… Splitting things here gives him some time to plan logistics and balance them with his own desires—the latter of which always outweighs in the end, but it's still a game he must see through. He smiles when Roberts tells him where to go and gives a little wave with his fingers to indicate he’s heard and understood, eyes ever-wide and dark.

Similar to what he’s gathered about Mr. House, Lon presents himself as a man of expensive and timeless taste but is often more than happy to settle comfortably at the bottom level of society’s grime. It would have made no difference to him had Robert picked a presidential suite or private office or even the back of his car: by giving him the choice and opportunity to scope the place out before getting started, Lon is allowing the other man the opportunity to control his surroundings. Within the mystery of what the night otherwise has in store for his mind and body, it’s an issue of longevity: Lon doesn’t want him tapping out before he’s through with him.

Their luxury cars may stick out among the paled, peeling state of the motel’s walls and furnishings, but Lon waltzes right up to the establishment with the ease of expectancy, as if it’s a second home. In one of his hands is a bag with what sounds to be glass bottles, in the other a large black leather briefcase that Robert will certainly recognize. Both will be utilized for their pleasure and consumption. Spotting Robert’s tie in the window, he walks right up to its associated door.

When the other man opens it, he’ll find him very close, hardly having to take a step to enter the room—which he does immediately, a sinister grin on his face, without so much as a hello. “Forgive you?” he asks, confused. His eyes quickly look the man up and down and he can see what he means; a dismissive sound leaves his lips, indicating disappointment.

He pushes past Robert to put down his things. “Go and get ice, will you? We’ll need it.” He bends to pull two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the bag and immediately utilize them, ice or no ice. Robert will find one glass pressed into his hand filled with the amber liquid, and an expectant Lon smiling down at him in wait to do as he’s told.

[nemfrog]

"Undulating horizon of a rough sea."

Waves of the sea and other water waves. 1910.

Internet Archive

[bettingonhouse]

The hand on his throat is unrelenting, feeling a bit more like a collar. Which Robert didn't entirely dislike in this very moment. He usually was the one putting collars on people, but Lon's large hand keeping his head in place was dangerously pleasant. The grip of Lon's hand goes tight and Robert's jaw clenches a bit, nostrils flare for a moment in excitement, never breaking eye contact with the other. Submitting very nicely for him, being as pliable as the other wanted.

Which made their relocation a lot easier, considering Robert was in a state of lustful disarray. The impact of his back hitting the brick wall made his breath leave him for a moment. A dark chuckle leaving his lips as he watched Lon pluck his cigarette from his fingers and begin to take his long deep drag. Robert wasn't very sentimental, or romantic at times. He didn't have time for soft things. Lon was a good pace, and feeling that knee between his legs, knowing full well it was Lon's bad one. Well it made Robert's head lull back a bit against the brick.

Not wanting to look too pleased, Robert holds back the pleasured look on his face. Though his hips do grind down slowly and rhythmically onto the other's knee. Enjoying the friction that his groin and Lon's knee were creating in the alley. If Robert wanted to be somewhere more secretive he'd of said something by now.

The smoke is blown into his face and then the cigarette is back between his fingers. Robert lets out another soft amused chuckle. It's breathy though, because he was eager and wanted the other rather badly. Raising his hand he takes the final inhale the cigarette. The tip glowing bright down to the filter before Robert flicks it off somewhere behind Lon's shoulder. With his hand free he reaches it down and gropes the other's cock through his trousers. Hand sliding up and down the other's length, the nicotine high adding to the building pressure as he held in the smoke for a moment.

The hand not on Lon's cock encouraging it to life, was still wrapped in the other's tie. Which was useful when Robert's wanted to keep Lon anchored to the level he wanted.

"Such a gentleman, ensuring I'm comfortable, Though I am not the one with a bad knee"

He reminds the other, the smoke from his lungs finally flowing from his mouth as he breathed. Groaning a bit though at the last few words, as that said bad knee still was nicely providing a perfect friction service.

"Though I am game if you are. Here is just fine."

Robert assures, as if he wouldn't pay the man or ensure the man didn't see a good knee doctor after all this. He can't have Lon out of commission! It's going to be a busy season soon. And Lon was far too good looking and knows far too much for Robert to wish to get rid of him any time soon. Getting old was a bitch, he can't entirely blame the other. Robert's own hands did suffer with mild arthritis himself. Though that usually only flared up when the weather wanted to drastically change. As his hands were happy to work the other's cock and hold firm to his tie to keep him tethered close to his face.

"I like that look in your eyes, Is there something you need from the Boss? Hmm Mr. Lowell?"

It really was taking everything in Robert not to just pull the other by his tie and give him a hard passionate kiss. But he just grins a bit and looks to Lon as they tease one another.

[unlicenscd]

He loves the way Robert looks at him, like prey that’s excited to be eaten. He doesn’t shy away from Lon’s intense stare and something about that fact emboldens him to keep pushing, to find just how much more Robert’s lustful brain wants from him before that primal switch in his brain goes off and fear is ignited. That’s the balance he's still figuring out how to maintain; it may seem that he truly wants to hurt the man, but the moment he senses that genuine instinct to flee—well, that’s when it simply wouldn’t be fun for him anymore. Detecting that line is one reason he keeps such a severe watch, although it is secondary to his own pure enjoyment in every detail of Robert’s delicious anatomy responding to his stimuli.

And then there’s that touch, the reminder that Lon wants as much as he wants to manipulate. While he does manage to swallow a groan of pleasure at his fully stiff cock, throbbing and excited, being palmed and grabbed through his pants, his face tells the earnest story: eyes fluttering closed, head tilting backward, lips parting. His hips, too, betray his own discipline and cant forward into the other man’s engrossed hand, stilling just before he feels the pleasure begin to melt his ability to make better judgments.

When his knee is mentioned, he feels teased, prodded, and once again a perverse smile reigns over his face and his gaze returns back down to Robert’s. Restraint makes him run his tongue over his teeth, his own jaw clenched; with it, he looks like he’s about ready to devour the other man whole.

He’s giddy, he’s ecstatic, he’s horny as all hell, and his mouth can’t decide what words to say to answer Robert’s advances without coming out as a stream-of-consciousness jumble of dirty talk and demands. Through this quick and tense exchange, his fingers have once again tightened significantly around the other’s throat: further evidence of his fallible status of self-control. With a quick flick they go up to the man’s jaw to hold his mouth still and right where he wants it; his other arm shoots upward to firmly pin Robert to the wall by his chest. His face sharply leans in to claim Robert’s bloody mouth with his own once again, knowing very well that it would be open for him—but stops short, pointedly spitting in it instead with an audible splat. His eyes watch as the saliva drips down the line of Robert’s bottom lip; his nearby thumb chases it, smearing it with the blood still on his chin. With that small gesture, order is restored, and Lon’s body starts to relax.

He gives the man’s cheek a gentle, playful slap, and smiles. “Get us a room. I want to ruin you.”

With that, he removes himself, keeping hungry eye contact as he takes his body away from Robert’s: first his hand, then the other, and then slowly lowering his knee to the ground so Robert can get used to the change in gravity— and so it doesn’t pop. With a final smirk he turns to his two employees who are just finishing up, barking at them in some other language, probably letting them know he won’t be riding back along, as though it weren’t obvious as soon as they'd arrived.

[bettingonhouse]

@unlicenscd continued from here

Lon was a newer plaything of his, and was growing more and more interesting every time they decided to meet up. Lon had been nothing but trustworthy for the past two years, helping Robert with his messes when needed. Robert had used his doppleganger at first, as he usually did with buisness. But when Lon was truely deemed trustworthy, Robert had introduced himself personally. The formal introduction happened about eight months ago. And their more intimate encounters started five months ago.

It's been about a month since Robert saw the other, and he felt that lump grow in his throat when Lon was towering over him. Robert had been quick to pluck the cigarette form his mouth before Lon and he locked lips, it remained at his side for now. That swimming feeling in his head doesn't fade away, especially when Lon grabs to hold his face. Robert's free hand stayed on Lon's tie to hold him to him. Though he was very pleased that Lon wasn't giving him much space to breath either.

Robert was a person who didn't like people in his space unless he deemed them worthy. And Lon had certainly worked up that loyalty enough to make Robert give the man a promotion of sorts. If Lon helps Robert's itch he can always help Lon with his own.

The other's tongue is licking away the blood and viscera off his mouth, and it's hot as hell. Robert wasn't even very much into blood play, or cannibalism. But, yet that hungry look in Lon's eyes as he looks down, holding Robert' by his jaw. Unable to speak due to the very hand holding his jaw closed, but he gives a small hum of approval. He very much wanted to get cleaned up. And do whatever the hell the other wanted him to do. It was rather typical, he did nothing but think all day long so it made sense. Sometimes he didn't want to think, he just wanted to give into that toxic pleasure.

Dark brown eyes look into Lon's own, hungry and lust blown. His throat eager to be used, it feels like he's got a lump in it already in anticipation. Let alone that feeling between his damn legs. Unfair that the other was already making him this wet. But, damn, he hasn't been kissed like that in a long time.

"Mm clean me up? I though you enjoyed making a mess of me." Robert manages to mutter, his heart pounding in his chest, but he just grins a bit to Lon. Lips much cleaner than before, but still only slightly smeared with the tangy iron taste.

[unlicenscd]

As he breathes the suggestion to the man below him, his thumb runs over the bump of cartilage in that warm neck, cherishing its topography, density, how the shaven skin moves over it, as well as any reaction it elicits. Robert’s confident composure humbles him and his smile widens considerably in response, and with that sadistic curl of his lips comes his fingers below harshly constricting into the flesh—for only a few quick seconds before relaxing. (Not a threat exactly, just a reminder.)

“Usually I do, but you’re already a mess.” At that moment, he pushes both of their bodies to the brick wall of the alley nearest them, quite close and causing a bit of impact. In the same swift movement, he raises his knee to just below Robert’s crotch—not forcefully as one might expect, but gently, a suggestion. (Considering it was his bad leg, it was quite a meaningful offer.) Lon stares at his face closely, eyes wide and wild, inspecting something—and upon not finding it seems to huff and turn his head sharply. At the same instant his hand grabs Robert’s cigarette and puts it to his own mouth which sucks deeply and blows the smoke to his left side away from them both.

Robert looks absolutely delicious. He’s handsome, wanting, panting, just a touch confused; the blood still splattered across his cheeks and forehead add to his delectability. Lon takes another puff of his procured smoke, but this time blows the fumes between them before placing the blood-marked butt back at its rightful place between Robert’s fingers. “Here?” He tilts his knee upward, although it won’t make a difference unless Robert were already grinding down on it, “or somewhere else? Your choice this time, boss.” A genuine question, hidden within it an inquiry on just how hot Robert’s legal exposure was with the scene around him. Does he need to get out of Dodge? or is he content to play here and now among the scent of blood and rot?

[earthanthem]

(via Pin on a prairie girl)

[bettingonhouse]

[ SAMPLE ] for sender to wipe at smeared blood on receiver that isn’t theirs then proceed to lick it off their finger. - from Lon

Having a on call Mortician was rather useful. Especially when Robert paid insane amounts for a quick dealing of bodies. His experiments with his new device, which was good for quick brainwashing and control, were becoming rather messy.

He stood in the empty alley way, with the two dead bodies. Covered in blood, only one mans head was completely exploded off his shoulders. Thus explaining the blood across his visage. Robert has already pocketed the device when he see's the very tall and very lean man come from his morticians car that he blocked the alleyway now. Robert remained where he was, smoking a cigarette, basking in the night for now and coming down from a brain high of sorts.

He was still thinking of what went wrong when Lon came over and interrupts his thoughts. Feeling the finger come up and swipe along his jawline, before the man puts said bloody finger into his mouth. Robert's smirks, and his eyes darken a bit. He always did appreciate a man who could match his freak.

The two bodies at their feet lay forgotten for the moment, as Robert chuckles a bit, his blood splattered lips curling into a wicked grin.

"You missed a spot."

Robert hums, as if he wasn't entirely covered in blood and brain matter. Before he grabs the other by the tie and pulls him down for a bloody kiss.

[unlicenscd]

He always appreciates a polite, reliable, and consistent client. Typically, he doesn’t bother with retrievals—he has goons for that, and more important things to be worrying about on his business’ battlefront—but Mr. House is a special case: he pays particularly well, and his messes are always interesting. That he’s a certified freak like himself is only a secondary perk, or at least that’s what Lon tells himself.

He walks past the blood-soaked scene slowly, untroubled, cultivating the anticipation growing in his gut that began the moment Robert House’s name appeared on his phone a short time ago. His men, trailing behind, know what to do and need no instruction from him; swiftly and quietly the cadavers will be bagged and loaded and they’ll be off, leaving the two businessmen to wait for the cleaners to arrive. His eyes set upon the viscera-splattered shoes of the well-dressed man before him and trail upward as he approaches, taking him in as one would deeply inhale the scent of well-seasoned smoked meat.

For a moment, he’d thought of being cheeky and plucking the cig from Robert’s mouth to get him ready for the notion of sucking on something else, but as a still-wet drop of blood slowly went down his cheek, proving itself fresh and probably mixed with his sweat—well, he just couldn’t help himself. As salt and iron coat his tongue, making him salivate even more, a smile that mirrors Robert’s devilish temperament spreads across his own face, making clear his intent.

His mouth is messy, passionate, and fierce. Lon kisses to consume and be consumed; his tongue plunders the mouth presented to it, generously sharing the blood that had been placed atop it and making sure it hits the other one’s taste buds as well. His hands move to hold Robert’s face still so he can easily lick more from his lips to add to their feast—his feast—one eventually settling just under his jaw to keep his mouth tilted up to his own with a firm grip.

When at last they part for breath, he stares down at the man, an amused little grin on his face as he admires his work. “Well… we should get you cleaned up… Mr. House,” he says between breaths, not making a move to part their bodies. (Dare he send this man his dry-cleaning bill later for how his own suit’s been stained now?)

[nemfrog]

Plan of the circulation.

Authorized Physiology Series, No. 3. The Outlines of Anatomy, Physiology, and Hygiene. 1889.

Internet Archive

[dogsandphilosophers]

Can anyone recommend some entry level behaviours? Thinking of getting into being

[nemfrog]

Various parts of a tulip. Educational poster.

Jung-Koch-Quentell Wall Tables.

The Memory

[aloofshahbanou]

sext: I really wanna get my shit together with you

[nemfrog]

A serpent entwined with the stem of a wine glass.

The orb of the day. 1883.

Internet Archive

[imagelvr]

vintage anatomical wax models