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RULES
1. Anonymously post a pairing and prompt you would like to see written. Since this is a kink meme, there is supposed to be a kink involved, but normal well-written prompts should work just as well.
2. Anonymous will respond to your post and write it for you! Art and such is also acceptable/awesome.
3. If you post a request, try to fill one ( Read more... )
1. Anonymously post a pairing and prompt you would like to see written. Since this is a kink meme, there is supposed to be a kink involved, but normal well-written prompts should work just as well.
2. Anonymous will respond to your post and write it for you! Art and such is also acceptable/awesome.
3. If you post a request, try to fill one ( Read more... )
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The shackles bite into his wrists; cold, hard unrelenting metal against his frail skin. He tries not to struggle against his restraints, his wrists are already rubbed raw and burning, he can barely feel his fingers-but, he can’t keep still, not when he feels the sharp edge of a knife being dragged across his torso. His skin stings where the blade touches him but doesn't split.
He knows Alexander is teasing him; that he could easily press the blade in and slice him; that the other man doesn't because he wants to see if he can get a reaction out of Agrippa.
The alchemist isn't so easily manipulated. Agrippa offers little reaction, even when Alexander drags the knife further still, bringing the tip of the blade to press into Agrippa’s hip. The bone protrudes far, the skin covering it is so thin that it looks like it will tear under the slightest duress.
Alexander hums as he applies just enough pressure to puncture the skin. Agrippa doesn't bleed; his body's all bled out. It doesn't stop Alexander from toying with him a little longer. He continues his exploration of Agrippa's frail body until the alchemist’s paper-thin skin is covered in dozens of long shallow cuts.
When Alexander is satisfied, he places the blade neatly onto the table beside them and shrugs out of his jacket. Agrippa braces the best he can in his beyond weak condition. The chains rattle as Alexander unbinds his ankles. Agrippa closes his eyes his legs are lifted and his back pressed into the damp stone wall behind him as Alexander settles between his thighs.
Standing so close, all Agrippa can smell is Alexander; smoke, antiseptic, cologne and evil. He tries not to focus on it, on what was about to happen; Agrippa tries to think of a time before he was captured, before the Orb. He thinks of Johann. He thinks that these are Johann's hands gripping his hips, Johann's chest pressed against his, Johann's breath washing over his face as he prepares to take Agrippa.
The alchemist's head lolls to the side when he feels fingers press into him. After so many times, his body offers little resistance against the intrusion. Still, in spite of this, Alexander presses his fingers deeper, generous in his use of oil as he prepares Agrippa's body.
Alexander is thorough. When he enters Agrippa finally, it doesn't hurt any more than it has to.
The alchemist makes broken sounds as Alexander wastes no time in setting a harsh pace. The baron's hands grip Agrippa’s withered waist in a vice-like grip that could easily break the alchemist’s frail ribs as he thrusts roughly into Agrippa’s yielding body.
The harder he fucks Agrippa, the less the alchemist can concentrate on the fantasy he's put together in his mind. Thoughts of Johann fall away to feelings of pain-pain that’s bright and blinding; pain that is juxtaposed by pleasure that’s equally as overwhelming. It disgusts Agrippa that he feels desire swelling within him.
Alexander's growling in his ear. If the baron is even speaking any real words or if it’s all guttural gibberish, Agrippa cannot tell.
The nave is filled with the sounds of groans and gurgles, chains rattling and the sound of flesh on flesh. Agrippa’s body trembles from overexertion; his own pleasure reaching it peek when Alexander’s cock finally brushes his prostate. He comes without coming at all with a silent cry. Alexander follows close behind, emptying inside Agrippa as he grumbles in his native tongue.
Alexander slips out easily enough; Agrippa's dripping with oil and the baron's seed. He doesn't clean him up. Instead, Alexander leaves with giving him a second-glance.
Agrippa's left to hang on the wall.
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