I need you to stop talking about how big things are!
Title: Sour and Ringing and Lost to the World
Pairing: Scorpius/Braca
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dubcon! Dubcon all up in this bitch!
Summary: Grazya gets Braca all hot and bothered. Braca seeks release elsewhere.
Author's Note: Written for the prompt "I'm drunk". I want to say this is defenestratorrr 's fault, but I honestly don't know whose idea it was. We have so many fucked up thoughts between us, I can't keep track of which to credit to whom.
Captain Braca flees his new superior’s quarters with all the control he can dredge up. He does not run, nor does he stumble, but he cannot deny it is a near thing. The moment her doors slide shut behind him, he collapses against the wall, eyes squeezed shut against the inescapable fog in his head and desperately gasping. The world spin and swings in his bloodshot eyes. His skin crawls and itches and aches. His mouth waters and his throat closes. His fingers twitch and spasm and claw at his thighs, swarming with the need to clutch at Grayza’s vile flesh.
He is hard.
Braca shoves himself off from the wall and presses blindly through the mercifully empty corridors, hardly able to think through the cloud of pheromones and the violent disgust trying to tear his untenable lust to pieces. He stumbles over steps and leans against walls as he must, until he finds himself, finally, exactly where he had intended not to be.
Scorpius lies semiconscious on the floor of his cell, and Braca knows his intentions will do him no good.
He unlocks the door.
Scorpius’ eyes struggle to focus on him as he crosses to kneel beside the prone form. It is a horror and a sick thrill to see those sharp eyes robbed of their lucidity, to see this bizarre and brilliant man reduced to delirium, albeit not as complete as Grayza would guess.
It is a struggle, but those eyes do find their focus. Recognition flashes, for a moment as bright as ever, and Scorpius latches onto Braca like a drowning man. Braca supposes he is.
Unfortunately for Scorpius, he is not the only one.
Clumsy and unbalanced, Braca cups a hand under Scorpius’ cranium, fingers sliding over materials almost as complex as what they encase, and he lifts. His lips crash against Scorpius’ with drunken fervor and are met with little more than an automatic response. Still, he cannot stop himself now. Scorpius weakly tries to press himself up in the kiss, tries to coordinate his tongue and slide it against Braca’s. He lifts a hand to caress Braca’s cheek and collapses back to the floor without it’s support, but Braca follows him, straddles him and runs his own hands feverishly over Scorpius’ armoured chest and shoulders.
He pulls back, not for air, but because he knows the gnashing of his teeth and the grasping of his hands is becoming to spastic to safely maintain. He presses his forehead and Scorpius and he breaths.
Scorpius relaxes beneath him. He sighs into the space between them and stretches his tongue up to lap at Braca’s lip, eliciting a sudden shudder and a gasp. Braca’s arms tremble pitifully, holding him suspended, as still as he can, over the other man.
“I can’t-” He whispers, “Please, Sir- Scorpius- Sir. I need-”
Smiling weakly up at him, Scorpius strokes shaking fingers across his lips to silence him.
Braca knows, somewhere inside the desperate, mindless lust muddling his thoughts, that he has not made himself clear, and that the press of fingers to his mouth and a smile do not constitute consent, even if Scorpius were equipped to give it, dangling just over the edge of heat delirium and recovering from torture. Braca knows this.
He simply finds he does not care.
His mouth falls open in a horrified, relieved sigh and he draws those gloved fingers into his mouth gratefully. He gives a hard suck and Scorpius’ head tilts back with a pleased hiss, hips rolling against his own.
At even that slight stimulation, his brain shorts out completely. Braca jerks back, gasping, struggling helplessly to clear his head. He finds the task impossible, and made even more challenging by Scorpius’ insistent hands stroking his back, his thighs.
He gives up trying, and kneels up to open his zip.
Scorpius’ pupils are blown wide and he is smiling ferally. Braca does not know if he can trust it, but he’s far past the point of contemplating that. His cock is throbbing painfully as he releases it from his pants, and he almost comes on the spot when Scorpius licks his lips.
It is a small comfort to know this won’t take long.
Scorpius pushes himself up to meet Braca, who cants his hips just so, and his cockhead meets those thin, black lips. His drops his head and whimpers hopelessly, and Scorpius suckles at his glans, runs his clever tongue around the sensitive ridge just behind it. Braca cannot stop the desperate pumping of his hips, but Scorpius meets him thrust for thrust, swallowing around him as eagerly as ever.
Braca runs a trembling hand over Scorpius’ head, clutches and strokes at the base of his skull. His other hand finds its way to Scorpius’ ridged, hallowed cheek, petting feverishly, feeling his cock thrusting in and out. Scorpius leans into his touch, moaning around his cock, and it’s more than enough. Braca comes, fast and violent, his legs spasming and his shoulders hunching forward, collapsing in on himself.
When his vision clears, he shoves himself away from Scorpius, staggering to his feet. He finds he cannot look at the man. He tucks himself away and flees.
Pairing: Scorpius/Braca
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dubcon! Dubcon all up in this bitch!
Summary: Grazya gets Braca all hot and bothered. Braca seeks release elsewhere.
Author's Note: Written for the prompt "I'm drunk". I want to say this is defenestratorrr 's fault, but I honestly don't know whose idea it was. We have so many fucked up thoughts between us, I can't keep track of which to credit to whom.
Captain Braca flees his new superior’s quarters with all the control he can dredge up. He does not run, nor does he stumble, but he cannot deny it is a near thing. The moment her doors slide shut behind him, he collapses against the wall, eyes squeezed shut against the inescapable fog in his head and desperately gasping. The world spin and swings in his bloodshot eyes. His skin crawls and itches and aches. His mouth waters and his throat closes. His fingers twitch and spasm and claw at his thighs, swarming with the need to clutch at Grayza’s vile flesh.
He is hard.
Braca shoves himself off from the wall and presses blindly through the mercifully empty corridors, hardly able to think through the cloud of pheromones and the violent disgust trying to tear his untenable lust to pieces. He stumbles over steps and leans against walls as he must, until he finds himself, finally, exactly where he had intended not to be.
Scorpius lies semiconscious on the floor of his cell, and Braca knows his intentions will do him no good.
He unlocks the door.
Scorpius’ eyes struggle to focus on him as he crosses to kneel beside the prone form. It is a horror and a sick thrill to see those sharp eyes robbed of their lucidity, to see this bizarre and brilliant man reduced to delirium, albeit not as complete as Grayza would guess.
It is a struggle, but those eyes do find their focus. Recognition flashes, for a moment as bright as ever, and Scorpius latches onto Braca like a drowning man. Braca supposes he is.
Unfortunately for Scorpius, he is not the only one.
Clumsy and unbalanced, Braca cups a hand under Scorpius’ cranium, fingers sliding over materials almost as complex as what they encase, and he lifts. His lips crash against Scorpius’ with drunken fervor and are met with little more than an automatic response. Still, he cannot stop himself now. Scorpius weakly tries to press himself up in the kiss, tries to coordinate his tongue and slide it against Braca’s. He lifts a hand to caress Braca’s cheek and collapses back to the floor without it’s support, but Braca follows him, straddles him and runs his own hands feverishly over Scorpius’ armoured chest and shoulders.
He pulls back, not for air, but because he knows the gnashing of his teeth and the grasping of his hands is becoming to spastic to safely maintain. He presses his forehead and Scorpius and he breaths.
Scorpius relaxes beneath him. He sighs into the space between them and stretches his tongue up to lap at Braca’s lip, eliciting a sudden shudder and a gasp. Braca’s arms tremble pitifully, holding him suspended, as still as he can, over the other man.
“I can’t-” He whispers, “Please, Sir- Scorpius- Sir. I need-”
Smiling weakly up at him, Scorpius strokes shaking fingers across his lips to silence him.
Braca knows, somewhere inside the desperate, mindless lust muddling his thoughts, that he has not made himself clear, and that the press of fingers to his mouth and a smile do not constitute consent, even if Scorpius were equipped to give it, dangling just over the edge of heat delirium and recovering from torture. Braca knows this.
He simply finds he does not care.
His mouth falls open in a horrified, relieved sigh and he draws those gloved fingers into his mouth gratefully. He gives a hard suck and Scorpius’ head tilts back with a pleased hiss, hips rolling against his own.
At even that slight stimulation, his brain shorts out completely. Braca jerks back, gasping, struggling helplessly to clear his head. He finds the task impossible, and made even more challenging by Scorpius’ insistent hands stroking his back, his thighs.
He gives up trying, and kneels up to open his zip.
Scorpius’ pupils are blown wide and he is smiling ferally. Braca does not know if he can trust it, but he’s far past the point of contemplating that. His cock is throbbing painfully as he releases it from his pants, and he almost comes on the spot when Scorpius licks his lips.
It is a small comfort to know this won’t take long.
Scorpius pushes himself up to meet Braca, who cants his hips just so, and his cockhead meets those thin, black lips. His drops his head and whimpers hopelessly, and Scorpius suckles at his glans, runs his clever tongue around the sensitive ridge just behind it. Braca cannot stop the desperate pumping of his hips, but Scorpius meets him thrust for thrust, swallowing around him as eagerly as ever.
Braca runs a trembling hand over Scorpius’ head, clutches and strokes at the base of his skull. His other hand finds its way to Scorpius’ ridged, hallowed cheek, petting feverishly, feeling his cock thrusting in and out. Scorpius leans into his touch, moaning around his cock, and it’s more than enough. Braca comes, fast and violent, his legs spasming and his shoulders hunching forward, collapsing in on himself.
When his vision clears, he shoves himself away from Scorpius, staggering to his feet. He finds he cannot look at the man. He tucks himself away and flees.