Marked - For lover100 - Table C, prompt 017. Branding
TITLE: Marked
AUTHOR:
g_shadowslayer (Penemuel)
FANDOM: Person of Interest
PAIRING/CHARACTER: John Reese (this fic's pairing: Mark Snow/John Reese)
GENRE: Slash
TABLE: C
PROMPT: 017. Branding
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Mark Snow wants to give his agent something to remember him by.
WARNINGS: BDSM, bondage, pain kink, branding (duh?); totally un-betaed. Also, about the title. I'm so sorry...
NOTES: Mark Snow is a terrible, TERRIBLE dom. He doesn't give a shit about informed consent, or about the fact that branding is usually something ceremonial and NOT part of a scene. This relationship is a huge abuse of authority. Please understand that this is the character's issue, not the author's ignorance!
WORD COUNT: 2718 per WordPerfect
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, and I'll try to clean them up a little before I give them back...
He hadn't been expecting an attack in his own bedroom. That was his first mistake. Strong arms wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. A split-second of assessment, and he could tell his attacker's build (shorter than him, wiry muscles, male) and after catching a whiff of familiar after shave he knew exactly who it was.
"Cut it out, Mark, that's not funny," he said, making a halfhearted attempt to free himself. The grip shifted, a strong forearm pressing back against his throat, and suddenly he was greying out.
"Shouldn't have relaxed, John. You never know when someone you think you can trust has been compromised..."
That was his second mistake.
* * *
When he woke, the first thing that registered was the throbbing headache. The next thing that registered was the fact that he was lying spread eagle, face down on his own bed, wrists and ankles bound with soft cotton ropes.
And he was naked.
"Honestly, John, I'm disappointed," Snow's voice came from behind him. It sounded like he was standing next to the bed. "I expect better of someone with your training..."
He tried to identify the sounds coming from the bedside table, but couldn't quite place them. Snow was moving something around, but beyond it being metallic and possibly some kind of canister, he was stumped. When he tried to turn his head to see, he found one of the pillows blocking his view.
"You know what I think, John?" Snow asked, reaching out and running one teasing finger down his arm. "I think you've gone a bit soft since you left active combat. I think the first part of your training here didn't challenge you enough.
"I think," he continued, an edge of hunger creeping into his tone, "I'm going to have to rectify that, and assist in the next level of your training myself..."
Reese wasn't sure if that was a threat or a promise in Snow's voice, but either way, it sent a shiver down his spine that had very little to do with fear.
"Goosebumps. That's nice, John," Snow purred. "You like the sound of that, hmn?"
"Yeah," he breathed, having to shift on the bed to get his hardening cock into a more comfortable position.
"I thought you might."
The finger traveled over his shoulder and down his back while Snow continued, "But first, there's something else I need to do."
He swallowed hard, hearing the growing anticipation in Snow's voice. "Oh? What's that?" he asked, though he knew he really should have waited for Snow to tell him.
"So impatient," Snow murmured, tracing his finger over a scar that curved around Reese's hip, smiling as the muscles beneath the skin quivered under his touch.
Reese could hear him picking something up from the bedside table with his free hand. Then Snow moved that hand into his line of sight, revealing a vise-grip with insulated handles, holding a small piece of metal bent in the middle to form a V shape. What the hell?
Snow brushed his fingers down over his hip, stopping just about where Reese's boxer briefs would stop if he were wearing them. "Hmmn... Perfect," he murmured. Then he switched hands with the vise-grip and sat on the chair Reese hadn't realized was next to the bed.
"What're you doing, Mark?"
A quiet laugh, then Snow pulled the pillow out of the way and tossed it aside, revealing a small blowtorch like the kind jewelers used. "I'm going to kill two birds with one stone, John. I'm going to assess your response to pain, and I'm going to mark you."
It wasn't hard to put two and two together, and Reese's eyes went wide as Snow picked up the blowtorch. "I don't think-- I'm not-- Fuck..."
"It's just going to be a simple pattern. I figure if the Agency uses stars on the wall to signify fallen agents, I can use one on you to remind you of me."
"You're going to brand me," Reese breathed.
"Yeah," Snow murmured, and suddenly he was standing again, running the (currently cold) piece of metal down Reese's cheek. "I do have to assess your ability to withstand pain anyway -- see what you learned in SERE..."
Then he leaned closer, lips just brushing Reese's cheek, and purred, "I just want to make sure you never forget I'm the one who made you."
Reese shivered, his eyes sliding shut. "Jesus, Mark..." he breathed.
He could hear Snow breathe out a soft, "Ohh..." and knew this was making him hard. Sure enough, "I hope you're going to be good and hot for me by the time this is done, because I'm going to have to pound your ass so hard..."
Another shiver rippled through him, and he let out a soft moan, shifting again on the bed to ease the pressure on his cock.
Snow's hands were rock steady as he turned on the blowtorch and started to heat the metal. He sat down again, making sure that he'd be in the best position to see his handiwork. "This is what's called a multi-strike brand," he said, his voice calm. "I'm going to use the first two strikes to assess your pain response, so pretend I'm not me. But also, don't try to struggle, because if you ruin the star I'm going to be very displeased."
"You want me to pretend the bad guys have me, you're either going to have to wait until I can get my body under control, or spot me this hard-on," Reese muttered.
Snow laughed and said, "Sorry about that." It was obvious from his tone that he wasn't sorry at all. Then, "Kandahar, electricity, workouts on the Farm in ninety-eight degree weather. Mandatory all-hands meetings."
Reese focused on those words, on the images they evoked. After little more than a minute he sighed and nodded. "You sure know how to ruin the mood. Goddamned meetings."
"Bureaucracy -- it's about the least sexy thing there is," Snow said with a wry grin. Then he set the blowtorch down and said, "Okay, John, remember the bad guys..."
"Shit..." Reese muttered under his breath, catching a glimpse of the glowing piece of metal before it moved out of his line of sight. His whole body tensed in anticipation of the pain, ropes pulling tight and making the bed-frame creak.
Searing pain that faded after a moment. The smell of burning flesh...
Intellectually he knew that the reason the pain faded was because nerve endings had been damaged. Emotionally, it wasn't hard to pretend the bad guys had him -- the smell of burning flesh brought him back to that filthy cave and the men with the wires and an improvised cattle prod. He gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound, biting into the pillow instead of screaming aloud.
He breathed harsh and hard into the pillow, body one solid mass of frozen muscles, tension holding him still in anticipation of the next attempt to get in.
And then the next surge of agony flared, hot and bright. He bit into the pillow again and roared out his pain, body going completely rigid for a moment before he sagged, panting and gasping desperately for breath. "Fucking goddamn-- Stop!"
"Will you tell me what I want to know?" the voice asked, but he shook his head and buried his face into the pillow again.
"No, never," he growled out. "You won't get anything from me."
"We'll see about that," Snow purred, pulling back again. He hadn't given Reese an all-clear sign, so it would be interesting to see what happened this time...
As Snow heated the metal for the third strike, Reese lifted his head from the pillow enough to growl, "So help me, Mark, you burn one more little star point into my hip pretending you're my enemy instead of you, and I'm gonna do to you what I did to them when I escaped."
"Ah," Snow responded, thinking of the photograph he'd seen in Reese's file, of one of his captors after Reese's escape. Sixteen hours of torture and the man still had enough in him to wrap his legs around the torturer's head and snap his neck...
He nodded. "Think I already got the data I needed. Maybe you haven't gone all that soft..." Then he smiled and purred, "And speaking of going soft -- or not -- that means these last three are just for you, and me, and the exquisite sensation of pleasure in pain..."
"Fuck..." Reese breathed, turning his head to watch as Snow finished heating the brand again.
Now that he didn't have to focus on resisting the sensations, the lingering pain of the burns filtered through; a deep throbbing sensation that just let its presence be known without really hurting. And Snow was closing in again for the next strike.
Again the intense pain flared for a moment, dragging a cry out of him before he buried his face in the pillow and groaned.
"Oh fuck," Snow murmured, pulling back again and setting the brand aside for a moment. The way Reese was moving in the bed, grinding into the mattress as if--
"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Mark, please," Reese growled. He lifted his head again, looked back at Snow. Heat blazed in his eyes, pupils blown, hunger and need plain on his face. "Please..."
"Two more to go, John. Then I promise I'll be ramming your ass so hard you won't be able to walk," Snow panted, equally turned on by Reese's reaction. How someone so strong and capable could be so deliciously submissive was beyond him -- though he certainly wasn't about to complain. He reached out to run his hand over Reese's unburned hip, relishing the hungry moan and the shiver that ran through him. "You are so fucking hot, John," he murmured, drawing back to pick up the brand and start heating it for the fourth strike.
Reese was panting, trying to keep himself still and finding himself unable, grinding his hard cock into the mattress. Arousal had flared so bright and hot, coming so suddenly after the third strike that he hadn't managed to control himself yet. He wanted Snow in him so badly he could taste it.
The pain of the fourth strike barely registered -- just a sharp counterpoint to the heat that already blazed through him. He whimpered and moaned, not caring any longer how wanton it made him seem.
On the fifth strike, he cried out and for a moment thought he was going to come right then and there. The sensation was so intense, and he was marked now, a star burned into his flesh that would always make him think of his lover, his handler; of the man who would make him into the best damned agent he could be.
Snow was hurriedly putting things away, making sure nothing could start a fire that would interrupt them. Reese moaned again and thrust into the mattress, impatient for Snow's touch.
Finally Snow was done. Reese could feel him climbing onto the bed; realized he was naked now. "Mark. Fuck me. Hard..." he growled, trying to buck up into him and falling short because of the ropes. "Please."
Snow grabbed the pillow he'd thrown aside earlier, ordered, "Lift your hips up as much as you can." When Reese obeyed, he shoved the pillow under him. "Good boy," he murmured, settling one hand on his ass.
"Jesus, Mark, will you fuck me already?" Reese growled. And then Snow's hands settled on his hips. He shuddered and moaned loud as the pain from the brand flared. "Oh shit-- oh fuck..."
"Yeah," Snow purred, pressing the head of his already-slicked cock against Reese's hole. If he didn't want anything more than the lube he'd slathered on before he climbed onto the bed, who was he to say otherwise? Besides, Reese's hole was twitching already, hungry for him as he squeezed the branded hip and sent another shiver through him.
He owned this man. This capable, powerful warrior would allow him to do anything to him...
He growled as he thrust deep.
Reese cried out, buried his face in the pillow again as he rode through the initial discomfort. But he was too turned on for it to last more than a moment, his body adjusting quickly to Snow's hard cock filling him. He lifted his head again to growl, "Move, you son of a bitch..."
Snow chuckled, then pulled back and slammed in again, balls-deep, and then gave an extra twitch of his hips. Reese groaned and shuddered under him as his cock drove in again; pressed back onto him as far as he could. "Oh fuck -- John," Snow gasped as he felt Reese's muscles clench on him. "You're mine, John. You know that, right?"
"Yours," Reese panted, trying to fuck himself on Snow's cock and growling in frustration as the ropes held him too still. "Please..."
Snow knew he couldn't play this game much longer anyway, not with the way Reese's muscles were squeezing his cock. "You are the pushiest damned bottom ever, John," he growled, pulling back again.
Reese could feel him struggling to control himself, smirked a little into the pillow because he was the one making that happen. And then Snow tightened his grip again; altered his angle a little and started fucking him hard, fast, and deep.
He cried out as the pain flared from the brand, but it was tangled with electric jolts of pleasure as Snow battered at his prostate with every thrust. Neither one of them would last long, and if he was lucky Snow was too turned on to really register the needy, helpless moans he couldn't hold back.
Oh -- not long at all by the way Snow's rhythm was faltering, or by the sounds he was starting to make. Reese grinned wickedly and clenched his muscles again; got another squeeze of his hip in retaliation.
He whimpered again, and Snow growled softly in response. Then Snow let go the unbranded hip and worked that hand underneath him; wrapped it around his aching cock.
Trapped between stimuli like that, he couldn't have held off orgasm if he'd been trying to. The hand on his cock -- strong and sure, long fingers wrapped tight, almost painful but so much better than rutting into the mattress. The jolts of pleasure that flared as Snow rammed his prostate with every harsh thrust. And swirled around all of it in sharp contrast, the heat that flared at his hip. Not so much pain as a sharp edge to every sensation, that only served to make the pleasure more intense.
"Oh fuck-- fuck-- Mark!" he cried out, coming hard; muscles clenching again on Snow's cock and dragging him along just a moment after.
Snow kept fucking into him until the spasms faded, then collapsed, panting, on top of him. "Holy crap," he breathed, lying there for a long moment until his softening cock slipped from Reese's body. He levered himself up to hands and knees, and looked down at his handiwork. "You have no idea how hot you look like that, John," he murmured. "My mark on you..."
Reese looked back at him again as he moved over to climb off the bed. "Where are you going?" he asked, realizing that Snow was heading over to get dressed once more and collect the items he'd brought to the room. "Mark?"
"Oh -- I told you I was going to be training you, didn't I?" Snow answered with a smirk. He brought a hand down on the branded hip and squeezed again, then said, "You know how to take care of it, right -- second-degree burns and all. And don't you dare do anything that limits the scarring..."
Reese's eyes narrowed as Snow pulled his shirt back on and zipped up his jeans. "Where the hell are you going?"
"It's late -- I'm going to get dinner. Lesson number one: free yourself and get to the cafeteria before they finish serving, or you're on your own for the night," Snow answered with another smirk. "I'll see you later, John." Then he smiled, threw a little wave over his shoulder, and slipped out of the room.
end
This entry was originally posted at http://g-shadowslayer.dreamwidth.org/232188.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
AUTHOR:
g_shadowslayer (Penemuel)
FANDOM: Person of Interest
PAIRING/CHARACTER: John Reese (this fic's pairing: Mark Snow/John Reese)
GENRE: Slash
TABLE: C
PROMPT: 017. Branding
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Mark Snow wants to give his agent something to remember him by.
WARNINGS: BDSM, bondage, pain kink, branding (duh?); totally un-betaed. Also, about the title. I'm so sorry...
NOTES: Mark Snow is a terrible, TERRIBLE dom. He doesn't give a shit about informed consent, or about the fact that branding is usually something ceremonial and NOT part of a scene. This relationship is a huge abuse of authority. Please understand that this is the character's issue, not the author's ignorance!
WORD COUNT: 2718 per WordPerfect
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, and I'll try to clean them up a little before I give them back...
He hadn't been expecting an attack in his own bedroom. That was his first mistake. Strong arms wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. A split-second of assessment, and he could tell his attacker's build (shorter than him, wiry muscles, male) and after catching a whiff of familiar after shave he knew exactly who it was.
"Cut it out, Mark, that's not funny," he said, making a halfhearted attempt to free himself. The grip shifted, a strong forearm pressing back against his throat, and suddenly he was greying out.
"Shouldn't have relaxed, John. You never know when someone you think you can trust has been compromised..."
That was his second mistake.
* * *
When he woke, the first thing that registered was the throbbing headache. The next thing that registered was the fact that he was lying spread eagle, face down on his own bed, wrists and ankles bound with soft cotton ropes.
And he was naked.
"Honestly, John, I'm disappointed," Snow's voice came from behind him. It sounded like he was standing next to the bed. "I expect better of someone with your training..."
He tried to identify the sounds coming from the bedside table, but couldn't quite place them. Snow was moving something around, but beyond it being metallic and possibly some kind of canister, he was stumped. When he tried to turn his head to see, he found one of the pillows blocking his view.
"You know what I think, John?" Snow asked, reaching out and running one teasing finger down his arm. "I think you've gone a bit soft since you left active combat. I think the first part of your training here didn't challenge you enough.
"I think," he continued, an edge of hunger creeping into his tone, "I'm going to have to rectify that, and assist in the next level of your training myself..."
Reese wasn't sure if that was a threat or a promise in Snow's voice, but either way, it sent a shiver down his spine that had very little to do with fear.
"Goosebumps. That's nice, John," Snow purred. "You like the sound of that, hmn?"
"Yeah," he breathed, having to shift on the bed to get his hardening cock into a more comfortable position.
"I thought you might."
The finger traveled over his shoulder and down his back while Snow continued, "But first, there's something else I need to do."
He swallowed hard, hearing the growing anticipation in Snow's voice. "Oh? What's that?" he asked, though he knew he really should have waited for Snow to tell him.
"So impatient," Snow murmured, tracing his finger over a scar that curved around Reese's hip, smiling as the muscles beneath the skin quivered under his touch.
Reese could hear him picking something up from the bedside table with his free hand. Then Snow moved that hand into his line of sight, revealing a vise-grip with insulated handles, holding a small piece of metal bent in the middle to form a V shape. What the hell?
Snow brushed his fingers down over his hip, stopping just about where Reese's boxer briefs would stop if he were wearing them. "Hmmn... Perfect," he murmured. Then he switched hands with the vise-grip and sat on the chair Reese hadn't realized was next to the bed.
"What're you doing, Mark?"
A quiet laugh, then Snow pulled the pillow out of the way and tossed it aside, revealing a small blowtorch like the kind jewelers used. "I'm going to kill two birds with one stone, John. I'm going to assess your response to pain, and I'm going to mark you."
It wasn't hard to put two and two together, and Reese's eyes went wide as Snow picked up the blowtorch. "I don't think-- I'm not-- Fuck..."
"It's just going to be a simple pattern. I figure if the Agency uses stars on the wall to signify fallen agents, I can use one on you to remind you of me."
"You're going to brand me," Reese breathed.
"Yeah," Snow murmured, and suddenly he was standing again, running the (currently cold) piece of metal down Reese's cheek. "I do have to assess your ability to withstand pain anyway -- see what you learned in SERE..."
Then he leaned closer, lips just brushing Reese's cheek, and purred, "I just want to make sure you never forget I'm the one who made you."
Reese shivered, his eyes sliding shut. "Jesus, Mark..." he breathed.
He could hear Snow breathe out a soft, "Ohh..." and knew this was making him hard. Sure enough, "I hope you're going to be good and hot for me by the time this is done, because I'm going to have to pound your ass so hard..."
Another shiver rippled through him, and he let out a soft moan, shifting again on the bed to ease the pressure on his cock.
Snow's hands were rock steady as he turned on the blowtorch and started to heat the metal. He sat down again, making sure that he'd be in the best position to see his handiwork. "This is what's called a multi-strike brand," he said, his voice calm. "I'm going to use the first two strikes to assess your pain response, so pretend I'm not me. But also, don't try to struggle, because if you ruin the star I'm going to be very displeased."
"You want me to pretend the bad guys have me, you're either going to have to wait until I can get my body under control, or spot me this hard-on," Reese muttered.
Snow laughed and said, "Sorry about that." It was obvious from his tone that he wasn't sorry at all. Then, "Kandahar, electricity, workouts on the Farm in ninety-eight degree weather. Mandatory all-hands meetings."
Reese focused on those words, on the images they evoked. After little more than a minute he sighed and nodded. "You sure know how to ruin the mood. Goddamned meetings."
"Bureaucracy -- it's about the least sexy thing there is," Snow said with a wry grin. Then he set the blowtorch down and said, "Okay, John, remember the bad guys..."
"Shit..." Reese muttered under his breath, catching a glimpse of the glowing piece of metal before it moved out of his line of sight. His whole body tensed in anticipation of the pain, ropes pulling tight and making the bed-frame creak.
Searing pain that faded after a moment. The smell of burning flesh...
Intellectually he knew that the reason the pain faded was because nerve endings had been damaged. Emotionally, it wasn't hard to pretend the bad guys had him -- the smell of burning flesh brought him back to that filthy cave and the men with the wires and an improvised cattle prod. He gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound, biting into the pillow instead of screaming aloud.
He breathed harsh and hard into the pillow, body one solid mass of frozen muscles, tension holding him still in anticipation of the next attempt to get in.
And then the next surge of agony flared, hot and bright. He bit into the pillow again and roared out his pain, body going completely rigid for a moment before he sagged, panting and gasping desperately for breath. "Fucking goddamn-- Stop!"
"Will you tell me what I want to know?" the voice asked, but he shook his head and buried his face into the pillow again.
"No, never," he growled out. "You won't get anything from me."
"We'll see about that," Snow purred, pulling back again. He hadn't given Reese an all-clear sign, so it would be interesting to see what happened this time...
As Snow heated the metal for the third strike, Reese lifted his head from the pillow enough to growl, "So help me, Mark, you burn one more little star point into my hip pretending you're my enemy instead of you, and I'm gonna do to you what I did to them when I escaped."
"Ah," Snow responded, thinking of the photograph he'd seen in Reese's file, of one of his captors after Reese's escape. Sixteen hours of torture and the man still had enough in him to wrap his legs around the torturer's head and snap his neck...
He nodded. "Think I already got the data I needed. Maybe you haven't gone all that soft..." Then he smiled and purred, "And speaking of going soft -- or not -- that means these last three are just for you, and me, and the exquisite sensation of pleasure in pain..."
"Fuck..." Reese breathed, turning his head to watch as Snow finished heating the brand again.
Now that he didn't have to focus on resisting the sensations, the lingering pain of the burns filtered through; a deep throbbing sensation that just let its presence be known without really hurting. And Snow was closing in again for the next strike.
Again the intense pain flared for a moment, dragging a cry out of him before he buried his face in the pillow and groaned.
"Oh fuck," Snow murmured, pulling back again and setting the brand aside for a moment. The way Reese was moving in the bed, grinding into the mattress as if--
"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Mark, please," Reese growled. He lifted his head again, looked back at Snow. Heat blazed in his eyes, pupils blown, hunger and need plain on his face. "Please..."
"Two more to go, John. Then I promise I'll be ramming your ass so hard you won't be able to walk," Snow panted, equally turned on by Reese's reaction. How someone so strong and capable could be so deliciously submissive was beyond him -- though he certainly wasn't about to complain. He reached out to run his hand over Reese's unburned hip, relishing the hungry moan and the shiver that ran through him. "You are so fucking hot, John," he murmured, drawing back to pick up the brand and start heating it for the fourth strike.
Reese was panting, trying to keep himself still and finding himself unable, grinding his hard cock into the mattress. Arousal had flared so bright and hot, coming so suddenly after the third strike that he hadn't managed to control himself yet. He wanted Snow in him so badly he could taste it.
The pain of the fourth strike barely registered -- just a sharp counterpoint to the heat that already blazed through him. He whimpered and moaned, not caring any longer how wanton it made him seem.
On the fifth strike, he cried out and for a moment thought he was going to come right then and there. The sensation was so intense, and he was marked now, a star burned into his flesh that would always make him think of his lover, his handler; of the man who would make him into the best damned agent he could be.
Snow was hurriedly putting things away, making sure nothing could start a fire that would interrupt them. Reese moaned again and thrust into the mattress, impatient for Snow's touch.
Finally Snow was done. Reese could feel him climbing onto the bed; realized he was naked now. "Mark. Fuck me. Hard..." he growled, trying to buck up into him and falling short because of the ropes. "Please."
Snow grabbed the pillow he'd thrown aside earlier, ordered, "Lift your hips up as much as you can." When Reese obeyed, he shoved the pillow under him. "Good boy," he murmured, settling one hand on his ass.
"Jesus, Mark, will you fuck me already?" Reese growled. And then Snow's hands settled on his hips. He shuddered and moaned loud as the pain from the brand flared. "Oh shit-- oh fuck..."
"Yeah," Snow purred, pressing the head of his already-slicked cock against Reese's hole. If he didn't want anything more than the lube he'd slathered on before he climbed onto the bed, who was he to say otherwise? Besides, Reese's hole was twitching already, hungry for him as he squeezed the branded hip and sent another shiver through him.
He owned this man. This capable, powerful warrior would allow him to do anything to him...
He growled as he thrust deep.
Reese cried out, buried his face in the pillow again as he rode through the initial discomfort. But he was too turned on for it to last more than a moment, his body adjusting quickly to Snow's hard cock filling him. He lifted his head again to growl, "Move, you son of a bitch..."
Snow chuckled, then pulled back and slammed in again, balls-deep, and then gave an extra twitch of his hips. Reese groaned and shuddered under him as his cock drove in again; pressed back onto him as far as he could. "Oh fuck -- John," Snow gasped as he felt Reese's muscles clench on him. "You're mine, John. You know that, right?"
"Yours," Reese panted, trying to fuck himself on Snow's cock and growling in frustration as the ropes held him too still. "Please..."
Snow knew he couldn't play this game much longer anyway, not with the way Reese's muscles were squeezing his cock. "You are the pushiest damned bottom ever, John," he growled, pulling back again.
Reese could feel him struggling to control himself, smirked a little into the pillow because he was the one making that happen. And then Snow tightened his grip again; altered his angle a little and started fucking him hard, fast, and deep.
He cried out as the pain flared from the brand, but it was tangled with electric jolts of pleasure as Snow battered at his prostate with every thrust. Neither one of them would last long, and if he was lucky Snow was too turned on to really register the needy, helpless moans he couldn't hold back.
Oh -- not long at all by the way Snow's rhythm was faltering, or by the sounds he was starting to make. Reese grinned wickedly and clenched his muscles again; got another squeeze of his hip in retaliation.
He whimpered again, and Snow growled softly in response. Then Snow let go the unbranded hip and worked that hand underneath him; wrapped it around his aching cock.
Trapped between stimuli like that, he couldn't have held off orgasm if he'd been trying to. The hand on his cock -- strong and sure, long fingers wrapped tight, almost painful but so much better than rutting into the mattress. The jolts of pleasure that flared as Snow rammed his prostate with every harsh thrust. And swirled around all of it in sharp contrast, the heat that flared at his hip. Not so much pain as a sharp edge to every sensation, that only served to make the pleasure more intense.
"Oh fuck-- fuck-- Mark!" he cried out, coming hard; muscles clenching again on Snow's cock and dragging him along just a moment after.
Snow kept fucking into him until the spasms faded, then collapsed, panting, on top of him. "Holy crap," he breathed, lying there for a long moment until his softening cock slipped from Reese's body. He levered himself up to hands and knees, and looked down at his handiwork. "You have no idea how hot you look like that, John," he murmured. "My mark on you..."
Reese looked back at him again as he moved over to climb off the bed. "Where are you going?" he asked, realizing that Snow was heading over to get dressed once more and collect the items he'd brought to the room. "Mark?"
"Oh -- I told you I was going to be training you, didn't I?" Snow answered with a smirk. He brought a hand down on the branded hip and squeezed again, then said, "You know how to take care of it, right -- second-degree burns and all. And don't you dare do anything that limits the scarring..."
Reese's eyes narrowed as Snow pulled his shirt back on and zipped up his jeans. "Where the hell are you going?"
"It's late -- I'm going to get dinner. Lesson number one: free yourself and get to the cafeteria before they finish serving, or you're on your own for the night," Snow answered with another smirk. "I'll see you later, John." Then he smiled, threw a little wave over his shoulder, and slipped out of the room.
end
This entry was originally posted at http://g-shadowslayer.dreamwidth.org/232188.html. Please comment there using OpenID.