Fic: Reward 1/2
FORGIVE ME!!! I'm trying not to stray from Accidental, but I needed to write porn.
The Dark Knight Rises Kink Meme fill
Fic: Reward 1/2
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Bane/Blake/Barsad (the 3BP!)
Prompt: Ok, I need a dirty threesome with Blake being in the middle. Bane and Barsad practically worshiping his body and making him a trembling mess. They both take their sweet time with him, both men having him and then penetrating him at the same time.
In case you need a reminder on Barsad:
“Are you here to kill me?” Blake had asked when he came home to find Barsad and several other henchmen in his apartment. Barsad had stepped forward, a hand rising until the backs of his fingers were almost brushing Blake’s cheek.
“No,” he’d said, small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he gave his head a small shake. “To reward you.”
To say that Blake had been apprehensive would be a gross understatement, but the men were all armed and ready, and Barsad’s tone indicated that his collection of this reward was not up for discussion. He’d gone willingly, knowing this was a perfect chance to possibly gather further intelligence on Bane and his army.
They had led him out to an SUV with the windows blacked out, and Blake got in without any fight or resistance. He had only tried asking Barsad about what was to happen to him once, the man only offering him a quirked brow in response before casually reaching beside him and pulling out what appeared to be a black cloth sack. He had handed the sack to Blake, indicating his head. Blake eyed him warily before accepting the back and placing it over his head. Thus far, the men seemed to have no interest in harming him, and he was willing to play along with this provision.
When the car came to a stop, Blake was pulled out with a careful hand on his arm, another coming up to catch him under his armpit when he stumbled on unfamiliar footing. That same hand brushed over his side and came to rest on his lower back, fingers splayed as Blake was guided along rocky footing. They went down stairs slick with condensation, the air getting notably cooler and Blake had realized they were underground, in the sewers if the smell was any indication. His captors were as careful and civil with him as ever, hands gentle on him as they steered him in too many directions for Blake to keep track of.
At a point, he realized the number of footsteps had dropped off, leaving only his and the man guiding him, Barsad if he had to guess. His guess had been verified when the man spoke in a hushed tone in a language Blake didn’t understand. It was then he had heard the gentle hiss of the respirator.
Blake now stands stock still, his heart beginning to pound as he listens to the labored breaths. He realizes that Bane must want him to know he is there, that he is watching. The hand on his arm moves away, and the sack is lifted off of him to reveal Barsad, the terrorists dark eyes hooded as they take in Blake’s face properly. He offers the same tight smile as before, mirth in his eyes as he brushes perspiration from Blake’s forehead.
“I suppose you’re wondering why you were sent for,” Bane says, his muffled voice carrying over the small room. A quick glance tells Blake that it was a maintenance room converted into sleeping quarters, a small bedroll lumpy and pushed to one side of the room, the only other furniture the chair Bane is sitting in. The large man is wearing some sort of vest, the corded muscles of his arms bulging from the manner they were folded as he grips the neckline of the vest as if in deep thought. He makes no move to stand and does not speak again, instead waiting for Blake to speak with his head tipped back slightly, looking down over the ridge of the mask.
Blake’s eyes flickers to Barsad, hoping for some kind of indication of what he is supposed to say, but the man is just smiling at him and standing so close. Blake tries not to flinch when the man’s hand comes to rest on his arm just above his elbow.
“Best to answer him,” Barsad suggests, his head inclining towards Bane.
“I don’t know why,” Blake said honestly, eyes darting back to Bane. “They were waiting for me at my apartment…I don’t know what you want.”
“Surely it cannot be such a mystery,” Bane said through his mask, eyes narrowing. It was unnerving to see only his eyes, the apparatus covering almost the rest of his face leaving his expression dangerously unreadable. Blake wasn’t foolish enough to mistake the mirth in the man’s voice for kindness.
“My men and informants are my eyes and ears throughout Gotham, and while you are indeed careful in your movements, you have failed to escape my radar, Officer Blake.”
Blake felt his blood turn to ice when he heard the man rasp his title. Cops were hunted like dogs in Bane’s occupied Gotham, mostly hauled in for judgment but sometimes shot right on the street, or beaten by those they had previously sworn to protect. Blake himself had been careful, had been diligent in not being followed. Once he recovers enough to reassess the situation, he wonders at why he is currently here and not in the halls of justice with Crane reading his sentence. He swallows, tries to look nonplussed as he licks his lips. “If I’m a cop,” he says, warily. “Then why not just kill me? Why bring me down here?”
Barsad is now urging him forward with a hand to the back of Blake’s neck, his touches still gentle. Blake takes a cautious step forwards, wanting as much distance between himself and the hulking mercenary as possible. All he can see is the man snapping that scientist’s neck on camera, a heat flushing across his own throat as he remembers it.
“You’re here because I wish it,” Bane says with a tiny shake of his head, as though this were the most obvious and logical reason and somehow answered Blake’s question. “My men have reported that you have acted as patron to one of the orphanages, both necessary supplies as well as novelties you do not even keep for yourself, that the board members you keep hidden in the government center do not even possess.” He stops there, waiting for an explanation with a narrowing of his unblinking eyes.
“The boys home,” Blake said with a stutter. “The one I was raised in…just want to keep the kids safe…make sure they aren’t too scared.”
Bane’s gaze is penetrating, and Blake finds he can’t stand still under it. He averts his gaze, instead looking to Barsad, almost pleading for some sort of lifeline, or some indication of where this was all going. Barsad is now watching Bane though. Expectant.
“And what is it” Bane asks, leaning forward the slightest bit. “Which draws you to protecting these children?”
John shrugged. “They’re all alone,” he says. “They’re helpless…and either someone helps them or someone takes advantage of them.”
Bane nods, eyes sliding over to Barsad. “This is very true, Officer Blake. Very true. Unlike your fellows of the GCPD, you care for those worthy of a protector, and for this reason I have chosen to spare your life.”
Blake swallows, cold rushing up the back of his neck in both relief and apprehension. “Then why-“
“Your reward for such service is your life…yet the price is that you serve as reward in turn. He is yours, brother.” Bane gestures to Blake with one hand, his eyes fixed on Barsad who was standing tall beside Blake, eyes dark in gratitude.
“You have served me well,” Bane continues to his second in command, standing and ambling forward with an easy gait. Every step makes Blake’s breath come quicker, makes his heart beat at a hummingbird’s pace. He feels his face flush as the man comes to stand before him, a massive hand rising to tilt Blake’s face up into the dim light. “Take your pleasure in him. You have my permission to use him as you see fit; I doubt very much he will raise any objection.” Bane caresses the side of Blake’s smooth cheek with the back of his hand, fingers turning to brush down the length of his throat until they catch on the collar of his shirt.
Having been distracted by Bane, Blake does not realize Barsad is behind him until he feels the man’s nose nuzzle against the back of his neck, moving up to brush against his hair. The man inhales, his hands gripping Blake’s biceps in a loose grip which tightened as they slid slowly down his arms. Blake’s breath hitches at the feel of sharp teeth on the tender lope of his ear, his eyelids fluttering as he fought the urge to lean back against the other man’s chest.
He knows there are two choices before him. He is quick and agile; he could use this to his advantage and attempt escape. It wouldn’t be impossible for him to get past the two mercenaries and find his way out of the sewers. He is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that no one had witnessed his capture or knows his current location. Unless he himself or Bane volunteers the information, no one would be any the wiser that he’d made contact.
“I won’t fight you,” Blake says, voice unsteady as Barsad’s lips press against the nape of his neck, a hot tongue flickering over his flesh. “If you swear not to tell my superiors about this…or anyone else.”
Bane chuckles, the sound odd when muffled by the respirator. “Hardly in a position to make demands, little one,” he says, plucking at the first of Blake’s buttons. “Though your request is acceptable.”
Barsad brings a hand around to Blake’s front, fingers pushing beneath his shirt to rub over naked flesh. Blake shudders, unable to keep his hips from pressing back against the growing hardness nestled between the round cheeks of his ass. Barsad ruts forward, and despite being extremely crude makes Blake moan breathily, his eyelids drifting shut as he tilts up his ass, rubbing back on the man’s cock through their clothing. Barsad made no noise of appreciation, but his fingers tightened against Blake’s skin, pulling him further back against him.
Blake shudders when Bane draws his shirt open, exposing his pale flesh to the cool damp room. The large man eyes him, his ragged breaths hissing through his mask as he stood before him, hulking over him and making Blake feel so small. He feels comfort in Barsad’s solid bulk behind him, lets his eyes close and allows himself to simply revel in the heat of the other man’s hands as he draws them up to Blake’s chest. Barsad lets his hands move over Blake’s slim chest, his fingertips brushing against the slight man’s nipples before rising up to his neck. One hand encircles Blake’s throat, the pressure light but very present, and his other hand dipping to rub against the cop’s stirring cock.
The mercenary grips Blake tightly, pulling him close and lathing kisses against his throat and shoulders as Bane pushed his shirt down his arms, taking a step closer and not touching Blake but watching. Barsad is thrusting against him now, cock hardening deliciously against Blake. He reaches back and finds the man’s erection, delighting as he presses his fingers against the solid girth there. He tries to worm his fingers into Barsad’s fatigues but feels large hands drawing his arms forward. He looks down to see Bane taking his wrists in his own, squeezing just enough for Blake to understand he wasn’t to try and move. Bane’s hands look massive atop his, and Blake feels a surge of lust at the realization that the man could probably hold both of his wrists in one hand with little effort, cock jumping when Bane actually does.
Bane’s other hand now reaches for Blake’s trousers, tugging the button and zipper open with ease to allow Barsad’s hand access. Blake mewls when the mercenary takes hold of his cock, strokes gentle and careful against his sensitive flesh. He pushes his hips back against the other man, back arching in delight when Barsad lightly squeezes his cock before reaching back further to kneed his balls. His breath begins to quicken until he’s panting softly, hips rocking back to meet the man thrusting against him.
And all the while, Bane just watches. Blake knows he should feel unsettled by the man’s presence, but it brings a different sort of heat to his cheeks. The large man doesn’t touch him beyond undressing him and holding him still, but Blake wonders what he looks like beneath his vest and fatigues, wonders if the man’s prick is as big as the rest of him.
Barsad pushes Blake’s trousers down his slim hips, and suddenly Blake is being spun around by a quick tug from Bane, back now flush against Bane’s sturdy chest. Before Blake knows it, his arms are being folded behind his head, Bane’s massive arms holding him immobile. Blake tugs a bit, testing the man’s hold and only to find himself held fast. Barsad was before him now, fingertips trailing over Blake’s exposed ribs until the slight man shudders at the heat this sends straight to his cock.
“You’re beautiful,” Barsad says , lips brushing against Blake’s ear before claiming his mouth in a kiss. The mercenary’s tongue flickers on the seam of his lips until Blake opens to accept the other man into his mouth.
The man kisses him possessively, hungrily, an arm winding about Blake’s slim waist. Blake wriggles against him, try desperately for further contact. “I want to touch you,” he whines when Barsad kisses down his jaw to lave kisses on his throat. “Please,” he said again, tilting his head back to implore to Bane.
Bane chuckles, his hands tightening on Blake’s arms just so. “That comes later,” he rasps.
Barsad’s hands are not on Blake’s ass, fingers of one hand slipping between his cheeks to rub over his entrance. Blake’s hips jerk forwards, breath hissing in and he can’t help but drag his lower lip between his teeth and whimper. Barsad’s hot mouth works down his collarbone to his chest, his tongue hot and wet over Blake’s nipple. Blake tries to press against him, his arms burning from how they are positioned.
He feels himself being moved forwards, Barsad quickly standing to receive direction. Bane pushes Blake into the other man’s arms, indicating to the bedroll with an incline of his head. “We must provide our guest with comfort,” he said, his hands moving back to grip the top of his vest.
As Blake stumbles in his pooled trousers, he finally realizes he is completely naked. Heat floods his face as he toes his shoes off, Barsad’s eyes boring into him hungrily. When his shoes are off, Barsad draws him close and kisses him again, leading Blake back towards the bedroll. Blake’s eyes flutter shut, moaning into the kiss and reveling that he can finally wrap his arms around the other man’s shoulders; feel his hot flesh through the thin material of his shirt. As all blood flow is currently rerouted to his cock, Blake barely has time to register is shock when instead of being tossed down onto the blankets, the mercenary gently lowers him. He feels his body being pressed back, his thighs urged open until he is spread before the other man like a banquet.
Barsad presses Blake’s wrists down into the blankets to hold him still before drawing them up the sensitive skin of the cop’s inner arms, trailing his fingertips over collarbone and down Blake’s hairless chest. Once he reaches Blake’s navel, Barsad’s hands make the reverse journey, the pressure of it just enough to soothe and relax Blake while also making his nerves sing.
Barsad continues to pet Blake in this manner until the slim man is sighing and arching his back, his long legs drawing up at the knees until he is caressing the other man’s hips with the inside of his own thighs. The other man continues his ministrations further down Blake’s torso, mapping his flat belly and angular hipbones before stroking down his thighs. His hands are practically worshipful, so tender and dedicated as they work Blake into a gasping puddle. Then Barsad lowers his mouth, breath hot and wet against Blake’s stomach as he moved down to where the other man’s now fully aroused cock is curled up towards his belly.
“Please,” Blake moans; eyes at half mast. His head rolls to the side to take in Bane, sitting once again in the chair with his hands resting on his widespread knees. He watches them through hooded eyes, breath rough through the mask but still deep and even despite the intensity of his gaze. Blake wants the man touching him again, forcing him down, holding him…fucking him.
He gasps when Barsad pushes his knees back towards his chest. The mercenary takes full advantage of the smaller man’s folded position by kneeling down low and running the pointed tip of his tongue over the furled hole of Blake’s opening. Blake arches off the blankets, his mouth falling open with a small cry. He brings his hands down to run his fingers through the other man’s hair, the movement sending tingles through his stiff arms.
TBConcluded
The Dark Knight Rises Kink Meme fill
Fic: Reward 1/2
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Bane/Blake/Barsad (the 3BP!)
Prompt: Ok, I need a dirty threesome with Blake being in the middle. Bane and Barsad practically worshiping his body and making him a trembling mess. They both take their sweet time with him, both men having him and then penetrating him at the same time.
In case you need a reminder on Barsad:
“Are you here to kill me?” Blake had asked when he came home to find Barsad and several other henchmen in his apartment. Barsad had stepped forward, a hand rising until the backs of his fingers were almost brushing Blake’s cheek.
“No,” he’d said, small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he gave his head a small shake. “To reward you.”
To say that Blake had been apprehensive would be a gross understatement, but the men were all armed and ready, and Barsad’s tone indicated that his collection of this reward was not up for discussion. He’d gone willingly, knowing this was a perfect chance to possibly gather further intelligence on Bane and his army.
They had led him out to an SUV with the windows blacked out, and Blake got in without any fight or resistance. He had only tried asking Barsad about what was to happen to him once, the man only offering him a quirked brow in response before casually reaching beside him and pulling out what appeared to be a black cloth sack. He had handed the sack to Blake, indicating his head. Blake eyed him warily before accepting the back and placing it over his head. Thus far, the men seemed to have no interest in harming him, and he was willing to play along with this provision.
When the car came to a stop, Blake was pulled out with a careful hand on his arm, another coming up to catch him under his armpit when he stumbled on unfamiliar footing. That same hand brushed over his side and came to rest on his lower back, fingers splayed as Blake was guided along rocky footing. They went down stairs slick with condensation, the air getting notably cooler and Blake had realized they were underground, in the sewers if the smell was any indication. His captors were as careful and civil with him as ever, hands gentle on him as they steered him in too many directions for Blake to keep track of.
At a point, he realized the number of footsteps had dropped off, leaving only his and the man guiding him, Barsad if he had to guess. His guess had been verified when the man spoke in a hushed tone in a language Blake didn’t understand. It was then he had heard the gentle hiss of the respirator.
Blake now stands stock still, his heart beginning to pound as he listens to the labored breaths. He realizes that Bane must want him to know he is there, that he is watching. The hand on his arm moves away, and the sack is lifted off of him to reveal Barsad, the terrorists dark eyes hooded as they take in Blake’s face properly. He offers the same tight smile as before, mirth in his eyes as he brushes perspiration from Blake’s forehead.
“I suppose you’re wondering why you were sent for,” Bane says, his muffled voice carrying over the small room. A quick glance tells Blake that it was a maintenance room converted into sleeping quarters, a small bedroll lumpy and pushed to one side of the room, the only other furniture the chair Bane is sitting in. The large man is wearing some sort of vest, the corded muscles of his arms bulging from the manner they were folded as he grips the neckline of the vest as if in deep thought. He makes no move to stand and does not speak again, instead waiting for Blake to speak with his head tipped back slightly, looking down over the ridge of the mask.
Blake’s eyes flickers to Barsad, hoping for some kind of indication of what he is supposed to say, but the man is just smiling at him and standing so close. Blake tries not to flinch when the man’s hand comes to rest on his arm just above his elbow.
“Best to answer him,” Barsad suggests, his head inclining towards Bane.
“I don’t know why,” Blake said honestly, eyes darting back to Bane. “They were waiting for me at my apartment…I don’t know what you want.”
“Surely it cannot be such a mystery,” Bane said through his mask, eyes narrowing. It was unnerving to see only his eyes, the apparatus covering almost the rest of his face leaving his expression dangerously unreadable. Blake wasn’t foolish enough to mistake the mirth in the man’s voice for kindness.
“My men and informants are my eyes and ears throughout Gotham, and while you are indeed careful in your movements, you have failed to escape my radar, Officer Blake.”
Blake felt his blood turn to ice when he heard the man rasp his title. Cops were hunted like dogs in Bane’s occupied Gotham, mostly hauled in for judgment but sometimes shot right on the street, or beaten by those they had previously sworn to protect. Blake himself had been careful, had been diligent in not being followed. Once he recovers enough to reassess the situation, he wonders at why he is currently here and not in the halls of justice with Crane reading his sentence. He swallows, tries to look nonplussed as he licks his lips. “If I’m a cop,” he says, warily. “Then why not just kill me? Why bring me down here?”
Barsad is now urging him forward with a hand to the back of Blake’s neck, his touches still gentle. Blake takes a cautious step forwards, wanting as much distance between himself and the hulking mercenary as possible. All he can see is the man snapping that scientist’s neck on camera, a heat flushing across his own throat as he remembers it.
“You’re here because I wish it,” Bane says with a tiny shake of his head, as though this were the most obvious and logical reason and somehow answered Blake’s question. “My men have reported that you have acted as patron to one of the orphanages, both necessary supplies as well as novelties you do not even keep for yourself, that the board members you keep hidden in the government center do not even possess.” He stops there, waiting for an explanation with a narrowing of his unblinking eyes.
“The boys home,” Blake said with a stutter. “The one I was raised in…just want to keep the kids safe…make sure they aren’t too scared.”
Bane’s gaze is penetrating, and Blake finds he can’t stand still under it. He averts his gaze, instead looking to Barsad, almost pleading for some sort of lifeline, or some indication of where this was all going. Barsad is now watching Bane though. Expectant.
“And what is it” Bane asks, leaning forward the slightest bit. “Which draws you to protecting these children?”
John shrugged. “They’re all alone,” he says. “They’re helpless…and either someone helps them or someone takes advantage of them.”
Bane nods, eyes sliding over to Barsad. “This is very true, Officer Blake. Very true. Unlike your fellows of the GCPD, you care for those worthy of a protector, and for this reason I have chosen to spare your life.”
Blake swallows, cold rushing up the back of his neck in both relief and apprehension. “Then why-“
“Your reward for such service is your life…yet the price is that you serve as reward in turn. He is yours, brother.” Bane gestures to Blake with one hand, his eyes fixed on Barsad who was standing tall beside Blake, eyes dark in gratitude.
“You have served me well,” Bane continues to his second in command, standing and ambling forward with an easy gait. Every step makes Blake’s breath come quicker, makes his heart beat at a hummingbird’s pace. He feels his face flush as the man comes to stand before him, a massive hand rising to tilt Blake’s face up into the dim light. “Take your pleasure in him. You have my permission to use him as you see fit; I doubt very much he will raise any objection.” Bane caresses the side of Blake’s smooth cheek with the back of his hand, fingers turning to brush down the length of his throat until they catch on the collar of his shirt.
Having been distracted by Bane, Blake does not realize Barsad is behind him until he feels the man’s nose nuzzle against the back of his neck, moving up to brush against his hair. The man inhales, his hands gripping Blake’s biceps in a loose grip which tightened as they slid slowly down his arms. Blake’s breath hitches at the feel of sharp teeth on the tender lope of his ear, his eyelids fluttering as he fought the urge to lean back against the other man’s chest.
He knows there are two choices before him. He is quick and agile; he could use this to his advantage and attempt escape. It wouldn’t be impossible for him to get past the two mercenaries and find his way out of the sewers. He is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that no one had witnessed his capture or knows his current location. Unless he himself or Bane volunteers the information, no one would be any the wiser that he’d made contact.
“I won’t fight you,” Blake says, voice unsteady as Barsad’s lips press against the nape of his neck, a hot tongue flickering over his flesh. “If you swear not to tell my superiors about this…or anyone else.”
Bane chuckles, the sound odd when muffled by the respirator. “Hardly in a position to make demands, little one,” he says, plucking at the first of Blake’s buttons. “Though your request is acceptable.”
Barsad brings a hand around to Blake’s front, fingers pushing beneath his shirt to rub over naked flesh. Blake shudders, unable to keep his hips from pressing back against the growing hardness nestled between the round cheeks of his ass. Barsad ruts forward, and despite being extremely crude makes Blake moan breathily, his eyelids drifting shut as he tilts up his ass, rubbing back on the man’s cock through their clothing. Barsad made no noise of appreciation, but his fingers tightened against Blake’s skin, pulling him further back against him.
Blake shudders when Bane draws his shirt open, exposing his pale flesh to the cool damp room. The large man eyes him, his ragged breaths hissing through his mask as he stood before him, hulking over him and making Blake feel so small. He feels comfort in Barsad’s solid bulk behind him, lets his eyes close and allows himself to simply revel in the heat of the other man’s hands as he draws them up to Blake’s chest. Barsad lets his hands move over Blake’s slim chest, his fingertips brushing against the slight man’s nipples before rising up to his neck. One hand encircles Blake’s throat, the pressure light but very present, and his other hand dipping to rub against the cop’s stirring cock.
The mercenary grips Blake tightly, pulling him close and lathing kisses against his throat and shoulders as Bane pushed his shirt down his arms, taking a step closer and not touching Blake but watching. Barsad is thrusting against him now, cock hardening deliciously against Blake. He reaches back and finds the man’s erection, delighting as he presses his fingers against the solid girth there. He tries to worm his fingers into Barsad’s fatigues but feels large hands drawing his arms forward. He looks down to see Bane taking his wrists in his own, squeezing just enough for Blake to understand he wasn’t to try and move. Bane’s hands look massive atop his, and Blake feels a surge of lust at the realization that the man could probably hold both of his wrists in one hand with little effort, cock jumping when Bane actually does.
Bane’s other hand now reaches for Blake’s trousers, tugging the button and zipper open with ease to allow Barsad’s hand access. Blake mewls when the mercenary takes hold of his cock, strokes gentle and careful against his sensitive flesh. He pushes his hips back against the other man, back arching in delight when Barsad lightly squeezes his cock before reaching back further to kneed his balls. His breath begins to quicken until he’s panting softly, hips rocking back to meet the man thrusting against him.
And all the while, Bane just watches. Blake knows he should feel unsettled by the man’s presence, but it brings a different sort of heat to his cheeks. The large man doesn’t touch him beyond undressing him and holding him still, but Blake wonders what he looks like beneath his vest and fatigues, wonders if the man’s prick is as big as the rest of him.
Barsad pushes Blake’s trousers down his slim hips, and suddenly Blake is being spun around by a quick tug from Bane, back now flush against Bane’s sturdy chest. Before Blake knows it, his arms are being folded behind his head, Bane’s massive arms holding him immobile. Blake tugs a bit, testing the man’s hold and only to find himself held fast. Barsad was before him now, fingertips trailing over Blake’s exposed ribs until the slight man shudders at the heat this sends straight to his cock.
“You’re beautiful,” Barsad says , lips brushing against Blake’s ear before claiming his mouth in a kiss. The mercenary’s tongue flickers on the seam of his lips until Blake opens to accept the other man into his mouth.
The man kisses him possessively, hungrily, an arm winding about Blake’s slim waist. Blake wriggles against him, try desperately for further contact. “I want to touch you,” he whines when Barsad kisses down his jaw to lave kisses on his throat. “Please,” he said again, tilting his head back to implore to Bane.
Bane chuckles, his hands tightening on Blake’s arms just so. “That comes later,” he rasps.
Barsad’s hands are not on Blake’s ass, fingers of one hand slipping between his cheeks to rub over his entrance. Blake’s hips jerk forwards, breath hissing in and he can’t help but drag his lower lip between his teeth and whimper. Barsad’s hot mouth works down his collarbone to his chest, his tongue hot and wet over Blake’s nipple. Blake tries to press against him, his arms burning from how they are positioned.
He feels himself being moved forwards, Barsad quickly standing to receive direction. Bane pushes Blake into the other man’s arms, indicating to the bedroll with an incline of his head. “We must provide our guest with comfort,” he said, his hands moving back to grip the top of his vest.
As Blake stumbles in his pooled trousers, he finally realizes he is completely naked. Heat floods his face as he toes his shoes off, Barsad’s eyes boring into him hungrily. When his shoes are off, Barsad draws him close and kisses him again, leading Blake back towards the bedroll. Blake’s eyes flutter shut, moaning into the kiss and reveling that he can finally wrap his arms around the other man’s shoulders; feel his hot flesh through the thin material of his shirt. As all blood flow is currently rerouted to his cock, Blake barely has time to register is shock when instead of being tossed down onto the blankets, the mercenary gently lowers him. He feels his body being pressed back, his thighs urged open until he is spread before the other man like a banquet.
Barsad presses Blake’s wrists down into the blankets to hold him still before drawing them up the sensitive skin of the cop’s inner arms, trailing his fingertips over collarbone and down Blake’s hairless chest. Once he reaches Blake’s navel, Barsad’s hands make the reverse journey, the pressure of it just enough to soothe and relax Blake while also making his nerves sing.
Barsad continues to pet Blake in this manner until the slim man is sighing and arching his back, his long legs drawing up at the knees until he is caressing the other man’s hips with the inside of his own thighs. The other man continues his ministrations further down Blake’s torso, mapping his flat belly and angular hipbones before stroking down his thighs. His hands are practically worshipful, so tender and dedicated as they work Blake into a gasping puddle. Then Barsad lowers his mouth, breath hot and wet against Blake’s stomach as he moved down to where the other man’s now fully aroused cock is curled up towards his belly.
“Please,” Blake moans; eyes at half mast. His head rolls to the side to take in Bane, sitting once again in the chair with his hands resting on his widespread knees. He watches them through hooded eyes, breath rough through the mask but still deep and even despite the intensity of his gaze. Blake wants the man touching him again, forcing him down, holding him…fucking him.
He gasps when Barsad pushes his knees back towards his chest. The mercenary takes full advantage of the smaller man’s folded position by kneeling down low and running the pointed tip of his tongue over the furled hole of Blake’s opening. Blake arches off the blankets, his mouth falling open with a small cry. He brings his hands down to run his fingers through the other man’s hair, the movement sending tingles through his stiff arms.
TBConcluded