Yami no Matsuei, Muraki/Oriya, Five Senses: Taste
Title: professional russian roulette
Author: trixie
Theme: five senses: taste
Rating: r to nc-17
~*~
taste
~*~
Oriya strained against his restraints, his gorgeous body taut and aching with need. The ball in his mouth was wet with his saliva; he hardly looked human at all like that. His blood stained the black leather straps that criss crossed his chest, making them look darker, thicker.
The blood looked the best on the clamps on Oriya's nipples, though.
He bent down, being careful to keep his white tie from dipping down. Couldn't get any of this blood on him. Had to stay spotless or else he might as well get naked, too.
He flicked the clamp on Oriya's right nipple with his tongue, eliciting a gorgeous scream. It tasted sweaty, bitter, and metallic.
"Yummy," he murmured, moving down. He brushed his hair out of his eye. Oriya's cock was quivering, purple, wet, and so gorgeous, choked off in black leather. He slipped off his white leather glove, running his hand down the inside of Oriya's thigh. His back must be hurting; his legs had been in the stirrups for over an hour now.
He stuck his tongue out, and just barely tasted the tip of Oriya's cock. He spit it out, though, on Oriya's stomach. "I could never get used to this taste. But oh, so pretty…"
Oriya whimpered. Muraki chuckled.
He stood up, and slipped his glove back on, and straightened out his perfect, completely white suit.
"I'll be back. I'm a bit hungry. I hear your chef has some really fine red snapper. You know how much I love it. Stay right there." He laughed as Oriya angrily convulsed, unable to do much more in the restraints. "Don't worry. When I get back, you'll be even more beautiful, and I won't be able to resist. You'll be my desert."
He ran his finger over Oriya's stomach, and then he turned, and walked away.
~*~
end
Author: trixie
Theme: five senses: taste
Rating: r to nc-17
~*~
taste
~*~
Oriya strained against his restraints, his gorgeous body taut and aching with need. The ball in his mouth was wet with his saliva; he hardly looked human at all like that. His blood stained the black leather straps that criss crossed his chest, making them look darker, thicker.
The blood looked the best on the clamps on Oriya's nipples, though.
He bent down, being careful to keep his white tie from dipping down. Couldn't get any of this blood on him. Had to stay spotless or else he might as well get naked, too.
He flicked the clamp on Oriya's right nipple with his tongue, eliciting a gorgeous scream. It tasted sweaty, bitter, and metallic.
"Yummy," he murmured, moving down. He brushed his hair out of his eye. Oriya's cock was quivering, purple, wet, and so gorgeous, choked off in black leather. He slipped off his white leather glove, running his hand down the inside of Oriya's thigh. His back must be hurting; his legs had been in the stirrups for over an hour now.
He stuck his tongue out, and just barely tasted the tip of Oriya's cock. He spit it out, though, on Oriya's stomach. "I could never get used to this taste. But oh, so pretty…"
Oriya whimpered. Muraki chuckled.
He stood up, and slipped his glove back on, and straightened out his perfect, completely white suit.
"I'll be back. I'm a bit hungry. I hear your chef has some really fine red snapper. You know how much I love it. Stay right there." He laughed as Oriya angrily convulsed, unable to do much more in the restraints. "Don't worry. When I get back, you'll be even more beautiful, and I won't be able to resist. You'll be my desert."
He ran his finger over Oriya's stomach, and then he turned, and walked away.
~*~
end