Primeval Advent Calendar: December 10
Title: Unbearable
Characters/Pairing: Chris/Wilder
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Wilder's kisses hurt more than his blows. Happens during Chris' time at Sandhurst. (Yeah, I should stop revisiting this.) Repost from the Sunday chat.
Unbearable
The cuffs close around his wrists with a sharp click and Chris can’t suppress a shudder that runs through his naked body. The fact that he’s on his own bed fails to give him any kind of relief, it only makes his humiliation more complete. How could he let this… this… seep into his own room, the first that truly seems to belong to him after growing up in crammed shared rooms at the orphanage?
He expects it to be hard and fast and bruising, like all those times in dark corners and empty storage rooms, but the fingers that are preparing him are patient and almost gentle. There’s an impossibly soft gasp against the bruised skin of his shoulder as the familiar thick cock finally pushes into his body, and he welcomes the slight pain, craving even more of it because this slow gentleness is unbearable. He’s trying to come up with angry words that would enrage Wilder enough to abandon this cruel torture but a calloused hand closes around his cock and it only takes a few quick strokes to push him into guilt-ridden release.
The soft kiss on his trembling lips afterwards makes it only worse and he wishes he could find the strength to punch Wilder to erase that ambiguous look from his eyes. The tears only come later, when he lies alone in bed, curled up on the sheets that still smell of sex and Wilder. It’s the first time he’s had the urge to cry over what’s happening to him.
Characters/Pairing: Chris/Wilder
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Wilder's kisses hurt more than his blows. Happens during Chris' time at Sandhurst. (Yeah, I should stop revisiting this.) Repost from the Sunday chat.
Unbearable
The cuffs close around his wrists with a sharp click and Chris can’t suppress a shudder that runs through his naked body. The fact that he’s on his own bed fails to give him any kind of relief, it only makes his humiliation more complete. How could he let this… this… seep into his own room, the first that truly seems to belong to him after growing up in crammed shared rooms at the orphanage?
He expects it to be hard and fast and bruising, like all those times in dark corners and empty storage rooms, but the fingers that are preparing him are patient and almost gentle. There’s an impossibly soft gasp against the bruised skin of his shoulder as the familiar thick cock finally pushes into his body, and he welcomes the slight pain, craving even more of it because this slow gentleness is unbearable. He’s trying to come up with angry words that would enrage Wilder enough to abandon this cruel torture but a calloused hand closes around his cock and it only takes a few quick strokes to push him into guilt-ridden release.
The soft kiss on his trembling lips afterwards makes it only worse and he wishes he could find the strength to punch Wilder to erase that ambiguous look from his eyes. The tears only come later, when he lies alone in bed, curled up on the sheets that still smell of sex and Wilder. It’s the first time he’s had the urge to cry over what’s happening to him.