Desire rushed in while he watched Leon take his costume apart to stand there naked and sullen with his hand moving over his dick. Reaction caught hold of him too easily and it was obvious despite his attempt to hold aloof for a moment longer. He could have told Leon that he didn't have any intention of throwing him out but the words were left inside him while he half crawled forward, making it to his feet halfway to Leon only to fall back to his knees when he reached him. The blue markings sprawled over the man's skin called to be licked over and he licked along one at Leon's thigh, following it up as far as he could before Leon's arm blocked him. Holographic lights spun a galaxy into dizzying existence around the room and it felt as exaggerated as his costume
( ... )
"Asking you to is a reason of its own," he answered, his thoughts struggling while Leon's hands slid down his sides. Every touch felt like another temptation to fall and bit on the inside of his cheek to keep from begging the man to keep touching him. The belt was still excruciating but for different reasons, the familiarity something clinging, even in the way Leon spread him apart to bare him for his eyes. And he could feel them on him in the way lust jerked through him and left him choking on the desire to tell Leon to keep touching him. He started to say the other man's name again but Leon was already pushing into him and his skin was crawling with an awareness of the man that made every breath ache in his lungs. He pushed his face hard against the sheets but it didn't matter when Leon pulled him suddenly back into him, warping sensation and swear, his surprise bitten into the sheets with the burn of the man's cock earning another round of obscenities that were breathed out, choked on
( ... )
The muffled swears earned him a hard thrust of his hips, everything in him alive and burning and wanting every filthy inch of this man, every obscenity, every fucked up desire. "You won't forget," he told him thickly as he watched the man writhe on the sheets beneath him. "Because I always know what you want before you do. All I have to do is drag it out of you
( ... )
It was hard to be anything but malleable under Leon's touch. The man shoved deep into him and remade him completely, leaving everything inside out. Closing his eyes to the rest of the room felt imperative and soon it was just each thrust of the man's dick in him leaving him raw and exposed. It went in too deep inside him and the sound of his voice was weighed down and torn into by how it felt to be possessed. It was impossible for this to be anything but possession and his hips rocked forward in an attempt to make it a little more bearable but there wasn't anything close to bearable between them
( ... )
He wasn't about to undo anything. He wasn't letting this man go. The muttered words were ignored as he kept pushing harder, attempting to go deeper as though there could be no limit to how much of this man he could invade, he could violate and fuck. Hands holding his hips, breath shoving hard between his teeth, deeper and deeper. He wanted to push through him forever. There was something brutal and wrong about every effort to tear at the seams of him by getting as deep into him as he could, as though he might mold and reshape him into a creature of pure need, desperate for his cock. Lost to Leon's want as though nothing else mattered
( ... )
It was hard to find enough steadiness around him to pull into his lungs. There was too much that smothered instead and he felt how fucking deep the man had fucked him as soon as Leon let go and left him with his ass in the air and the traces of their fuck inside him. The disorder around them was still there and these useless actions he chased after felt all useless. They didn't lead anywhere new, they sunk him into the quicksand of this relationship instead, and the thought of moving was nauseous but he hated how easily Leon told him what to do and his knees slid on the mattress, digging in hard before he moved off them
( ... )
"It's always the same bullshit." The leather cuffs were too modern-looking but they would have to do. It was better than silk rope in any case. He turned back to find that Matt had freed a hand and was jerking himself off, still lying across the mattress and he went to him and tossed the cuffs onto the bed and slid in smoothly behind him. "And it's always the same game. We just play it over and over. Sometimes I lose, sometimes you lose
( ... )
He looked back at Leon while he moved behind him but there wasn't any use to responding when everything Leon said was true. He was easily absorbed by the contact between them, his thoughts seeping away, and it felt too hard to separate what was him and what was this man when he was caught in him like this. Whether this was a continuation of before or wanting him more, it didn't matter enough while Leon's hand dictated the motion of his own and reminded him of the reasons why he took steps back away when it got too overwhelming between them. He wanted to lean against him and not feel anything else but the yoke of Leon's interest
( ... )
His teeth dug in again when Matt came like he wanted to drink in the pleasure, his hand working Matt's hand hard over his cock. It was another mess to leave on the bed where they'd already smeared all the traces of themselves, grappling and fucking, and for a while he lay still just to feel it and to feel what Matt was like after coming. He was swelled again, his cock shoved against the man's thigh. He gripped him in secure arms, implacable hands, keeping them together while he sucked patiently at the bruise he'd bitten into the skin of his neck to darken it
( ... )
He went too easily but then he always did. There was always something viciously dark about being tied up, the helplessness that came with it, and he could never get enough of the filth involved with this man. Or maybe it was the filth of the world in general. The hotel seemed so disconnected from the world he remembered but it was the same filth, perhaps drawn out, as if the thoughts he had here were only the echoes of the ones he'd had before. He'd never acted on them there but he'd grown up with consequence written on the walls. If he didn't do anything here he'd go insane, the stretches of days losing themselves in the inactivity and the hopelessness of lust
( ... )
Maybe he had wanted it, maybe it wasn't enough to have lust pulled out of him in such agonizing ways until it felt like there would be nothing left of him. Maybe torture was something he needed too, pain to rip up his insides and leave a mess of him where a man had once been. But maybe it was Matt's certainty playing with his mind, inventing need, bringing things swelled and bloated and ugly out of the darkness and forcing them into Leon with implications of how good it was, how much he wanted it. He didn't know. He didn't know how much of his mind was his anymore or how much of it was this man's to fuck with and use. His hand caressed his hair and he caught Matt as he twisted away from him, patiently, to pull him back
( ... )
He went still when Leon pulled him over his shoulder and it was so fucking ridiculous. Everything this man did made him feel like he was going to die with Leon's touch scraping through him. The light of the hallway was almost blinding after the dark of his room and he stiffened, any protest already smothered away, and he was glad he didn't know anyone enough to be recognized like this. His hips shifted forward against Leon's shoulder and falling didn't seem like a better option than being carried like he weighed nothing down the hall. The fact that he didn't want to need Leon didn't seem to matter
( ... )
Matt shifting on his shoulder and the discomfort he could feel like a current through his body reminded him of why he was doing this, how much he wanted to feel the other man's helplessness because it seemed like only by stripping him down to bare need could he make him acknowledge what they meant to each other. He knew this was humiliating for him but that wouldn't make him stop. It wasn't the point to humiliate him, anyway, it was only the means to make him feel something that wouldn't be denied or pushed away. His arm circled Matt's hips and held him secure as he carried him to the room in the hotel that he thought of as his. He never bothered to try to lock it; no one was ever there when he went anyway, as though the sparsity of it drove away anyone seeking a place to sleep or fuck
( ... )
He didn't notice any of the changes but the one of sheets beneath him. It even smelled different, everything decadent about the bed having changed into something savage instead. But he was distracted by Leon's hand going to his balls as if he didn't know the meaning of letting go, resentment striking at the way his body found it so goddamn easy to respond. He wanted him, even when he told himself he wouldn't, even when it felt like he'd wanted him too much already to keep wanting more. The fact that he wasn't on Leon's shoulder now didn't make anything better, he still felt as displaced as he had in his own room earlier. This holiday was a joke, just like the rest of the hotel
( ... )
The wardrobe drew him irresistibly and he wanted to see what changes had been wrought inside it, if the collection of toys had gone because they didn't fit the atmosphere or if they were still there. There were things inside, but not what he was used to: whips, chains and manacles, weapons, clothes. Everything with a primitive and brutish air. He found another belt and took it, folding it over like a strap in his hand. There was a clay pot of what seemed to be the same blue war paint that was written all over his skin, and another of some scentless oil, thick and amber-colored. He took those too, turning to meet Matt's eyes as he struggled to sit up on the bed
( ... )
It was impossible to see what the other man was looking at but he took in the sight of what he carried as soon as he turned back, attempting to keep his curiosity from leaking into the space between them. The primal feel of the room was working its way through him, and he didn't know how to play roles enough to understand what the other man saw when he looked at him. He wanted to understand, it was just too fucking hard, and then Leon was closing in anyway and it didn't matter what he was thinking because the man was pulling his hair up to lick him, bringing his irritation back to the surface with it. He wondered briefly if Leon would ever believe him if he attempted to tell him he didn't want him. It didn't feel possible to ever dislike the way this man touched him, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway because he couldn't voice the words
( ... )
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