Pulling back just a little, Ivan shifts his weight to smack his hips against Taliesin’s soft ass - digging there and letting him feel their proximity. “Just admit it.” Ivan growls, not pushing his face harder into the cement but leaving it pressed there as he jolts the man’s body with another hip thrust. “Pathetic. Worthless. Impotent?”
It’s the upward lilt of Ivan’s voice that really digs it in and Taliesin pushes back the impending abrasion on his cheek to wiggle free of the offending hand enough to twist and spit in Ivan’s face before having his back and shoulders slammed against the floor - the push just strong enough to bring a flash of stars when his skull smacks the concrete. It’s worth it for the look on Ivan’s face as a thick wad of spit drips off his chin.
“You’re going to fucking pay for that.” What had been an almost playful growl before takes on a note that strikes very real in Taliesin’s brain. For a second, he’s not sure Ivan is playing anymore. “Spit on me again-” He slams Taliesin again, this time favoring his shoulder to not smack his head, as he reaches back. When the familiar flick-click sounds, Taliesin’s bleary eyes are drawn to a crude pocket knife.
Oh now, that’s interesting.
“I’ll cut your throat.”
Taliesin moans and manages a weak nod.
*
“So, anything new to add? Subtract?” Ivan whispered and Taliesin could only assume that on the other side of the line people with innocent ears were likely listening. He wasn’t so stifled, the place left entirely to him for the evening at least.
“Mmm. I’m really excited, actually.” He admitted, leaning back in his bed and playing over all the ideas they’d bounced. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
“You assume I’m planning.” Ivan laughed and Taliesin smiled a little more sweetly than if he could be seen. He was planning, because of course he was. Safety was always big for him. He’d already started setting up the stations of equipment. A few carefully selected blades that would leave fine lines, kevlar flogger and whip ready to be dipped, extra padding on a wide bench that could easily support both of them, rope… probably too much rope. He’d even taken the liberty of asking Matt and Marisha to be safety monitor. Interestingly, Marisha had been the one to decline. “I don’t know if you’ve talked with your polycule…”
“They’re aware. I didn’t tell them who I picked to work me over, but you know… I know you’re into discretion for very good reasons.”
“Matt’s going to be our safety monitor.”
That was a bit of a shock. Taliesin knew, of course, with the kind of stuff they were playing with they would have to have a third party… but he hadn’t really expected Matt would be okay with seeing that sort of thing. “Are you sure?”
“We talked.”
“And you told him that it’s gonna get pretty brutal?” Taliesin bit at his lower lip. “I’m not vetoing, but I mean… he’s going to freak. Probably.”
“He’s also going to move like hell if he needs to. I mean, trust someone who loves you, right?” Ivan’s voice dropped to a soft murmur.
*
Ivan glances up slightly, just enough to catch Matt moving cat-like on bare feet closer to the center of the room and then wincing when Ivan slams Taliesin’s shoulder again, this time an audible dull thud heard as Taliesin’s heel comes up in a vain attempt to gain leverage. In response, Ivan knocks his knees apart and then braces one at the joint of his left hip with just enough weight to let him feel it without too much pain. “Good boy.” He murmurs to Taliesin before turning attention fully to the task. “Keep that mouth closed until I tell you how to use it.”
“Fuck you.” Taliesin growls back, shifting his weight and pushing back fruitlessly as his pulse races just a little higher.
“Fuck me?” Ivan laughs cruelly, moving to thrust the knife just under the edge of Taliesin’s ratty black t-shirt. “No, you’d like that too much.” With an easy tug up, the cotton stretches and then gives way under the pocket knife’s influence. He’d planned to get to cutting much later and hadn’t really factored in the difficulty of holding someone down and cutting a shirt open, so with another growl he tosses the blade aside hard enough that Taliesin can hear it skitter to a thudding stop against the wall. “I don’t need this. Probably pissed yourself already, didn’t you?” He grasps the cut edge, tugging the slash to a ragged rip that exposes Taliesin’s soft tummy all the way to his breastbone.
“Get off me.” Taliesin bucks again when hears the tear and briefly considers spitting again until Ivan’s fist catches him square in the gut. “Fuck!”
“Yeah. Fuck.” Ivan snarls, punching him again before shifting the knee holding down Taliesin’s thigh to instead press it hard against the tight crotch of Taliesin’s jeans. “Maybe you’ll stop saying that word after I bust your balls.”
It takes a second to even breathe. Taliesin can hear his heart slamming against his rib cage and it’s one more slug at his side that tips him fully into the fear response that he’s so rarely managed to tap into when knowing he’s really safe. Gasping, he cries out. “No! No no… don’t…” He whimpers, the first hitch of a sob in his wavering voice. “Please. Please just-”
“Say it.” Ivan growls and then slides the hand holding down Taliesin’s shoulder until it rests across his rapidly swallowing throat. “You worthless piece of shit, just admit that you’re pathetic.”
*
“He’ll be good. Just… warn him, ahead of time.” Taliesin answered, understanding a little too well where Ivan was coming from. Yeah, Matt was a pretty good choice if he had to pick someone to save his ass in the event of a situation that would be a horror story to explain in the emergency room. “Like, some things you might say or do could be triggering for him, and I don’t want him to hurt because I’ve got bullshit baggage, you know?”
“Any particular vocabulary I should avoid?”
“For me? No. It’s all good, even the really shitty things to say. Just warn him ahead of time. He knows we’re cool no matter what happens in fiction.”
“You realize I won’t hold back?”
“I fucking hope not. The goal is to break me, remember? I’m basically a marshmallow, but please use all the tools at your disposal.”
*
Looking up again, Ivan catches Matt’s eyes and then gestures toward the pile of ropes with an angled turn of his chin. When Matt nods eagerly, tiptoeing that way to fetch it, Ivan closes his fingers around Taliesin’s throat, taking his attention entirely.
“You’re gonna tell me what I want to hear, you sick fuck.” He squeezes tighter only a few seconds later when Matt shoves a little rubber ball into Taliesin’s scrabbling hand. Taliesin gives it an experimental squeeze and then makes a croaking sound of understanding, the best he can manage in the moment. “Tell me you’re a useless pathetic piece of shit.”
Drawing quick panicked breaths through his nose, Taliesin manages to nod without smacking his head on the floor again. The second Ivan’s hand opens he snarls his response. “Fuck you.”
“No.” Ivan calmly answers, taking his prompt to squeeze again. “I think we established you’d like that too much.” He loosens and tightens his grip again, allowing only a fraction of a true breath when Taliesin’s eyelids flutter. “Maybe fuck you.” He chuckles, a sadistic grin twisting his lips. “If you give me what I want.”
“Never.” Taliesin croaks when allowed to breathe again, two fingers open around the ball but not yet dropping it. “Gonna havta-”
Ivan closes his fingers to a fist again, delivering a last punch to the gut before allowing Tal to catch his breath as best he can. It’s enough of a distraction to grab the length of rope Matt provides from near invisibility at his side and then collect Taliesin’s wrists to bind them tightly together. “You’re fun.” He chuckles again, looping the nylon rope over each wrist in quick and dirty cuff knots. “You want me to work for it?” He reaches back again to the other concealed knife carefully wrapped at his back. Sliding it out of the sterile plastic package, letting said package drop to the floor beside Taliesin’s head, he catches Tal’s attention by letting the dim overhead lighting catch a single extremely sharp scalpel.
Instinctually, Taliesin’s hips jolt only to feel Ivan holding him down, shifting his weight entirely to rest across his thick thighs. “What the-”
“Uh-uh. I didn’t say you could move.” Ivan lowers the blade, teasing it visibly just above Taliesin’s navel, not even letting it touch his skin. "Careful. Do that again and I might just have a new hole to fuck." Ivan feels Taliesin shiver under him and takes the liberty of letting the sharp point draw a tiny bead on the tender rise of Taliesin’s belly.
Taliesin whimpers then, a genuine and desperate sound as he is acutely aware of the pinprick of pain. "No… no…" He whispers, feeling the tickle of a single drop of blood rolling down his gut toward his strained zipper. Part of him knows full and well that this is Ivan and he's safe, Ivan wouldn't hurt him despite the very real bruises he feels blossoming across his abdomen.
"Yes, yes…" Ivan answers wickedly, this time allowing the blade to skim across quivering flesh, leaving a fine pink scratch nearly two inches long below Taliesin’s belly button. "If you're not careful, that is. If you don't do as you're told."
For a second, Taliesin can't even breathe. He lets out a pained whine that flags his already obvious buy in. "It's ok man…" he gasps, red faced and staggered. "Don't have to get crazy here…"
Ivan turns the fine blade, purposefully pressing the dull edge against Tal's skin. "Crazy?" He murmurs, the corner of his lips twitching with another broad smirk. "I haven't even started to get crazy." Leveraging the benefit of having both hands to work with, Ivan lets go of Taliesin’s bound wrists and instead tugs gracelessly at the man's fly while once more flashing the blade where he can see it. "Don't be such a pussy, I've barely nicked you." He hesitates, and then adds; "For now."
Tal swallows back the lump in his throat, clearing it with a rattling breath as he watches the scalpel once more come down to meet skin. "I'm sorry." He whispers, an audible tremor in his voice.
"That's a start." Ivan hums under his breath, managing open the button and zip before attacking the fabric between them. He's far more focused on the actual danger in his other hand. When he touches the blade to flesh again, it's with clear intent. Obviously whatever he's tapping into is working, and he knows they're both open to walking the line. “You’ve got quite a lot to be sorry for, don’t you?” His hand steady, intent and practiced, he pushes the blade just enough to see the tiny trickle of blood before drawing it only half an inch.
Then, Taliesin wails. It’s not particularly painful, not like the pounding in the back of his head or the wonderful ache on his ribcage, but something about knowing that he’s being cut - of feeling that fresh trickle of his own blood - draws it out of him. His cock twitches, wetness staining the front of his boxers underneath Ivan’s knuckles as the sensation washes over him.
Part of him wants to continue dragging the blade, to carve a sweet little smile as Taliesin creams himself, but bare minimum it’s too risky when the other man’s hips roll and nearly lift him off. “Stop wiggling, asshole.” Ivan demands, lifting away the blade. “Did you just squirt in your shorts?” His long fingers grasp then, purposefully wrapping around the bulge underneath thick cotton and finding the rigid and pulsing shaft of Taliesin’s cock to give a hard squeeze. Taliesin whimpers and sobs out loud and Ivan realizes he’s actually crying.
“No…” Taliesin sobs, unable to swallow back the fresh wave of shame. Even if he had the mind at the moment - which he really doesn’t - he would feel deeply ashamed of his body for giving in so easily. “Shut up.”
With a fresh point to target, Ivan zeroes in on that interesting little tidbit. With a small cackle, he gives another rough squeeze around Tal’s cock to assure he’s still hard too. “Oh man… you can’t even control yourself, can you? Little hair trigger there? Been too long since a real man put you in your place?”
With a loud sniffle, Taliesin forces his eyes tightly closed, tears rolling down his red cheeks and damn if he isn’t beautiful. “I said shut up.” He whines.
Focusing, waiting until Taliesin’s too still to jostle the blade, Ivan once more presses it along a thick curve this time above and to the left - safe territory just in case. “That would mean a lot more if you didn’t just blow your load like a horny loser.” Barely drawing a bead with the tip, Ivan carefully adds a more visible red scratch and then pulls away - anticipating the twisting agony that follows.
Writhing, Taliesin’s fingers grasp around the rubber ball until his knuckles go white. The tears come freely, it’s so easy to just let himself go… be ashamed. Beaten. “Not funny…” He’s barely audible, but Ivan can hear and if the small sound of Matt shifting toward the bench is any indication, he does too.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: "Risk Aware" (Ivan/Taliesin, background Taliesin/Marisha/Matt. Please read warnings.) 2/3
Date: 2019-11-19 03:52 am (UTC)It’s the upward lilt of Ivan’s voice that really digs it in and Taliesin pushes back the impending abrasion on his cheek to wiggle free of the offending hand enough to twist and spit in Ivan’s face before having his back and shoulders slammed against the floor - the push just strong enough to bring a flash of stars when his skull smacks the concrete. It’s worth it for the look on Ivan’s face as a thick wad of spit drips off his chin.
“You’re going to fucking pay for that.” What had been an almost playful growl before takes on a note that strikes very real in Taliesin’s brain. For a second, he’s not sure Ivan is playing anymore. “Spit on me again-” He slams Taliesin again, this time favoring his shoulder to not smack his head, as he reaches back. When the familiar flick-click sounds, Taliesin’s bleary eyes are drawn to a crude pocket knife.
Oh now, that’s interesting.
“I’ll cut your throat.”
Taliesin moans and manages a weak nod.
*
“So, anything new to add? Subtract?” Ivan whispered and Taliesin could only assume that on the other side of the line people with innocent ears were likely listening. He wasn’t so stifled, the place left entirely to him for the evening at least.
“Mmm. I’m really excited, actually.” He admitted, leaning back in his bed and playing over all the ideas they’d bounced. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
“You assume I’m planning.” Ivan laughed and Taliesin smiled a little more sweetly than if he could be seen. He was planning, because of course he was. Safety was always big for him. He’d already started setting up the stations of equipment. A few carefully selected blades that would leave fine lines, kevlar flogger and whip ready to be dipped, extra padding on a wide bench that could easily support both of them, rope… probably too much rope. He’d even taken the liberty of asking Matt and Marisha to be safety monitor. Interestingly, Marisha had been the one to decline. “I don’t know if you’ve talked with your polycule…”
“They’re aware. I didn’t tell them who I picked to work me over, but you know… I know you’re into discretion for very good reasons.”
“Matt’s going to be our safety monitor.”
That was a bit of a shock. Taliesin knew, of course, with the kind of stuff they were playing with they would have to have a third party… but he hadn’t really expected Matt would be okay with seeing that sort of thing. “Are you sure?”
“We talked.”
“And you told him that it’s gonna get pretty brutal?” Taliesin bit at his lower lip. “I’m not vetoing, but I mean… he’s going to freak. Probably.”
“He’s also going to move like hell if he needs to. I mean, trust someone who loves you, right?” Ivan’s voice dropped to a soft murmur.
*
Ivan glances up slightly, just enough to catch Matt moving cat-like on bare feet closer to the center of the room and then wincing when Ivan slams Taliesin’s shoulder again, this time an audible dull thud heard as Taliesin’s heel comes up in a vain attempt to gain leverage. In response, Ivan knocks his knees apart and then braces one at the joint of his left hip with just enough weight to let him feel it without too much pain. “Good boy.” He murmurs to Taliesin before turning attention fully to the task. “Keep that mouth closed until I tell you how to use it.”
“Fuck you.” Taliesin growls back, shifting his weight and pushing back fruitlessly as his pulse races just a little higher.
“Fuck me?” Ivan laughs cruelly, moving to thrust the knife just under the edge of Taliesin’s ratty black t-shirt. “No, you’d like that too much.” With an easy tug up, the cotton stretches and then gives way under the pocket knife’s influence. He’d planned to get to cutting much later and hadn’t really factored in the difficulty of holding someone down and cutting a shirt open, so with another growl he tosses the blade aside hard enough that Taliesin can hear it skitter to a thudding stop against the wall. “I don’t need this. Probably pissed yourself already, didn’t you?” He grasps the cut edge, tugging the slash to a ragged rip that exposes Taliesin’s soft tummy all the way to his breastbone.
“Get off me.” Taliesin bucks again when hears the tear and briefly considers spitting again until Ivan’s fist catches him square in the gut. “Fuck!”
“Yeah. Fuck.” Ivan snarls, punching him again before shifting the knee holding down Taliesin’s thigh to instead press it hard against the tight crotch of Taliesin’s jeans. “Maybe you’ll stop saying that word after I bust your balls.”
It takes a second to even breathe. Taliesin can hear his heart slamming against his rib cage and it’s one more slug at his side that tips him fully into the fear response that he’s so rarely managed to tap into when knowing he’s really safe. Gasping, he cries out. “No! No no… don’t…” He whimpers, the first hitch of a sob in his wavering voice. “Please. Please just-”
“Say it.” Ivan growls and then slides the hand holding down Taliesin’s shoulder until it rests across his rapidly swallowing throat. “You worthless piece of shit, just admit that you’re pathetic.”
*
“He’ll be good. Just… warn him, ahead of time.” Taliesin answered, understanding a little too well where Ivan was coming from. Yeah, Matt was a pretty good choice if he had to pick someone to save his ass in the event of a situation that would be a horror story to explain in the emergency room. “Like, some things you might say or do could be triggering for him, and I don’t want him to hurt because I’ve got bullshit baggage, you know?”
“Any particular vocabulary I should avoid?”
“For me? No. It’s all good, even the really shitty things to say. Just warn him ahead of time. He knows we’re cool no matter what happens in fiction.”
“You realize I won’t hold back?”
“I fucking hope not. The goal is to break me, remember? I’m basically a marshmallow, but please use all the tools at your disposal.”
*
Looking up again, Ivan catches Matt’s eyes and then gestures toward the pile of ropes with an angled turn of his chin. When Matt nods eagerly, tiptoeing that way to fetch it, Ivan closes his fingers around Taliesin’s throat, taking his attention entirely.
“You’re gonna tell me what I want to hear, you sick fuck.” He squeezes tighter only a few seconds later when Matt shoves a little rubber ball into Taliesin’s scrabbling hand. Taliesin gives it an experimental squeeze and then makes a croaking sound of understanding, the best he can manage in the moment. “Tell me you’re a useless pathetic piece of shit.”
Drawing quick panicked breaths through his nose, Taliesin manages to nod without smacking his head on the floor again. The second Ivan’s hand opens he snarls his response. “Fuck you.”
“No.” Ivan calmly answers, taking his prompt to squeeze again. “I think we established you’d like that too much.” He loosens and tightens his grip again, allowing only a fraction of a true breath when Taliesin’s eyelids flutter. “Maybe fuck you.” He chuckles, a sadistic grin twisting his lips. “If you give me what I want.”
“Never.” Taliesin croaks when allowed to breathe again, two fingers open around the ball but not yet dropping it. “Gonna havta-”
Ivan closes his fingers to a fist again, delivering a last punch to the gut before allowing Tal to catch his breath as best he can. It’s enough of a distraction to grab the length of rope Matt provides from near invisibility at his side and then collect Taliesin’s wrists to bind them tightly together. “You’re fun.” He chuckles again, looping the nylon rope over each wrist in quick and dirty cuff knots. “You want me to work for it?” He reaches back again to the other concealed knife carefully wrapped at his back. Sliding it out of the sterile plastic package, letting said package drop to the floor beside Taliesin’s head, he catches Tal’s attention by letting the dim overhead lighting catch a single extremely sharp scalpel.
Instinctually, Taliesin’s hips jolt only to feel Ivan holding him down, shifting his weight entirely to rest across his thick thighs. “What the-”
“Uh-uh. I didn’t say you could move.” Ivan lowers the blade, teasing it visibly just above Taliesin’s navel, not even letting it touch his skin. "Careful. Do that again and I might just have a new hole to fuck." Ivan feels Taliesin shiver under him and takes the liberty of letting the sharp point draw a tiny bead on the tender rise of Taliesin’s belly.
Taliesin whimpers then, a genuine and desperate sound as he is acutely aware of the pinprick of pain. "No… no…" He whispers, feeling the tickle of a single drop of blood rolling down his gut toward his strained zipper. Part of him knows full and well that this is Ivan and he's safe, Ivan wouldn't hurt him despite the very real bruises he feels blossoming across his abdomen.
"Yes, yes…" Ivan answers wickedly, this time allowing the blade to skim across quivering flesh, leaving a fine pink scratch nearly two inches long below Taliesin’s belly button. "If you're not careful, that is. If you don't do as you're told."
For a second, Taliesin can't even breathe. He lets out a pained whine that flags his already obvious buy in. "It's ok man…" he gasps, red faced and staggered. "Don't have to get crazy here…"
Ivan turns the fine blade, purposefully pressing the dull edge against Tal's skin. "Crazy?" He murmurs, the corner of his lips twitching with another broad smirk. "I haven't even started to get crazy." Leveraging the benefit of having both hands to work with, Ivan lets go of Taliesin’s bound wrists and instead tugs gracelessly at the man's fly while once more flashing the blade where he can see it. "Don't be such a pussy, I've barely nicked you." He hesitates, and then adds; "For now."
Tal swallows back the lump in his throat, clearing it with a rattling breath as he watches the scalpel once more come down to meet skin. "I'm sorry." He whispers, an audible tremor in his voice.
"That's a start." Ivan hums under his breath, managing open the button and zip before attacking the fabric between them. He's far more focused on the actual danger in his other hand. When he touches the blade to flesh again, it's with clear intent. Obviously whatever he's tapping into is working, and he knows they're both open to walking the line. “You’ve got quite a lot to be sorry for, don’t you?” His hand steady, intent and practiced, he pushes the blade just enough to see the tiny trickle of blood before drawing it only half an inch.
Then, Taliesin wails. It’s not particularly painful, not like the pounding in the back of his head or the wonderful ache on his ribcage, but something about knowing that he’s being cut - of feeling that fresh trickle of his own blood - draws it out of him. His cock twitches, wetness staining the front of his boxers underneath Ivan’s knuckles as the sensation washes over him.
Part of him wants to continue dragging the blade, to carve a sweet little smile as Taliesin creams himself, but bare minimum it’s too risky when the other man’s hips roll and nearly lift him off. “Stop wiggling, asshole.” Ivan demands, lifting away the blade. “Did you just squirt in your shorts?” His long fingers grasp then, purposefully wrapping around the bulge underneath thick cotton and finding the rigid and pulsing shaft of Taliesin’s cock to give a hard squeeze. Taliesin whimpers and sobs out loud and Ivan realizes he’s actually crying.
“No…” Taliesin sobs, unable to swallow back the fresh wave of shame. Even if he had the mind at the moment - which he really doesn’t - he would feel deeply ashamed of his body for giving in so easily. “Shut up.”
With a fresh point to target, Ivan zeroes in on that interesting little tidbit. With a small cackle, he gives another rough squeeze around Tal’s cock to assure he’s still hard too. “Oh man… you can’t even control yourself, can you? Little hair trigger there? Been too long since a real man put you in your place?”
With a loud sniffle, Taliesin forces his eyes tightly closed, tears rolling down his red cheeks and damn if he isn’t beautiful. “I said shut up.” He whines.
Focusing, waiting until Taliesin’s too still to jostle the blade, Ivan once more presses it along a thick curve this time above and to the left - safe territory just in case. “That would mean a lot more if you didn’t just blow your load like a horny loser.” Barely drawing a bead with the tip, Ivan carefully adds a more visible red scratch and then pulls away - anticipating the twisting agony that follows.
Writhing, Taliesin’s fingers grasp around the rubber ball until his knuckles go white. The tears come freely, it’s so easy to just let himself go… be ashamed. Beaten. “Not funny…” He’s barely audible, but Ivan can hear and if the small sound of Matt shifting toward the bench is any indication, he does too.
*