Essek gasps aloud at the declaration, even prompted as it was, and for a moment must divert all his focus to not coming this very instant — his come splattered over Caleb’s shirt, dripping onto Caleb’s cock, rubbing it in with his hands while he makes Caleb come again — no, no no no, that line of thought is the opposite of what he needs right now. Not with how dangerously close he is with only the sight and feeling of Caleb against him.
And gods, what a sight! Pants and small clothes pushed down his thighs, cock springing to live amid a nest of red-brown curls, his linen shirt just barely long enough to drag against his shaft, those leather straps still wrapped around and under his shoulders. Caleb looks completely wrecked, eyes heavy-lidded but intently focused, cheeks flushed a darker red than Essek’s ever seen on him, his chest moving in heaving breaths, heavy gasps as he whines and writhes, lips swollen and shining with spit while he whimpers. Essek sets his focus to pushing the straps of Caleb’s book holster off of those broad shoulders, digging his fingers underneath him just a little too rough, as though if he buries his fingertips in Caleb’s flesh they’ll become the same person.
“You have been wearing your books this entire time, xi’hum. Are they not heavy?” Caleb can barely vocalize anything in response, a weak whine escaping his lips while Essek grins, the both of them still on their knees, bare cocks rubbing against one another.
The books and their harness fall to the floor with a heavy thud, and yet another wicked image arrives in Essek’s head:
“You were going to sully your books with your come like that, my Caleb. Or with mine, perhaps. How careless of you…”
His hand slaps down on Caleb’s bare ass, the sound resounding in the small chamber, and before Essek can second guess or feel any regret, Caleb cries out “yes” and ruts against him once more.
“Oh you like this, ussta’chev?” He strikes him again, hand catching the space where Caleb’s thighs meet the curve of his ass, eliciting another heady moan. “I shall have to devise a new punishment for you, then, if you seem to enjoy this one too much.” Caleb only nods, dazed, lower lip quivering.
“Please, Essek, please…”
“Please what, pet? Ask for it.”
Caleb seems to be unable to decide what to ask for, a hint of desperate panic in his eyes, silently begging for mercy even as his hips hitch up against the drow’s in a steady rhythm.
“Beg for it, pet, and you shall have it.” When Caleb still struggles to speak, mouth opening and closing silently, Essek lets a dark chuckle escape and slaps the human’s ass again. “What do you have to fear, my Caleb? Nothing. You have already shown me what a slut you are, desperate for my fingers and my cock, desperate for anything I can give you, even in punishment.”
“Yes…”
Essek laughs outright this time and part of him is frightened at how cruel he sounds. “Is that what you want then? You want me to punish you for being such a filthy little slut?”
“Yes, Essek, please…”
Essek spanks Caleb again, his other hand coming up to roughly grab at the man’s face, squeezing his cheeks together, forcing his mouth open so he can lick into it, taste every corner of Caleb’s lips, feel the warm exhale of Caleb’s breath as Essek makes him whine and jerk and gasp.
“Beg for it,” Essek commands again, and this time Caleb responds without a second thought in a torrent of sound, distorted by how his mouth is held:
“Bitte, mein herr, bitte, please, please, punish me, fuck me, use my ass, I am yours, fuck me, please, ich brauche— ich brauche es, ich brauche dich, liebchen, bitte, Essek, I will fucking die if you don’t fuck me, please—”
The drow clearly isn’t thinking when he holds Caleb’s mouth open and spits in it, but he is rewarded nonetheless with the deliciously broken sound of Caleb moaning. His hand taps the side of the Zemnian’s face, none too gentle but not quite a slap.
“Bend over,” he whispers, and Caleb practically flings himself into the position on the cold stone floor, turned around on his knees, facing away from Essek. Essek pulls his tunic off and before he can even begin casting Mage Hand, Caleb has grabbed his components pouch and opened the vial of sweet oil used for Suggestion, pouring some of it out onto his fingers before rolling the rest of the vial back to Essek. He doesn’t notice it: his sight is fixed on Caleb’s back, his ass, his balls hanging tight below his hole, his hard cock bobbing below them.
The drow is so transfixed, he doesn’t even notice what Caleb has done until the man is shoving his own fingers inside of himself, arching his back and groaning aloud, copper hair falling around his face.
The heat in Essek’s gut intensifies, a pulsing, rhythmic heat, and he brings his hand down on Caleb’s ass again, leaning forward over the other man as he cries out. Essek grabs his hair, not hard enough to truly hurt, just enough to make him feel it, and leans over Caleb’s whole body, feeling the warmth of him through so few layers, bottom halves entirely bare. And Essek slaps his ass again and snarls:
“I said ‘bend over.’ Did I tell you to ride your fingers, xi’hum?”
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timeasmymeasure
FILL: Verbose [Caleb/Essek] 7/?
Date: 2021-08-04 07:02 pm (UTC)And gods, what a sight! Pants and small clothes pushed down his thighs, cock springing to live amid a nest of red-brown curls, his linen shirt just barely long enough to drag against his shaft, those leather straps still wrapped around and under his shoulders. Caleb looks completely wrecked, eyes heavy-lidded but intently focused, cheeks flushed a darker red than Essek’s ever seen on him, his chest moving in heaving breaths, heavy gasps as he whines and writhes, lips swollen and shining with spit while he whimpers. Essek sets his focus to pushing the straps of Caleb’s book holster off of those broad shoulders, digging his fingers underneath him just a little too rough, as though if he buries his fingertips in Caleb’s flesh they’ll become the same person.
“You have been wearing your books this entire time, xi’hum. Are they not heavy?” Caleb can barely vocalize anything in response, a weak whine escaping his lips while Essek grins, the both of them still on their knees, bare cocks rubbing against one another.
The books and their harness fall to the floor with a heavy thud, and yet another wicked image arrives in Essek’s head:
“You were going to sully your books with your come like that, my Caleb. Or with mine, perhaps. How careless of you…”
His hand slaps down on Caleb’s bare ass, the sound resounding in the small chamber, and before Essek can second guess or feel any regret, Caleb cries out “yes” and ruts against him once more.
“Oh you like this, ussta’chev?” He strikes him again, hand catching the space where Caleb’s thighs meet the curve of his ass, eliciting another heady moan. “I shall have to devise a new punishment for you, then, if you seem to enjoy this one too much.” Caleb only nods, dazed, lower lip quivering.
“Please, Essek, please…”
“Please what, pet? Ask for it.”
Caleb seems to be unable to decide what to ask for, a hint of desperate panic in his eyes, silently begging for mercy even as his hips hitch up against the drow’s in a steady rhythm.
“Beg for it, pet, and you shall have it.” When Caleb still struggles to speak, mouth opening and closing silently, Essek lets a dark chuckle escape and slaps the human’s ass again. “What do you have to fear, my Caleb? Nothing. You have already shown me what a slut you are, desperate for my fingers and my cock, desperate for anything I can give you, even in punishment.”
“Yes…”
Essek laughs outright this time and part of him is frightened at how cruel he sounds. “Is that what you want then? You want me to punish you for being such a filthy little slut?”
“Yes, Essek, please…”
Essek spanks Caleb again, his other hand coming up to roughly grab at the man’s face, squeezing his cheeks together, forcing his mouth open so he can lick into it, taste every corner of Caleb’s lips, feel the warm exhale of Caleb’s breath as Essek makes him whine and jerk and gasp.
“Beg for it,” Essek commands again, and this time Caleb responds without a second thought in a torrent of sound, distorted by how his mouth is held:
“Bitte, mein herr, bitte, please, please, punish me, fuck me, use my ass, I am yours, fuck me, please, ich brauche— ich brauche es, ich brauche dich, liebchen, bitte, Essek, I will fucking die if you don’t fuck me, please—”
The drow clearly isn’t thinking when he holds Caleb’s mouth open and spits in it, but he is rewarded nonetheless with the deliciously broken sound of Caleb moaning. His hand taps the side of the Zemnian’s face, none too gentle but not quite a slap.
“Bend over,” he whispers, and Caleb practically flings himself into the position on the cold stone floor, turned around on his knees, facing away from Essek. Essek pulls his tunic off and before he can even begin casting Mage Hand, Caleb has grabbed his components pouch and opened the vial of sweet oil used for Suggestion, pouring some of it out onto his fingers before rolling the rest of the vial back to Essek. He doesn’t notice it: his sight is fixed on Caleb’s back, his ass, his balls hanging tight below his hole, his hard cock bobbing below them.
The drow is so transfixed, he doesn’t even notice what Caleb has done until the man is shoving his own fingers inside of himself, arching his back and groaning aloud, copper hair falling around his face.
The heat in Essek’s gut intensifies, a pulsing, rhythmic heat, and he brings his hand down on Caleb’s ass again, leaning forward over the other man as he cries out. Essek grabs his hair, not hard enough to truly hurt, just enough to make him feel it, and leans over Caleb’s whole body, feeling the warmth of him through so few layers, bottom halves entirely bare. And Essek slaps his ass again and snarls:
“I said ‘bend over.’ Did I tell you to ride your fingers, xi’hum?”