Chapter 50 #2
His boy plops onto the bunk and pats the mattress.
A master calling a dog to heel, it takes everything in him to strangle the growl threatening to surface.
He is the one in control, not Izz. And the fact that his boy doesn’t see that is a failure on his part.
He’ll have to do something to correct this slight. Something painful.
Something permanent.
A reminder to Izz, who he belongs to.
And even so. He covers his true reaction, gives nothing away. And sits down on the bunk beside his boy. Plans to show dominance swirling all throughout his mind.
The mattress depresses under his weight, drawing Izz in close. “I, um. Was thinking last night.” Izz rubs at the back of his neck, in that nervous way of his. “I would like to . . . try again. If you would like to—” His voice cracks, cutting off whatever he was going to say.
Sinn'ous eyes his display of vulnerability, the hands clasped in his lap, the refusal to make eye contact, the trickle of sweat breaking out over his hairline. And the clogs slot into place.
From the anger at being called like a common dog, to the flush of heat diving to his cock. It’s a full circle to clear his mind and send him racing down a new track.
He couldn’t hold his hand back even if he tried. And he has no intention of denying himself this. Soft skin meets the light touch of his fingertips, curling under Izz’s jaw he tips his boy’s chin to meet his eyes. The deep colour is nearly wholly consumed by dilated pupils.
Izz opens to him the moment he leans in. His tongue encountering no resistance as he delves it inside. To penetrate. To take. To leave a mark of demand.
Their tongues intertwine within Izz’s mouth. A claiming of ownership. One he takes to place him above the other. He is in control and Izz belongs to him.
Keeping their mouths sealed together he manoeuvres his boy this way and that, until every article of clothing is gone, leaving him bare to Sinn'ous.
Pinned under him like this, Sinn'ous has all the power. Izz’s warm hands slip under his shirt, heating the places they explore. He presses his weight firmly into the smaller body trapped below him. Exposed and open for Sinn'ous to do as he pleases.
And right now he wants in. He pauses for a split second to wet two fingers. Offering no explanation or gaining no verbal permission he slides his hand between spread legs, and plunges his finger straight inside. Forcing his way past the tight ring of resistance, and into the velvety warm interior.
Completely engrossed in the feel of Izz taking him to the knuckle, it’s a while before he realises he’s being pinned.
Legs tightly wrapped around his waist preventing him from escaping.
Of course if he actually wanted to escape it wouldn’t take much to break the hold.
But he finds himself liking the way his boy clings to him. Wordlessly demanding more.
His body is thrumming with desire. Fingers scissoring as soon as he adds a second. Stretching the tight heat open. The whole while not once has he broken the kiss. Eating his fill. Lips locked in battle.
He’s panting hard when he finally breaks it to murmur against his boy’s lips.
“You okay,” it’s not a question, even when it may be?
He’s not sure. It shouldn’t be a question.
This right here is for him, for his pleasure.
To fulfil his desires. To prove that point, he curls his fingers deep inside, pressing them into the slick walls.
Izz nods frantically, groaning, “y-yeah. Feels good.”
Sinn'ous forces Izz’s head back with a firm grip to the jaw, exposing his throat. The move has his fingers crushed in a tightening grip, being milked by his boy’s greedy hole.
Fuck.
Cumming while fully clothed, fingers plugging another’s hole, and no contact on his dick, shouldn’t be a possibility. And yet, it might be. With the way his balls are tightening, it very well might be.
He’ll be damned if he’s the one losing it first. He probes his fingers, wiggling them inside to find that special bundle of nerves.
He knows the moment he hits it, the sharp intake of breath and the full body spasms echoed by juicy curses coming from his boy. And so, Sinn'ous hones in on it, relentlessly milking Izz’s prostate for all its worth.
To continue is appealing, but to plunge his cock inside is something he will not deny himself. He drops Izz’s jaw, snarling an order he doesn’t hear for his boy not to move.
Pants are tugged down just enough to release his erection, and fingers are pulled none-to-gently out. It’s time to take what he wants. And he isn’t in the mood to waste time undressing.
He hefts Izz’s legs up over his shoulders, stretching them wide open. Exposing Izz’s unprotected hole to the cell.
If the way it’s winking open is any indication, his boy wants to be filled. It’s practically begging to have his cock shoved in there for it to suck on.
Fuck, he needs this.
A small packet of lube in his pocket doesn’t stand a chance, he squeezes it in his fist until it pops and expels its slippery innards, which he quickly strokes over his cock.
This plastic packet is lost by the time his flared cock head is pressing over Izz’s hole.
And fuck, every tremor from the puckered hole has him shuddering.
Blood as lube isn’t practical, dries sticky, and chafes to a displeasing degree. That’s the only reason he lubes his cock. Not for his boy’s pleasure.
To prove this point he drops his weight to forcibly enter the still constrictingly tight hole.
And Satan help him, he almost screams at the full body tingle racing through every muscle.
It’s a fire ball ignited under his skin, eating away at his insides, until all that’s left is the cock joining their bodies.
“Breathe. You’re doing well,” Sinn'ous discovers himself saying, and it’s beyond his rational mind why.
He doesn’t let up, until his entire length is buried to the hilt.
Constricted by a searing heat to rival his own.
Magma singeing his flesh, to the point of no return.
Unable to pull out, he has to take this to the next level.
But in order to get what he wants minus any protesting, he’ll have to work some manipulation.
“I’m going to try something,” Sinn'ous resettles his weight into his legs, the mattresses dipping to the change of position, “I want you to hold out as long as possible, and longer. When you feel like your vision is slipping, tap my leg three times. You understand? Three times.”
The distant expression on his boy’s face is answer, even without the nod.
The change in angle has his cock sinking impossibly deeper.
And fuck is it a otherworldly feeling. Coupled by his hands curling around his boy’s throat.
He squeezes, pushing down into the grip to choke off any protests.
Every trace of oxygen constricted from reaching lungs that heave, he can feel it in the body trapped under him.
The instinctual fight for air. It’s intoxicating to deprive it.
“Relax,” Sinn'ous orders, though he isn’t displeased by the struggles. “You can hold out. I know you can hold out,” his hands squeeze tighter, every ounce of concentration fixated on his prey.
That delicious panic building behind doe-eyes. He wants to bite into the tangible fear. It hits places deep inside Sinn'ous that he’s compelled to feed.
His hips move of their own accord. Pressing in alongside his entire body, his skin flush to his prey.
His boy. Heat consumes him. Sensations consume him.
Their bodies rocking together in the push and pull of Sinn'ous’s hips snapping forward.
He drives his cock to the hilt on every thrust. Their skin slapping, echoing around the small cell.
Drowned out by the noises of the overly full prison.
Every cry from his boy spurs him on, driving him wild. The noises he makes are animalistic, growls overpowering the pained, needy whimpers of his boy. The hard cock squished between their bodies is indication enough to Izz’s arousal at being used as Sinn'ous’s personal cock sleeve.
Not stopping, he ignores the hand pushing against his chest in favour of pistoning his cock into the tight heat. Every drag back has him shaking in the need to cum, and the need to hold off for as long as he can.
The way his boy’s face changes colour. The deepening of red flushing his cheeks. Has him on the edge of his own orgasm. He wants to see those eyes roll in his skull, wants to feel the body slacken as he’s buried to his balls and cumming deep in his bowels.
The cock trapped between them twitches, and heat coats both their stomach’s, and chests. It doesn’t stop Sinn'ous from his thrusting. It drives him on, the knowledge that his boy has cum while violently being deprived of oxygen.
He’s so lost in this thought that he almost ignores the pounding to his thigh. His boy’s weak hits thudding over and over against him. Because the tight constriction sucking his cock in is too good to lose.
Reluctantly he releases his hands. And the gasping choking sounds his boys sputters out are almost worth it. Almost.
More. Take more. His inner voice demands. And he is a slave to its desires.
Leaning in, his lips close over his boy’s shoulder, and his teeth sink in, immediately flooding his mouth in warmth. Blood coats his tongue and slips down the back of his throat. His hips don’t stop their relentless pounding. He will take everything from his boy.
Everything.
His rhythm falters, thrusts sputtering out into uncontrolled jerking on the cusp of orgasm.
“I want you to cum inside me,” Izz grits out between each unsteady penetration.
Sinn'ous was going to do just that anyway. But to have his boy’s pleasing voice beg for it. Shit, it does something to him. Something primal.
He shoves in one last time, deeper than ever. And his cock kicks inside Izz as he growls, cumming deep within his boy’s tight confines. Marking Izz as his own.
Which is a hell of a time for Reni to walk in.
Right in time to see Sinn'ous’s claim. There will be no denial to this now.
Izz belongs to him. Balls deep in his boy, pleasant sparks lighting over his heated skin.
His chest heaving in well-earned exhaustion.
If he hadn’t just cum he would hold Reni’s eyes while he brought himself to completion. To ensure the point has been made.
Jasper Marcelo is mine.
Reni has stopped dead in his tracks, eyes blown wide. And practically trips over himself in his haste to backtrack out of the cell.
Sound reclaims their small bubble of peace. Dragging in the outside world of prison life. Though the way Izz’s lips tug into a grin makes it worth it. The softness in which his boy peers up at him. It’s how they stay, coming back from the exertion, breathing as one entity.
They stay locked together for so long his cock begins to harden once more. And the need to sate his desires is raging back in full blast.
Pulling out his softening cock when the lunch alarm screams at them, his stomach twists in answer. But his hunger can wait. At least for food. This other hunger building in his balls can be fulfilled first.
Flipping Izz over onto his stomach, he pauses long enough to line his cock back up. Then he’s plunging back inside. Pulling a choked off whimper from his boy.
The hole bunk is moving at this point. Not technically, but it feels that way with how hard he’s driving into the pliant body below him. Hips thudding into Izz’s ass. Taking him from behind, digging his fingers into his hips to leave bruises.
He’s taken aback by Izz’s bold begging. “Harder.”
It startles a dark chuckle from his chest. And he obliges. Yanking Izz’s hips up to put his boy to his knees. He takes him roughly from behind. Driving into Izz at the same time he pulls his boy’s slender hips back onto his cock.
Izz makes a move to get his hands under him, it’s easily squashed by a hand shoved down between his shoulder blades. To pin his boy’s chest to the mattress. All he wants is access to his ass at an angle that drags his cock in and out of the tight channel constricting him.
And this change in angle has the spongy head of his cock rubbing deep inside, tickling every nerve ending he has on the damn thing. It’s too much. To the point of blinding pleasure.
He has Izz’s hips gripped in both hands, fingers digging into the pliant flesh. At that moment he feels the tension release from his boy, a telling sign of falling into complete submission.
Sinn'ous pounds into the willing hole, over and over. Until he is tipping off the edge, his semen spurting from his balls to jet out his cock, landing deep inside his boy. Painting his insides white.