Chapter 51
SINN'OUS
Izz should be grateful for what Sinn'ous is giving him. The chance to rid himself of responsibility, not to mention the opportunity to show just how much he can follow orders.
Over the week it’s become abundantly clear that Sinn'ous chose his prey wisely. That he broke down his prey to the extent of total reliance.
And besides, Izz should show his gratitude for Sinn'ous’s protection.
He’s aware he’s told Izz how he won’t push him. How he will stop. Won’t take anything not willingly given.
Well. That’s not entirely true.
Sinn'ous has an inner beast licking so close to the surface it can taste Izz, and it wants out.
So, when he steps to Izz’s cell, and finds the naive thing tucking in the sheets of his bunk, and bent over said bunk. Ass on full display. That clear plastic wrap he stuck over his darker needs can’t stop him from stepping bodily through it.
He subdues Izz with a hand to the back of the neck, using his weight to pin him down, pressing his boy’s face into the bunk.
The surge of fight that takes over Izz and has him trying to break free, is easily squashed.
And not a drop of strain has to go into doing it.
There is a panic he can sense rising in his prey. Caught, and unaware by whom.
Oh, he could dig into it. He could eat it and leave no crumbs.
Each muffled word yelled into the twin stacked mattresses does absolutely nothing to dissuade him.
Satan, help me for I have found my everything.
He doesn’t look too closely at the words flicking past his eyes. No. Not when he has a warm squirming body fighting so delightfully under him.
Smirk growing, he presses in tighter. His hips flush to Izz’s wriggling ass, chest laying over his rapidly rising and falling back. He can feel every terrified breath, and hoarse cry.
I can taste the fear. Satan, help me.
This could end one way or it could end another way. One would be mutually beneficial. The other would lack finesse, and be awfully messy.
And oh, how he can taste the latter. The rich thick coating of blood.
“Fuuuck.” He bites the word out under his breath, lengthening its syllables. Much too quiet for Izz to hear over his feeble attempts to push Sinn'ous off.
Satan.
The name is a plea. A plea for strength.
A decision is made. A snapping of energy within his mind drawing in his desire and coiling around his entire essence.
He runs his tongue up the side of Izz’s neck. To the place just below his ear, sucking a mark into his skin. While the body below him shudders in what is unmistakably disgust, still failing to escape Sinn'ous’s grasp.
He nips the ear, then murmurs into it. “Your safe word is red, if you wish for me to stop.” Will he stop if Izz says the word? No, more than likely not. Not when he is so deep into this. Not when his raging hard on is digging into such an enticing ass begging to be fucked.
And it’s as if his words hold the keys to the universe. Izz’s whole body slumps. The tension, the fight, everything. Drains completely out of him.
Sinn'ous tightens a hand on Izz’s hip. Nuzzling his face into the crook of the throat at his disposal. He releases his hand from his boy’s neck, sliding his hand over the sheets to stretch out above them, taking the final drop to lay all his weight on top of the body below him.
And his boy stays put, willingly submitting to Sinn'ous’s ministrations. To Sinn'ous’s control.
“You want me to fuck you, don’t you.” Not a question. But he wants an answer. An answer he gets, with the ripe enthusiastic nod of his boy’s head.
He slides his hips back long enough to pull his leaking cock from his pants, and yank down Izz’s to expose his ass. The hot, soft ass Sinn'ous can’t get enough of.
All mine.
He doesn’t bother with lube, his precum will have to do. And the remnants of whatever lube may or may not remain from when he fucked Izz a handful of hours ago.
It’s all he has the presence of mind to give. Rubbing his slick crown over the still tight pucker of Izz’s anus sends a jolt of pleasure to his balls. Damn, if he won’t cum before he’s even inside that welcoming heat.
“Bite down onto something.” He commands, then thrusts his hips forward, breaching the tight hole. He’s only in by the head, but it’s all he needs, to have his thighs shaking.
Staving off the all-consuming drive to cum, and mark what is his, is almost impossible.
Almost.
But he manages. Just barely. It’s a fight he takes up against his aching balls. Because damn if they aren’t screaming to let loose.
The icing on top of his deprived cake comes carried on the muffled shriek from below. Izz’s back muscles visibly tense under his shirt. The shirt Sinn'ous shoves up to expose those straining muscles.
He has everything here. He could just as easily pull a razor and cut open Izz’s skin—
The thought pauses mid contemplation. Because he can. Or at least he will be able to. And very soon. Not now. He isn’t in the right frame of mind to be merciful and not kill. But when he is, he will take this. The biting has already paved the way for this.
Speaking of.
Sinn'ous leans in and bites down hard below the ribs. Causing a tightening of the already tight hole around his cock. His cock that is not yet fully seated.
He’ll have to resolve that.
Shifting his feet and widening his stance, Sinn'ous plunges inside. Driving his cock deep into the tight channel that opens to allow him in. Hot, velvety. Fucking everything.
Satan. Satan.
He chants the name, as he fucks his boy. Driving his cock in as deep as he can get, and wanting to go deeper. He wants to fuck Izz’s very soul.
Lasting is not an option. It isn’t about that. This is about dominance and control. Power over another living thing. Something he can do whatever the hell he wants with and it will keep coming back for more. Begging for more.
And more he will give.
Grunts clash to the pained whines of a wounded man taking what it’s given. What it knows it owes.
And Izz owes Sinn'ous everything. His entire body. His mind. His soul.
Mine.
It’s the last thought to come to him, then he’s sinking his teeth into a new patch of skin, and muffling his own voice as he cums. White hot, breath robbing, release.
The intensity of which has him slumping.
Covering Izz as he presses the smaller body into the bunk.
Taking his time to roll around in the sensations of waves zapping up and down his spine.
They stay like that, with Sinn'ous draped over Izz, and Izz releasing content sounds under him. Noises that slowly change in pitch.
Until a huff—half annoyance and half exasperation—slots between them. “Can you, like . . .” Izz shoves up a bit, indicating that Sinn'ous’s weight has become too much to bear.
He gives in. Not wanting to suffocate his boy.
And rolls off onto his back. Content to lay here and bask in it a little longer.
Cock be damned where it hangs out in full view of anyone.
Slowly cooling now that it’s not shoved inside a warm body.
A shame really. He wouldn’t mind planting himself in Izz, and staying there.