Ellisandre #2
They reached for the supplies left on the bed and wrapped their hand, biting down and tying it in place rather than taping it. Sevastyan watched, desperate want and lust on his features.
Back to the armoire.
The harness was right there. They had to take a breath and steady their hands to buckle the harness around their hips. Their boy’s need was inflaming their own. The cock at the front of the harness settled into place. The weight felt good.
Sevastyan’s hands flexed against the bed, muscles rippling down his back as he held himself still. No ropes, no chains, only desire for his goddex kept him flat on the mattress.
Lube. That was what was next. They grabbed it. Control. They needed control more than they needed lube. Without it, they were going to go feral on their boy.
Ellisandre prowled back to the bed. They dropped the lube between his legs and bent down, biting into his ass.
His cry satisfied something deep inside them.
And the way he moved, his entire form flexing against the sheets.
. . beautiful. Masculine perfection. They spread his buttocks and stroked his hole.
It flexed, pulsating under their touch. When the cool of the lube dropped down, it almost disappeared, flinching from contact.
With their uninjured hand, they coaxed it open and slid a finger inside.
He spread his legs further, welcoming them with his whole being.
Moments like this were not meant to be rushed.
With one hand, they loosened his hole and with their other, they caressed him.
His body undulated under them, seeking their touch, straining to drive himself back on their hand, arching for more.
His eyes were closed and his hands were fisted in the sheets.
He was completely under, a creature of instinct, need, and submission.
Ellisandre laughed, dropping kisses on his spine. They swung a leg over his thigh, bringing his legs together, and pressed their cock into him.
His arms spread out on the sheets, clenching the edges of the bed.
The towels were awry. Light streaks of blood painted a tapestry around them.
Ellisandre unfurled their body over his, sinking in deeper as he groaned.
He tried to part his legs, but they clamped down, keeping him in place, making him feel every moment of the entrance.
Only when they had bottomed out did they let him open his thighs, body shaking.
Lips against his shoulder, they praised him silently.
He reached back, clutching at their hip, then their hand.
Their hand he could have. He brought it to his lips.
They rode him slowly. Sweat broke out across their boy’s back. It rolled down Ellisandre’s neck. He pushed back, bracing his elbows to meet them, roll for roll, moving together.
“More,” he begged.
They nuzzled his ear. “Be exact, beautiful boy.”
“Larger, deeper. Please.”
Fuck, he was going to end them. It was almost impossible to deny him anything when he was like this.
Being needed the way he needed them was more intoxicating than absinthe.
Better than all the German cakes that might be had, more sinful than Belgium chocolate.
They smiled against his shoulder, slid their cock from his body and went back to the armoire, choosing a larger cock from the drawer.
Back on the bed, Sevastyan pulled his knees up under himself—parted as wide as his shoulders—and arched his back, presenting the entrance of his body to them, unguarded and offered up.
For all the languages they could speak between them, not a syllable was needed to explain the picture he offered.
They knelt up and pressed the new cock to his hole, adding lube to the mix.
This one stretched him wide. He groaned, soft and deep.
They reached down, putting a hand on the back of his neck, pinning him to the sheets as they sank inside his inner being.
Their hips pressed against his buttocks.
They ground in deep, until he unfolded, his legs splaying apart and straightening, his belly returning to the bed, his form supine beneath them.
He didn’t move, but he was moving, his body rolling beneath them like waves trapped in a tank. They ground down, circling their cock inside him, stretching his hole without moving in or out.
He came, pinned down and impaled, flexing beneath them, a gasp rising beneath their hand on his throat and stuttering into the air of the silent room.
Once was not enough. They needed to see more of that. And they wanted him to feel more.
“Again,” Ellisandre whispered.
They rode him. His curses and cries sparked fissures of pleasure through their body.
He was so glorious, laid out and pinned beneath them, from the sweat running across his ribs, to the way his fingers dug into the sheets.
Their hands spread, pressed down on his shoulder blades, giving them leverage as they took their pleasure, letting their cock stimulate them as much as it stimulated him.
Together, the two of them were a drug. They dropped their head to his neck, mouthing at his wet skin, breathing in their combined scent, their hand carefully avoiding the bandage across his ribs.
Ecstasy was less strong than this intoxicating power flowering in their veins.
Their boy willing, writhing beneath them was better than driving the fastest super car, better than jumping from a jet with the crack of air in their ears. And all of it more dangerous.
Ellisandre kissed the fate sealing them together and dared it to defy them. Nothing, not Raska, not the combined force of the Merchari, not the law of any land was going to take their boy from their hands. He was theirs. He and anyone he claimed was theirs.
As the pleasure built up beyond their limits, they pulled his hips off the bed and gripped his cock, manipulating it with a firm grip.
He cried out, head pressed to his forearm, still moving against them, offering pleasure until his body gave in, clenching and quaking as they stripped a second orgasm from his loins.
Pleasure rolled through both of them, leaving them short of air.
They bent low, holding him in place with an iron grip as he gasped for oxygen.
He crumpled to the bed, shattered, and Ellisandre drew out slowly, vision still sparkling in the aftershocks of their own nirvana. His hole was fucked open, glistening with lube. They dipped their fingers inside him. The pad of their finger found his prostrate, the little gland swollen and tender.
“Goddex,” he gasped. And wasn’t that a beautiful song.
“Beg for mercy,” Ellisandre said.
“No.” He twitched, his foot moving against the bed, trying to release the energy their touch was creating. Deep approval filled Ellisandre’s belly. This, they loved this about their boy, the way he pushed, the way he didn’t give in and yet was always on his knees for them.
They smiled, forehead coming to rest against his back. Inside him, their fingers continued to play with his submission, the looseness of him, the softness and the wet. The tenderness of his inner being. He whimpered more than once, on the edge of crying.
It was almost enough.
Ellisandre rose up and sank their cock back inside him, their knees spread out on either side of his waist, their arms wrapping around his chest and their head on his shoulder.
He gripped their hands with both of his. And that, that was enough. Their sweat mingled together. Their heartbeats slowly steadied, coming back to baseline in time with each other. The trembling subsided into deep rest.