[Oh, not fair, not fair— it's a silent cry, a wailing little whine that that's all instinct and no thought. Not fair that this is the second time tonight he's been teased in such an awful way; not fair that he doesn't get exactly what he wants when he wants it, and never mind what he's doing to Astarion. Fenris has spent all night longing to be fucked, his cock twitching and drooling from the mere memory of a hot prick pressing so tauntingly against his hole, a low voice cooing in his ear— oh, he deserves more than to be teased with such slow indulgence.
No whining. No begging. Not yet, not while he's being given what he wants, albeit so slowly it aches— and yet surely begging can't be far behind, for Fenris outright melts the moment he feels blunt heat coaxing him open. Melting across the splay of his designated mate, his thighs trembling as his shoulders round out. What had been a languid grope from the palms splayed over Astarion's cheeks (massaging and squeezing, spreading him open wide just to hear the other man cry out in frustrated arousal) suddenly turns mean as Fenris' claws dig into soft flesh. It's not intentional, not really; it's just that suddenly every languid inch of him is tense, his body all but screaming out for more. Please please please—
And yet he doesn't rock back. He doesn't try to take what hasn't been given— oh, no, not tonight. Not when they're both on their best behavior. He won't be a brat. And that's because he loves Vakares, yes, but it's also because he doesn't think he can stand another round of corrective punishment. He can't stand not being fucked, not anymore; he needs it like air, like blood, all of him craving nothing more than the thorough breeding Astarion had taunted him with all those hours ago.
And maybe he hopes that his sire will echo him throughout— for what was a languid, merciless tease with his tongue suddenly becomes something frantic. Fenris laps at that slickened hole with fervor, hot and swift; his tongue goes stiff as he fucks into him, head undulating as he sinks in deeper and deeper, just like that, that's what you want, isn't it? But it's not enough. It's not enough, not nearly enough—
With a growl Fenris draws back, hands grabbing for Astarion's hips. There's a complicated moment while he flips him over, sprawled on his back with his legs drawn up and out— given only a half-second to understand what's happening before Fenris wraps his lips around his swollen, slickened cock, taking him to the root in one smooth motion. He bobs once, twice— and then draws back, gasping as he laps and licks at the underside, his fingers fondling and stroking in slavering counterpoint.]
Please . . .
[Beg for me like you beg for him, Astarion had demanded. Now he gets to watch an echo of what he wanted: Fenris pleading as he laps and sucks and debases himself over the span of his prick. Frantic words spoken against a thickened cock, every little plea slurred thanks to spit and precome pooling on his tongue. Crimson eyes hazy and silver hair hanging in his eyes, staring up at Astarion so needily—
And yet none of that begging for him.]
Please, please . . . Vakares, please, do not deny me, not tonight. Come fuck me, please, I'll do anything, but please . . . only tell me what you want from me, but do not draw it out, please, please . . . I can't stand it, not any longer, not when I've waited all night to be taken . . . please, I've been so good, please—
[Oh, it goes on and on, whimpering and undignified (and yet no worse than any other given night), desperate and hungry— oh, forget fucking Astarion. Forget the vengeful little plan he'd had, for right now Fenris wants only to be impaled.]
no subject
No whining. No begging. Not yet, not while he's being given what he wants, albeit so slowly it aches— and yet surely begging can't be far behind, for Fenris outright melts the moment he feels blunt heat coaxing him open. Melting across the splay of his designated mate, his thighs trembling as his shoulders round out. What had been a languid grope from the palms splayed over Astarion's cheeks (massaging and squeezing, spreading him open wide just to hear the other man cry out in frustrated arousal) suddenly turns mean as Fenris' claws dig into soft flesh. It's not intentional, not really; it's just that suddenly every languid inch of him is tense, his body all but screaming out for more. Please please please—
And yet he doesn't rock back. He doesn't try to take what hasn't been given— oh, no, not tonight. Not when they're both on their best behavior. He won't be a brat. And that's because he loves Vakares, yes, but it's also because he doesn't think he can stand another round of corrective punishment. He can't stand not being fucked, not anymore; he needs it like air, like blood, all of him craving nothing more than the thorough breeding Astarion had taunted him with all those hours ago.
And maybe he hopes that his sire will echo him throughout— for what was a languid, merciless tease with his tongue suddenly becomes something frantic. Fenris laps at that slickened hole with fervor, hot and swift; his tongue goes stiff as he fucks into him, head undulating as he sinks in deeper and deeper, just like that, that's what you want, isn't it? But it's not enough. It's not enough, not nearly enough—
With a growl Fenris draws back, hands grabbing for Astarion's hips. There's a complicated moment while he flips him over, sprawled on his back with his legs drawn up and out— given only a half-second to understand what's happening before Fenris wraps his lips around his swollen, slickened cock, taking him to the root in one smooth motion. He bobs once, twice— and then draws back, gasping as he laps and licks at the underside, his fingers fondling and stroking in slavering counterpoint.]
Please . . .
[Beg for me like you beg for him, Astarion had demanded. Now he gets to watch an echo of what he wanted: Fenris pleading as he laps and sucks and debases himself over the span of his prick. Frantic words spoken against a thickened cock, every little plea slurred thanks to spit and precome pooling on his tongue. Crimson eyes hazy and silver hair hanging in his eyes, staring up at Astarion so needily—
And yet none of that begging for him.]
Please, please . . . Vakares, please, do not deny me, not tonight. Come fuck me, please, I'll do anything, but please . . . only tell me what you want from me, but do not draw it out, please, please . . . I can't stand it, not any longer, not when I've waited all night to be taken . . . please, I've been so good, please—
[Oh, it goes on and on, whimpering and undignified (and yet no worse than any other given night), desperate and hungry— oh, forget fucking Astarion. Forget the vengeful little plan he'd had, for right now Fenris wants only to be impaled.]