Deimos growls at those words. Good boy. Gods above he fucking hates what Gortash does to him. He hates that Enver knows it. That he sees it. That he draws it out of him. His fists clench against the edge of the table to keep from strangling the object of his needs and all his insecurities.
Instead Enver kisses him again. As his hips lift and his leathers are peeled away. He unravels his legs from Enver's waist just long enough to help kick off his pants. It creates a gap that's too cold between them for the briefest but most torturous of moments. Then there's that kiss.
Deimos savages Enver's lips. If he wants him to want him, then he'll remind Enver of the danger of his wants. The very real threat of bedding a bhaalspawn. His teeth bruise Enver's before he bites it until crimson spills over his lips. He licks it up, knuckles white on the edge of the table.
"Ahh-," Gortash mutters, though the sound is lost between them. He prefers
to inflict pain than receive it, generally speaking, but it lights a fire
within him regardless. There's a thrill in seeing Deimos' feral side, in
seeing him act like the dangerous, violent creature he truly is. After all
there'd be no fun in taming him if it were easy.
His hands leave Deimos for a moment to unlace his own breeches. He doesn't
take them off, but lets them fall open. He's hard and hot, and he pushes
the girth of his erection against Deimos' thigh. He thrusts against him,
creating a few blissful stripes of friction that draw a long, low groan
from his lips.
That's when he pushes Deimos' back, a rough shove to get him back flat on
the table. Gortash hikes his legs up for better access, and spits down onto
the exposed hole to ease his passage. Then his finger pushes against it,
insistent but careful as he pushes the tip inside. He can feel blood
dripping from his lip. He licks it off, and flicks his head to the side to
get the hair out of his eyes.
"Look at you, so eager," he says, and slides the full of his finger inside
Deimos. He's already working him, hooking his finger and starting to move
it. His prize needs stretching.
That sound isn't lost. Deimos hears it. He purrs with it, letting it settle and resonate within him. It's the only thing that's familiar to him. Drawing blood. It's not enough to do any harm, but it's a small release of the tension roiling within him to draw Enver's blood. It's better than one of the alternatives...
Though Enver builds them to the other alternative quickly.
Through his haze of lust, anger, need, and frustration he hadn't realized Enver had unlaced his pants. It's not until he feels the warmth of his length rubbing against his thighs that Deimos moans. And while Enver settles between his legs, keeping them wide enough for him, he presses his thighs tight around Enver's waist. Squeezes them around that warm length as much as can-
"Ungh!" Deimos gasps in surprise as he's being shoved forcefully and suddenly back. He blinks in surprise, feeling the absence of Enver's warmth just before he spits...
"Ngh!" Deimos cries out in surprise. Suddenly he's grateful for the table as his head falls back against it. He closes his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth against the sudden dull throb of being stretched. His back arches ever so slightly, pulled taut as his chest rises and falls heavily.
"Shut the fuck up, Enver," Deimos groans between gritted teeth as that finger curls in him. His hips rise slightly off the table and he's surprised by the sudden whine that escapes his throat. His cock is hard. Painfully hard. The tip beads with pre that slowly starts to drip down his length.
Gortash laughs, low and soft. Deimos' muttered anger is almost as good as a
moan. The actual moans that follow are even better, reverberating through
Gortash's very bones. He loves those sounds. He loves driving this feral,
dangerous creature to such pitiful sounds. Nothing gets him harder than the
sight of Bhaal's scion writhing beneath his touch. Unless perhaps begging
were involved.
It's possible they'll get to that.
For now, he hooks his finger sharply, grazing his nail against Deimos'
prostate. He gives his whining companion only the barest moment to get used
to that feeling before he's pushing a second finger inside him, and
thrusting with them both. He wants him wide and gaping and desperate. Oh,
gods how he wants him. He grunts softly as his own cock leaks pre, mixing
with the stream pooling between Deimos's legs. He brings his other hand
across to wrap around both of their lengths, pushing them together and
spreading slick liquid between them both. His eyes flutter closed as he
strokes them together, and his hips jut forward into the sensation.
It's mild relief, and barely that. But it's something. His eyes open again,
gazing right into Deimos'. At that moment, he grazes both fingers against
his prostrate and smiles, knowing he has Deimos in the palm of his hand.
Enver has that effect on him. And worse yet, he knows it. He's playing with his body now to drag Deimos to an edge he can't escape from, threatening to push him off it into an abyss of ecstasy Deimos' mind can't even comprehend.
The way that finger grazes his prostate just moments before Enver stretches him with that second finger. The sound that escapes Deimos' throat is sharp and hitched and scrapes out of him before he can stop it. His cock leaks pre near constantly now, providing the needed lubrication for Enver to stroke their lengths together. That feeling alone would be everything if it weren't followed by his fingers hitting that spot again.
Deimos's whole body writhes under Enver. The desire to kill slowly being subsumed by a need much more primal and imminent. A need that Deimos can't understand and can barely even voice except to know that somehow Enver can satisfy it. Without even thinking his voice breaks free before he can stop himself, "Please."
He whines, his hips arched up off the table and his thighs quivering with strain. He's right at that edge and he needs past it. But he can't without Enver. "Please, Enver. I need-"
Oh, it's beautiful. A true chorus in his ears, more musical than the very
best of Deimos' songs. Gortash loves it. Better, he hardens from it,
growing stiffer and wetter just at the sound. Pre leaks from him, sending a
warm shudder through his body. He lets out a soft, pleased sound, before
sliding his fingers out of Deimos.
"Good boy," he praises, his voice a low purr. "Easy now. You can take it, I
have you--"
And he positions himself, pressing the tip of his slick, hard cock to
Deimos' ass. He slides into that waiting channel, just about stretched
enough to accommodate him. He pushes in and it's tight, almost impossibly
so, but he rocks his hips and forces his way through with his first thrust.
It's heavenly. It's exactly what he's been wanting all day, what he's been
imagining since he made all the arrangements. His hands spread Deimos' legs
wide, exposing him as much as possible while Gortash starts to pump into
his lithe body. He presses Deimos' thighs against the table, fingertips
digging in to bruise the delicate flesh. He means to make his mark.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Instead Enver kisses him again. As his hips lift and his leathers are peeled away. He unravels his legs from Enver's waist just long enough to help kick off his pants. It creates a gap that's too cold between them for the briefest but most torturous of moments. Then there's that kiss.
Deimos savages Enver's lips. If he wants him to want him, then he'll remind Enver of the danger of his wants. The very real threat of bedding a bhaalspawn. His teeth bruise Enver's before he bites it until crimson spills over his lips. He licks it up, knuckles white on the edge of the table.
no subject
Blood spilling between them.
"Ahh-," Gortash mutters, though the sound is lost between them. He prefers to inflict pain than receive it, generally speaking, but it lights a fire within him regardless. There's a thrill in seeing Deimos' feral side, in seeing him act like the dangerous, violent creature he truly is. After all there'd be no fun in taming him if it were easy.
His hands leave Deimos for a moment to unlace his own breeches. He doesn't take them off, but lets them fall open. He's hard and hot, and he pushes the girth of his erection against Deimos' thigh. He thrusts against him, creating a few blissful stripes of friction that draw a long, low groan from his lips.
That's when he pushes Deimos' back, a rough shove to get him back flat on the table. Gortash hikes his legs up for better access, and spits down onto the exposed hole to ease his passage. Then his finger pushes against it, insistent but careful as he pushes the tip inside. He can feel blood dripping from his lip. He licks it off, and flicks his head to the side to get the hair out of his eyes.
"Look at you, so eager," he says, and slides the full of his finger inside Deimos. He's already working him, hooking his finger and starting to move it. His prize needs stretching.
no subject
Though Enver builds them to the other alternative quickly.
Through his haze of lust, anger, need, and frustration he hadn't realized Enver had unlaced his pants. It's not until he feels the warmth of his length rubbing against his thighs that Deimos moans. And while Enver settles between his legs, keeping them wide enough for him, he presses his thighs tight around Enver's waist. Squeezes them around that warm length as much as can-
"Ungh!" Deimos gasps in surprise as he's being shoved forcefully and suddenly back. He blinks in surprise, feeling the absence of Enver's warmth just before he spits...
"Ngh!" Deimos cries out in surprise. Suddenly he's grateful for the table as his head falls back against it. He closes his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth against the sudden dull throb of being stretched. His back arches ever so slightly, pulled taut as his chest rises and falls heavily.
"Shut the fuck up, Enver," Deimos groans between gritted teeth as that finger curls in him. His hips rise slightly off the table and he's surprised by the sudden whine that escapes his throat. His cock is hard. Painfully hard. The tip beads with pre that slowly starts to drip down his length.
no subject
Gortash laughs, low and soft. Deimos' muttered anger is almost as good as a moan. The actual moans that follow are even better, reverberating through Gortash's very bones. He loves those sounds. He loves driving this feral, dangerous creature to such pitiful sounds. Nothing gets him harder than the sight of Bhaal's scion writhing beneath his touch. Unless perhaps begging were involved.
It's possible they'll get to that.
For now, he hooks his finger sharply, grazing his nail against Deimos' prostate. He gives his whining companion only the barest moment to get used to that feeling before he's pushing a second finger inside him, and thrusting with them both. He wants him wide and gaping and desperate. Oh, gods how he wants him. He grunts softly as his own cock leaks pre, mixing with the stream pooling between Deimos's legs. He brings his other hand across to wrap around both of their lengths, pushing them together and spreading slick liquid between them both. His eyes flutter closed as he strokes them together, and his hips jut forward into the sensation.
It's mild relief, and barely that. But it's something. His eyes open again, gazing right into Deimos'. At that moment, he grazes both fingers against his prostrate and smiles, knowing he has Deimos in the palm of his hand.
"There, darling. Isn't that what you want?"
no subject
Enver has that effect on him. And worse yet, he knows it. He's playing with his body now to drag Deimos to an edge he can't escape from, threatening to push him off it into an abyss of ecstasy Deimos' mind can't even comprehend.
The way that finger grazes his prostate just moments before Enver stretches him with that second finger. The sound that escapes Deimos' throat is sharp and hitched and scrapes out of him before he can stop it. His cock leaks pre near constantly now, providing the needed lubrication for Enver to stroke their lengths together. That feeling alone would be everything if it weren't followed by his fingers hitting that spot again.
Deimos's whole body writhes under Enver. The desire to kill slowly being subsumed by a need much more primal and imminent. A need that Deimos can't understand and can barely even voice except to know that somehow Enver can satisfy it. Without even thinking his voice breaks free before he can stop himself, "Please."
He whines, his hips arched up off the table and his thighs quivering with strain. He's right at that edge and he needs past it. But he can't without Enver. "Please, Enver. I need-"
no subject
Oh, it's beautiful. A true chorus in his ears, more musical than the very best of Deimos' songs. Gortash loves it. Better, he hardens from it, growing stiffer and wetter just at the sound. Pre leaks from him, sending a warm shudder through his body. He lets out a soft, pleased sound, before sliding his fingers out of Deimos.
"Good boy," he praises, his voice a low purr. "Easy now. You can take it, I have you--"
And he positions himself, pressing the tip of his slick, hard cock to Deimos' ass. He slides into that waiting channel, just about stretched enough to accommodate him. He pushes in and it's tight, almost impossibly so, but he rocks his hips and forces his way through with his first thrust.
It's heavenly. It's exactly what he's been wanting all day, what he's been imagining since he made all the arrangements. His hands spread Deimos' legs wide, exposing him as much as possible while Gortash starts to pump into his lithe body. He presses Deimos' thighs against the table, fingertips digging in to bruise the delicate flesh. He means to make his mark.