[ as if that explains anything. here, no one knows him. no one knows that he's a lieutenant governor's son, that his stepsister is a renowned senator, that he's wealthy enough that servants had to climb the scaffolding to decorate their too-tall christmas trees every year, that he served four tours in carpathia, that he's in the middle of his vice presidential term. that he's known for having a different pretty girl on his arm to every event. that he's miserable and disgusting and he never gets what he wants.
except now.
not once has fitz pulled away. not once has he yelled out for the doctors to come back, or tried in earnest to break his bonds. it's not consent, not by a long shot. embry's not an idiot, but neither is he ash colchester, who would've stopped before this even began. ash would have started with a conversation, with a safe word, with caution and boundaries and acute safety in every bruise he planned to leave behind.
embry leaves all those questions unanswered, leaves safety sitting well beyond the periphery of his thoughts. he growls a ragged curse, fists a rough hand into fitz's curls, and bears down to take his cock, pain giving way to the deep ache of pleasure. he yanks at fitz's hair, tilting his face away from his hiding place so he can look at him. ]
Liar. Say you want this.
[ there's something equally desperate and distant in his voice, a raw, primal need to hear those words. say you want me, so he can laugh in his face and say fuck you like he doesn't want this too. like he doesn't want anyone, when that couldn't be further from the truth. lying to his demons sounds better than facing them.
it's an easier fuck now with fitz helping, their hips meeting and parting, the muscles of embry's stomach clenching as his own cock drips with need despite being milked raw today — he'd tested the theory of jacking off in bed in his hours alone to see if it might do the trick, but he'd only ended up with a pile of bloody flowers and sticky bed sheets for his efforts. a wanton moan spills from his lips, mindless and unashamed, his head tipping back as his eyes slip closed, his grip still hard in fitz's hair. ]
Shit. [ his hips falter as a shudder moves through him, fitz's cock hitting a new angle, or — is he coming already? no, he's — embry nearly tips over, his hand bracing against fitz's shoulder to stay upright as pleasure blooms like wildfire through him, knife-like in its ferocity. ] Fuck. Fuck.
no subject
[ as if that explains anything. here, no one knows him. no one knows that he's a lieutenant governor's son, that his stepsister is a renowned senator, that he's wealthy enough that servants had to climb the scaffolding to decorate their too-tall christmas trees every year, that he served four tours in carpathia, that he's in the middle of his vice presidential term. that he's known for having a different pretty girl on his arm to every event. that he's miserable and disgusting and he never gets what he wants.
except now.
not once has fitz pulled away. not once has he yelled out for the doctors to come back, or tried in earnest to break his bonds. it's not consent, not by a long shot. embry's not an idiot, but neither is he ash colchester, who would've stopped before this even began. ash would have started with a conversation, with a safe word, with caution and boundaries and acute safety in every bruise he planned to leave behind.
embry leaves all those questions unanswered, leaves safety sitting well beyond the periphery of his thoughts. he growls a ragged curse, fists a rough hand into fitz's curls, and bears down to take his cock, pain giving way to the deep ache of pleasure. he yanks at fitz's hair, tilting his face away from his hiding place so he can look at him. ]
Liar. Say you want this.
[ there's something equally desperate and distant in his voice, a raw, primal need to hear those words. say you want me, so he can laugh in his face and say fuck you like he doesn't want this too. like he doesn't want anyone, when that couldn't be further from the truth. lying to his demons sounds better than facing them.
it's an easier fuck now with fitz helping, their hips meeting and parting, the muscles of embry's stomach clenching as his own cock drips with need despite being milked raw today — he'd tested the theory of jacking off in bed in his hours alone to see if it might do the trick, but he'd only ended up with a pile of bloody flowers and sticky bed sheets for his efforts. a wanton moan spills from his lips, mindless and unashamed, his head tipping back as his eyes slip closed, his grip still hard in fitz's hair. ]
Shit. [ his hips falter as a shudder moves through him, fitz's cock hitting a new angle, or — is he coming already? no, he's — embry nearly tips over, his hand bracing against fitz's shoulder to stay upright as pleasure blooms like wildfire through him, knife-like in its ferocity. ] Fuck. Fuck.