“If I release your hands, then you’ll attack me,” Pryast said, eyes tracing over the collar on Symon’s throat, the chains that bound the man.
“I might,” Symon said. Pryast felt the warm shiver of desire at the look Symon gave him, and something deeper, more primal and just as wanting at the words. “Or maybe I can be convinced to play nicely,” he continued.
Pryast swallowed and met Symon’s eyes. “If you do anything I don’t want I’ll take it from the flesh of your demon,” Pryast said.
“How am I to know what you do and don’t want?” Symon’s voice was pleasant, controlled.
“I’ll tell you.”
Symon shifted suddenly to lurch towards Pryast, to strain against his chains. Pryast took a half step back, but he could feel a jolt of arousal spike through his body and down to his prick at the feral look in Symon’s eyes. “Will you?” Symon asked. “No, I think we’ll do it like this. You can say anything you want, you can tell me no, you can beg me to stop, but I only will if you say his name.”
“Shadow,” Pryast breathed out, voice more reverent than that word deserved.
“Exactly that,” Symon said, and then, “So?”
Pryast didn’t answer with words, but he went to Symon’s side and unchained him from the wall, freed his hands and left it so there was nothing but the collar around Symon’s neck (the tiny bit opened to let him have his mana) to show his bondage.
Symon didn’t hesitate, he raised his fist and threw a punch, hard and furious at the other man’s nose, then followed to grip the man by the collar of his shirt, trying to get as many blows in as he could before Pryast could open his mouth and call this to a stop. Pryast’s blood dripped from his nose and coated Symon’s hand, but when Pryast opened his mouth it was only to laugh at Symon, to lunge for him and plant his lips on the other man’s.
Symon lifted, brought raw strength in to shove Pryast back against the wall. Pryast felt the rough stone bite into his clothing, and then Symon was stripping him, shoving his clothes off and dumping them on the ground to leave Pryast bare. Pryast fought him, nails scrabbling to draw blood where they bit in, but he didn’t reach for his magic, and Symon wasn’t gentle at all.
Symon fisted his hand in Pryast's hair, bore him down while Pryast closed his hands over Symon's throat, kept himself on his feet.
“Want to suck my prick?” Symon asked. He shoved a finger into Pryast's mouth.
Pryast bit down hard and Symon pulled his finger out. “I’ll bite it off.”
Symon laughed, challenge bright in his eyes. He brought his hand tight around Pryast's prick, felt the hardness of him.
“I’ll fuck you,” Symon said.
Pryast shivered against his touch. “No,” he said, because he wanted to see how Symon reacted.
Symon’s knee pushed hard into Pryast’s stomach and Pryast crumbled a little, a fact Symon took advantage of to grab hold of both of Pryast’s wrists. “How are you going to explain to the guards that you let a prisoner get the better of you?” Symon asked.
Pryast moaned, and Symon spun him around to slam his face against the wall. Pryast was rather more worried about how he was going to explain it to his wife, if he couldn’t get healed up before he went home. If he got out of this in one piece, because there was a part of him that thought that might not be a guarantee.
Pryast kicked his leg back, heel of his foot hitting hard into Symon’s knee.
Symon grunted, but he took a finger slick with blood and shoved it up Pryast’s ass. Pryast gasped and fought harder against him, and Symon slid his other hand between Pryast and the wall and wrapped it around Pryast’s prick, stroking him back to full hardness. A second finger slid into Pryast, and this time Symon pressed his fingers deeper, explored Pryast until the elf made an involuntary shudder, let out another moan.
“You like this,” Symon said, and it stung like an accusation even as he pulled his fingers out of Pryast, lined up and started to press his cock into Pryast’s body. Pryast wriggled forward and scraped his own body against the wall before he stilled, felt Symon entering him. Pryast felt himself held until Symon was all the way in, and then Symon yanked them both away from the wall, Symon still in Pryast.
“Ride me,” Symon said, tugging them down.
“No,” Pryast replied, certain that he had control of this, that Symon only had so much influence over the actions of Pryast’s own body.
“Ride me,” Symon said, running his fingers over Pryast’s nose, where it had stopped bleeding, “Or I break your nose.”
Pryast felt the rush of adrenaline run through him, with few enough places to go. “Shadow,” he said, half-terrified it wouldn’t work, that Symon would break his nose anyway.
Symon laughed, low, and started to move his hips, pressing into Pryast again. It felt amazing in a way that Pryast knew he’d never be able to admit to anyone. “Can’t hurt your pretty face,” Symon purred. “That’s your line?”
“Shut up,” Pryast said.
Symon flipped them over, Pryast braced on his hands and knees, while Symon’s hand found Pryast’s prick. “I know it’s nothing else, because we’re going to paint the floor white with your seed.”
Pryast groaned, low and half-strained, but he didn’t say anything else. They fucked in silence, making it so Pryast could hear as well as feel each thrust of Symon into him. He spilled before Symon did, felt the way that Symon didn’t still, just kept fucking into his oversensitive body.
“You want me to come, right?” Symon asked, Pryast’s ear in his teeth.
“You have to,” Pryast said, or he wouldn’t be able to see if the mana had worked, or there would have been no point to all of this. Or little enough point, at least.
Symon pulled out, cupped his fingers over Pryast’s chin as he drew him up to his knees. “Then suck my prick,” he said. “Be a good boy.”
Pryast moaned and he shifted how Symon wanted him, licked the other man clean before he took him into his mouth. Symon settled a hand around Pryast’s throat, held it tight while Pryast choked on his prick. When Symon came it was done quietly, with a certain dignity of a kind that Pryast had long given up.
Pryast looked up at his prisoner from his position on the floor, felt the threading of mana increased in them both, and smiled.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Pryast/Symon, cw: blood, rough sex, complications of consent
“I might,” Symon said. Pryast felt the warm shiver of desire at the look Symon gave him, and something deeper, more primal and just as wanting at the words. “Or maybe I can be convinced to play nicely,” he continued.
Pryast swallowed and met Symon’s eyes. “If you do anything I don’t want I’ll take it from the flesh of your demon,” Pryast said.
“How am I to know what you do and don’t want?” Symon’s voice was pleasant, controlled.
“I’ll tell you.”
Symon shifted suddenly to lurch towards Pryast, to strain against his chains. Pryast took a half step back, but he could feel a jolt of arousal spike through his body and down to his prick at the feral look in Symon’s eyes. “Will you?” Symon asked. “No, I think we’ll do it like this. You can say anything you want, you can tell me no, you can beg me to stop, but I only will if you say his name.”
“Shadow,” Pryast breathed out, voice more reverent than that word deserved.
“Exactly that,” Symon said, and then, “So?”
Pryast didn’t answer with words, but he went to Symon’s side and unchained him from the wall, freed his hands and left it so there was nothing but the collar around Symon’s neck (the tiny bit opened to let him have his mana) to show his bondage.
Symon didn’t hesitate, he raised his fist and threw a punch, hard and furious at the other man’s nose, then followed to grip the man by the collar of his shirt, trying to get as many blows in as he could before Pryast could open his mouth and call this to a stop. Pryast’s blood dripped from his nose and coated Symon’s hand, but when Pryast opened his mouth it was only to laugh at Symon, to lunge for him and plant his lips on the other man’s.
Symon lifted, brought raw strength in to shove Pryast back against the wall. Pryast felt the rough stone bite into his clothing, and then Symon was stripping him, shoving his clothes off and dumping them on the ground to leave Pryast bare. Pryast fought him, nails scrabbling to draw blood where they bit in, but he didn’t reach for his magic, and Symon wasn’t gentle at all.
Symon fisted his hand in Pryast's hair, bore him down while Pryast closed his hands over Symon's throat, kept himself on his feet.
“Want to suck my prick?” Symon asked. He shoved a finger into Pryast's mouth.
Pryast bit down hard and Symon pulled his finger out. “I’ll bite it off.”
Symon laughed, challenge bright in his eyes. He brought his hand tight around Pryast's prick, felt the hardness of him.
“I’ll fuck you,” Symon said.
Pryast shivered against his touch. “No,” he said, because he wanted to see how Symon reacted.
Symon’s knee pushed hard into Pryast’s stomach and Pryast crumbled a little, a fact Symon took advantage of to grab hold of both of Pryast’s wrists. “How are you going to explain to the guards that you let a prisoner get the better of you?” Symon asked.
Pryast moaned, and Symon spun him around to slam his face against the wall. Pryast was rather more worried about how he was going to explain it to his wife, if he couldn’t get healed up before he went home. If he got out of this in one piece, because there was a part of him that thought that might not be a guarantee.
Pryast kicked his leg back, heel of his foot hitting hard into Symon’s knee.
Symon grunted, but he took a finger slick with blood and shoved it up Pryast’s ass. Pryast gasped and fought harder against him, and Symon slid his other hand between Pryast and the wall and wrapped it around Pryast’s prick, stroking him back to full hardness. A second finger slid into Pryast, and this time Symon pressed his fingers deeper, explored Pryast until the elf made an involuntary shudder, let out another moan.
“You like this,” Symon said, and it stung like an accusation even as he pulled his fingers out of Pryast, lined up and started to press his cock into Pryast’s body. Pryast wriggled forward and scraped his own body against the wall before he stilled, felt Symon entering him. Pryast felt himself held until Symon was all the way in, and then Symon yanked them both away from the wall, Symon still in Pryast.
“Ride me,” Symon said, tugging them down.
“No,” Pryast replied, certain that he had control of this, that Symon only had so much influence over the actions of Pryast’s own body.
“Ride me,” Symon said, running his fingers over Pryast’s nose, where it had stopped bleeding, “Or I break your nose.”
Pryast felt the rush of adrenaline run through him, with few enough places to go. “Shadow,” he said, half-terrified it wouldn’t work, that Symon would break his nose anyway.
Symon laughed, low, and started to move his hips, pressing into Pryast again. It felt amazing in a way that Pryast knew he’d never be able to admit to anyone. “Can’t hurt your pretty face,” Symon purred. “That’s your line?”
“Shut up,” Pryast said.
Symon flipped them over, Pryast braced on his hands and knees, while Symon’s hand found Pryast’s prick. “I know it’s nothing else, because we’re going to paint the floor white with your seed.”
Pryast groaned, low and half-strained, but he didn’t say anything else. They fucked in silence, making it so Pryast could hear as well as feel each thrust of Symon into him. He spilled before Symon did, felt the way that Symon didn’t still, just kept fucking into his oversensitive body.
“You want me to come, right?” Symon asked, Pryast’s ear in his teeth.
“You have to,” Pryast said, or he wouldn’t be able to see if the mana had worked, or there would have been no point to all of this. Or little enough point, at least.
Symon pulled out, cupped his fingers over Pryast’s chin as he drew him up to his knees. “Then suck my prick,” he said. “Be a good boy.”
Pryast moaned and he shifted how Symon wanted him, licked the other man clean before he took him into his mouth. Symon settled a hand around Pryast’s throat, held it tight while Pryast choked on his prick. When Symon came it was done quietly, with a certain dignity of a kind that Pryast had long given up.
Pryast looked up at his prisoner from his position on the floor, felt the threading of mana increased in them both, and smiled.