I will never let him leave.
And trapping his boy within the financial security of a home, among other benefits will work wonders in creating a barless cage.
Next thing he knows Izz’s on the bunk and straddling his legs, sitting down right on his crutch, and locking their lips in a kiss that pours out all of his boy’s gratitude and devotion.
The kiss is broken all too soon, his boy’s face pressing into his chest, which is rising and falling in an unsteady way. Same too is Izz’s.
“I can never repay you for any of it,” his voice is muffled by the prison shirt’s fabric, but Sinn'ous hears him.
You are right where I want you. Reliant. Pliant. Obedient.
“I’m not asking you to,” Sinn'ous calmly states, slipping his hands around Izz’s waist to hold him in place.
“Why did you . . .”
“You care for them, and I’m in a position to help them for you. It’s not as though I’m using the house.”
“Thank you.” Izz kisses down the column of Sin'ous’s neck. Sliding his knees backwards to slip further down the bunk. His hands working at Sinn'ous’s pants, gripping their waistband.
Now this is interesting. And the first time Izz’s been so bold and forward. He’s curious to see where his boy is going with this.
The position his boy is in places him very close to Sinn'ous’s crutch. It would be so easy to grab the back of his head and pull him the rest of the way down. Watch those bright green eyes widen as his lips are breached by a thick cock. And to top it off, his boy is now working down his pants, and Sinn'ous’s cock will soon be exposed to take exactly that.
“What did I do to deserve you? You’re so kind to me,” Izz’s eyes flicker between Sinn'ous’s, studying whatever expression is slipping from them. “I love you. I know I shouldn’t. But I do. I love you.”
Sinn'ous inwardly gloats at Izz’s blurted confession of admiration and love. It’s the last snap of a trap door closing. This is what Sinn'ous has been waiting for, and now he has it. Now he has everything.
Even still, love isn’t something Sinn'ous does, so he’s not about to say it back. But for a reason he can’t put his finger on, his pulse quickens on his reply, catching the lie in his throat. So instead of a lie he pulls Izz up, away from his now exposed cock, and into a deep kiss. Playing his tongue over soft lips until his entrance is granted, and he can delve in.
Izz tastes the same, a sweet elixir that could hook tentacles into the most refined of men. And considering Satan is under his belt, he can see no wrong in giving in to more.
His boy breaks the kiss, lips taken away, and the fire of need blown into a raging inferno. Only for those same lips to take the path over his jaw, kissing, licking, sucking. They continue down his neck where it only gets better. Not because Izz puts his mouth to work elsewhere, no, it’s due to the fact that when Sinn'ous thrusts his hand into his hair and pulls Izz’s head down to his crutch, his boy gives in and goes without resistance. No snipped comments. No push back. Just obedience.
Complete obedience.
And fuck if that doesn’t go straight to his cock, where it pulsates, jumping at the anticipated heat that’s about to engulf it. Precum beads from its tip, and runs down the shaft.
“Open.” Sinn'ous doesn’t wait for a reply, he lets out some of his inner sadism to play, and shoves Izz down. He has to give it to his boy, he parts his lips and opens right up, taking the head of Sinn'ous’s cock into his mouth.
Sinn'ous moans. He couldn’t have stopped the sound even if he tried. Stopping his hand from shaking is also a trial in self-control. He has to tighten his fingers in Izz’s hair to stave off the tremor racing through them.
His boy practically devours him. Tongue lavishing the head, tip playing at the slit, then circling around. He has to pinch his eyes shut, because the visual coupled by the feel is sending him racing too fast to the finish line. And he is not ready for this to end. Not now that he can take his boy’s throat.
And while he does have a death grip in Izz’s hair, he isn’t using it to control the boy’s head, he allows Izz to take charge. He wants to test exactly how far Izz’s devotion goes, but first he wants to lie in the boy’s worship of his cock. And fuck does Izz worship it. Playing his tongue over every sensitive inch of the head, his hand holding Sinn'ous’s cock in place. Not stroking. Not moving. And it’s driving him insane. He needs more friction. And he doesn’t care that it’ll be dry.
He wraps a hand around the smaller one at the base of his cock, working it up and down his shaft. There’s a tinge of pain, but a whole ignited flare of pure pleasure. He uses his other hand, still in Izz’s hair, to pull his mouth up and down. A slow rhythm hedging on the cusp of what he will take.
The wait is worth it.
To drag this out. To savour it.
Wet noises fill the space between them, obscene sounds that are unmistakable for what they are. It sends him over the edge of his control.
Yanking both hands off his cock, he takes the back of his boy’s head, and at the same time that he pushes down, he thrusts up. Spearing his cock down Izz’s tight throat. And fuck do the noises he makes drive Sinn'ous insane.
He doesn’t stay deep for long. Pulling out to shallowly continue thrusting. Each ragged gag has his cock twitching out more precum.
Izz’s nails are digging into Sinn'ous’s thighs, he would rather have those hands cuffed behind the boys back, but there is noway he is stopping to find something to restrain them. He can, however, change their positioning.
