The smaller pliant body below his is hot and needy, and begging for him to take it. Take everything.
Sinn'ous breaks their lip lock in favour of tasting Izz’s skin. The soft subtle way it flushes. Delicate shivers he can see ripplingunder skin just as breakable. He works his lips over Izz’s neck, sucking, licking, and then nipping. Each touch of teeth to skin drives him wild. Drives him to the point of ravenous hunger.
I will have him, I will own all of him. Mind. Body. And soul.
His next nip is anything but gentle, it’s not cute and soft, it’s sharp and backed by a hand gripping Izz’s chin. Holding him open to Sinn'ous’s teeth. He bites down so hard it threatens to break skin. And all the while his needy little preyis moaning and grinding up into him.
The reactions travel straight to his cock. He’s so hard it’s a painful, throbbing demand.
He rushes to get his hands under Izz’s grey shirt, needing more. More contact, more skin on skin. More. More. More.
He needs them both naked. Right. The. Fuck. Now.
The way Izz sucks in his stomach to make room for Sinn'ous to stuff his hands down his scratchy prison pants, is answer in itself. The boy needs this just as badly.
Oh, it drives Sinn'ous crazy. As does the way sharp licks of pain dig into his hips, the boy’s desperate hands gripping him to hold him close. To stop him from moving away.
Don’t worry, little prey, I’m not going anywhere.
He bites down on the junction of Izz’s neck, where it meets his collarbone, marking him right above the bone. And the boy goes insane for it, whole body jolting off the bunk, pressing right up into Sinn'ous’s body.
There is too much in the way. Too many layers. They’re both overdressed.
He needs unobstructed contact.
Hands dig further in trying to blindly find his way past the briefs, searching for what he has to have, has to touch. First contact is hot, but not his goal, though that doesn’t stop him from digging his fingers into the heat of the boy’s inner thigh. Welcomed contact to tide him over for the moment, until he can get at Izz’s dick.
His fingers tingle, which is new and strange, but not all bad. It’s as though his body is zapping with untapped energy. Sparks that rake down his arm, and into his own thighs.
Fuck he needs this. And he is going to get it.
Everything shifts at once. It’s not subtle, it’s strong. A stiffening in Izz that is immediately recognisable, and for a moment Sinn'ous worries he broke skin on a bite. He knows the boy isn’t mentally ready to handle that type of attention yet.
Izz cries out in what can only be described as fear, and scrambles away, his back hitting the wall, legs curling in tight tohis chest. He hugs his legs like a wounded bird. A ball of shaking fear. His eyes are doing that thing again, the thing where they glaze over and the life in them drifts away. It’s not as bad as it was after the attack but it’s close. It has to be some form of disassociation.
Sinn'ous pulls back, he needs the boy’s trust. His dependency. Can’t push it now, it’s too soon, it’ll break if he shoves too much.
Build that connection. Build that dependence. Make it so he can never leave.
So, he does the only thing he can think of. He speaks to him. Unsure exactly what he is saying. It’s pretty much a vomit of anything he can think of to calm the boy. “I’m with you. Relax.” “Breathe.” “It’ll pass.” “You’re so brave.” “You’re fine, I’m right here.” “I’m right with you. You’re not alone.”
Ragged breath, cold sweat, a ball of terror rocking back and forth. The boy is beyond hauntingly detached, even for Sinn'ous, it’s weird.
He wants to touch him, to draw him in close, and never let go.
Where that thought came from he can’t say. It’s not something he does. At least, it wasn’t. Now he’s not so sure. Something is changing within him when it comes to Izz, and he doesn’t know why. Or what it is.
And just as fast as it hits, the panic attack subsides, Izz’s eyes click back on and the brightness shines inside them once more.
Insanity.
“I’m sorry—” Izz’s words are choked off and hollow, a residual effect of the attack his mind underwent. Some inner battle of wills. Or demonic possession. A combination of both?
“Don’t be. You can choose to stop any time you like. It’s your choice. And I will respect it. We can wait until you’re ready.” The words he offers are for Izz’s benefit. They mean nothing to Sinn'ous. He will get this, one way or another he will have whathe wants. Even if he has to play behind the scenes. He isn’t above a coercive game of manipulation.
“How are you so nice?” Izz mumbles into his knees, arms folded tight around his legs. “You’re a serial killer. How are you like this? So kind and gentle with me.”
Sinn'ous bristles at the title. Serial killer.It scrapes down his spine. Scratches the marrow of his bones. Nails over a chalk board.
