“You feeling overwhelmed,” Sin nips at Izz’s neck, because it’s right there and he needs to show himself that he is still taking whatever he wants. And right now he wants to suck on the delicate skin of his boy’s neck.
“A little,” Izz confesses.
“We can go at your pace. It’s natural to feel overwhelmed the first time.”
Sounds like the right thing to say? A way to show validation to Izz’s feelings. A way to caress the trust and nurture the blooming flower that is Jasper.
Satan, give me strength.
“I don’t think I like it,” Izz blurts. “I mean, I do. But I . . .” He trails off but Sinn'ous gets the gist.
Sinn'ous kisses his shoulder blade, then shifts, carefully pulling free. Causing Izz to grunt when his cock slowly eases out.
“You need time to adjust. Mentally.”
If he pushes now he will kill any progress he has made. And he has come too far and worked too hard to break the fragile web of trust he’s stealthily woven. That web needs to be a rope before he can start pulling on it, or it’ll break.
He should want to force it. To say ‘fuck it’and continue on until he takes his pleasure. But instead he is easing away. He’s letting go of the prey he finally caught. And why? For what gain?
Because his boy is opening to him, and if he applies too much pressure he’ll lose the ground he’s made. It’s hard to do, to hold back, when half his mind is on thoughts of pinning Izz down until he is flirting with death and begging Sinn'ous for more.
“But I—”
“I’m not angry,” Sinn'ous reassures. “Or surprised. We have time. I’m aware of who I am and how others view me.”
“I don’t see you that way,” Izz protests.
They lie down side by side, Sinn'ous tucking Izz into his chest, turning him into the little spoon. It’s a test in character for him to do this, to give in to another’s needs over his own. And he has to say it sucks. The sooner he has Izz trapped under his thumb the better.
Once Izz’s dependent on him it will only be a matter of time until he is able to do absolutely anything to his boy and get away with it.
It doesn’t take him long to recognise the desire burning in Izz. The way his boy keeps subtly squirming and shifting. The tightening of his ass muscles tells Sinn'ous everything. His boy is trying to discreetly jerk himself off.
He rolls his eyes at how easy it is to read Izz. And when Sinn'ous grazes his teeth over the nape of his neck, the choked off hiss is as telling as a verbal cue.
He tightens his arms caging Izz to his chest, asserting his control over him in the tightening grip. “Would you like me to help you with that,” Sinn'ous murmurs.
“I . . . But what about you?”
Oh, I’ll be getting off too, don’t you worry.
Sinn'ous repositions behind Izz, unfurling his arm, and letting his fingers slide down Izz’s bare stomach. “Don’t worry about me. Let me take care of you.”
“Yes . . .” Izz whispers, their hands brushing when Sinn'ous replaces it with his own much larger one.
The velvet hardness in his hand isn’t something he’s used to. It’s smaller than his own so it doesn’t feel like when he jerks himself off. And the heat of it, it’s practically boiling.
He gets to work stroking Izz in the same way he strokes his own, rotating and twirling his hand over the head and sliding down to the base. Focusing most of his ministrations on the tip where all those nerves scream for attention.
Izz’s breathing rapidly increases, to the point where he might be close to passing out. For every breath Sinn'ous takes, Izz has taken five.
“Mm, so close . . .”
The words mark the beginning of the downward spiral. Izz locks up tight, his whole body going rigid. Then his cock is kicking in Sinn'ous’s hand and spewing its release all over the sheets. It goes on and on and on. To the point where Sinn'ous is questioning whether he has had two orgasms in one.
And then it’s over. And Izz’s body slumps.
“Thank you,” Izz’s murmured words are dripping in sleep. And the way they thicken at the end, then break off into silence, tells him that he just passed out.
