All around them the room slowly drains of occupants, yet his sole focus lies in the flicker of desperation flashing for the briefest time over Izz’s face.
“Not directed at you.” Sinn'ous reassures. “Had to restrain myself, which I’ve never done. Could do with a distraction.” And that much is true. He doesn’t restrain himself when he is makinga kill. He kills, and he doesn’t apologise for it, or tuck it away where no one will see.
At least, he didn’t.
Until Izz stood frozen and watching. He stopped then, didn’t he? And for what? Why? It can’t all be for his plans to isolate Izz. Can it?
Shit, I stopped because of him.
Sinn'ous bites into his cheek to draw blood and ground himself. And to kill that annoyingly clear thought.
It does not belong in his head.
~~~
They stop at the top landing, Sinn'ous pulling up short so he doesn’t plow into Izz’s back. It’s mildly annoying that their direction takes them to Izz’s cell and not his Satanic one. Privacy is something he values, and this shared cell is not that.
Does this mean he words his displeasure? No. And he deliberately doesn’t open that box of answers.
His boy plops onto the bunk and pats the mattress. A master calling a dog to heel, it takes everything in him to strangle the growl threatening to surface. He is the one in control, not Izz. And the fact that his boy doesn’t see that is a failure on his part. He’ll have to do something to correct this slight. Something painful.
Something permanent.
A reminder to Izz, who he belongs to.
And even so. He covers his true reaction, gives nothing away. And sits down on the bunk beside his boy. Plans to show dominance swirling all throughout his mind.
The mattress depresses under his weight, drawing Izz in close. “I, um. Was thinking last night.” Izz rubs at the back of his neck, in that nervous way of his. “I would like to . . . try again. If youwould like to—” His voice cracks, cutting off whatever he was going to say.
Sinn'ous eyes his display of vulnerability, the hands clasped in his lap, the refusal to make eye contact, the trickle of sweat breaking out over his hairline. And the clogs slot into place.
From the anger at being called like a common dog, to the flush of heat diving to his cock. It’s a full circle to clear his mind and send him racing down a new track.
He couldn’t hold his hand back even if he tried. And he has no intention of denying himself this. Soft skin meets the light touch of his fingertips, curling under Izz’s jaw he tips his boy’s chin to meet his eyes. The deep colour is nearly wholly consumed by dilated pupils.
Izz opens to him the moment he leans in. His tongue encountering no resistance as he delves it inside. To penetrate. To take. To leave a mark of demand.
Their tongues intertwine within Izz’s mouth. A claiming of ownership. One he takes to place him above the other. He is in control and Izz belongs to him.
Keeping their mouths sealed together he manoeuvres his boy this way and that, until every article of clothing is gone, leaving him bare to Sinn'ous.
Pinned under him like this, Sinn'ous has all the power. Izz’s warm hands slip under his shirt, heating the places they explore. He presses his weight firmly into the smaller body trapped below him. Exposed and open for Sinn'ous to do as he pleases.
And right now he wants in. He pauses for a split second to wet two fingers. Offering no explanation or gaining no verbal permission he slides his hand between spread legs, and plunges his finger straight inside. Forcing his way past the tight ring of resistance, and into the velvety warm interior.
Completely engrossed in the feel of Izz taking him to the knuckle, it’s a while before he realises he’s being pinned. Legstightly wrapped around his waist preventing him from escaping. Of course if he actually wanted to escape it wouldn’t take much to break the hold. But he finds himself liking the way his boy clings to him. Wordlessly demanding more.
His body is thrumming with desire. Fingers scissoring as soon as he adds a second. Stretching the tight heat open. The whole while not once has he broken the kiss. Eating his fill. Lips locked in battle.
He’s panting hard when he finally breaks it to murmur against his boy’s lips. “You okay,” it’s not a question, even when it may be? He’s not sure. It shouldn’t be a question. This right here is for him, for his pleasure. To fulfil his desires. To prove that point, he curls his fingers deep inside, pressing them into the slick walls.
Izz nods frantically, groaning, “y-yeah. Feels good.”
Sinn'ous forces Izz’s head back with a firm grip to the jaw, exposing his throat. The move has his fingers crushed in a tightening grip, being milked by his boy’s greedy hole.
Fuck.
Cumming while fully clothed, fingers plugging another’s hole, and no contact on his dick, shouldn’t be a possibility. And yet, it might be. With the way his balls are tightening, it very well might be.
