Distress in both body and soul, it’s written in everything. Down to the ragged breath, and the rapidly flickering eyes. Even the pupils are blown wide.
Fuck is it a sight to behold.
To give back to the experience, and heighten it, Sinn'ous flicks the razor over in his fingers, and presses his loosely closed fist down onto the wound.
The reaction is immediate and sharp, a scream breaks out of his boy’s throat, crashing into the cell and carrying to everycorner. Body jacking off the mattress, shoulders bunching as he pulls at the bindings, tears shimmering in his eyes.
“Red. Red. Red.”
The screamed safe word is like a punch to the gut. Tapping out so early. What the hell is with that? Where is the pain tolerance?
It takes everything in Sinn'ous to remove his hand and relinquish the giving of pain. Repeating in his mind that he does not rape. He is not his father, and never will be.
I do not rape.
But that doesn’t mean he has to stop fully.
The hesitant anger in Izz’s distress is a surprise, his next words are not. “Untie me please. I don’t like it. I don’t—” Izz shakes his head, unable or unwilling to finish his thought.
“Calm down,”it’s scarcely a nick.
From his weight sitting on Izz, to his firm grip pinning his head back, it’s a simple task to keep his boy trapped. He does, however, cart a hand through the hazelnut hair. “Deep breaths. You’re not in any danger. Calm down.”
“I want to stop. It hurts.”
“You like it. Your mind is merely experiencing a survival reaction. You need to let yourself know you’re not in any danger. Repeat it in your mind.”
There. Blame it all on the boy. Have him second guessing his reactions.
The only acceptable reactions are the ones that benefit me.
Izz’s eyes are doing that thing, threatening to roll back. “I don’t—”
Sinn'ous cuts off the imminent panic attack by dropping himself onto his boy. Using his body weight, and heat, to distract. Averting the attention away from panic and into something easier for Sinn'ous to pretend to care about.
His boy is hard, and the acceptable hardness makes it’s presence known by digging into him. It’s not what he had expected. A pain induced erection? Or pleasure?
His smirk is unstoppable, cracking his lips, and is coupled by his body responding in a wave of adrenaline crashing into him. He rotates his hips, to drive the point home, how much Izz’s own body knows what it needs. Who it needs.
It works like a charm. The hazy glaze over Izz’s eyes clears. Eyes closing, whole body sagging. Tension lost.
“There you go,” Sinn'ous praises, fingers stroking through Izz’s hair, “you see, you’re doing well.”
“It feels better. Can you let go of my jaw now.”
“No.”
The responding frown is cute—
He inwardly scolds himself for the thought.
He takes back control by giving directions. “You’re doing well. I want your mind to stay in this zone. We don’t want you to panic again.”
“Why would I panic?” His boy’s voice is squeaked, and panicked.
Bloody hell.
“Repeat what I told you. You’re spiralling again.” He dips the hand not occupied by controlling Izz, down to the curve of slim hip bones. Using the soft skin on skin contact to help ground Izz. Slowly stroking his fingers over the warm skin there. Snaking his hand down further to wrap around his boy’s hard dick. Allowing the silence to stretch and the world to zone into the touch he gives his boy.
