SINN'OUS
Watching his boy under the shower’s glistening spray is not something he thought would be a want of his. Yet he is doing it. While his boy’s eyes are closed and he has no idea Sinn'ous is there.
That is something he is intimately familiar with. Intruding on moments without another’s knowledge.
His boy had gone ahead into the showers, and clearly forgot all about Sinn'ous joining him. Because here he is. Hand on his cock, stroking the hard length, eyes pinched shut in concentration. Head bowed, and other hand gliding up his side to the slice there. The one Sinn'ous left with his razor.
Sinn'ous discovers his own breath catching. His own feet taking him over the wet tiled floor, fully clothed, to the space beside Izz. Silently prowling right up to him, and leaning his shoulder against the tiled wall to watch his boy pleasure himself.
Swallowing hard he catalogues every display of vulnerability, down to the way his boy’s hand continues to hover over the cut. Not quite touching, but the intent is clear. To the moment the resistance snaps and that hand presses in.
A gasp breaks over the sounds of multiple showers running. Not to carry anywhere but Sinn'ous’s ears. His boy’s forehead drops to the tiled wall, resting there as he continues working his hand in a rhythmic pump over his dick, thighs visibly trembling. And fingers digging harder into the slice, blood mingling in water to pinken the rivulets running down his body.
It’s a glory to behold. Locked in a growing climax that has come from the pain he is inflicting on himself. And it cementsthe chances of them doing so much more. Cutting. Slicing. Blood exchanging.
His boy bites into his plump bottom lip, teeth digging in to add to the fingers pressed into his side. Biting back the noises he should be making. And cums into the falling shower spray. Rope after rope of hot cum shooting from his twitching cock. Some spluttering on the tiled wall, where it quickly washes away.
Slowly, forest-green eyes blink open, cheeks flushing crimson the second they catch onto Sinn'ous.
Still leaning right next to his boy, clothes mostly dry, and somewhat sticking to his skin in places water splashed from Izz’s jerking hand under the shower’s spray. He knows he has a wicked glint in his eyes, and a deep smirk on his face. But why wouldn’t he, when all his darker fantasies are playing out inside his mind. All the possibilities he can now explore.
He would have done it anyway, come up with elaborate plans to make Izz think it was his idea. But now, he won’t have to work as hard to get his boy to the ultimate place of blind obedience.
The look of pure unrestrained embarrassment on his boy’s face is delectable. “O-okay, so I like knife-play. Leave me be.” Izz studies the wound one last time then glances away from it, changing the subject. “I think I’d want another tattoo.” He flicks the showers spray off, finished with the routine of washing and wanking. “When I get out,” he adds almost to himself.
Sinn'ous will be taking full advantage of this confession. He learnt very early on that Izz had a compulsive need to give back the equivalent of what he has been given. So not only will this tattoo be a mark Sinn'ous has placed there to lay claim, it will be another link to fasten the chain around his boy’s neck.
“I’ll get you one in here.” Sinn'ous stalks his boy out of the showers, not minding how his clothes tug at his skin in all the wet places.
Being the reason behind permanent marks left in his boy’s skin is not an opportunity he will pass up on. Even if it won’t be his own hand doing the marking. The ink will be linked to him all the same.
His boy towels off, rubbing the unnaturally greying towel over his skin, something that was probably white when the prison board bought it centuries ago. “I can’t keep sponging off you.”
Weird sentiment to have, considering Sinn'ous already buys him plenty. And for all the given freedom he allows his boy to have, he still owns him. Izz might not realise it yet, but he will soon. When the time is right, and when Izz can’t go anywhere, he will learn it.
“I don’t mind.”
“But I do,” Izz snaps, in a way a small dog would, an irritation that does nothing but make it glaringly obvious how little power they possess.
Sinn'ous humours his boy regardless. And he has to admit, he is mildly interested in why someone would turn down the offer of money. “Why. It’s my money to spend on whatever I want.”
The answer is the expected stuttering to try to find what should be said, not what he wants to say. “I-I—it just matters,”
Sinn'ous chuckles to break the ice, and act as someone would in the situation. Someone who isn’t him and has emotions to play into. “Your mind’s a curious thing, isn’t it. So caught up in others, you’re not taking the time to get what you want. Denying yourself. For what. Social standing. Because society says it’s wrong to sponge off someone who’s doting on you.”
If Sinn'ous stood by what societal norms dictated he wouldn’t be serving Satan very well, now would he.
Forgive me, Satan, for I have sinned.
He sends down the humour filled prayer. A mockery of that ‘faith’he would burn to the ground given the chance. That ‘faith’that has no place in the world, a fake invisible sky daddy thatshould stay in the ground rotting. At least then it would grow mushrooms and be useful.
I’d burn it all for you, Satan, every last page of inked vulgarity.
“It’s called a gold-digger,” Izz mumbles, dragging Sinn'ous back to the current passing of events.
Lips curling into a calculated smirk, he waits for Izz to look at him before continuing. “You can always say I‘demanded it of you, for my protection’,if it makes you feel better.”
His boy does the strangest thing, he sticks his tongue out, in a show of playful defiance. It has him going to all the places that tongue could be. What it will be used on very soon.
