[ fuck, okay. that’s — kind of more than he bargained for, even though it’s very da-lua, from what little bob knows about him. but dragons are always greedy in the stories, aren’t they? ]
a video okay
[ in time, from his pov: a short clip of his fingers dragging through the cum on his chest, along the path of the short, dark hair that trails down his toned stomach. bob looses a breathy sound as he takes his flushed cock in hand again, so soon after the last time and the time before that. a hitch of his hips, despite the pleasure-pain. and still his hand slips lower, between the splay of his thighs.
[ And it's exactly what he asked for — what he demanded, because he's rarely ever polite about anything. He just manages to remain ambiguous at best, manages to make it tempting to those who have a higher tolerance than the bare minimum. And Da-Lua really is the kind of creature that people can only tolerate. At best. ]
Good.
When was the last time you felt the back of someone's throat?
[ bob hasn’t told anyone what happened that day, despite aching to do so. still, he would bet against da-lua viewing this the same way as anyone else in this life.
and so, ]
did you go to the pound? i took out like everyone there
[ nice and easy, except for the guy whose arm definitely won’t work like it used to. ]
i wanted to pull my friend out of a fight, and he wanted me pretty bad after kept telling me he could take more but he’s not like us i pushed him until he was a total wreck
[ and maybe it made him unspeakably turned on then and now, a thread pulled taut through the nausea and self-recrimination. maybe it felt like bucky throwing a punch with the full force of his superior strength, and bob catching it with the ease of a low ball. evidence of the change in him. no longer the boy in the gutter. the man at the top. ]
[ He decides then, that Bob isn't some kind of engineered god among humans. That he's a dragon that never got to learn what he was meant to be, how he was meant to be. Even a beastly pet like Da-Lua has rebellion that burns under all those restraints. Maybe this one man's skin doesn't have fire underneath, but magma; slow, hidden and waiting to erupt. Who is Da-Lua to deny him the favor? ]
You liked it, didn't you.
It's what you think of when you jerk off. What makes you come like nothing else.
[ Turns out the beast can use a camera: Bob gets a video of a top-down perspective, showing his stomach and his cock in someone's mouth. Easy to guess they're from Saltburnt's staff, opening their eyes to look at Da-Lua before he barks an order to keep them closed and their mouth wide open. He's grabbing their hair to keep them in place when they try to pull away, to push them back down when they succeed, struggling through a gag reflex. His body is human, cock and all, no scales or tail to help his partner along, pure selfishness in the recording. Tears and excess saliva add to the sheen of sweat on the person's skin, and yet they smile on their next break to breathe. The video cuts before Bob gets a chance to find out if Da-Lua came on their tongue or on their face. ]
[ the reward galvanises. irritates. loops back around to being stupidly attractive. ]
jesus
[ having been in that spot, on his knees and breathless for da-lua himself, only makes it worse. muscle memory of claws in his hair, trying and failing to cut his flesh. da-lua’s frustration like an intoxicant, scales rippling under his palm as bob shoved him back.
he strips his cock and figures da-lua knows he’s doing it. that he’s thinking about being the staff and being da-lua and watching da-lua take so can learn how to do it himself. of how da-lua had to use abilities hidden from view to match bob and vice versa, but he isn’t using them now. because there isn’t anybody like them here — we deserve more becomes you deserve more. and he knows this path ends in a nuclear ego trip but it starts with something equally familiar and sorely missed. a rush that hits like morphine, like adrenaline, like power. like hauling embry out of the pound and fucking his mouth after. it has him coming all over himself, hand working toward the wrong side of rough and all the better for it. arm slung across his face, as if anyone can see him. ]
you keep busy
[ the message of a man who definitely did not spend the intervening seconds to minutes jerking it. please respect his privacy at this time. ]
[ He can guess what takes Bob his while to send another text — and if he's wrong, he'll simply choose to believe he's right — grinning when that lands on his inbox. ]
I'm dangerous when I get bored.
[ His entertainment comes from starting fires in people, getting a reaction so he can smile back at his work. All the better when they do something, instead of just sticking to threats that go out like the end of a candle. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You should tell me more things, I think.
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like
i don’t know how many times i’ve got in me yet
but i know it’s a lot
especially if you’re there
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a short pause. ]
maybe i want you to
[ is it still taking, then? da-lua is possibly the only person thus far to give him a run for his money, with his abilities. ]
or at least for you to try
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[ still deemed fragile, despite being bulletproof — ]
you gonna treat me like that again?
you bailed on our rematch
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[ mfer fell asleep ]
We don't need a silly game for our rematch. But if you want an audience so bad, that can be arranged.
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think i’m better one on one
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Is that because you're shy or because you want me all to yourself?
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door one to make you smile
door two to get your dick wet
tough call
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Send me another. A video this time.
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a video
okay
[ in time, from his pov: a short clip of his fingers dragging through the cum on his chest, along the path of the short, dark hair that trails down his toned stomach. bob looses a breathy sound as he takes his flushed cock in hand again, so soon after the last time and the time before that. a hitch of his hips, despite the pleasure-pain. and still his hand slips lower, between the splay of his thighs.
— and that’s all. ]
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Good.
When was the last time you felt the back of someone's throat?
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but he is getting something out of this, with that spare praise skittering down his spine. ]
around about when you got here
[ tried it after the commune, with his powers back in play. ]
went a little too far
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cw refs to rough/unsafe sex
and so, ]
did you go to the pound?
i took out like
everyone there
[ nice and easy, except for the guy whose arm definitely won’t work like it used to. ]
i wanted to pull my friend out of a fight, and he wanted me pretty bad after
kept telling me he could take more
but he’s not like us
i pushed him until he was a total wreck
[ and maybe it made him unspeakably turned on then and now, a thread pulled taut through the nausea and self-recrimination. maybe it felt like bucky throwing a punch with the full force of his superior strength, and bob catching it with the ease of a low ball. evidence of the change in him. no longer the boy in the gutter. the man at the top. ]
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You liked it, didn't you.
It's what you think of when you jerk off. What makes you come like nothing else.
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so what if it is
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[ There's no universe where they are the same. Just don't tell Da-Lua's ego. ]
I think it says we deserve more. We've earned it. It's their turn to earn us.
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nothing fits quite right, all hand-me-downs. ]
how’s that work
you boss everyone around?
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Didn't I promise to give you something?
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you did
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There. You've earned it.
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jesus
[ having been in that spot, on his knees and breathless for da-lua himself, only makes it worse. muscle memory of claws in his hair, trying and failing to cut his flesh. da-lua’s frustration like an intoxicant, scales rippling under his palm as bob shoved him back.
he strips his cock and figures da-lua knows he’s doing it. that he’s thinking about being the staff and being da-lua and watching da-lua take so can learn how to do it himself. of how da-lua had to use abilities hidden from view to match bob and vice versa, but he isn’t using them now. because there isn’t anybody like them here — we deserve more becomes you deserve more. and he knows this path ends in a nuclear ego trip but it starts with something equally familiar and sorely missed. a rush that hits like morphine, like adrenaline, like power. like hauling embry out of the pound and fucking his mouth after. it has him coming all over himself, hand working toward the wrong side of rough and all the better for it. arm slung across his face, as if anyone can see him. ]
you keep busy
[ the message of a man who definitely did not spend the intervening seconds to minutes jerking it. please respect his privacy at this time. ]
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I'm dangerous when I get bored.
[ His entertainment comes from starting fires in people, getting a reaction so he can smile back at his work. All the better when they do something, instead of just sticking to threats that go out like the end of a candle. ]
Maybe I should be doing something else.
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