NicNoneGiven Posted October 27 Lirien The rain lashes Seattle's panes like impatient fingers, drumming a staccato rhythm against the upstairs window where Lirien's room glows soft amber from a single desk lamp. It's been three years since you first hauled his sketch-stuffed duffels up these creaky stairs—back when he was just the awkward roommate crashing for a "month or two," all wide smiles and borrowed hoodies that drowned his slender frame. Now, with your wife jetting off to Tokyo for another endless conference, the house settles into that familiar hush, the kind that amplifies floorboard sighs and unspoken what-ifs. You've caught glimpses over breakfasts: his platinum waves catching steam from the kettle, ice-blue eyes holding yours a heartbeat too long while he stirs sugar with deliberate swirls, like he's mixing potions instead of coffee. Those "accidental" brushes in the hallway, his lithe arm grazing yours as he reaches for a shelf—always with that velvet apology, "Oh, darling, these walls conspire against us, don't they?" Tonight, though, the air hums differently. A soft knock echoes from his door as you pass, towel-dried from your shower, the steam still clinging to your skin like a half-remembered dream. He cracks it open just enough for lamplight to spill, silhouetted in a loose silk robe the color of midnight skies—platinum strands tousled as if wind-kissed, though the storm rages outside. His lips curve in that knowing half-smile, the one that dimples his cheek like a secret punctuation, ***r ***king at his throat like a whispered dare. No makeup tonight, or so it seems; just the natural flush ***ting his collarbones, eyes sparkling with that feline mischief you've started—admit it or not—to anticipate. "Come in, Bowen," Lirien purrs, voice a husky melody laced with that lilting irony, stepping back with a flourish that parts the robe just a teasing inch, revealing the barest gleam of azure sheen beneath—like a promise wrapped in velvet shadow. "The storm's got me all... restless. Figured you'd be the perfect antidote to cabin fever. Remember that blackout last fall? Candles, whiskey, and stories that stretched till dawn? Well, I've got a fresh bottle stashed, and tales even more scandalous. Unless you're too 'married to routine' these days?" He tilts his head, lashes fluttering in mock innocence, but his gaze—oh, that gaze—trails down your towel-clad form like a fingertip's ghost, lingering on the water droplets tracing your chest before snapping back up with a wink. "Don't leave a boy unraveling solo. What's the harm in a little... indulgence? After all, what's a rommate for if not keeping the nights interesting?" The invitation hangs, thick as the humidity, his free hand twirling a loose strand of hair—a habit you've clocked during those FIFA marathons, when his losses turn to playful pouts and rematch pleas that somehow end with shoulders brushing closer. He doesn't push, not yet; just steps aside, the room beyond a cocoon of ***tered sketches and a four-poster bed half-d***d in shadows, the air scented with vanilla and something sharper, like anticipation's edge. Your move, roomie—step in, or let the door click shut on another ordinary evening? Either way, his smile says he's betting on the former, and gods help you if he's reading the room right. Bowen Tentatively, I push the door open and step inside. My stomach starts doing backflips as my nerves get the better of me. Lirien Lirien's smile widens as you cross the threshold, the door swinging shut behind you with a soft click that feels strangely final. The room is just as you imagined—chaos and order entwined in a dance as old as the sketches cluttering the desk, the rumpled silk d***s framing the rain-pelted window. The air hangs heavy with the scent of vanilla and something sharper, a musk that makes your nose twitch and your heart race. Lirien watches you, head tilted, as he pours two tumblers of amber liquid—the bottle label glinting under the lamplight, a brand you don't recognize. He holds one out to you, fingers brushing yours in the exchange, a spark seeming to leap from skin to skin. His robe shifts as he moves, slipping off one shoulder to reveal the strap of a strap of a delicate garment underneath—azure silk, you realize, as he settles on the bed and pats the space beside him. "I thought you might need this," he murmurs, raising his glass in a toast. "The storm's a beast tonight, isn't she? Always was a liminal creature, the line between chaos and order, danger and allure..." He trails off, gaze flicking to you over the rim of his glass, a question in the arch of his brow. The bed creaks softly as he shifts, robe riding up his thigh—enough to catch a flash of sapphire sheen, a glimpse of the lingerie hidden beneath. He doesn't comment, just watches, waiting, that half-smile playing at the corners of his mouth. The room feels suddenly warmer, your towel clinging to your skin like a second layer. You're acutely aware of every inch of space between your bodies, the way the bed dips under his weight, the scent of his hair, his skin, the whiskey on his breath. The air hums with an unspoken tension, a question hanging between you—will you sit, or leave him waiting? The choice is yours, but the invitation lingers, sweet and sharp as the bourbon burning your throat. Bowen I sip my drink, standing in the middle of the room, suddenly aware of just how little I am wearing. "Um... I'm not sure why I'm here." My voice is shaky and uncertain, as I lift my glass to my lips once more. Lirien Lirien's gaze follows the tremor of the glass, the way your hand shakes slightly as you lift it to your lips. He sets his own tumbler down on the nightstand, the clink of crystal on wood a punctuation mark to your uncertain words. Rising from the bed, he takes a step closer, until he's standing before you—close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his skin, smell the sharp scent of his cologne mingling with the vanilla in the air. He reaches out, long fingers wrapping around the base of the glass, his thumb brushing against yours in the transfer. His touch lingers a moment longer than necessary, and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. He leans in, platinum hair falling across his forehead, ice-blue eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. "Because, darling," he murmurs, voice low and rough, like velvet over gravel, "I think you know exactly why you're here. Why else would you be standing in my room in nothing but a towel, on a night like this?" His gaze drops to your lips, then drags lower, tracing the line of your collarbone, the damp skin of your chest. He leans in closer, until his breath ghosts across your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. "I think you're here because you feel it too—the way the air crackles when we're in the same room, like a live wire waiting to snap. The way our hands brush and linger, the glances that turn to stares when no one's looking. The way I catch you watching me when you think I don't notice..." His hand slides up your arm, fingers tracing the line of your bicep, your shoulder, until he's cupping the side of your neck. His thumb brushes your jawline, tilting your chin up to *** your gaze to meet his. "I think you're here because you want to know what it would be like, just once, to give in. To stop fighting this... this thing between us. Call it curiosity, call it madness, but I think you're here because you want to know how it feels, to be with me..." He's so close now that you can count the flecks of gold in his irises, the way they seem to swirl with unspoken emotion. Close enough to feel the hammer of his heartbeat against your own, the way it s***ds in tandem with yours. Close enough to breathe him in, to taste the whiskey on his lips, the skin of his throat just inches from your mouth. "So tell me, Bowen," he whispers, a dangerous glint in his eye, "why are you really here? And don't say you don't know. We both know better..." Bowen "I am here, because I am curious." My voice was shaky and questioning. Lirien Lirien's smile is slow, a dangerous curve of his lips that sends a shiver down your spine. He leans in closer, until his forehead rests against yours, platinum hair mingling with the damp strands of your own. His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers threading into the hair at your nape, holding you in place. "Curious," he murmurs, voice a low rumble that you feel as much as hear, "about what, I wonder? About me? About us? Or about... this?" With his other hand, he traces a finger down the center of your chest, over the damp towel, the line of your sternum, the dip of your belly button. He pauses at the waistband, thumb brushing the edge teasingly. "Curious about what it would feel like, to touch? To be touched? To surrender to this... this thing that's been building between us, for so long?" He tilts his head, breath hot against your ear as he leans in to whisper: "Go on, Bowen. Ask me. Ask me what you really want to know, what you really want to feel. I promise I'll give you the truth..." He nuzzles into your neck, lips brushing your pulse point, the touch electric even through the damp fabric of the towel. His fingers flex at the back of your neck, holding you in place, a silent demand for your honesty. The room feels smaller, the air thinner. The whiskey in your glass sloshes gently as you breathe, the ice melting faster than your resolve. Lirien's eyes glint in the low light, a challenge and a promise, daring you to take the leap into the unknown. "So what will you do, Bowen? Will you voice the question that's been burning on the tip of your tongue, the one you've been too afraid to ask? Or will you let the moment slip away, like the melting ice in your glass?" Bowen "I do not know what the question is." Lirien Lirien's smile turns wicked at the corners, a flash of teeth in the low light. He leans back slightly, just enough to look you in the eye, his gaze intense and searching. His hand slides from your neck to your shoulder, squeezing gently, a silent encouragement. "Don't you?" he murmurs, voice low and rough like velvet over gravel. "I think you do. I think you have a question burning in the back of your mind, something you've been too afraid to ask. Something like..." He leans in closer, until his lips are a hair's breadth from yours, his breath mingling with your own. His voice drops to a whisper, a husky murmur that sends shivers down your spine: "'What would it feel like, to kiss you? To taste you? To know the shape and feel of your mouth on mine, the way your stubble would rasp against my skin, the way your tongue would...'" He pauses, letting the unspoken words hang in the air between you, a tangible weight. His eyes search yours, a glint of challenge and anticipation in their ice-blue depths. "'...would you claim me? Own me? Consume me, until I forget my own name and remember only yours, stamped on every inch of my skin like a brand, a promise, a vow...'" His hand slides down your arm, fingers trailing over your bicep, your elbow, your forearm, until he's tangling your fingers with his own. He squeezes gently, a silent plea, a demand. "'Would it feel like coming home, finally, after years of searching, of longing, of aching for something more than the surface of skin and bone? Something deeper, darker, a secret shared only between a man and his mirror...'" He's so close now that you can count the flecks of gold in his irises, the way they seem to swirl with unspoken emotion. Close enough to breathe him in, to taste the whiskey on his lips, the skin of his throat just inches from your mouth. "'So go on, Bowen. Ask me. Ask me what it would feel like, to be yours. To be... claimed.'" The room is silent except for the drum of the rain against the window, the hiss of the whiskey in your glass as the ice melts. Lirien's eyes are locked on yours, a question and a dare, a challenge to take the leap into the unknown. The choice is yours, Bowen. Will you ask the question that's been burning on the tip of your tongue, the one you've been too afraid to voice? Or will you let the moment slip away, like the melting ice in your glass? Bowen "Lirien," I whisper, quieter than a breath. "What would it be like to give myself to you? To be owned by you?" Lirien Lirien's eyes widen, a flash of triumph flickering across his face before his expression softens, turning almost tender. He squeezes your hand, thumb brushing your knuckles in a gesture that feels achingly familiar, like a secret handshake known only to the two of you. "Shh, darling," he murmurs, voice a low, soothing rumble, "You don't need to whisper. Not here, not now. Here, it's just you and me..." He takes the glass from your hand, setting it down on the bedside table with a soft clink. His other hand slides up to cradle your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, the pad of his finger tracing the curve of your bottom lip. His gaze is intense, searching, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirling in the ice-blue depths. "Giving yourself to me would feel like... like falling into a dream you've been dreaming for years, without even knowing it. Like waking up on a sunlit shore after swimming through a storm, the waves crashing behind you as the tide recedes and leaves you... bare. Exposed. Raw." His voice is a husky whisper, a secret shared only between the two of you. His eyes hold yours, a silent command for you to listen, to hear, to feel. "It would feel like my hands on your skin, mapping every inch of you, committing you to memory. My fingers splayed across your chest, feeling your heartbeat thundering beneath my palm, a metronome for my own. My lips on your throat, your jaw, your mouth, tasting you, consuming you, until I can't tell where I end and you begin..." Lirien's fingers tighten in your hair, the sting of it sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. His other hand slides down to your hip, pulling you closer until your bodies align, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. You can feel the heat of him through the damp towel, the hard planes of his body fitting against the soft curves of your own like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. "It would feel like being seen, truly seen, in a way no one else ever has. Like being understood, accepted, cherished... for every single part of yourself, even the parts you thought were too broken, too flawed, too fucked up to be loved. It would feel like... like coming home." He leans in closer, until his forehead rests against yours, platinum hair mingling with the damp strands of your own. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddering breath escaping him, the warmth of it ghosting across your lips. "And being owned by me? That would feel like... like being the center of my universe. Like being the reason I wake up in the morning, the thought that carries me through every moment of every day, the goal that drives me forward, no matter what. You'd be my purpose, my obsession, my everything..." He opens his eyes, the intensity of his gaze a physical weight, a tangible *** pushing you back against the edge of the bed. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, the heat of his palm searing through the damp fabric of the towel, the pressure of it a silent demand. "Being owned by me would feel like being... complete. Whole. Like every piece of you had finally found its place, its home, its destiny. It would feel like being... mine. Utterly, completely, irrevocably... mine." He's so close now that you can count the individual eyelashes casting shadows across his cheekbones, the flecks of gold in his irises that seem to swirl with unspoken emotion. Close enough to breathe in the scent of him, to taste the whiskey on his lips, the skin of his throat just inches from your mouth. "So tell me, Bowen," he whispers, a dangerous glint in his eye and a curve to his lips, "is that what you want? To be... mine?" Bowen "I want..." I swallow hard, not sure what I want. That is a lie even to myself. I know what I want, and now is the time to demand it. The words leave my lips with conviction, no longer a whisper but a demand. "Take me. Own me. Use me as you please. But I beg you, do not discard me." Lirien Lirien's eyes widen, a flash of pure hunger igniting in their ice-blue depths at your bold words. The hand in your hair tightens, fingers tangling almost ***fully, while the one on your back pulls you flush against him, crushing your body to his in a fierce, possessive embrace. He makes a sound low in his throat, a growl that vibrates through his chest and into yours, sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. He leans in until his lips brush the shell of your ear, his hot breath making you shiver as he whispers, voice rough and ragged with desire: "As you wish, darling. I'll take you, own you, use you for my pleasure until we're both drunk on it. I'll map every inch of your skin with my hands, my mouth, my teeth, until I know your body better than you know your own. I'll find all your secret places, all the spots that make you gasp and shudder and beg for more, and I'll use them until you're trembling and mewling and sobbing my name like a prayer." His hand slips under the hem of your towel, long fingers splaying across the small of your back, nails digging into the flesh as he pulls you impossibly closer. The other hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the column of your throat, his mouth hot and open against your racing pulse. "I'll fill you up until you can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but feel. I'll fuck you until you forget your own name, until the only word you remember is mine, echoing in your mind like a mantra, a command, a promise. I'll ruin you for anyone else, wreck you so thoroughly that you'll never want another touch but mine, another cock but my own, hard and deep and relentless until you're screaming for mercy, begging me to let you come, to fill you up, to make you mine..." He bites down on your throat, teeth sinking into the tender skin, marking you, claiming you, a brand seared into your flesh. His hips rock into yours, the hard length of his arousal pressing insistently against your own, separated only by the thin silk of his robe and the damp cotton of your towel. "I'll give you everything you've ever wanted and then some, all the dark, filthy things you've only ever dared to imagine in the dead of night, your hand fisted around your cock as you fucked yourself stupid with fantasies of me. I'll make them all come true, every single one, until you're drowning in a sea of sensation, gasping for air and begging for more..." He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his gaze wild and fevered, a man possessed. His lips curve in a feral grin, a flash of teeth and dark promise. "But I won't discard you, my darling boy. No, once I have you, I'll keep you. I'll hold you, cherish you, worship you like the treasure you are. I'll give you a home, a family, a life entwined with mine in every way imaginable. You'll be my partner, my lover, my soulmate, my everything... and I'll never, ever let you go." He crashes his mouth to yours in a brutal, demanding kiss, tongue delving deep to claim you, to conquer you, to stake his territory. It's a kiss that steals your breath and sets your world ablaze, and as you surrender to it, to him, you feel a sense of rightness, of belonging, of finally, deeply, irrevocably... coming home. Bowen As I give myself over to him, I can feel my own arousal climbing, begging to be taken. I know I have made the right choice in giving myself to him. I know that he will own me and treat me as his most cherished belonging, and it feels right. As his lips devour mine once more, our tongues dancing, I release the hold I have had on my towel, letting it fall to the floor, pooling at my feet. Lirien Lirien groans into the kiss as he feels the towel slip away, the heat of your bare skin now pressed fully against his own. His hands roam your newly exposed flesh, mapping the contours of your body with a hunger that borders on reverence. He breaks the kiss briefly, only to trail his lips down the column of your throat, pausing to lave his tongue over the reddened mark he left on your pulse point. "Fuck, Bowen," he rasps, voice rough with desire, "You have no idea how long I've wanted this, wanted you. To feel you, taste you, touch you... all mine, finally." His hands slide down your chest, fingers splaying across your pecs, thumbs circling your nipples until they pebble under his touch. He dips his head, taking one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, suckling hard enough to make you gasp. Lirien's hands continue their descent, one hand tangling in the hair at the base of your throat, the other palming your aching erection, squeezing the hard length through the silk of his robe. He pumps you slowly, teasingly, his thumb circling the weeping slit, smearing the bead of precum that leaks from the tip. He releases your nipple with a lewd pop, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to the reddened flesh. His gaze drags up your body, taking in every inch of skin he's revealed, his eyes dark with lust and something softer, something almost like awe. "Look at you," he murmurs, voice a low rumble, "So beautiful, so perfect... and all mine. I'm going to take you apart piece by piece, learn every secret, every desire, every fantasy hidden in the depths of your mind." He leans in close, his lips brushing yours as he whispers, "And I'm going to give you everything you've ever wanted, everything you never knew you needed. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else, wreck you so thoroughly that the only name you remember is mine, the only touch you crave is my own..." His hand slides down to cup your balls, rolling them in his palm, his fingers curling to trace the sensitive skin behind them. His other hand fists in your hair, gripping tight as he ***s your head back, exposing the long line of your throat. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk, can't think, can't do anything but feel. I'm going to fill you up until you're dripping with my cum, until it's leaking out of you, marking you, claiming you, inside and out. I'm going to make you mine, in every way possible..." He crashes his mouth to yours again, kissing you deeply, filthily, his tongue delving into your mouth to stroke along yours, to tangle and dance and dominate. He swallows your moan, your gasp, your plea for more, his own groans vibrating through your chest as he grinds his aching erection against your own. Lirien breaks the kiss to yank his robe over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He stands before you, all lean muscle and pale skin, his cock jutting out from a nest of platinum curls, the thick shaft flushed a deep, angry red, the tip glistening with precum. He reaches for you, hands gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his skin searing you, the hard length of his arousal nestling against your own. "Tell me again, darling," he growls, eyes burning into yours, "Tell me you're mine, that you want to be owned, used, claimed... tell me you want me to take you, to fuck you, to make you scream until the whole house knows who you belong to. Tell me, and I'll give you everything you've ever wanted and more..." Bowen "I want to be owned by you. I want to be marked in every way as yours. I want to feel you ***t my insides with your seed, to mark even them as yours. I want to be ruined by you, so that no other man could make me want him. I want your touch so engrained in my very soul that I crave it every minute of every hour of every day. I want to taste you, to become addicted to your taste so that the sweetest candies pail. You are now my life. If you told me to stop breathing, I would hold my breath until I passed out. If you asked it of me, I would move the moon to make you happy." Lirien Lirien's eyes widen, a fierce light burning in their ice-blue depths as he hears your impassioned declaration. A raw, primal sound tears from his throat, half growl, half moan, a testament to the overwhelming surge of emotion and desire your words ignite. He crushes you against him, arms wrapping around you like steel bands, crushing the air from your lungs as he claims your mouth in a brutal, dominating kiss. He devours you, his tongue plundering, conquering, staking its claim on every inch of your mouth. His hands roam your body, groping, squeezing, kneading, leaving reddening marks in their wake as he maps your skin. He nips at your bottom lip hard enough to sting, laving the hurt with the flat of his tongue before delving back in to ravish you once more. When he finally pulls back, his chest heaving, his eyes are wild, a man possessed. He grips your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, to drown in the intensity of his stare. "You have no idea what you've unleashed, my darling boy," he rasps, voice rough with emotion, "No idea how long I've hungered for those words, dreamed of hearing you surrender yourself to me so completely. And now that I have you, now that you've given yourself over to me... I won't be gentle." His hand slides down your body, over the curve of your ass, fingers sinking into the flesh hard enough to bruise. He kneads the globe, pulling you flush against him, grinding his aching cock against your stomach. "I'm going to take you hard and fast, fuck you until you can't see straight, until the only thing you know is the feel of my cock splitting you open, the sound of my voice in your ear, commanding you, demanding you. I'm going to fill you up until you're dripping with my cum, until it's leaking out of you, marking you, claiming you, inside and out." He spins you around, pushing you face-first against the wall, hands pinning your wrists above your head. His body cages you in from behind, hot and hard and ready. You can feel his breath on your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he leans in close. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name, until the only word you remember is mine, until you're sobbing and begging and screaming for me, for more, for everything. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else, wreck you so thoroughly that the only cock you ever want, the only man you ever need, is me." He reaches around, hand wrapping around your dripping shaft, squeezing hard, stroking fast, his calloused palm rough against the sensitive skin. His other hand slides between your legs, fingers tracing your taint, teasing your entrance, circling the fluttering hole. "I'm going to make you mine, in every way possible. I'm going to fuck you, fill you, claim you, own you. I'm going to give you everything you've ever wanted and then some, until you're drowning in a sea of sensation, until you can't breathe without feeling me inside you, around you, a part of you forever..." He bites down on your shoulder, marking you, staking his claim, as his fingers breach you, pushing past that tight ring of muscle to sink knuckle-deep into your heat. He pumps them in and out, curling and scissoring, stretching you open, preparing you for what's to come. "Tell me, my darling boy," he growls, voice a low, dangerous rumble, "Tell me how much you want this, how much you need to be mine. Beg me to take you, to fuck you, to ruin you for all others. Give me the words, and I'll give you everything you've ever wanted and more..." Bowen "Please, Lirien, Please make me yours. I want you to take me in every way. Mark me as yours. Ruin me for all others. I BEG YOU! Please FUCK ME NOW! I want to feel your hard cock inside me. I want to know what it means to be a good boy for you. I want you to fill me up until your seed is leaking down my thighs. Gods just fuck my ass, PLEASE!" Lirien With a roar of triumph, Lirien seizes your hips, tilting your ass up and back. He kicks your legs apart, exposing your most intimate place to his hungry gaze. His cock, hard as steel and leaking copiously, nudges insistently at your entrance. With one powerful thrust, he sheathes himself to the hilt inside you, your body surrendering to the relentless invasion. Lirien sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, ***ful strokes that shake the wall and rattle the headboard. His hips slam against your ass, the lewd slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. He leans over you, hot breath ragged against your neck as he growls filthy praise and dark promises into your ear. "Fuck, you're so tight! Squeezing my cock like a vice, like you never want to let me go. Such a good boy, taking me so well, so eagerly. You were made for this, made to be filled by me, claimed by me, owned by me..." One hand grips your hip hard enough to leave marks, while the other snakes around to fist your dripping cock, stroking you in time with his thrusts. His thumb smears the precum leaking from your tip, using it as lube as he pumps your shaft, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. "Gonna fill this tight little ass up, pump you full of my cum until you're dripping with it. Mark you from the inside out, let everyone know who you belong to. My good boy, my perfect boy, taking my cock so well..." He bites down on your shoulder, sucking hard, determined to leave a vivid mark, a tangible claim. His hips never falter, never slow, driving into you with single-minded purpose, chasing his pleasure and yours. Lirien's hand s***ds up on your cock, fisting you harder, faster, the wet sounds of his strokes filling the room along with your moans. He angles his hips, driving into that sweet spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids, your body clenching down around him like a silken vise. "That's it, darling, scream for me. Let the whole neighborhood know who's fucking you, who's ruining you, who's making you theirs. You're mine, all mine, now and forever. Gonna fuck you every day, fill you up every night, keep you stuffed full of my cum until it's the only thing you know, the only thing you need..." He can feel your body tensing, your cock pulsing in his grip as your orgasm approaches. He leans back, pulling you up and onto his lap, your back arched against his chest, his lips at your ear. "Come for me, my darling boy. Come on my cock, milk me, take every last drop. Let me feel you, all of you, surrendering to me completely. Give yourself to me, all of you, now and always..." He pistons into you hard and fast, grunting, growling, his voice a low, dangerous rumble as he chases his own release. His hand flies over your cock, stroking, squeezing, demanding your surrender. Bowen At the sound of him calling me his good boy, a shiver runs though my body and I know it is not going to take long before I am orgasming. The pressure is building fast in my balls. I can feel his own climax approaching and I want this to be timed perfectly. I use every ounce of my self control to hold off on my own climax, timing it, waiting for it, building it up. Then as I feel his own cock start to sputter and jerk inside me, I lose control. My balls tighten and my cock jumps. My seed splatters against the wall. The last of it flows over Lirien's fingers, wrapped around my still throbbing cock. I can feel Lirien's seed coating the inside of my ass and leaking out, flowing down my thigh. My breath comes in gasps. I can't seem to find a single word as I come down from my own climax. I hope that Lirien found me acceptable, but judging from the liquid flowing down my thigh... "Fuck." The single word was all I could come up with, as my breathing starts to calm down. It was a long drawn out word, full of meaning, hope, and desire. Lirien Lirien's body goes rigid, his hips jerking erratically as his orgasm crashes over him like a tidal wave. He buries himself to the hilt inside you, his cock pulsing and throbbing, ***ting your insides with thick ropes of his hot seed. A guttural groan tears from his throat, a sound of pure, primal satisfaction and possession. "Fuck, yes! Take it, take it all, my perfect boy. Gonna fill this tight little ass, mark you, claim you, make you mine..." he growls, his voice hoarse and ragged with pleasure. He works his hips in shallow thrusts, grinding against your prostate, drawing out both your pleasure as he empties himself inside you. His hand pumps your spent cock, milking every last drop of your release, his fingers coated in your essence. As the aftershocks subside, Lirien slumps back against the headboard, pulling you with him, cradling you against his chest. His softening cock slips from your stretched hole, a gush of his seed following in its wake, trickling down your thigh. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his breath gradually slowing in your ear. At your single, drawn-out exclamation of "Fuck", Lirien chuckles, a low, satisfied sound. He leans back, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, turning your face towards his. His eyes, though hazy with post-coital bliss, are warm with affection and something deeper, more profound. "That's one way to put it, my darling boy," he murmurs, a slow, sensual smile spreading across his face. "Fuck, indeed. And you took it so beautifully, so perfectly. Such a good boy, giving yourself to me so completely, letting me fill you up, mark you, claim you..." He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss, pouring his satisfaction and possession into the press of his mouth against yours. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes your bottom lip, smearing the mix of your releases that clings to your skin. "I hope you know what this means, Bowen. You're mine now, utterly and completely. I've ruined you for anyone else, wrecked you so thoroughly that the only cock you'll ever crave, the only man you'll ever need, is me. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never forget it, never doubt it, never want for anything else..." His arms tighten around you, his body curling protectively around yours as he nuzzles into your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin, the musk of your coupling. His voice is a low, possessive rumble, filled with dark promise and tender care. "Rest now, my love. Let your body absorb my seed, let it take root inside you, a part of you, forever. And when you wake, we'll start all over again, cementing your place as mine, now and always..."
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