[Oneshot]Dark alley
Title: Dark alley
Chapter: 1/1
Fandom: Original
Language: English
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: D/s, fingering, breath-play, humiliation, exhibitionism
Pairings: M/m
Note: written to satisfy myxstorie's need for kink~
He groaned as he felt the other on him, or rather behind him, strong hands caressing him, stroking and rubbing him. He could only mewl, leaning onto the wall with his arms for support as he was caressed over his clothes. He knew that there were people watching, surely someone had settled close to the dark back alley behind the club, was maybe even standing close. But with the way his master's hands stroked his back and sides he couldn't care less. He pushed back into the hands, mewling and trembling, eyes half shut...the brick-wall in front of him wasn't interesting anyways.
"Take off your clothes", came the rough voice from behind and he whimpered, blushing furiously.
"What?", he exclaimed, going perfectly still before the hand squeezed his crotch, making him whimper.
"I said take them off, boy", the master ordered again, making it clear that any hesitation now woul lead to punishment. So as soon as the hands began to draw back his own were on his clothes, pulling off the shirt and dropping it to the floor before undoing his pants and pushing them down. He was painfully aware of the feeling of his own hands on his skin, of the slender fingers that could not satisfy him, could not compete with those of his master's, with the strong, large hands that now gripped his hips and neck, pushing him closer to the wall. Once again all thought and humiliation was washed away by strong hands that rubbed and groped him. There was little gentleness in the touches, but he didn't need those. Moaning he pushed back when the hand left his ass only to return slick with spit. He groaned and trembled, bracing himself on the wall and letting his eyes fall shut as he returned to the feel of his master's hands. Nothing else was touching him, nothing but the brick-wall in front of him, the gravel under him and then hands on him, nothing to drag his focus away from strong fingers. The hand, that had been on his neck, was currently caressing his shoulders and sides, making him purr and shift eagerly, tremors running through his body because the hand on his ass was kneading and teasing, fingers pushing into him to make him moan and lean forward more, resting his forehead on his folded arms so he could push his ass out more.
"little slut", his master spat, but he didn't care. He loved the rough treatment, the way the other man would have him strip, push him against a wall and ravage him, posess him in a way he could never be posessed in his everyday life. He moaned eagerly under strong hands and rough fingers that pushed into him, spread him and made him push back. The hand on his back moved up again and he whimpered in anticipation. He was close, he knew it, his arousal evident between his legs as he was fucked and groped so openly, making him moan and buck under the touch. It wouldn't take much to make him come and when he felt the other move closer to him he mewed softly, trying to coax the other into action. Still he gasped and fought to inhale deeply when the hand closed on his throat right over the collar, reducing his air-supply right when the fingers began rubbing his prostate.
"ple- please", he gasped and whimpered out, fighting for breath and trashing even as arousal raced hot in his veigns, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He fought it, knowing he needed permission, knowing he'd hurt tonight if he let go without it. But it felt so good, so heavenly, so hot. He moaned and whimpered as much as possible, drawing labored breathes that couldn't satisfy his body's need for air, making his vision blurr. He strained and trembled, pushing back into both hands, needing, wanting, yearning. And just when he couldn't keep it contained any more he heard the rough voice of his master, dark and so obviously from a lower-class person it was like a slap in the face.
"Come, slut", the master growled and the boy obeyed easily, the tightening on his neck muffling his scream as he coated the wall and floor with his release. Once he was done his master let go of him and the boy was breathing hard, trying to regain his breath while holding onto the wall for support.
"Get dressed, boy", the voice ordered and he could feel the contempt in them as he slid to the floor and struggled to get dressed. When he stood and turned again he was alone. He was always alone, the master leaving him to go home. He never fucked him, never touched him with more than his hands, never took him home, never gave him what he wanted. And just like the last time he curled up on the floor and waited until the daylight came and forced him to go back to the life he didn't want to lead.
Chapter: 1/1
Fandom: Original
Language: English
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: D/s, fingering, breath-play, humiliation, exhibitionism
Pairings: M/m
Note: written to satisfy myxstorie's need for kink~
He groaned as he felt the other on him, or rather behind him, strong hands caressing him, stroking and rubbing him. He could only mewl, leaning onto the wall with his arms for support as he was caressed over his clothes. He knew that there were people watching, surely someone had settled close to the dark back alley behind the club, was maybe even standing close. But with the way his master's hands stroked his back and sides he couldn't care less. He pushed back into the hands, mewling and trembling, eyes half shut...the brick-wall in front of him wasn't interesting anyways.
"Take off your clothes", came the rough voice from behind and he whimpered, blushing furiously.
"What?", he exclaimed, going perfectly still before the hand squeezed his crotch, making him whimper.
"I said take them off, boy", the master ordered again, making it clear that any hesitation now woul lead to punishment. So as soon as the hands began to draw back his own were on his clothes, pulling off the shirt and dropping it to the floor before undoing his pants and pushing them down. He was painfully aware of the feeling of his own hands on his skin, of the slender fingers that could not satisfy him, could not compete with those of his master's, with the strong, large hands that now gripped his hips and neck, pushing him closer to the wall. Once again all thought and humiliation was washed away by strong hands that rubbed and groped him. There was little gentleness in the touches, but he didn't need those. Moaning he pushed back when the hand left his ass only to return slick with spit. He groaned and trembled, bracing himself on the wall and letting his eyes fall shut as he returned to the feel of his master's hands. Nothing else was touching him, nothing but the brick-wall in front of him, the gravel under him and then hands on him, nothing to drag his focus away from strong fingers. The hand, that had been on his neck, was currently caressing his shoulders and sides, making him purr and shift eagerly, tremors running through his body because the hand on his ass was kneading and teasing, fingers pushing into him to make him moan and lean forward more, resting his forehead on his folded arms so he could push his ass out more.
"little slut", his master spat, but he didn't care. He loved the rough treatment, the way the other man would have him strip, push him against a wall and ravage him, posess him in a way he could never be posessed in his everyday life. He moaned eagerly under strong hands and rough fingers that pushed into him, spread him and made him push back. The hand on his back moved up again and he whimpered in anticipation. He was close, he knew it, his arousal evident between his legs as he was fucked and groped so openly, making him moan and buck under the touch. It wouldn't take much to make him come and when he felt the other move closer to him he mewed softly, trying to coax the other into action. Still he gasped and fought to inhale deeply when the hand closed on his throat right over the collar, reducing his air-supply right when the fingers began rubbing his prostate.
"ple- please", he gasped and whimpered out, fighting for breath and trashing even as arousal raced hot in his veigns, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He fought it, knowing he needed permission, knowing he'd hurt tonight if he let go without it. But it felt so good, so heavenly, so hot. He moaned and whimpered as much as possible, drawing labored breathes that couldn't satisfy his body's need for air, making his vision blurr. He strained and trembled, pushing back into both hands, needing, wanting, yearning. And just when he couldn't keep it contained any more he heard the rough voice of his master, dark and so obviously from a lower-class person it was like a slap in the face.
"Come, slut", the master growled and the boy obeyed easily, the tightening on his neck muffling his scream as he coated the wall and floor with his release. Once he was done his master let go of him and the boy was breathing hard, trying to regain his breath while holding onto the wall for support.
"Get dressed, boy", the voice ordered and he could feel the contempt in them as he slid to the floor and struggled to get dressed. When he stood and turned again he was alone. He was always alone, the master leaving him to go home. He never fucked him, never touched him with more than his hands, never took him home, never gave him what he wanted. And just like the last time he curled up on the floor and waited until the daylight came and forced him to go back to the life he didn't want to lead.