He has Luocha every single way that he can think of. Fucks him like that, backwards on the chair again, one hand stroking the man's cock in time with his rhythmic thrusts. Then one more time, something between sideways and missionary, so that Caelus can see the way Luocha's rapid breaths make his chest swell and tremble. He figures out a way to suspend the cuffs from the ceiling and then takes Luocha like that, with the man's weight fully held up on his arms and their chains. Caelus decides that he likes fucking Luocha on the suspension system; he doesn't have to put effort into thrusting into the man, can just push and pull him and watch his body glide, effortless, on the swing created by the chains. He fucks Luocha another four times just to figure out all the ways he can hang the blond from the ceiling, then lets the man down and cleans them both off with his own white shirt. Pauses to pour himself some tea; holds the cup to Luocha's lips and makes him drink some too, just to wet his throat. Just to soothe his throat before he slips his cock into Luocha's mouth and enjoys the moist heat from the tea in earnest, fucking Luocha's throat with wild and reckless abandon. Pulls him up once he's finished, sucks Luocha off in apology, drinks him down like his cum is as addictively sweet as his scent. Fucks him again. Sucks him off a second time. Fucks him again.
He does everything. Anything.
Debauched, deranged, desecrated.
Caelus really wouldn't stop at all, except for this one thing: eventually, mercifully, a voice crackles over the intercom in the room.
"Caelus," the voice says, in a low baritone, "I think you've made your point."
Caelus pauses.
The main reason he pauses is that he's pretty sure, he's reasonably sure, that the owner of the voice is not General Jing Yuan. But it sounds enough like Jing Yuan with a head cold and perhaps a mild hangover that the Trailblazer can't rule out the possibility that it is Jing Yuan.
He hopes it's not Jing Yuan, because that would be, well, rather embarrassing to say the least for literally everyone involved. The other problem, though, is that the voice addressed him with a weird sense of familiarity, and — well. Caelus doesn't want to think about it.
He looks down at Luocha, who has by now been used in every way, covered in cum both Caelus's and his own. His hair is a tangled mess, his cock seemingly reddened and darkened from how much it's been abused, his bruised flesh healing over into alabaster white again.
Gently, Caelus brushes some of his hair out of his face again. He thinks Luocha looks beautiful. ]
...Alright. [ He sighs, letting his hand drop. ] But you guys had better put his pants back together. Probably let him take a shower. It's not like he's going to run away anyway.
[ Caelus casts his eyes across the floor, taking mental inventory of his things and Luocha's things, all mingled together. His cum-stained shirt, that's over there — his coat and pants are on the floor — that's all he brought into the room, actually. His tea's gone cold.
The Trailblazer sighs again, thinly through his nose this time, and then turns to look at Luocha, who has by now been set back onto the chair to catch his breath. Patiently, warmly, Caelus leans in and kisses him on the crown of his head with all the patient affection of an older lover. ]
Guess this is goodbye, Luocha. If we're lucky, I guess we won't have to see each other again.
[ His smile seems to hurt himself more than it likely hurts Luocha. It's a bold thing to venture, after all he's done. ]
no subject
He has Luocha every single way that he can think of. Fucks him like that, backwards on the chair again, one hand stroking the man's cock in time with his rhythmic thrusts. Then one more time, something between sideways and missionary, so that Caelus can see the way Luocha's rapid breaths make his chest swell and tremble. He figures out a way to suspend the cuffs from the ceiling and then takes Luocha like that, with the man's weight fully held up on his arms and their chains. Caelus decides that he likes fucking Luocha on the suspension system; he doesn't have to put effort into thrusting into the man, can just push and pull him and watch his body glide, effortless, on the swing created by the chains. He fucks Luocha another four times just to figure out all the ways he can hang the blond from the ceiling, then lets the man down and cleans them both off with his own white shirt. Pauses to pour himself some tea; holds the cup to Luocha's lips and makes him drink some too, just to wet his throat. Just to soothe his throat before he slips his cock into Luocha's mouth and enjoys the moist heat from the tea in earnest, fucking Luocha's throat with wild and reckless abandon. Pulls him up once he's finished, sucks Luocha off in apology, drinks him down like his cum is as addictively sweet as his scent. Fucks him again. Sucks him off a second time. Fucks him again.
He does everything. Anything.
Debauched, deranged, desecrated.
Caelus really wouldn't stop at all, except for this one thing: eventually, mercifully, a voice crackles over the intercom in the room.
"Caelus," the voice says, in a low baritone, "I think you've made your point."
Caelus pauses.
The main reason he pauses is that he's pretty sure, he's reasonably sure, that the owner of the voice is not General Jing Yuan. But it sounds enough like Jing Yuan with a head cold and perhaps a mild hangover that the Trailblazer can't rule out the possibility that it is Jing Yuan.
He hopes it's not Jing Yuan, because that would be, well, rather embarrassing to say the least for literally everyone involved. The other problem, though, is that the voice addressed him with a weird sense of familiarity, and — well. Caelus doesn't want to think about it.
He looks down at Luocha, who has by now been used in every way, covered in cum both Caelus's and his own. His hair is a tangled mess, his cock seemingly reddened and darkened from how much it's been abused, his bruised flesh healing over into alabaster white again.
Gently, Caelus brushes some of his hair out of his face again. He thinks Luocha looks beautiful. ]
...Alright. [ He sighs, letting his hand drop. ] But you guys had better put his pants back together. Probably let him take a shower. It's not like he's going to run away anyway.
[ Caelus casts his eyes across the floor, taking mental inventory of his things and Luocha's things, all mingled together. His cum-stained shirt, that's over there — his coat and pants are on the floor — that's all he brought into the room, actually. His tea's gone cold.
The Trailblazer sighs again, thinly through his nose this time, and then turns to look at Luocha, who has by now been set back onto the chair to catch his breath. Patiently, warmly, Caelus leans in and kisses him on the crown of his head with all the patient affection of an older lover. ]
Guess this is goodbye, Luocha. If we're lucky, I guess we won't have to see each other again.
[ His smile seems to hurt himself more than it likely hurts Luocha. It's a bold thing to venture, after all he's done. ]