[Not enough, not enough, it's not enough. In some ways it's more degrading than the toying with his body, the way Caelus so serenely takes Luocha's spoken barbs in stride. The way it seems as if he's made himself numb even to pressed-upon bruises, pointed provocations, the Stellaron's greed a thorough insulation. To scrape for anything that could be grasped hard enough for a reaction, to find some fraction of a thing he might yet be able to control, even if only to direct a more desired level of animosity to himself--only to find nothing, to be denied, to be laughed at--perhaps Caelus is aware of how keenly frustrating it is, for Luocha. How very little the sting of those teeth in the flesh of his shoulder do to soothe it, pain without vehemence, a sharply pleasurable thing delivered to nerves with nothing offsetting it. Not enough anger--not enough spite--instead something placating, still too sickeningly indulgent. ...Caelus had already stated his reasons, of course. That he isn't doing this from a place of resentment or vengeance, not really. Which is what makes this worse--infinitely worse--moreso as time goes on, and Luocha finds that he cannot even invoke anything properly hateful here.
That he's apparently meant to weather a twisted affectionate humiliation, in this.
Honestly, in a way one has to hand it to the Trailblazer; as far as Luocha's concerned, he's managing to inflict a punishment far worse than anything the Ten-Lords have managed thus far...
There's still little human deviations and delays in the delivery, too, yet more ways in which this is all far too intimately grounding. The brief reprieve when Caelus releases his cock is clearly less than intentional, in that moment the boy takes to search his pockets, and in the slight pause that would be comically awkward in any other light Luocha is left wondering--detached, ever moreso, almost feverishly--if the boy even had any of this initially in mind when he first set foot in this cell. How much of this was planned, and how much of it was impulsive? Difficult to tell...and in the end it's hard to say whether having the answers would be better or worse, really.
Caelus tears his pants apart, and Luocha cannot help the half-startled half-disbelieving scoff that slips out.]
You--truly are that determined, to play the part of a beast--
[Maybe it was going to be phrased more like a question; even he's not quite sure. It really does feel as if composure's slipping ever further away, though, when the first mixture of feeling to accompany this is a visceral sense of how absurd this entire situation is...but also a muddle of something surprised-yet-piqued, in noting that was very good fabric the Trailblazer just ripped apart. With his hands. Those same hands now inexorably spreading apart Luocha's thighs, and being coated with something that looks far more like a hand lotion than lube brought along with intent, and--
Luocha's entrance is quite tight, yes. Not enough so to hinder the expensively silky quality of the lotion, but if Luocha has ever allowed himself to be penetrated in the past it was quite awhile ago; Caelus had never been permitted this opportunity in their previous encounters, at any rate. Either way, the sensation's foreign enough to punch a gasp from Luocha's lungs, his entire frame tensing against the sting and burn of being so methodically spread open. (In a way--already--there's an exhilaration even in this pain, isn't that terrible?) He's not able to do much else to hinder the intent press and glide of those strong fingers, probing and searching, until--]
Ah-- [It's not particularly difficult to tell, no, when Caelus finds his prostate. Pressure presses deliciously on a spot sending sparks right up his spine, and Luocha's thighs tremble as he twists futilely in the seat, trapped against that maddening touch, a choked sound spilling from his lips. Then again--again--a punishing pulse, as the Trailblazer hones on it--and Luocha's bitter resolve to bite back any pleasing noises is crumbling, a proper desperate whine pressing out of his throat of its own volition. Reflexive, inner walls clench hot and sweetly around Caelus's fingers as he pumps them in and out, the lotion-damp slick of the motion audible and obscene in the still air of the cell.
It's an ever-prettier sight for Caelus and the Ten-Lords alike to enjoy, no doubt, the way the merchant's hips shudder and lift into the sensation of their own volition; the way that lovely pink blush on pale skin spreads further, warmth growing warmer, flaxen blond hair spilling further over his shoulders as his head moves in tandem with gasping breath from parting lips; the way his cock twitches and drips with every agonizing stroke, flushed and trapped so very rudely in Caelus's restrictive grasp, still denied release.
He should--say something--some part of Luocha thinks, distantly, the part still desperate for some sort of fight in this, some way to deny the traitorous pleasure of it. Yet, with every sweet stroke against his prostate his head's drawing a blank, ever more consumed by the frustration that he can't rebuff this, can't influence this, can't--come--worked up by one of Caelus's hands only to be repeatedly restricted by the other. The boy must be enjoying this, Luocha's sure, because he knows he'd enjoy it--has enjoyed it--it really has been a closed circle, all of this, how neither of them seem able to truly untangle from those appealing things they'd so impulsively pursued in each other the first time. Despite his best efforts, there's a certain level of unfocus starting to cloud the sharpness in Luocha's eyes, even as he's still bitterly trying to watch Caelus's features, divine when he'll make his next cruel move.]
no subject
That he's apparently meant to weather a twisted affectionate humiliation, in this.
Honestly, in a way one has to hand it to the Trailblazer; as far as Luocha's concerned, he's managing to inflict a punishment far worse than anything the Ten-Lords have managed thus far...
There's still little human deviations and delays in the delivery, too, yet more ways in which this is all far too intimately grounding. The brief reprieve when Caelus releases his cock is clearly less than intentional, in that moment the boy takes to search his pockets, and in the slight pause that would be comically awkward in any other light Luocha is left wondering--detached, ever moreso, almost feverishly--if the boy even had any of this initially in mind when he first set foot in this cell. How much of this was planned, and how much of it was impulsive? Difficult to tell...and in the end it's hard to say whether having the answers would be better or worse, really.
Caelus tears his pants apart, and Luocha cannot help the half-startled half-disbelieving scoff that slips out.]
You--truly are that determined, to play the part of a beast--
[Maybe it was going to be phrased more like a question; even he's not quite sure. It really does feel as if composure's slipping ever further away, though, when the first mixture of feeling to accompany this is a visceral sense of how absurd this entire situation is...but also a muddle of something surprised-yet-piqued, in noting that was very good fabric the Trailblazer just ripped apart. With his hands. Those same hands now inexorably spreading apart Luocha's thighs, and being coated with something that looks far more like a hand lotion than lube brought along with intent, and--
Luocha's entrance is quite tight, yes. Not enough so to hinder the expensively silky quality of the lotion, but if Luocha has ever allowed himself to be penetrated in the past it was quite awhile ago; Caelus had never been permitted this opportunity in their previous encounters, at any rate. Either way, the sensation's foreign enough to punch a gasp from Luocha's lungs, his entire frame tensing against the sting and burn of being so methodically spread open. (In a way--already--there's an exhilaration even in this pain, isn't that terrible?) He's not able to do much else to hinder the intent press and glide of those strong fingers, probing and searching, until--]
Ah-- [It's not particularly difficult to tell, no, when Caelus finds his prostate. Pressure presses deliciously on a spot sending sparks right up his spine, and Luocha's thighs tremble as he twists futilely in the seat, trapped against that maddening touch, a choked sound spilling from his lips. Then again--again--a punishing pulse, as the Trailblazer hones on it--and Luocha's bitter resolve to bite back any pleasing noises is crumbling, a proper desperate whine pressing out of his throat of its own volition. Reflexive, inner walls clench hot and sweetly around Caelus's fingers as he pumps them in and out, the lotion-damp slick of the motion audible and obscene in the still air of the cell.
It's an ever-prettier sight for Caelus and the Ten-Lords alike to enjoy, no doubt, the way the merchant's hips shudder and lift into the sensation of their own volition; the way that lovely pink blush on pale skin spreads further, warmth growing warmer, flaxen blond hair spilling further over his shoulders as his head moves in tandem with gasping breath from parting lips; the way his cock twitches and drips with every agonizing stroke, flushed and trapped so very rudely in Caelus's restrictive grasp, still denied release.
He should--say something--some part of Luocha thinks, distantly, the part still desperate for some sort of fight in this, some way to deny the traitorous pleasure of it. Yet, with every sweet stroke against his prostate his head's drawing a blank, ever more consumed by the frustration that he can't rebuff this, can't influence this, can't--come--worked up by one of Caelus's hands only to be repeatedly restricted by the other. The boy must be enjoying this, Luocha's sure, because he knows he'd enjoy it--has enjoyed it--it really has been a closed circle, all of this, how neither of them seem able to truly untangle from those appealing things they'd so impulsively pursued in each other the first time. Despite his best efforts, there's a certain level of unfocus starting to cloud the sharpness in Luocha's eyes, even as he's still bitterly trying to watch Caelus's features, divine when he'll make his next cruel move.]