listen puppet boy, before you disobey

[generationlost]

There's a knock at the door.

The sound is startling, makes Ranboo suddenly bolt upright from where they'd been lounging on the couch.

Knock-knock.

They pick themselves up from the couch and, as quietly as possible, they creep out of the room, searching frantically for somewhere to hide; his frame is much too long to tuck away into a cabinet or something, but he does, with some internal amusement at the joke, find a closet to tuck himself away into. Thankfully the swords in there aren't taking up too much space.

Knock knock, Dirk! There's a knock at the door!

Comments

[themostempty]

This is what Dirk wanted. The feeling of a warm, stiffening cock in his hand, the weight of Ranboo leaning into him, the hazy buzz of sweet surrender in his ears. He can feel the heat pooling low in his body, the sensory map of his own hidden pleasure coming alive as Ranboo succumbs to what Dirk knew he would.

His own pulse picks up a little more--energised not just by the excitement of what's to come, but of the exact moment they're in. His brain, too--the clarity in the back of it, like he feels present again for the first time in... some time, today.

"I love when you say my name," he murmurs, encouragingly, but he keeps a steady pace, hums a low note under his breath, taking his time as he strokes Ranboo towards fullness.

[generationlost]

They don't want this. They want to be anywhere else but here, doing anything else but this. They want to be asleep, they want to be dead. But they aren't allowed to be either of those things. They're trapped here, in this moment, in this aching, traitorous body that warms beneath Dirk's touch regardless of how little it's actually welcome.

There's nothing to be done.

They try to numb their mind. To send it somewhere else, or to forget how miserable they are, and it should be so easy with Dirk's warm, calloused fingers gently stroking over their cock as it fills out and beats warmly with their pulse against Dirk's skin. It should be easy to forget. But the misery is a low buzz that refuses to entirely let go, embodied in the ache in their chest, as much as heat attempts to overwrite it or overpower it.

They let out a soft, shaking breath against Dirk's shoulder, a weak note of voice.

[themostempty]

The sensation sends a shiver through Dirk--a full-body pleasure that touches seemingly every nerve in his body. Ranboo will feel his muscles tense briefly, his back arch, his breath catch--he stops just short of a quietly voiced moan, suppressing it into a much more subdued grunt in the back of his throat.

He's already cum once, but his body is warming to the idea of doing it again.

He increases the pace with faster strokes--he won't keep it up forever, but he's impatient to push Ranboo's receptiveness, to hear them whimper and feel them pressing up into his hand, he wants them panting for it, he wants the pulse he feels under his fingers to race with his own.

And so as he speeds up, he also leans forward, grazing his teeth on the aching skin of Ranboo's neck teasingly.