As he'd thought, then. Cowardice. Tomoe's pride did not allow for anything less than sincerity. He meant what he said. Although probably unintended, it gave him a nice ego boost. Whoever had talked a big game but walked away missed out on the look in Mo Ran's eyes, the erotic aura radiating off his skin. Risk paid off. Mo Ran fucking him until exhaustion was a very sweet reward.
That glint of wickedness was lovely. It suited the angles of Mo Ran's face and the villainous locks still scented with hot water. It dawned on him that maybe he'd wanted to be offered that drink just so he could memorize Mo Ran's beauty while he still had a mind capable of thinking of something besides pleasure. He hadn't wanted to slow down before he'd seen Mo Ran for the first time, after all. Barely dressed, stray water droplets clinging to his skin. The perfect collaboration of muscle and bone. Interesting. Tomoe didn't surprise himself very often. So, he was attracted to the darkness inside the other man and his outside appearance. It wasn't always like that.
Fortune upon fortune.
Tomoe's lip responds when touched, bouncing a little - he really is soft with a mouth that was sensitive. It made his breath quicken and heart pump faster. Just a taste of the power and exploitation that laid in wait for him. Tomoe's gaze wandered greedily over Mo Ran's face, his hand and forearm, his shoulder and exposed clavicle. What a beautiful man.
Tomoe's throat pulses when that hand touches him. He isn't...scared. Maybe he should be. Maybe he should be wide-eyed and intimidated. Mostly, he's fascinated by Mo Ran's behaviour. The thickening bulge, barely concealed, between his legs. A cock waiting to spasms its load down the throat being confined.
"No." Tomoe decided right then. He wouldn't bother with a safe word. It was meaningless. Either Mo Ran understood him or he didn't. Tomoe wanted to be understood - part of that need was why he did this. Threw himself into a beast's jaws just to find out if he'd be torn apart. "Don't stop."
On cue, Mo Ran glances down at his hands, eyeing the black gloves Tomoe's still wearing. There's a story there, Mo Ran is sure, and he's tempted to ask about it, wondering if Tomoe would actually tell him. But there are more pressing matters at hand. Namely, sex. And Mo Ran is but a simple man, driven by his desires. Put a plate of food in front of him and he'll eat; put a hot boy in front of him and he'll fuck.
So maybe later, if he can remember to ask. Get the story out of his while they're fucking, if possible; people can be surprisingly relaxed when they've gotten fucked relentlessly.
"Got it." His hand tightens around Tomoe's neck, squeezing briefly then relaxing, just a small display of what to expect later, and then he lets go, reaching for Tomoe's shirt. Button-down, easy enough to rip off, so he does, buttons flying across the room. It's impolite, but Mo Ran isn't here for polite; he never has been. He rakes nails down Tomoe's chest, hard enough to leave faint red marks behind. "On your knees."
Would it be better to strip him completely? Probably, especially if they don't want to stop to do something as awkward as removing clothes, but there's a fire burning in his veins and Mo Ran wants to see those lips stretched around his cock.
Unaware of Mo Ran's questioning, Tomoe doesn't explain the gloves. For someone who was so open about themselves and their motivations Tomoe's silence was telling in itself. But that was a story for a different hearth. The one before him now blazed hot - a fire to burn, not to soothe a cold heart.
The mix of Mo Ran's words and actions was perfect. He couldn't tell if he'd done it that way intentionally but Tomoe's breath hitched suddenly. He hadn't been as aroused as his new lover thus far but he was getting there. Mo Ran promised he wouldn't do the one thing Tomoe asked. At the same time, he squeezed his throat. His vocal cords. His voice. His music. His song. It was delicious and frightening, causing his hackles to rise up and his body to send adrenaline pumping through his body. Fight. Fight back. His breathing quickened - oxygen, his body responding autonomously exactly as it should.
Tomoe was in control. Not his body. He didn't fight. Not even when Mo Ran surprised him a little by snapping off his shirt's fastenings. He'd...sort of calling it in advanced, hence the brand-new clothes that were bought just to be destroyed. But, he hadn't known the degree of force that'd be used. That's what surprised him. It seemed so easy - even knowing Mo Ran must have done this countless times before Tomoe admired the grace behind that display of strength, the wanton destruction, the selfishness.
Startled by the pain, Tomoe's torso jerks slightly when he's treated to Mo Ran's nails. He's not unathletic and possessed an increased tolerance than average. The pressure on his throat had prepared him for one type of pain, and to have a new one replace it made the sensation sharper. Mo Ran didn't treat him like a kid... Tomoe was enjoying this. Being taken seriously. The mutual trust between a man permitted to hurt him without taking it too far, and Tomoe being trusted in return to be capable of taking it.
"Yes, Master."
It was cliche, wasn't it? Tomoe smirked, speaking without a hint of sarcasm or foolishness. They were only playing a game so why not play it up? Tomoe started by kicking off his shoes, taking off his socks, and spying the innocent buttons on the floor as he knelt to join them. Anticipation rising. Mo Ran would bruise his throat. Used and discarded, treated like trash. Just like the little buttons. Tomoe looked up at Mo Ran through long lashes, but did nothing else. There were no other orders to obey.
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no subject
That glint of wickedness was lovely. It suited the angles of Mo Ran's face and the villainous locks still scented with hot water. It dawned on him that maybe he'd wanted to be offered that drink just so he could memorize Mo Ran's beauty while he still had a mind capable of thinking of something besides pleasure. He hadn't wanted to slow down before he'd seen Mo Ran for the first time, after all. Barely dressed, stray water droplets clinging to his skin. The perfect collaboration of muscle and bone. Interesting. Tomoe didn't surprise himself very often. So, he was attracted to the darkness inside the other man and his outside appearance. It wasn't always like that.
Fortune upon fortune.
Tomoe's lip responds when touched, bouncing a little - he really is soft with a mouth that was sensitive. It made his breath quicken and heart pump faster. Just a taste of the power and exploitation that laid in wait for him. Tomoe's gaze wandered greedily over Mo Ran's face, his hand and forearm, his shoulder and exposed clavicle. What a beautiful man.
Tomoe's throat pulses when that hand touches him. He isn't...scared. Maybe he should be. Maybe he should be wide-eyed and intimidated. Mostly, he's fascinated by Mo Ran's behaviour. The thickening bulge, barely concealed, between his legs. A cock waiting to spasms its load down the throat being confined.
"No." Tomoe decided right then. He wouldn't bother with a safe word. It was meaningless. Either Mo Ran understood him or he didn't. Tomoe wanted to be understood - part of that need was why he did this. Threw himself into a beast's jaws just to find out if he'd be torn apart. "Don't stop."
"Don't be cruel to my hands."
no subject
So maybe later, if he can remember to ask. Get the story out of his while they're fucking, if possible; people can be surprisingly relaxed when they've gotten fucked relentlessly.
"Got it." His hand tightens around Tomoe's neck, squeezing briefly then relaxing, just a small display of what to expect later, and then he lets go, reaching for Tomoe's shirt. Button-down, easy enough to rip off, so he does, buttons flying across the room. It's impolite, but Mo Ran isn't here for polite; he never has been. He rakes nails down Tomoe's chest, hard enough to leave faint red marks behind. "On your knees."
Would it be better to strip him completely? Probably, especially if they don't want to stop to do something as awkward as removing clothes, but there's a fire burning in his veins and Mo Ran wants to see those lips stretched around his cock.
no subject
The mix of Mo Ran's words and actions was perfect. He couldn't tell if he'd done it that way intentionally but Tomoe's breath hitched suddenly. He hadn't been as aroused as his new lover thus far but he was getting there. Mo Ran promised he wouldn't do the one thing Tomoe asked. At the same time, he squeezed his throat. His vocal cords. His voice. His music. His song. It was delicious and frightening, causing his hackles to rise up and his body to send adrenaline pumping through his body. Fight. Fight back. His breathing quickened - oxygen, his body responding autonomously exactly as it should.
Tomoe was in control. Not his body. He didn't fight. Not even when Mo Ran surprised him a little by snapping off his shirt's fastenings. He'd...sort of calling it in advanced, hence the brand-new clothes that were bought just to be destroyed. But, he hadn't known the degree of force that'd be used. That's what surprised him. It seemed so easy - even knowing Mo Ran must have done this countless times before Tomoe admired the grace behind that display of strength, the wanton destruction, the selfishness.
Startled by the pain, Tomoe's torso jerks slightly when he's treated to Mo Ran's nails. He's not unathletic and possessed an increased tolerance than average. The pressure on his throat had prepared him for one type of pain, and to have a new one replace it made the sensation sharper. Mo Ran didn't treat him like a kid... Tomoe was enjoying this. Being taken seriously. The mutual trust between a man permitted to hurt him without taking it too far, and Tomoe being trusted in return to be capable of taking it.
"Yes, Master."
It was cliche, wasn't it? Tomoe smirked, speaking without a hint of sarcasm or foolishness. They were only playing a game so why not play it up? Tomoe started by kicking off his shoes, taking off his socks, and spying the innocent buttons on the floor as he knelt to join them. Anticipation rising. Mo Ran would bruise his throat. Used and discarded, treated like trash. Just like the little buttons. Tomoe looked up at Mo Ran through long lashes, but did nothing else. There were no other orders to obey.