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Entry tags:
i'm going to hell
Fandom: Owari no Seraoh
Rating: R-18
Characters: Ferid Bathory, Saitou
Summary: daddy issues
Long fingers slid down his neck, undoing his ribbons, the cape, the uniform underneath—all expertly pushed back, leaving him flushed and hot under the attention, needy in a way he hadn't felt in over a thousand years. He reached up, shredding the man's suit rather than bothering with any finesse, pushing his fingers in, against skin, greedily, hungrily.
That earned a chuckle against his neck, the sort of amused half laugh one might direct indulgently at a child. He felt a hot spike of annoyance rouse against the noise but the lips that loosed it pressed against his skin, parted, brushed fangs teasingly against his neck and bit, just lightly, but enough to melt him, make him moan as shamelessly as a whore, pressing his hips up against the man, his erection hard against Saitou's thigh, hands gripping and dragging, trying to pull him closer, touch more.
Ferid was always wanting more.
Saitou chuckled again, that same condescending indulgence, his tongue replacing teeth and lips, licking at the blood he'd spilled and robbing Ferid of any particular thought but a mixed sense of peril and pleasure. He wasn't sure why he wasn't dead, right now, but he couldn't bring himself to care if this kept up, if Saitou kept paying attention to him like this, more, always more...
Saitou's fingers brushed over his bared chest, thumbing a nipple and eliciting another shameless noise, before his fingers stopped, lightly, over Ferid's heart. For a moment Ferid felt his blood freeze, felt the smile curved against his neck as Saitou paused there, and if anything felt his dick get harder at the silent, casual implication of how fragile he was, at his father's mercy like this, a single movement from Saitou....
Saitou lifted his head, glancing down at his watch and humming at it, as if in surprise.
"Ah. Is that really the time?" He sat up, started to pull away and stopped when Ferid's fingers latched onto his wrist, hard, keeping him still and making him raise an eyebrow, mild smile never leaving his expression.
Except the entire atmosphere of the room turned casually deadly, and Ferid wondered if he might just die like this, grinding his hard-on against Saitou's thigh and having his sire's full focus on him for a split second, enough to almost make him come like that, squirming and wanton and frustrated.
There was a contest of wills in their locked gazes, but the victor was predetermined. Ferid let go, and Saitou's smile turned indulgent once more, reaching up to ruffle Ferid's hair—disheveled and loose as it was.
"Keep yourself ready for me, I'll be back soon." He promised, sounding so persuasively earnest.
They both knew it was a lie.
"Of course." Ferid's smile was edged, voice rough, a complete mess compared to Saitou's composure as the other man stood, his shredded suit mending itself.
And then Saitou was gone, leaving Ferid hard, flushed, frustrated, the image of his mild smile and that feeling of his almost affectionate touch at the end keeping him hot, his fingers curling until they clawed through the sheets and mattress with the urge to touch himself, even knowing he could never hope to satisfy his need alone.
It wasn't any surprise when Saitou didn't come back.
Rating: R-18
Characters: Ferid Bathory, Saitou
Summary: daddy issues
Long fingers slid down his neck, undoing his ribbons, the cape, the uniform underneath—all expertly pushed back, leaving him flushed and hot under the attention, needy in a way he hadn't felt in over a thousand years. He reached up, shredding the man's suit rather than bothering with any finesse, pushing his fingers in, against skin, greedily, hungrily.
That earned a chuckle against his neck, the sort of amused half laugh one might direct indulgently at a child. He felt a hot spike of annoyance rouse against the noise but the lips that loosed it pressed against his skin, parted, brushed fangs teasingly against his neck and bit, just lightly, but enough to melt him, make him moan as shamelessly as a whore, pressing his hips up against the man, his erection hard against Saitou's thigh, hands gripping and dragging, trying to pull him closer, touch more.
Ferid was always wanting more.
Saitou chuckled again, that same condescending indulgence, his tongue replacing teeth and lips, licking at the blood he'd spilled and robbing Ferid of any particular thought but a mixed sense of peril and pleasure. He wasn't sure why he wasn't dead, right now, but he couldn't bring himself to care if this kept up, if Saitou kept paying attention to him like this, more, always more...
Saitou's fingers brushed over his bared chest, thumbing a nipple and eliciting another shameless noise, before his fingers stopped, lightly, over Ferid's heart. For a moment Ferid felt his blood freeze, felt the smile curved against his neck as Saitou paused there, and if anything felt his dick get harder at the silent, casual implication of how fragile he was, at his father's mercy like this, a single movement from Saitou....
Saitou lifted his head, glancing down at his watch and humming at it, as if in surprise.
"Ah. Is that really the time?" He sat up, started to pull away and stopped when Ferid's fingers latched onto his wrist, hard, keeping him still and making him raise an eyebrow, mild smile never leaving his expression.
Except the entire atmosphere of the room turned casually deadly, and Ferid wondered if he might just die like this, grinding his hard-on against Saitou's thigh and having his sire's full focus on him for a split second, enough to almost make him come like that, squirming and wanton and frustrated.
There was a contest of wills in their locked gazes, but the victor was predetermined. Ferid let go, and Saitou's smile turned indulgent once more, reaching up to ruffle Ferid's hair—disheveled and loose as it was.
"Keep yourself ready for me, I'll be back soon." He promised, sounding so persuasively earnest.
They both knew it was a lie.
"Of course." Ferid's smile was edged, voice rough, a complete mess compared to Saitou's composure as the other man stood, his shredded suit mending itself.
And then Saitou was gone, leaving Ferid hard, flushed, frustrated, the image of his mild smile and that feeling of his almost affectionate touch at the end keeping him hot, his fingers curling until they clawed through the sheets and mattress with the urge to touch himself, even knowing he could never hope to satisfy his need alone.
It wasn't any surprise when Saitou didn't come back.