rockabillyboy | (no subject)

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poison

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He's pretty much buried in homework. He's struggled to find his rhythm since he moved in with Poison and Dee. He's got a desk set up in their bedroom and he alternates between that one and the one out in the lounge, depending on how much he wants to focus.

Right now, focusing is difficult because Poison is having some kind of fit localised on his closet and a tonne of shopping bags.

"What're we doing again?" asks Jack, his voice just barely edged with frustration.

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Poison's head snaps to the side and his cock aches. He wets his lips and then ties the stocking around his head; he'll be able to make noise, but he won't be able to talk. When he's done he leaves his hands behind his head, gaze lowered.

Poison looks so so pretty like that, the fine fabric of his stockings cutting into the corners of his mouth, the angle of his gaze, the stretch of his muscles. Jack jerks his cock until he's close, until he's right on the edge and then he reaches out and tangled his fingers in Poison's hair, pulling him in close as he comes across his cheek and lips.

Poison sinks into a delicious space; him as a person doesn't matter, he's here as a toy, and Jack isn't even letting him touch, and it's kind of amazing. Then, suddenly, Jack's come is hitting him across his face. He closes his eyes, gasping behind his gag. He feels amazing.

He jerks his cock until he's completely spent, until Poison's face is a mess and then he lets his hand drop. He picks up the marker and draws a tally mark on the side of Poison's mouth.

"Forehead or cheek?" He picks up the eyeliner. "You can show me."

Poison turns his head to expose his cheek to Jack, then lets one hand slip from his head to tap there. Even if the eyeliner is waterproof, he's a little excited by the idea that the tally might smear if Jack touched it hard enough.

Jack repeats the tally mark on Poison's cheek in eyeliner, black and bold.

"First one." He leans down to graze his fingers over the length of Poison's hard cock. "Now what shall I do with you?"

He makes a soft, helpless sound when Jack finally touches him. He wants to lean close, wants to touch him, but he hasn't been told to. So he puts his hand back behind his head, locking his fingers behind him to resist the intense urge to touch Jack or himself.

"I think you have to wait to come," says Jack. He takes his fingers away from Poison's dick and gently disengages the clamps from his nipples, dropping them on the bed.

"Play with them for me."

Poison gasps in relief when the clamps come off. He waits a second, then smooths his hands over his chest; he feels over-sensitive and it makes his blush spread when he finally teases himself a little, pinching, touching. He's not quite as into it, but he's all about good performances. This is for Jack, not him.

"I know that isn't your favourite thing but tonight's about me, isn't it?" Says Jack, his eyes fixed on Poison's gagged face. "About what I want to see you do."

Poison just nods a little, agreeing. Tonight is for Jack; he is Jack's. His obedient little pornodroid. He keeps touching, trying to do things he thinks Jack would like - things he's done to Jack.

One of the joys of being seventeen is that it takes Jack barely any time at all to bounce back. Already, just looking st Poison is starting to get him hard.

"Maybe I'll have you ride me," he says, musing. "Use you like a flesh light."

Poison moans softly at the thought and his cock throbs in answer. Hell yes. All he can do is nod, because he wants that, and he wants Jack to use him however he wants. He lifts his head to look at Jack's cock, always impressed by his ability to bounce back so quick.

"Wonder how many times I'll have to come in your ass to make a slut like you feel full?" Muses Jack, sprawling back and catching his weight in his elbows. "Does that even happen to pornodroids?" He grins. "Get up on the bed. Straddle me."

Poison makes a soft, eager sound. God he wants to find out the answer to that. He gets up on the bed; since the gag is tied well, all he can do to answer is shake his head. He straddles Jack, braces his hands on either side of him to get into position.

"Now grind," says Jack, giving him a smart slap across the ass. "Hump me. Get me properly hard."

Poison arches as he starts moving, grinding down against Jack. He can't help the sounds that escape because his dick keeps rubbing over Jack's skin and it's driving him insane. He braces his weight on his hands so his hips have more freedom.

Poison looks so perfect moving like that that, for a long couple of minutes, Jack just lets it happen. He slaps Poison's ass again, harder, makes sure to jar the base of the toy.

He moans when Jack smacks him, making his hips jump. He tries to focus on the movement more than the feeling, but it's so difficult; everything feels so fucking good. "You feel so good," he gasps, words muffled by the gag.

The words come out muffled, but he can figure out what Poison is saying and he grins, rocking his hips up to meet Poison's. He reaches, slapping Poison's ass again.

"Take the plug out," he says. "Get on my dick." The lube is right there if Poison needs it.

Poison jumps under the slap, shuddering hard. He grabs the lube to slick Jack's cock. He lifts his hips to remove the plug, tossing it nearby; he's impatient, he fucking needs to feel him, even if he can't come. He guides Jack's dick, sinking down carefully at first until he lands in Jack's lap with a helpless moan.

It's a beautiful show of obedience, proof of control and Jack just lies back and watches it happen, his back arching slightly when Poison slides down onto his cock.

"C'mon, beautiful," he prompts softly. "I'm not doing any of the work here."

Poison gets his balance and he starts moving, riding Jack like he means it. He doesn't bother to try to get the angle right for himself, because if he does that he's going to be dying to come way too soon and he's not allowed to do that yet. This is to make Jack feel good, not him. Even if it feels fucking amazing.

Jack just lies back and watches Poison ride him, listens to the obscene sound of skin slapping on skin. He grazes his fingers against Poison's cock, watching it bob in thin air.

"That's good, baby, but you can do better."

"Fuck," he moans behind the gag. His voice is muffled but he's sure Jack will get the gist. He adjusts his position, braces himself so he can move harder, faster. Poison makes an effort to keep his movements smooth, quick, attractive. He wants it to be a show, even if he is playing a living toy.