RoseStorm

“This is perverse.”

Clearly finding the fact that his consciousness had been swapped into Edward’s body difficult to come to terms with, the cognitive dissonance of having to stare at his own naked body as it lay sprawled out on the bed before him was something that Jonathan struggled to truly comprehend even now. On top of that, the foreign sensation of being trapped within a different body – Edward’s body – which was so at ends with his own only added to the surreal feeling which made Jonathan feel almost light-headed.

Stretching out his bare legs, Jonathan felt a spark of something envious as he realised that Edward’s more youthful and well-maintained joints did not twinge with the similar pains that his own did. The reach of his new limbs was also different to what he was used to and he flexed shorter toes with a casual discomfort. Regardless, his attention remained solidly on Edward as he watched his own body being piloted with a gentleness which he could never bring to afford himself.

“We only have three hours left before this wild body-swapping curse wears off.” Edward explained with a huff, checking the cheap watch which hung from Jonathan’s wrist. “A curse, I might add, that would have been avoided if a certain fear obsessed individual had thought better of accusing an established and well-known magic wielder of selling nothing but snake oil and hokum.”

“Be that as it may,” Jonathan interjected, as unapologetic about his choices as ever despite the consequences, “it still does not explain why you insisted on wasting time with this debauchery. I would have been content to simply return to my work and wait for the swap to wear off naturally.” He spat the final word, his disbelief and disdain twisting Edward’s features into something ugly.

The debauchery in question amounted to little more than Edward demanding that they both strip off and disappear to their bedroom, his intentions for something experimental clear in the way that had Edward lighting up Jonathan’s typically stoic features with an unfamiliar excitement at the prospect.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Edward confessed, Jonathan’s voice taking on a low and seductive tone which felt strange as it wrapped around Edward’s words, “and I have one or two tiny hypotheses of my own which I would like to test out.”

“Oh?” Jonathan asked roughly, Edward’s arrogant cadence gone to be replaced by Jonathan’s own more restrained responses as he felt a spark of fresh arousal and dropped his eyes to watch Edward’s cock – his cock for now – twitch and stiffen.

“Yes. For example,” Edward wrapped his hand around Jonathan’s cock and stroked at it gently, “I’ve always wondered what it is you feel when I touch this little sensitive area here.” He indicated to the firm ridge where Jonathan’s slightly flared cockhead met the shaft. “You make some of the most beautiful little noises I ever hear you make when I run my tongue across it. I wonder if really is as sensitive as it seems to be, despite how you try to hide it.”

With his own reflected face filled with nothing but unrestrained lust, Edward paused before testing his hypothesis to take in just how pretty the flush of freckles which sprinkled across his face truly was when he was aroused. Like this, he could see why Jonathan enjoyed looking at them and why his darting eyes often seemed determined to map them out.

Shaking his head out of his own narcissistic appraisal, a slight hiccup of air escaped Edward as he flexed Jonathan’s long fingers and wrapped them around his cock once more.

“Watch me.” Edward insisted as he dragged Jonathan’s gaze down with his own, insistent that Jonathan watch him pleasure his own cock as he finally rubbed a finger along that firm ridge. The sensation was instant and terrible, a warm wash of pleasure flooding through his groin to make the cock twitch within his hand as he bucked into Jonathan’s spindly fingers slightly. “Wow.” He breathed. “It really is sensitive. Good to know.” Adding the last sentence with a purr, he met Jonathan’s gaze once more.

Watching his own body be masturbated felt surreal and Jonathan pressed the softened heel of Edward’s hand into his cock – the sensation sending a delicious wave of pleasure through his groin as he trailed his fingers through the light dusting of reddish hair which circled the base of Edward’s length. Lowering his hand further, he teased at the balls in a way which he knew drove Edward wild and the sharp delight which lanced his groin at the feeling made him gasp in surprise.

“Strange isn’t it, how two bodies can react so differently to the same touches.” Masturbating himself slowly as he catalogued how each of the sensations in Jonathan’s body differed to his own, Edward drowned himself in the chance to solve some of the riddle which was his stony-faced partner. “Your arousal sits so much lower than my own, your nipples less sensitive but so much quicker to redden. What do you feel?” Curious, Edward asked the question as he watched Jonathan fondle at his own groin like a teenage boy discovering himself for the first time.

Jonathan hissed between his teeth as he grazed the sharpened edge of one nail down one of the pink nipples on his chest. Edward wasn’t wrong, his nipples were definitely much more sensitive than Jonathan’s own and he understood instantly why Edward cried the way he did when Jonathan sunk his teeth into them as they chased selfish pleasures.

“Your body is much quieter than mine.”

The confession was hushed, firm in such a way that it denied vulnerability, but Edward knew enough to read between the lines and his mind whirred with the implications. As his hand continued to stroke along the cock in his palm, Edward recognised what Jonathan meant as, even now while sitting in comfort, Edward could feel the vague discomfort in his knees and a soft twinging pain in his lower back which sparked if he moved too much too quickly.

“We don’t have to have sex.” Edward spoke; his tone decidedly neutral to allow Jonathan to choose without pressure. “I’m happy to continue like this. I would hate to break your hip with the exuberance of youth, after all.”

“Two and a half hours is a long time to fill.” Replying with the slightest tease curling in the words, Jonathan squeezed at the head of Edward’s cock and grunted at the flair of pained pleasure which rolled through his groin. “I’m sure we can think of different ways to fill it.”

Walking into Easterman’s office without knocking, you find him sitting diligently at his work desk with his face vaguely illuminated by both the small lamp in the corner of the room and the glare of the monitor which sits atop his desk – delivering a constant stream of the sleep room for his private observations.

His posture is ramrod straight, his back totally stiff as he maintains a controlled and careful poise. A position which is made very necessary due to the steely pressure of the heretics fork which lies just below his head; the sharpened ends of the prongs only just threatening the skin of his chin and the shirt which covers his chest as he keeps his head perfectly elevated.

Sweat slicking his brow, Easterman turns his upper half to look at you carefully and there is no hiding the mild suffering which is afflicting him as he wears the stress deep within the lines of his pinched face. He remains silent as he watches you approach, his hands dropping the document he was reading as he pushes his chair back enough to let you slip in the space between him and his desk – your ass quick to perch on the edge of the wood as you make yourself comfortable.

You glance down at his suit, taking in the heavy tent at his groin, and you gasp in false surprise at the sign of his obvious arousal.

“That looks painful, Doctor. Have you been a good boy and left it alone like I asked?”

The throat visibly swallowing, Easterman’s eyes are blown wide as he stares at you like a starving dog and answers with a soft groan, “Yes.”

“I’m only popping in here to check what you’ve managed so far.”

Lightly thumbing through the short stack of documents which have been assessed and signed off, you mentally count the number of completed tasks as you touch each file and ignore Easterman pointedly. Impressed with how much work he has actually completed, his reduced workload making your own workload significantly easier, you turn back from the files to offer him a placating smile.

His chin kept high; you tease a finger along the metal fork which sits below his head – the points only just threatening his skin as he visibly flinches at you playing so casually with his punishment.

“I don’t even know where you got this,” you mutter softly, stroking two fingers past the fork to score your nails gently down Easterman’s neck, “but I think I love it. A heretics fork. Are you a heretic, sweetheart?”

His favourite pet name for you and one which you reverse on him with a satisfied smirk as you watch him explain himself very neatly – every word measured to keep his lower jaw from moving too much.

“To understand my children, sometimes it’s necessary to put myself in their place. To experience their restraint, their pain. The more I understand it, then the more I can wield it against them like a surgeon’s blade.”

Humming at that with obvious disbelief, you drop your hand to press your palm into his crotch and feel the bulge of his rock-hard length.

“I think you’re just a nasty little masochist.” You accuse with a stern tut. “I think you like having me hurt you like this and then reward you when you manage to achieve your little victories. Is that what you want? Do you want your reward now?”

“Yes.” His word is more of a whimper than a confirmation but you take pity on him regardless. You make short work of his fly, freeing his length and cooing mockingly at how swollen and damp the tip of his cock already looked.

“Is it terrible? Having to wait for my hand like this?” You ask, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock and squeezing it roughly. At the pressure, a pathetic yet quiet noise breaks free of Easterman’s lips and he bucks into your hand with a desperate snap of his hips.

“Please. Mistress. Please!”

“Oh, you beg so sweetly.” Purring the words as you slowly jerk him off, ensuring to keep a firm and steady pace, you keep stock of how close he is to his peak to prevent any premature delights. “I could almost give in, listening to you squeal like a little pig.”

Rendered speechless by your cruel hand, Easterman seemed stuck between two equally terrible fates as your teasing paired with the constant threat of violence to his very vulnerable throat. A dichotomy which he revelled in as you watch how he balances the danger to his neck with his frantic lower half as his hips push into your hand with a frantic need.

Feeling the need to push him further, you watch as Easterman’s mouth falls open when you press the tip of your finger harshly against his piss slit. The sudden movement opens his jaw wide enough that he winces as the sharpened points of the heretic’s fork pierce through the outermost layer of his skin.

“Careful, Doctor.” You tease, bringing one finger from your free hand to his chin as you push it higher and admire the two tiny pinpricks of blood which now sit amongst his faint stubble. “Lose control like that and you’ll end up having to visit the infirmary and explain what happened.”

Returning attention to his cock, you continue to jerk him off until you notice the tremble in his thighs and the way that his chest seems to ride and fall with an errant consistency. He was on the brink of release and that just wasn’t on the cards for him since his work was yet to be completed.

You pull away at the last moment, his budding orgasm dying in its infancy as he desperately humps his hand against nothing – his head tilted back enough to ensure that he doesn’t accidentally impale his chin in his desperation. Watching him with a sadistic patience, you wait until he has at least a little bit of control over himself before you bring your finger to his chin, pressing against the space just above the fork as you force him to meet your eyes.

“You have one hour left before my final check. If all these files are completed then I’ll let you eat me out and I might even agree to take that little toy of yours off before I let you fuck me proper. Do you think you can manage that?”

“Yes.” Gasping the word out as his body seems to vibrate with anticipation at finally getting some relief, Easterman’s eyes are wild and the corners of his mouth are damp with spittle as he gazes at you with a frightening obsession lurking deep within his gaze.