All Flame wanted was resources. He was running lowβ too many chungies wanted to pick a losing fight with him, a Wemmbu to find, Boosfer.
Merchant city has always been an easy go to. Flame had enough items to trade for pearls, but, of course, stupid Clownpierce and his nether monopoly and mobs hardly spawning making him one of the main exports on enderpearls. It's no longer an easy in and out of merchant city. He has to wait a bit for the next shipment. Okay, easy enough. Get into a silly argument with that loser aura farming to pass the time.
His knees scraped the dirt floor through armour. Dude? Invisguy? Invisknight? Seemed impossibly huge to Flame on his knees. He had the most grating voice changer on. Flame hissed at the bigger guy. He chucklesβ at least that's what he thinks a chuckle isβ at Flame. Gloved fingers rubbed on his lower lip. Whistling at the sight he made. His hand itched for his sword, it'd be so easy to fight this mystery dude but Flame had already agreed they fought each other with just hands to pass the time. Flame lost. Somehow. His ego was being bruised and battered this month. He forced his hands to stay on his lap, claws digging into his fist.
He glared at invisknight through his blindfold, "uhβ why should I?"
"Loser follows what the winner orders to right?"
He frowns, then opens his mouth. Invisknight lifts his helmet guard and veil slightly up. It reveals nothing just a glimpse of the inside of the armour. Invisibility was unsettling even if he was deeply familiar with it. Flame rapidly blinks at the sudden noise and wetter taste in his mouth. It tasted something like invisibility potions; sweet and bitter. He can't stop the whimpering noise, his throat bobbed.
His entire body tensed, he hopes his pleading eyes could be seen through the blindfold.
The taste of leather floods his tongue, forcing the spit deeper into his mouth and his own saliva to spill to the sides of his lips. It's tangy. In flavour, in scent. It tastes like a mixture of oil and sweat, and overwhelmingly leather. The fingers reach to the back of his tongue, his throat starts constricting, "swallow."
Flame tries as much as he can. His eyes sting with tears. "Anyone ever told you, you look good like this?"
He tries to shake his head 'no', tries to swear off at this weirdo. It's hard when there's fingers in your mouth trying to activate your gag reflex.
They go deeper somehow, he whines, starting to gag on it. The taste of the gloves genuinely awful. "That's where my cock is gonna go,"
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