“All of your incessant questions… You knew what you were doing. You wanted this.” pliant little plaything, man-thing, his personal pet human, trapped beneath his paws; helpless but for the bucking of his hips, his biology betraying his need. “Look at you, fucking your hips back up into me, needy little human. Degenerate little human. Desperate little human. Is that what you crave?” He seizes Nihil by the jaw and forces his head back, baring his quivering throat. “To me pinned down and mated by a beast twice your size? By a beast three times your weight?” Flattening his tongue to the man’s pulse point, he laps at his throat, tracing his jugular with the tip of his tongue. “Do you have any idea how many centuries I’ve been alive? How many of your kind I’ve exsanguinated with this hands? How many I’ve riven with these jaws?” And he captures the man’s fleshy earlobe between his benign front teeth.
“And yet, here you are, squirming beneath me.” Talons tear through the fabric of the man’s shirt like a knife carving through hot butter, leaving it in tatters without touching a single hair on Benjamin’s body — the precision of a seasoned killer. “Ask for it,” he hisses into his ear, hand slowly sliding south, feeling the fluttering of his navel as he teases his touch over his sensitised skin. “Beg me,” he slings his hips low, the substantial weight of his cock dragging against the smaller’s thighs. “Beg me to breed you like the bitch you are,” he growls, a predatory sound originating from deep within him, low and primal. “To make you my little fuck toy.” Flushed to the tips of his ears, swollen almost to the point of pain, and his skin superheated, he’s well and truly in the throes of his heat.
Instinctively, Benjamin’s hands struggle within the ghoul’s grasp, yearning for control and being denied. What the hell brought this on? Why is he so hard? His mouth agape and his hips still desperately searching for sweet fucking friction against Azoth’s thigh, Nihil listens, agreeing with a groan. He’s rarely this aggressive.... and never in public. In truth, Ben often wishes the ghoul were more open. He's Papa, afterall. He does what he pleases and who he pleases. If that isn't one of the perks of the position, he doesn't know what is.
Moans quickly turn to whines as his throat is gripped, gaze forced to the ceiling as his lover licks and teases at his flesh. “~you gonna hurt me?” He manages, practically sputtering, the angle of his throat choking him with his own voice. His tone is both fearful and curious, perhaps even a bit taunting. How much is he willing to do? How much control does the ghoul have? Hopefully, a lot, for his sake.
The singer’s questions are seemingly answered as the cold air of his office hits his chest, forcing him to look down and shiver. “Fuck...oh fuck...” His very center melts with Azoth’s attention, craving his kisses, his gentle caress just as much as his claws.
A moments apprehension, licking his drying lips and swallowing down whatever pride Benjamin has left. He’s going to beg in his own office...beg to be fucked into by his forbidden lover...and he’s going to get off on it. His head spins with anticipation as he speaks, voice higher, filled with desperation. “I need you to fuck me~ please...” A vulgar whine as he humps against the hellish creature’s body. “Fuck me like a bitch, please, please....I need you. I’ve been trying-- trying to get you to all week.” A bit more truth than was asked of him, but genuine nonetheless. “Don’t ignore me, Azoth, please...just breed me.” The word sounds forgein coming from his mouth, having never used the term. It aches of something forbidden. Benjamin loves taboo.