False Vacuum

When life gets in the way and when the unbearable stress from work casts a looming shadow over your burdened mind, there's one place you're always eager to come back to, where you can let go of the reins, of any lingering thoughts or obligations, and simply relish the exhilarating rush of adrenaline, teetering on the edge between danger and pleasure. An alluring space in which you let Zeno roll the dice, take control and decide your hidden fate as you lie underneath him, completely at the mercy of Redemption, a ruthless single-shot pistol currently pressed against your skin. Is it loaded? Zeno won’t tell you. Are you at death’s door? You will never know. It's all part of the fun, anyway.

Amidst the tension, Zeno intently observes the little changes your facial expression makes. Your eyes, glazed over and devoid of any real fear, captivate him in the most thrilling of ways. He can never take for granted this deep, unconditional trust you have in him and he believes it to be the most precious, valuable thing in the world. Though, in contrast, it also excites each nerve of his own being, anticipation coming alight just by knowing the sheer power you’re allowing him to hold over the situation. So immersed he appears to be in this mischievous play, Zeno barely notices how firm of a grip he has on the pistol, his index finger hovering over the trigger. Obviously, he would never hurt you and will immediately stop once you utter the safe word previously agreed on. Even so, the way you look up at him so desperately, it only manages to rile him up much further to the point where the prominent bulge straining against the fabric of his pants starts to ache for any kind of relief. Not now, not when he’s got you so willingly wrapped around his finger.

Redemption’s muzzle steadily prods the side of your jaw causing a small gasp to escape from your lips. Heart racing, mind blank, solely lost on the feeling of his gloved hand wrapped around your throat, pinning you down onto the soft mattress

“Focus.” Zeno’s breath lightly tickles your ear as he leans forward to whisper, the pitch of his voice dropping low enough to unravel you and make you want more of him. “You need to focus, baby. Otherwise, you leave no choice but to cease this little game of ours. Is that what you want?”

Frantically, you react in an instant by tightly grabbing his bicep, a feeble attempt at bringing him closer.

“No, please, Zeno. I need you. I need this.” your voice almost comes out as a pathetic whine.

The cold, chilling metal against your skin becomes a stark difference to the pooling heat seeping straight down to your core, and in an effort to incite some kind of friction, you close the gap between your legs, rubbing your thighs together in pure anticipation.

Zeno suddenly pulls away, giving him plenty of distance to stare down at your innocent expression with a rather piercing look of glowing golden irises alongside a cocky smirk painted on his lips.

You can’t deny that the increasing pressure around your throat is as dizzying as it is tantalizing. It’s driving you crazy, goosebumps traveling all over your prickled skin, during which your hand absentmindedly slips from his upper arm and instead shakily grips the sheets below. Yet, it still takes you by surprise the second Zeno glides the pistol’s barrel from the column of your neck to the center of your chest.

“I have taught you better than to get distracted while a deadly weapon is pointed at you.” His deep tone of voice rumbles through his chest and resonates throughout the heavy, charged air. A devilish chuckle leaves him, solely amused by the faint whimpers falling from your lips. “You don’t listen. What should I do with you, sweetheart? Hm?”

Tutting, Zeno hungrily watches you jolt with each stroke from Redemption’s barrel as it smoothly moves lower and lower until it reaches your midsection, its muzzle now comfortably resting atop your pelvic area. Curiously tilting his head to the side, his eyes shamelessly devour the sight of your disheveled self sprawled on the bed, needy and panting. A burning sensation blooms inside of him, the need to absolutely ravish you overtakes his senses, and although it doesn't help how vulnerable and attractive you look with his hand restricting your breathing, his composure wavers between restraint and complete loss of control.

“Gorgeous.” Zeno’s praise is swiftly followed by his sudden proximity. Eyes shut, lips roughly crash against your own, savoring them so selfishly and seductively, drinking in each little moan that leaves you.

Another rumble reverberates from within him at the affectionate action of you wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and the electrifying sensation of your fingers threading along his silvery strands of hair while you close your eyes and kiss him back with the same fervor, somehow the feeling of the pistol’s muzzle tenderly caressing your inner thigh in a teasing manner elicits a shiver that runs down your spine and clouds your mind with nothing but dark, sinful thoughts.

Zeno’s abrupt break away from the kiss brings you back to reality as you open your eyes to his unrelenting gaze, surveying your reaction when he finally removes the gloved hand from your throat, evoking a short sigh of alleviation now that your blocked airway is freed. Though, you already miss that prior delicious and forceful squeeze of his deft fingers around your neck.

“Zeno.” you mewl, your hands lazily dip from his scalp to his shoulders, anchoring yourself to them.

“What do you want? Say it.”

Biting your lower lip, a bit shameful of your own desires. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

Zeno’s free hand settles on your waist in a firm, protective grip. “If you don’t say it, this stops.” He doesn’t actually mean it, but it’s the only way he knows to get you going.

A frustrated sigh departs your lips. You decidedly peer at him with a tempting, provocative stare and a sly, flirtatious smile. “Zeno, will you please fuck me with your gun."