YEAAAHHH !

mouth wide open. tongue stuck out. cock fully devoured. knees spread apart. eyes rolled back. he’s letting out choked little whines as his fingers pump and curl relentlessly in his own tight hole, evidently greedy for something else. 

he’s slurring unintelligibly, hips rocking back and forth at an awkward angle as if seeking friction from your leg. anything to have your touch on him, even if it means reducing himself to an animal in heat. you tighten the grip you have on the back of his neck and he whimpers, ceasing his movements immediately. a simple warning to behave. one he understands. 

he hasn’t done anything to deserve this. he knows this, because you’re smiling at him in a way that shows you’re having fun—not the sadistic, angry smile he sometimes catches glimpses of when you have him bent over your lap, delivering blow after blow onto the tender, bruised flesh of his backside until he’s shrieking and weeping, repenting to you. 

sometimes, it isn’t simple pain or pleasure that you enjoy. no. you’d rather have his desperation. 

one gentle push on the back of his head is enough to fully guide him down the thick, spit-soaked length of your cock until he feels it pushing at the back of his throat, and then extending past it… and he takes that moment to plunge three of his fingers deep into his all-too-empty hole, imagining you filling him in their stead. the second your fingers tighten impossibly in his hair and lava-like warmth begins to spurt down his throat, he’s shuddering and cumming all over the floor, never far behind.