Mythical Men

He knew his love was just aiming for a little jealousy, a little possessiveness. The threat just had his grin widening.

"Oh, I'm sure there are plenty who would jump at the chance to shower you with their praises, my Darling. And I would be terribly selfish in not letting you enjoy such." As if Dorian didn't indeed have a selfish streak in him.

He pressed flush against his elf, head bowing to let his lips brush Lavellan's ear. "But at the end of the night, I know it's my bed you'll return to, and that's all that matters," he purred, dropping a kiss just below his ear.

"I should of heed the warnings of letting myself getting tangled with a Tevinter mage" He huffed, feeling those lips on his ear that made his knees feel weak and like was putty in the man's grasp. "Mm, maybe I will then - see just how fine you are with me being flirted with on all sides" He challenged, though it was a little less imposing given his hitched breath and the feel of those lips on his ear. Not to mention the shameless Pavus confidence of knowing Lavellan would be all his come the end of the night.

And he knew deep down, just how right he was. This elven mage most definitely belonged to one Tevinter mage.

"I think your mind was just jumping to the conclusion it liked the most. Taming you by force." He kept his voice low, but made sure every word was a whisper of breath again Dmitri's with the proximity. Even more so when he felt that shiver against him. Such a physical reaction was something he craved. Listening to those words, face warming a little at the implication of them, but accepting that as a part of this exchange. All the while, he was adjusting his grip, until he could hold both of the mage's wrists with just one of his own hands, freeing up the other. A tightened grip to be sure that the other wouldn't be able to slip from his grasps, and another physical reminder of where his own talens were.

"Oh, there's no such thing as a challenge too great for me. I was just giving you the opportunity to confess before I make sure you can't string a sentence together." A shift, and a firm drag of his hips against Dmitri's. Making sure the other could feel him, as well as seeking a taste of whether the other had already started reacting to this or not. "I've though of how you'd sound with my hands upon your body. Whether you'd gasp or whimper as I slid my hands along your skin, held you down against the bed while I explored every inch of you. Wondered how your voice might shake as I dragged my tongue against you." Head shifting a little, until he could get his lips against Dmitri's jaw. "So often wondered how you'd taste, spread out like a feast. Up there in your tower watching me train, I bet you've pictured me treating you in the same way. Held down, grasped and rolled in to the position I want you. I bet you've touched yourself right there, haven't you? Spilled your seed while watching me sweat in that training yard."

"My...my...you think about me often...don't you?" Dmitri managed to say, a little breathless after Christopher gave his little speech about desiring his hands over his mage, wanting to know every noise he made or expression he gave. "All those women of the court and noble men who would love nothing more than to have claim over the kingdom's favourite Warlord...and yet you're spending too much time thinking about me" Dmitri murmured, deciding to play fire with fire. Even as Christopher gripped his hard cock through his pants, Dmitri wasn't going to just let this man have all the fun. Leaning his head forward, brushing his lips against his ear.

"Tell me darling, were you jealous of those rumours of who I spent my nights with...nobles, knights, even royalty...did it bother you or excite you, hm?" He murmured, lips finding Christopher's neck and kissing the skin, flicking his tongue against it before whispering. "Did you yearn to have me to yourself?" He asked before letting his teeth and tongue find that beautiful neck and leave a mark on the man in the dark.

    🧢    ⸻    Refinement  and  good  judgement  were  both  qualities  the  young  man  seemed  to  lack  despite  the  his  better  intentions.  Intimidation  once  felt  in  firm  foundations  towards  his  overbearing  boss'  commanding  demeanour  has  lessened  in  recent  times  due  to  an  undeniable  and  unexpected  reaction  of  chemistry.  Mister  Matthews  was  demanding  and  commanding  and  even  demeaning  at  times,  but  there  must  have  been  a  reason  he  had  selected  Jacob  as  his  personal  assistant  instead  of  one  of  the  many,  many  other  more  accomplished  candidates  filtered  through  the  internship  system.  Young  men  and  women  who  carried  themselves  with  more  poise,  intellect  and  passion  for  the  company  than  Jacob  could  ever  feign  to  muster.  Not  that  Jacob  was  looking  for  a  demotion  back  to  an  unpaid  position  in  a  corporation  that  he  did  not  entirely  know  the  purpose  for.

“Prim,  proper,  polite  and  perfect?”  Jacob  replied,  hoping  he  wasn't  making  up  something  half-remembered  from  some  nice-sounding  alliteration.  Small  chance  his  view  of  the  bathroom  door  in  the  near-distance  was  influencing  him  to  find  so  many  words  beginning  with  the  letter  P.

But  whatever  verbal  mess  of  words  that  were  about  to  spill  from  past  his  lips  were  denied  as  he  was  instructed  to  open  his  mouth,  standing  stock  still  in  the  middle  of  a  crowded  gala  being  force  fed  tiny  little  sandwiches  -  ones  paling  in  comparison  to  his  earlier  creation  -  ignoring  the  occasion  glancing  taste  of  Mister  Matter's  fingers  against  his  lips  and  tongue.

“You  got  it,  boss  man,”  Jacob  nodded,  tugging  on  the  lapels  of  his  jacket.  An  excess  of  confidence  was  somewhat  interrupted  by  the  smack  across  his  round  rump  catching  him  offguard,  but  Jacob  bounced  back  with  a  crack  of  the  neck.

Scotch  on  the  rocks  -  couldn't  be  too  hard.  Fancier  drinks  were  somewhat  beyond  his  purview,  but  even  he  knew  a  thing  or  two  about  the  classic.  For  instance,  Jacob  was  well  aware  that  on  the  rocks  did  not  involve  any  actual  rocks  in  the  beverage.  Unless  this  was  the  sort  of  bar  to  use  whiskey  stones,  but  he  doubted  Mister  Matthews  was  the  sort  of  high-class  man  to  allow  that  brand  of  bullshit  at  his  event.  Jacob  was  nothing  short  of  relieved  to  see  proper  sculpted  and  squared-off  cubes  of  ice  clinking  around  in  a  glass  of  scotch  older  than  he  was.

He had to admit, these small actions of public dominance felt good - a little thrill of enjoyment knowing he was doing this to Jacob and others could possibly see. Perhaps staking his claim just a little, after all Jacob was a gorgeous guy and no doubt both men and women had their eye on him at the party. No sense in letting anyone think they had a chance with his assistant...unless Owen decided he'd let them.

So he decided to just sit back and enjoy the show of his assistant in his tight clothing running around like a puppy who had been told to go get the ball. Sitting down on a large leather couch like a king might his throne, just watching and admiring from afar. He knew either this would result in Jacob running back with the drink and back to Owen's side where he belonged. Or he'd have to make his way to the boy if he got distracted or bothered and make another show of being in charge.

Either way, Owen had lost interest in his original plans and networking for the night. Jacob was his focus and he wouldn't be taking his eyes off the boy all night long.

    🧢    ⸻    He  had  been  close  to  halfway  through  a  bite  into  his  beloved  hodgepodge  of  a  sandwich  before  registering  his  own  unintentional  rudeness  towards  two  esteemed  gentlemen  -  the  type  of  gentlemen  who  made  more  money  in  a  single  day  than  someone  like  Jacob  would  over  the  course  of  a  full  calender  year.  Shame  for  the  inordinate  amount  of  time  Jacob  is  unable  to  speak  as  he  is  forced  to  chew  through  the  cheek-bulging  bite;  desperate  and  unsuccessful  in  swallowing  before  his  boss  finished  with  more  cordial  introductions.  One  small  mercy  persisted  as  the  sandwich  was  at  least  quite  palatable  on  his  tastebuds.

But  perhaps  Jacob  should  show  more  caution  for  how  much  food  he  fills  his  belly  with.  While  the  suit  he  wore  was  well  tailoured  around  his  beef-lite  build,  there  was  little  doubt  the  expensive  fabrics  were  clinging  too  close  to  his  physique.  Buttons  pull  taught  and  tease  their  limit  with  every  intake  of  breath  -  plush  pectorals  pushing  out  through  thin  fabrics.  Trousers  tailoured  to  accentuate  the  curve  of  his  rear  and  the  prominence  of  his  bulge  much  to  Jacob's  own  immense  ignorance  -  his  time  spent  before  the  floor-length  mirror  wasted  with  appreciating  how  good  he  looked  without  realising  the  more  obvious  obscenities. 

“So-”  No.  Swallow  first  -  the  apologies  come  after  once  he  doesn't  have  a  mouth  full  of  soft  bread  and  mystery  meat.  Jacob  takes  a  moment  to  rock  his  head  back  and  swallow  down  a  mouthful  so  plentiful  there  is  practically  a  visible  bulge  in  his  throat.  “Sorry  about  that,  sirs.  Was  so  busy  stuffing  my  mouth  I  didn't  even  see  you  two  past  Mr.  Matthews  massive  frame.” 

Solid  apology.  He  was  so  very  good  at  this  schmoozing  shit  -  whacking  his  boss  confidently  on  the  back  as  if  he  was  hyping  up  one  of  his  boys.

Jacob  may  not  notice  the  way  eyes  are  roaming  over  him  as  he  stands  there  all  smiles  and  post-sandwich  bite  satisfaction.  Instead  he's  looking  up  at  Mr.  Matthews,  “You  want  me  to  go  and  get  you  some  food,  sir?”

"Gentlemen, if you excuse us" Owen remarked to the two men, polite but those men knew that meant it was time for them to go, not the other way around. So they left the two of them be, allowing Owen to take the moment to turn back to his assistant and move a little closer, looming over him. "I believe we discussed previously how to behave as my assistant, Mister Custos?" He questioned, brow raised. "It's almost a shame this outfit of yours doesn't come with a gag so you knew not to start rambling before knowing I'm free while working" He remarked, sounding perhaps far more put out then he was. "Let alone where you decided to put your hands..."

Noticing a waiter passing by with a tray of food, he waved them over and took a few of those mini sandiwches and glanced at Jacob. "Open up" He commanded, seemingly not leaving any room for refusal as he filled the young man's mouth up with the stacked sandwich. "That should keep you quiet for a little bit, now you can get me a scotch instead. On the rocks" He instructed and when Jacob turned around to do just that, he'd made a point of slapping that ass presented to him. After all, Jacob had opened up the floodgates for less than professional touching.

    🧢    ⸻    Hats  off  to  whatever  caterer  was  responsible  for  the  tiny  little  sandwiches  Jacob  had  been  snacking  on  since  the  moment  he  found  himself  passing  the  membber  of  the  waitstaff  with  the  right  tray.  Miniscule  and  damn  near  delectable  -  though  perhaps  a  little  too  small  since  Jacob  had  been  clearing  them  by  the  tray  full  and  cramming  them  together  to  make  one  full-sized  frankenstein-style  sandwich.

Was  it  clear  this  wasn't  his  typical  sort  of  scene?

Maybe  this  would  be  the  sort  of  place  one  could  find  Jacob's  old  man  -  someone  in  a  political  or  business  profession  Jacob  never  fully  understood.  But  Mr.  Custos  had  given  up  any  hope  of  showing  off  his  sole  son  for  anything  moree  than  his  athletic  acumen  given  the  academic  and  social  aspects  Jacob  offered  were  both  rough  around  the  edges.

Wearing  the  comfort  of  a  new  tailoured  suit  fitting  his  built  bod  better  than  anything  else  in  his  closet  back  home  -  landing  Jacob  somewhere  smack  dab  in  the  middle  of  both  comfortable  and  uncomfortable.  Carrying  himself  with  a  slight  amount  of  awkwardness  with  surgical  sandwich  in  hand  as  he  looked  across  the  crowd  for  the  familiar  towering  visual  of  his  boss  standing  across  the  room.  Jacob  lost  count  of  the  amount  of  polite  ‘excuse  me’s  and  ‘watch  out’s  he  shared  each  and  every  time  someone  was  about  to  back  up  into  his  path.

“The  food  here  is  good,  but  it's  wicked  tiny,”  Jacob  announced  once  he  reached  his  boss,  not  even  noticing  he  was  otherwise  engaged  with  someone  past  the  silhouette  of  his  massive  bulk.  “But  if  you  cram  it  all  together  it's  like  one  whole  food.”

closed  starter  for  @mythicalmen  featuring  jacob  custos.

He was eager, clueless and good natured - not likely built for the world of being the assistance of a crime boss of all people, but that was fine - Jacob had other uses and reasons for being by Owen's side, even if the young man didn't fully realise them yet. Besides, the older man rather enjoyed how eagerly Jacob ran up to him whenever he got the chance like a puppy or how the young man could ramble about anything or get excited about most things, the way he practically beamed whenever he got any praise or so much as a smile from Owen.

So when Jacob came running up, rambling about the sandwiches Owen was hardly surprised. But he did make a show of it regardless, slowly stepping to the side and staring at Jacob - letting him see the two men Owen had been speaking to. "Apologies gentlemen, this is my...relatively new assistant. Clearly his manners are not as well trained as I thought they were" He remarked to the men, while still looking at Jacob. Gesturing for him to step forward and close to all three of them.

"Care to apologise to these men for interrupting our conversation Jacob?" He remarked, not questioned though - it was an order. Though the truth behind this whole apology was a little on the nose. After all, Owen wasn't exactly mad but he needed to keep up appearances. Plus it was an excuse to show Jacob off, in an outfit he'd made sure was tight enough to...well, show him off.

"Everything can wait, Parker. I promise I'll be just as dumb tomorrow as I am tonight. I'm not even drinking that much, so I'll see you bright and early tomorrow at the library, alright?" Teddy offered the flustered man a knowing wink. "And don't worry, I'll obviously be paying you for coming out tonight. I was excited to party with you, but I totally forgot we were supposed to tutor tonight. That's on me, man."

"I mean, kinda, dude." Teddy remarked back to his brother, never once stopping his stroking. It was a common occurrence for his brothers to see him enjoying himself. "I offered, but he didn't seem down for it. I doubt two of us will seal the deal. Unless?..." Teddy asked Peter with his eyes. "I'm down to share him with you if you're down, bro! But, I think he's headed out!"

"I, uh, you guys know I can hear you right and I'm right here?" He finally managed to say, moving to maybe take a slight step back onto to feel the chest of then other guy right against him now. When the hell had he gotten so close? His heart racing, doe eyes widening and starting at Teddy in disbelief, almost like he was too nervous to look back at the guy behind him.

"You sure dude? He doesn't seem to be moving, looking like a deer in the headlights" The guy half joked, a hand moving down Peter's side to his hip, who was still stun locked with those wide eyes and parted lips in disbelief at the situation he found himself in. "What do ya say Ted? Can't we keep him?" Peter practically could hear the grin on the guy's face as he said that, once more talking about him in this moment.

"I want you, my little hero. A pretty toy for me to use whenever I want." He groaned as the other began bouncing on his cock and babbling for him. He reached up and gripping the other's face, pulling him closer so he could kiss Spider-Man over the mask. "I'd make you give up that cute mask of yours. No time for Spider-Man when my cock needs a hole to fuck." He dropped his hand, fingers slowly wrapping around the other's throat. Just like the hero, Jonah was getting lost in the fantasy.

"Take it off. I want to see your face. I'm going to fuck you until you're a drooling mess." Jonah had always been the kind of person who liked rules and boundaries. It just so happened that he liked creating them for others just as much as he liked them for himself. So the idea of getting the great Spider-Man to truly submit to him in every sense of the world... Well it made Jonah suddenly understand the appeal in being a villain.

His face flushed under the mask at the dirty words, calling him his little hero, a pretty toy and treating him like he was his personal property. The muffled kiss made Peter whine and whimper for more, dick twitching at those comments suggesting Spider-Man would be no more if Jonah needed him for something else, this little wicked fantasy they'd created becoming more and more intense with every passing second.

A strangled little noise passing his lips as the hand found his throat, his eyes looking dazed under that mask from that action alone and the command that followed making him whimper. "But Sir I...p-please, my identity" He begged weakly, whimpering but still tugged the mask up enough to show those pretty lips and strong jaw. A compromise or the start of him doing as he was told? Even Peter wasn't sure, but it did allow him to lean in and finally kiss that man properly, with trembling lips and his jawline brushing against Jonah's facial hair.

He didn't miss it. The way the mage's breath suddenly hitched as his wrists were grasped so easily. There was always somethign satisfying about catching Dmitri by surprise, and this moment was no exception. Even more so once their eyes met with the tilt of the other's head upward. Listening to each comment, while his hands guided. Aiming to move th eother's arms above his head while they spoke.

"You know, I don't think I mentioned the word taming, Dmitri. Is that your own desires slipping free?" Even this close was too far given the sudden shift in their dynamic. Weight adjusting until he could shift one of his legs in tot he space between the mages. Press in closer. "I do happen to spend time thinking about how you'd sound in the throes of pleasure, Dmitri, but I'm willing to bet you're just the same as me. How about you start confessing yourself, what you've spent so much time imagining me doing to you that you jumped straight to me taming you."

A shiver ran down his spine as he felt those big thighs of the larger man's move in, causing Dmitri's legs to spread so he could move in - pressed so close, any closer and their bodies would be merging together. Feeling that big chest pressed against his, feeling small and a little helpless in his grasp...though Dmitri was never truly helpless, or so he liked to believe.

"Mm, turning my question back on me...are we too shy or scared to answer?" He challenged with a knowing smirk. "Or do you wish to hear me talk about my want for you, my desire...do you wish to know of the men I have brought to my chambers to know who you compete against...only to know none could compare to you?" He whispered against those lips. "That those big arms of yours spend too much time wielding weapons and not being used on me, that I watch you from my tower training and working...that your name has escaped my lips in the heat of pleasure?" He questioned and teased.

"Perhaps I would tell you those deepest desires you wish of me, but...I believe I asked you first and I'm not easily made to give in" He hummed, brushing their noses together. "So if you want my confession, you'll have to do so first my Warlord...or is that a challenge too great for you?"

Of course Dmitri then made him rather immediately regret his choice of words with the following questions. Even more so when it was aparent the other was waiting for an answer. Weight shifting, at least thankful the space was dark enough to hide any kind of flush. "Well, asking for one. You've never felt particularly disinclined to my company. Secondly, you let me close to you on a regular basis. Should I be seeking your company alone, well. I assume you still follow the typical rules of requiring either your mouth, your hands, or both to effectively spellcast? If I happened to get close enough to, say..." A moment, before he found something bolder to do. Reaching in the darkness, snagging both of Dmitri's wrists in his hands to guide against the wall behind him, and moving his head in closer to the others. "Find a way to restrain and silence you, I assume that would as well?"

Then came the move that even took the mage by surprise, feeling those big hands gripping his wrists and moving them against the wall. The bold act mixed with the physical dominance in that moment called Dmitri's breath to hitch, as Christopher moved in closer so the space between them was more limited. That broad, towering display of the man now so very close to the mage. Clearing his throat, chin tilting up to look at him.

"My, my - rather bold move indeed...trying to bind and silence a mage are we, Warlord?" He mused, dark eyes gazing up at him in the low light. "Is that what you think about then, having me to yourself and making sure I can't escape you, attempting to tame me?" He questioned, brow raised and his warm breath tickling the man's lips. "Suddenly makes your interest in the men I keep company with all the more revealing...but I think there's more to this" He hummed, eyes never leaving him. "Go on, keep confessing else I may just try and break free and leave you alone, which I know you'd hate oh so much."

"Can you do that safely without harming either of us in the process? Because my best guess would just be trapping us as some form of warning or just... Keeping us out the way." Dmitri had probably spent enough time around the warlord to catch in his voice what he was doing his best to avoid showing. That anger at putting himself in this position, but more so putting the mage in it. Even if the compliment on his bulk soothed some of the sting. A breath escaping, adjusting his position. Trying to give a little space, even if it was difficult without things pressing together. "Alongside that, however, I would like to point out that there would be far easier ways to get time alone with you. With far more freedom of movement." A beat. "Although I do get the impression you aren't exactly against being this close to me, Dmitri."

But then the conversation seemed to shift from focusing on the mysterious menace who had put them here to the warlord's rather bold claims indeed. "...Is that so? Well then, Christopher - please I'm all ears. What are these far easier ways you know of to get time alone with me?" He questioned, raised brow and clearly expecting the other to confess them right then and there at the mage's instruction. "As for your little accusation, I will confess your company isn't all that bad, as for being this close to you...well, there are worse sights in the kingdom certainly."

He nodded to the man calling him like that. Little thief. He wanted to cum with that touch only, but it would be too soon. He wanted to be ravished too. Fucked until he couldn't think of anything else but Owen's big cock. He bit his lip, trying to resist the urge of that request. But as the thumb circled his piss slit once more, he caved in.

"I want you to fuck me again. I want to worship you again. Any part you want, just say it, da-" He started, suddenly swallowing the word, moaning to hide his dark fantasy that was emerging. He felt a bit bad , thinking he was betraying his real dad, Saint-Loup. But the man was not there for him anymore. Looking up again, he moaned, open mouth as he stared deeply into Owen's eyes. "Sir. I want you to use me as you please. Any hole."

"What was that, pet, hm? You should know better than hide your truths from me...especially when they're so desperate to come out" He murmured deeply, leaning in so their noses brushed together, lips so close but no kiss yet. His other hand moving down his chest, his stomach and getting lower as their eyes locked. "Deep down, is that what my little thief has wanted...craved....been searching for?" He questioned, breath tickling his lips as he brushed his thumb across those parted lips.

"Come now my little thief, my boy....tell Daddy the truth. Confess to him, like the good boy we both know you are" He instructed, the word falling from his lips with such ease. Claiming that title for himself that Basin had been so nervous to say out loud.

Long deliberate movements of his hips pushed his cock deep inside Spider-Man's tight hole. His thick base stretching the ringed muscled, while the head poked at the deepest end of the inner walls. A velvety embrace he regretted pulling out of, as he rolled his hips back to let his veiny cock drag out of Spider-Man's hole.

"Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." Vincent spat out, his voiced laced with callous amusement. "Our hero." He buried himself to the hilt, as both his hands so easily wrapped around Spider-Man's neck like a sinful collar. "You're nothing but my slut." No question, just a fact. An order, even. His grasp tightened. "You belong here, on your knees and impaled by my cock."

Vincent smiled, looking down at and seeing the hero's hole struggling with the ebb and flow of his slow thrusts. But more than anything, he savored the desperation he was putting on Spider-Man's mind. The way he whined for more. The beautiful tone of his whimpering and begging.

Groaning and arching his back in response to the slower thrusts and feeling him so deep but not moving fast. "No..." He whined loudly and deeply as he felt that cock drag out of him, ashamed by his own neediness. His breath hitched at the second hand on his neck, feeling it tighten like he was taking his breath away, making him squirm and his breath to shaken. Like a collar being tightened, powerless to stop it.

"I...I.." He stammered, any sense of that quipping gone and lost to the pleasure and desperation as he was told his place by a man he barely knew or their true intentions. That he belonged to him, like it was a simple truth and not a suggestion. "Fuck, I...yes...fine you win. I...fuck, I belong to you Sir" He confessed, voice shaking and biting his lip under the mask.

"Yes Sir, fuck I...yeah, I promise. I'll...do whatever you want, whatever you say."

The city never really went quiet. That was something Vincent had learned early on. There was no such thing as silence up here, just a different kind of noise. Distant traffic, the low hum of a building breathing beneath his feet, wind cutting between towers. He'd started coming up here to think and had long since stopped pretending that was still the primary reason.

Vincent had his usual spot. Corner of the ledge, back against the water tower, legs stretched out in front of him. Comfortable in the way that took weeks to earn. The sound came before the figure did. The familiar rhythmic snap of webbing, the brief silence of a long arc, and then the soft landing a few meters away. Vincent had stopped flinching somewhere around the second week.

He didn't look up immediately. "You're late."

It wasn't an accusation. If anything there was the faint pull of a smile at the corner of his mouth, eyes still fixed on the sprawl of the city below them. He'd learned that too, that Spider-Man was easier to keep around when Vincent didn't make too much of his arriving. Like a stray that would bolt if you moved too fast.

He was getting better at patient.

"Rough night?" He asked. While their encounters were frequent, Vincent knew better than to think of them as nothing else than two men blowing off some steam. And by the determined look of Spider-Man's walk, tonight there was a lot of steam to blow off.

They had never kissed, the mask wouldn't allow it, but Vincent had provided plenty of bite marks along Spider-Man's neck. His scent, something beyond human, lulled Vincent into a lustful trance every time he breathed it in. It never took much before his pants were gone, before Spider-Man himself straddled him with nothing in mind but sitting on Vincent's hard cock.

Changing positions, Vincent knelt on the cement of the roof, and aimed for Spider-Man's hole once again. Mere seconds had been enough for his cock to miss the warm embrace of the hero's velvety insides. The walls of which received him with an ease Vincent had never felt before.

Yet despite all these questions, all this uncertainty...Peter let it happen again and again, whether it was the water tower...a bedroom or somewhere even more exposing, Spider-Man showed up and became complete putty in this man's grasp. The suit would come off, save the mask, and his body would be used and abused and left marked and taken and completely Vincent's in a thousand different ways. Maybe the risk of it all made it all the more crazy or intense or addicting...but even today Peter needed even more than usual.

Which is how he found himself not riding the huge man's cock like normal, but on all fours with this towering mass of a man looming over him. His huge body making the hero feel so small and helpless, a feeling that was rare for him. Eyes widening under the mask at the degrading words mixed with that huge hand around his neck, like a silent threat or promise of how much power he had over him right now.

"F-Fuck I...ngh..." He babbled and stammered, voice shaking before he spoke again. "P...Please Sir, please. Go harder, please I'll do anything. N-Name your price...anything" He begged like the needy, helpless hero he was.