꒷꒦꒷꒦( ´ཀ` )꒦꒷꒦꒷

Oh this felt utterly ridiculous. Setting up the camera against the night stand, he began second-guessing everything; the angle, the lighting, whether or not you’d even like this. Shit, he really should have asked first. As much as he’d heard about the universal hatred of unsolicited dick pics, he had heard you mention on several occasions how much you missed him and wondered if he was thinking of you as he sought relief from all the pent-up onstage energy. Of course the answer was a resounding yes, he just thought it was time to prove it. 

With a deep breath, he hit the record button on the screen, stepping backward awkwardly to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Good evening, angel. Though it’s, erm, morning, I suppose, where you are. Which isn’t here. Unfortunately.” Smooth start there, V. 

“I was thinking of you and naturally it, uh, got the blood flowing. Fuck it. This one is for you, amore.” 

Leaning back against the pillows, he ran his palm over the bulge beneath the laces of his pants. Immediately his body responded in turn, hardening against his touch. Eyes flickering shut, he let out a groan as his hand ran over the fabric, the friction rubbing deliciously against his sensitive skin, gone untouched by his lover for so painfully long. 

Slowly, he began to untie the laces, cursing himself for not doing so prior to filming as he struggled with trembling fingers. As if you hadn’t seen him so flustered before. Eventually he was able to unfasten the ties, his hand slipping underneath to grasp his cock. He didn’t want to reveal himself just yet; no, if he was going to leap into this unknown territory, he wasn’t going to make it that easy for you. 

Gently stroking along his length, he ran his fingers through his hair, imagining the feeling of your hands against his chest, the way your lips felt against his, how your body felt so ludicrously perfect underneath him, taking him so perfectly as you moaned his name. Fuck, that did it. No longer wishing to play so dutifully patient, he yanked his pants down to his ankles, forgoing any apprehension he had about how he might appear on camera. 

With a gloved finger to his mouth, he bit down hard as he gripped the base of his cock, feeling the pulsating pressure building with intense fervor. He began to thrust into his fist, arching his back as his mind flooded with images of your sordid nights, how you’d both expanded your tastes in discovering new and filthy ways to please each other. His pace quickened thumb sliding over his head for the precum already collected there. The leather glove was so buttery smooth against his cock, but nothing compared to the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, taking every inch. 

“Fuck, angel, the things you do to me,” he rasped in a pathetic whine, eyes clamping shut as the pleasure climbed to unbearable heights. 

With a roaring moan, he pushed himself over the edge, pumping furiously as he came, white spurts of his release coating the blankets beneath him. He was panting, chest heaving with his hand planted over his mouth as sweat beaded against his forehead. For a moment he could only stay rooted in place, the final pearly drops falling from his tip, dripping along his fingers. 

Finally with a sobering breath, he cleared his throat, glancing down at the mess he’d made of his bed, of himself. This was all your doing, he thought with a smirk. Grabbing a handful of tissues, he began to clean up, then remembered with a slight jolt that he was still fucking recording and this was very much the least sexy part of such things. Scrambling to stand on unsteady legs, he immediately tripped forward as his pants were still around his ankles, and clumsily reached for his phone. 

“Until we get to share such things in person again, amore.” 

Blowing a kiss, he ended the recording, hitting send before he could give himself a chance to hesitate. Moving almost mechanically, he finished cleaning up, making a pile of soiled blankets and changing into more comfortable clothes. He nearly jumped out of his skin as his phone left out a loud ping. Moment of truth…

Looking down at your name on the screen with a gulp, he tapped the message, seeing a video was sent in return. The text above it read:

The effect you have on me, V xxx

Pressing play, he sat down roughly once more, eyes wide as you came into focus.

The willow cane slapped roughly against the back of your thighs as you winced, but only for a moment as the glorious sting sent a rush of endorphins across your body. You kneeled in front of him on your knees, arms tied behind your back. Terzo gripped your jaw, yanking your chin upward, forcing you to met his gaze. Smirking, he ran his thumb against the corner of your eye, the cotton of his glove quickly absorbing the tear collected there.

"Good, good," he purred, dropping his voice to a rumbling tone. "You crave more, do you not?"

Oh how he loved how you looked with reddened flesh, the visible reminders of his effect on your body. Rows of welts were rising on your legs and across your ass, beautiful poetry etched onto your skin.

"Yes, Papa," you rasped, desperate for his approval but thriving on his corrections. "Please, Papa. I need it."

Admittedly, you had been particularly bratty today, hoping to awaken this side of him and loving the thrill you got from seeing him reach into the cabinet of his office, knowing what was stored inside.

Gripping a fistful of your hair, his hand came down hard against your cheek before forcing your jaw open. You watched with loving eyes as he worked his tongue along the inside of his mouth, spitting directly onto your waiting tongue.