#eva asks

The corset he wears is laced up so tightly, it pinches his sides, but it was valentines’ day, and Charles hadn’t asked for anything except this.

And although he felt ridiculous, parading around in something so restrictive and feminine… he wasn’t prepared for the way Charles’ eyes grew large and dark when he saw that corset on him.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and (oddly) admired the way the boning contoured his body into a curvaceous shape - emphasising the broad expanse of his shoulders and back, and making his waist so tiny and trim in contrast.

“Fuck…” Charles had uttered, like a filthy prayer, “god you look so hot.”

He too, wasn’t immune to the prettiness of Charles, already naked, laid out on the bed, propped up by his arms to take a better look at his get-up. “I kept my side of the deal…” he murmured, approaching the bed and feeling the thigh highs he’d worn to accompany the corset bite into his thighs. He wasn’t sure how Charles would feel about them, but from the way his eyes cascaded down his body, fixated on the lines strapped across his muscled legs, his bulge straining at the tight satin underwear he’d worn… Carlos knew he’d been right to go full-on with the costume.

Charles reached out to put his hands on his cinched waist and drew him in to the bed, but Carlos held back. “Ah, ah,” he’d chastised, and Charles pouted. “Where’s my present?”

There was a glint in Charles’ eyes that simply spelled trouble, but Carlos was eager for it. in fact he couldn’t ever remember a time where he wasn’t eager for it.

From beneath the sheets, Charles produced a Ferrari-red bow inscribed with glittery letters: daddy’s fucktoy.

Carlos felt his face grow hot, as Charles handed the ribbon to him. “Was the ‘daddy’ necessary?”

He gave Carlos the most teasing little grin. “Was the only one they had left. And besides… don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

Carlos hoped his blush didn’t betray him, but it always did. He tied the bow around Charles’ neck anyway, and somehow seeing the words scrawled shamelessly across his boyfriend’s neck turned him on more than he cared to admit.

“Oh!” Charles added, reaching for another surprise - this one, making his eyes bulge - a set of metal clips that looked particularly painful… and intriguing.

“Where do they-?” Carlos swallows, trying not to think about where they’d look best on Charles’ smooth skin - the welts, bruises they’d leave… so red and suckable.

Charles clips one to the bud of his nipple, hissing and sighing with the pained-pleasure of it all. Carlos wants to tug on the chain connected to it… to hear the pathetic whimper he knows Charles saves just for him. “Can you put the second one on me, please?”

Charles presents his chest proudly to Carlos, who takes the clip and, instead of giving him what he wants - draws little tantalising circles around his nipple until Charles moans at the cold metal against his warm skin. “Did you ask me nicely?”

“Please,” Charles begs, and Carlos nods, letting the clamp press gently into his sensitive areola. The whine that leaves his pretty mouth is so sexy, he tugs at the chain once, just hard enough to make Charles yelp now, and gaze up at him with the hungriest look he’d ever seen.

“Please fuck me,” he begs, and Carlos cannot deny him anything when he looks this pathetic.

He doesn’t hold back when he crawls atop him - slicking himself up as Charles lies back and holds his knees to his chest. He’s so incredibly tight when Carlos fucks into him, wincing and begging for more - wanting it to hurt so good, so Carlos tugs on the clamps until he cries out, until his neck turns red as the bow he wears, from exertion and arousal. Fuck. It’s so hot seeing him like this.

Carlos fucks him until Charles’ eyes glaze over and he grows dazed and barely coherent, and Carlos has to pull his legs from his chest and wrap them around his corseted-waist, so he doesn’t ache from too long in the position, and Charles whines in gratitude.

Charles becomes more delicate like this, running his hands indulgently across his broad shoulders, scratching at the muscles that bunch up across the tight boning of his garment. He kisses Carlos, and moves with him in a rhythm that makes them both breathless and aching, until Carlos pulls back and leans his forehead against Charles’, a wild, searching look in his eyes.

“Want you to come for me,” he orders, and Charles seizes up with the desperate desire to obey.

It’s what good fucktoys do, after all.

And Carlos tells him so in whispered, fervent praise. “My good little fucktoy.”

Charles gasps his name when he comes, spilling all across the corset that Carlos wears and over his own tummy, and it’s all Carlos can to to hold his composure - wanting to watch the way pleasure etches itself across his beautiful face.

God he could get addicted to the sight of this. And maybe he has.

The groan he buries in Charles’ trembling mouth is desperate, and Charles answers with eager little cries - pleading with him until he comes inside him - hot and messy, panting against the thrilling rush of his orgasm and the restrictions of his corset.

He slumps over into Charles’ arms, his flushed face half-pressed against the glittery bow he wears, and wonders how they’ll top next year’s Valentine’s Day.

-

????????? don’t know where this came from, oh my god. do not perceive me.

thanks for the ask, eva 🥰 feel free to send me more prompts!

inspo pics (if you care for them)