#heisendaddy

The two of you stand there staring at each other, achingly aware of the last time you were together. The air feels charged with shared memories and mingled pheromones, heavy with the weight of a million things neither of you is willing - or able - to voice.

The moment lasts only a few seconds, but it feels like entire days from sunrise to sunset go by before you remember that he just asked you a question. 

“I … I was …” You look down at the device in your hands, then back up at him looming over you. “I was putting this back."

He blinks down at you from behind his dark frames, but he still doesn't say anything.

He's ... hesitating?

No, that can't be right. What would he have to hesitate about? What could you have possibly done to make him hesitant? What could you ever do to make this man in particular hesitate?

Unless ... ?

Did he somehow register your split-second desire to charge at him face-first so you can inhale him properly? The thought alone makes you wince in self-consciousness.

Your Lord's silence drags on for a few more agonizing seconds, just long enough for you to wonder if you should repeat yourself.

"So you admit it."

Huh?

His tone is strangely ominous. Which in itself isn't unusual, but the extent to which its noticeable is concerning.

"Those are good instincts." He nods sagely before he plucks the proffered device out of your hands. "Keep listening to them, and you might just make it out of this alive."

You stare at him blankly as he opens up the tape deck and pulls out the cassette inside, beginning to question both his sanity and yours as your already-tenuous grasp on what this conversation is even about continues to fray.

"Recruiting you must have been an eventful process," he says casually before glancing down at the tape in his hand.

... The hell is this man talking about?

Before you can even begin to think of a reply, Lord Heisenberg does a double-take.

His brows knit together in visible confusion, as though he's not quite certain he's seeing what he's seeing. He pushes back the wide brim of his hat and even pockets his signature frames, as if to get a better look at the object in his hand.

And in doing so, he gives you a much better look at him. 

Your eyes widen. He looks awful.

Without the hat and shades in the way, his hair swept back from his face, you can see the clear signs of extreme strain and exhaustion dragging down his features. He looks almost ... haggard. Like he hasn't slept in weeks.

It's no secret in the factory or the village at large that Lord Heisenberg despises his family and resents the trips he has to take in order to maintain cordial ties with them. That's never been in question.

But seeing the dire aftermath up close ... What happened to him? Did something happen to him? Was he ill while he was away? Is he ill right now? Is that why he's talking utter nonsense? What could have -

“... Astronomy?” he hisses. "Astronomy?"

Against all possible sense, you find yourself stifling a nervous laugh at your Lord's outburst. He sounds so unreasonably upset, you have no idea why, and the absurdity of the situation nearly overwhelms you before you get a grip.

"Well … yes," you answer gently.

His hands drop to his sides as he gawks at you in stunned silence.

"I'm guessing that was a side-project? Or something you were doing in your free time?"

You're starting to feel self-conscious again. And the resumed protracted silence is definitely not helping.

"Um ... it was fascinating," you continue, beginning to squirm under the weight of his stare. "I-I'll admit, I don't know much about planetary alignments, but your thoughts on Keplar-"

Your words grind to a halt as you watch Lord Heisenberg drop the tape and the player on the ground. He begins to stomp the two objects over and over again, crushing them repeatedly beneath the sole of his heavy boot.

Sensing this isn't quite the moment to intervene or comment, you watch in silence as he continues to stomp until the items are reduced to unsalvageable scrap, stopping only when both are basically unrecognizable. Then with a final flourish, he kicks the remnants across the floor, sending the parts scattering all over the place.

He swings back around to face you, breathing heavily and looking absolutely furious.

You pick this moment to smile.

Or at least, you try to. It doesn't quite come across, feeling more like a polite grimace etched into your face.

His scowl only deepens in response.

"Here's what's going to happen."

You straighten instinctively, hands folded primly in front of you. Okay. Orders. He's going to give you orders now. Yes. Familiar territory. Totally professional.

"You're going to get out of my fucking sight."

Your stomach drops. "You want me to leave?"

"Yes."

"The ... The factory, my Lord?" You can barely get the words past the lump in your throat, it's a miracle he can even hear you.

Then, seeming to finally register both the stricken look on your face and the lack of clarity in his command, he sighs.

"Let me clarify," he growls. "You're to leave this room. You are not to return until I give you clearance to do so."

Your Lord closes in on you again, crowding you against the edge of the workbench as he glowers down at you like he wants to stomp you into oblivion, too.

"If you attempt to leave the factory grounds," he continues, "there will be consequences."

The implicit threat behind his words has a paradoxical effect, giving you an odd kind of reassurance. He's not sending you away. Not really. He just needs some space. A bit of breathing room to deal with ... whatever this is about.

"Do you understand?"

You nod. “Yes. Understood.”

“Then why are you still here? Get out.”

You incline your head with frosty deference before attempting to leave. 

It’s only an attempt because the second you try to walk around him towards the door, you find yourself jerked immediately to a halt by his hand fastening on your arm.

What now?

He's looking at you again, but not at your face. He's looking much lower.

“... Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

Did he just realize that?, you think incredulously. He's more tired than I thought ...

You can't really blame him. Somewhere in all the confusion, you also somehow managed to completely forget that all you’re wearing is one of his shirts.

A hot flush creeps under your skin from head to toe. He's staring at your bare legs with barely disguised interest. Almost like he hasn't already seen a lot more of you.

You don’t know what it is exactly - maybe the fact that he’s standing so close to you - but you’re suddenly hyperaware of just how small you are compared to this man. 

It's strange. You’re not at all accustomed to feeling small in very many contexts, and even all this time spent so close to this man, you’re still not used to it.

All things considered, this shouldn't really be anything new to you. You’ve gone toe-to-toe with men bigger than you before.

You’ve had to, just to get by. To make it from one day to the next over the past few decades without much in the way of family, friends, resources or overall stability. 

Not a single one of those men ever made you feel as small as you do right now. Or fragile.  

And even the ones that did ... never made you feel so at peace with that feeling.

With a jolt, you realize you’ve zoned out again. He asked you a question. You've left the conversation hanging. Your knees have started to shake a little bit. And because he's staring at you, he can see that plainly.

You clear your throat, trying to salvage the tattered remains of your dignity before you answer.

“I was out of clean laundry,” you lie.

Karl doesn’t say anything. Instead, he quietly zeroes in on the conspicuous coffee stain on the garment's shoulder at the exact same time that you remember it’s even there.

Damn it.

“... You were … also … out of clean laundry."

His eyes lift from the stain to meet your gaze. Your heart begins to thud as he arches one gray eyebrow at you. The tiniest hint of a smirk teases the corners of his mouth.

He begins to pull you closer. You can’t help but notice that his grip isn’t as firm as you initially thought. You could probably wriggle out of his grasp. 

Probably.

If you wanted to.

But that doesn’t seem to be something you want right now.

“Listening to my monographs … Wearing my clothes,“ he murmurs, his tone soft, almost feather-light. ”Making yourself right at home, aren’t you?”

You’re staring at his mouth, trying so hard not to get tangled up in his scent that you almost forget to reply. 

All you can manage is a low, breathy "Yeah."

You’re not certain if that’s quite satisfactory for him because he still doesn’t release you. 

“...Yeah?” he echoes, his eyes tracing the curve of your lips. 

An unmistakable ripple passes between the two of you, invisible but incandescent. As close as the two of you are standing to one another, you both have the sense that you’re much further apart then either of you would prefer. 

You look back up into his eyes.

God, even dead-tired and clearly not well, he is a sight. Those aquiline features at odds with those long lashes and soft lips. A gray lock falls over his forehead as he leans further over you.

You could look at him forever. And he seems to be giving you ample opportunity, since he’s in no particular hurry to let you go. His scent and body heat is muddling your senses. You feel it mingling with your own, the two seeming to knit together in a way you can't quite describe, but can feel down to the marrow of your bones.

Oh, please, fucking put me out of my misery, you whine silently as a curious immobility takes hold of you. The words echo nonsensically inside your head. Are you begging to die? Surely not. What are you begging for exactly?

You’re staring at his mouth again, thinking back to the last time you saw him. Covered in sweat, flushed, emptying himself inside you as you lay twitching under his weight pressing down on you in the dark. You force yourself to look back up into his eyes.

His fingers shift, and you feel that shift even through the combined layers of his leather glove and your - his - shirt. Unseen, a telepathic exchange takes place: what if we were naked right now? Wouldn’t that be lovely? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we were -

Then your Lord blinks, the current cuts off and the moment passes.

He releases your arm and turns his back on you.

You stay perfectly still, waiting to be re-dismissed and trying not to focus too much on how rejected you feel.

"Go."

There it is. The re-dismissal. Permission to leave. Permission to get on with your day and try to put all this behind you for the time being.

And yet, your first impulse is to disobey.

You hesitate. 

You're not entirely sure why, but a foreboding sense that he shouldn't be left alone right now keeps your feet from moving. 

That's when you hear it.

A chorus of moans and mechanical buzzing coming from beneath the trapdoor.

The soldats.

"Now," he snaps.

When he didn’t say anything right away, you proceeded to explain yourself. “Barkeep mentioned you haven’t ordered anything since you got here. I figured I could spot you a round. Hope you don’t find it rude.”

To your surprise, the man chuckles, returning your patient smile with a toothy grin. “Can’t tell if you’re brave or just straight-up fucking strange. But you are definitely interesting, I’ll give you that.”

You tilt your head curiously, unsure of what to make of his comment. Perhaps, this stranger is one of those lone wolf types that rarely engage in social interaction. However, that didn’t seem correct. He seemed more like the type that enjoyed talking, if not just to hear the sound of his own voice. He has such a distinctive voice too, you found, the rich baritone hitting strings inside you that sent shivering notes tingling down your spine. You shudder not out of fear or anxiety, but out of genuine fascination.

The stranger takes the mug you’ve put down for him in one of his hands, lifting it by the handle and bringing it to his lips before tipping his head back. It gave you an opportunity to look him over. As you suspected, he is large in build. Burly and robust but not overly ripped in muscular definition. He looked strong and undeniably imposing, shaped by hard, laborious work. You imagine that if he wasn’t holding the mug at its handle, he could wrap his thick, calloused digits around the cup with ease. The loose shirt he wore had the sleeves rolled up, exposing several wiry scars that adorn the back of his hands and forearms. They varied in length and size, barely faded by time, and matched the old wounds that ran across his rugged face.

Questions danced upon your tongue on how he got his scars, but you thought better of it and bit them down. He looked different from the other men you’ve seen in the village and had a unique air about him too, one that you would be able to immediately spot in a busy crowd. He was quite handsome, in a rough sort of way.

The man must have noticed you staring for when you brought your eyes back up to his, he was already looking right at you. His bright gaze remained locked onto you even as he sets the drink back down with a quenched sigh, a devilish tongue swipes the excess liquid from damp lips before withdrawing behind wolfish teeth. The ends of his mouth tugs upwards, putting his canines into full display. The damn man is smirking again and his eyes had a knowing, teasing gleam to them. Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, you bowed your head to hide the embarrassment burning on your cheeks.

Suddenly feeling incredibly shy, you take a step back. “I-I’m going to see to my other patrons, then. If you need anything else, just-”

“What’s your name, buttercup?” He cuts you off. There is an edge to his tone, as if daring you to move from your spot before him.

Buttercup? He’s giving you a petname? Is it derogatory or is it a genuine term of endearment? Either way, it made your face burn hotter.

Overwhelmed with the need to answer him immediately, you gave the stranger your name without a second thought. He repeats it in a low, slow drawl as if testing and savoring the sound on his tongue. Your heart picks up speed and you spoke up again in a futile attempt to calm the rapid beating.

“What’s yours?”

Like flipping a switch, the air between you two suddenly shifts. The wide smirk he wore falters and his brows furrow. These few words seemed to have disarmed him as the grey-haired man beholds you with a piercing glare, searching your face for any signs that you are joking or something. You could do nothing but stare back, balancing on the balls of your feet nervously. When he found that you were sincere in your question, he grasps his bearded chin thoughtfully.

“Intriguing,” he comments, his expression deeply pensive. His reply didn’t relieve any of the tension you were feeling and you wondered if you somehow offended him for not knowing who he is. “Are you local?”

Unable to fathom where his line of questioning was heading, you decided that it was best to answer him honestly as you have been doing thus far. “Uhh, yes, of course. Born and raised. Although, I’m not from the immediate area, if that’s what you mean.”

A thick silver brow arches. “So, I take it you’re not the religious sort, then.”

You shake your head. There was no helping the guilt taking root inside you. Clearly this man thinks that his identity should be apparent to you. Thinking about it, he does look sort of familiar but you couldn’t quite place him. You wished then that you paid more attention to the people around you in the weekly sermons.

“Not really,” you rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “I rarely went to church. Not that I don’t follow the black faith, mind you. I just have other priorities. Life can be hard in the village, you know how it is.”

When he didn’t comment on this, you followed up with your own inquiry with the intention of making polite conversation. He mentioned religion, so…

“Are you a pastor?” That seemed like a logical thing to ask. But surely if he was leading the mass, you’d have remembered him right away. Maybe you simply missed each other in passing. You can’t shake the feeling that you do know him somewhere.

A bellowing laugh erupts from his throat. The man bends over on his seat, banging the wooden tabletop with a clenched fist as zealous humor consumed him. You didn’t notice that the rest of the tavern went completely quiet at his spontaneous outburst. When he finally sits back upright, he was in tears.

“Damn, you’re adorable!” He sighs deeply, his grin wide as he wipes the water from his eyes. “Do I look like the kind to give fucking sermons, buttercup?”

Again with the petname. You weren’t bothered by it this time. If anything, you took the lighthearted turn in the conversation as a good sign, pleased to see that the man looked like he was enjoying his time with you. Even at the expense of your embarrassment.

Deciding it best to play along, you returned his good humor with a playful smile of your own. “Looks can be deceiving.”

He scoffs, “Can say that again. Guess not everyone in Miranda’s herd is a sheep.”

You didn’t quite register that. “Excuse me?”

His hand waves off your question dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You…”, the grey-haired man leans back against his chair, his lopsided smile bordered on teasing. “You get to call me Karl.”

A surprised hum escapes you, you didn’t expect a man so interesting to have such an ordinary name. Thankfully, he didn’t seem offended by the involuntary sound. Remembering you had a job to do, you throw him a courteous nod.

“Nice to meet you, Karl. I really should check on my other customers. Is there anything else I can get you?”

He casts you a playful look, “Are you on the menu?”

Although you were standing still, you nearly tripped over on the spot and tried to save face by quipping back. “Ha ha. Think you’re so smooth.”

Karl shrugs, reaching for the mug once more and inspecting the contents lazily. “I prefer to be rough. But no, I think this will do. For now.”

Your brain shut down after “rough” and you were quick to retreat back to the bar, ears turning red upon hearing his knowing chuckle as you created distance. So distracted by the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you that you failed to realize that the usual hustle and bustle of the busy tavern was completely void of sound. A loud bang of what sounded like someone slamming their hand against the wood harshly is all that it took to bring life back into the room and the patrons returning to their own devices. This somehow went under your notice too. You did not regain your wits until the barkeep you were working with for the night snapped his fingers in front of your face.

“Oy! New blood! Didn’t I tell you not to bother that one?” he reproached you. Was that panic in his eyes?

You blink back at your distressed coworker. “If it’s about the free tankard, I’ll foot the lei. Everyone else looked like they were having a fine time besides him. That didn’t seem right to me.”

The frantic man shook his head fiercely, “Whether or not he is enjoying himself isn’t any of our business. He could very well be plotting his wrath upon this establishment for what you did!”

The excitement that was bubbling within you before is now replaced by confusion. “Why would Karl do that? Who is he?”

The barkeep’s face falls into that of pure shock. “Are you completely daft!? He’s-”

He chokes. Suddenly, his expression pales to an alarming shade of white. From the corner of your eye, you spot a large shadow looming and felt an imposing presence from your side.

You turn your head to see the man from before standing next to you. But this wasn’t the Karl that you spoke with earlier. He had the same face but wore more clothing- more distinct articles of clothing that made you freeze on the spot upon recognition. Afterall, who could ever miss the signature dirty trenchcoat, or the dark, round glasses, or the well-worn hat of Lord Heisenberg himself? Who dares not recognize one of the four nobles that rule over the village with an iron fist? Evidently you.

He didn’t meet your eyes right away, instead he had a deathly glare directed right at the barkeep who was now quivering in his boots. “Because I’m in a good mood,” the lord began, voice descended into a low growl, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear what you just called my new friend.” Lord Heisenberg then looks down at you behind black lenses, his demeanor shifting from threatening and terrifying to playful and pleasant.

His smile returns, seemingly wider than before, likely because he knows that you know who he is now. “Thanks for the drink, buttercup. I’ll see you real soon.” He pushes his shades down the bridge of his nose, winking at you before tipping his hat in an exaggerated head bow. With heavy footsteps, he takes his leave, not giving a second glance.

Your eyes followed him and lingered on the door he went through long after he left. There was a deafening silence. It filled the tavern for what seemed like an eternity before it was broken by the clanging of the metal tray you once held in your hands.

The lord of steel was here in the flesh. And you were talking to him so carelessly. And he was flirting with you so shamelessly. This was not how you expected your first day on the job to go. And he declared he intended to see you again.

Heisenberg has been busy lately, barely sleeping, never leaving his work space, he wouldn't be eating if it wasn't for you bringing his food to him. You missed him. Being alone in the crowded, loud factory, even in the living area, made you feel out of place. 

Walking around never helped either. Not only was it dangerous without Karl, it was unsettling. You weren't stupid, you knew what his experiments were, you knew what they could do and would do if given the chance. They're dangerous and they're everywhere. The lychens were better than his experiments, they at least knew better than to disobey Karl even when he wasn't there. 

Not only was it dangerous, it was just unsettling. Some parts of the factory were loud enough to break your eardrums while others were at a constant, unsettling silence. You hated walking through the silent rooms. They were suffocating. 

You felt so small in the makeshift house Karl kept you in. It wasn't like you couldn't leave, you had full reign of the factory, You just didn't feel like you could go anywhere without Karl. You had grown dependent on him in this terrifying world you've come to know. 

It was about time to start cooking for dinner. You were getting peckish and you assumed your dear lord was starved, working as hard as he does. Making him a plate after you made your own, you made your trek to his workshop. 

Your home was on a higher level, farthest away from his experiments and the more dangerous parts of the factory. That also made you far away from Karl's office in turn. The walk to him was a long one, and you were surprised he managed to make it most nights. 

The room outside of Karl's office felt especially cold. You could hear him working at his desk, tinkering and muttering to himself. When you slid the door open he didn't even turn around, the outside world was a void to him. 

He didn't have his signature hat on, nor his coat. Karl wore an undershirt and his cargo pants. He was sweating even though it was chilly in the room. You could see a single drop roll from his neck and down his back under his shirt. You couldn't help but let your vision trail the expanse of his back.

From even just glancing at his back you knew he was strong enough to lift you above his head but you already knew that from experience. He was also soft, hugging him from behind was like leaning on a cliff side covered in moss. He was strong but comforting and so beautiful. 

You set the food in your hands on the table across the room. It was where you usually ate with him and was less cluttered than the rest of the room. You pulled a chair out from the other side of the room and set it by your food. He still didn't look up.

You couldn't just talk to Karl to get his attention. Lord Heisenberg when focused is a force to reckon with. You had to gently get his attention while at the same time physically encroaching on him so he'd change his focus to you.

Gently you wrapped you hands around his shoulders, approaching him from behind for a hug. He stiffened at the touch but recognized you undoubtedly from how gentle you were with him. You were always so soft for him.

"What is it?" he rasped, he wasn't trying to be mean but his tone was harsher than usual. You furrowed your brow in confusion.

"I brought dinner." it sounded more like a question than you meant it to but he hummed in acknowledgment anyway. He still didn't give you the attention you wanted, barely looking up from his work to spare you a glance. 

"Its already on the table. It'll get cold if you don't eat it now." you whispered into his ear, your breath fanned his neck and you started trailing kisses down his neck.

He was salty to taste, his hands were covered in grease and oil. He smelled metallic and earthy but it was comforting in a way. Soon, you planned on getting him into a bath before he drops from exhaustion. 

He groaned when your kisses reached behind his ear. Just to tease him you nipped at his earlobe earning a huff. He spun around in his chair and grabs your waist to keep you still.

"You certainly know how to be a distraction." he purred a sly smirk painting his face. He leaned in, closer to your ear where you could feel his breath ghost over you.

"Is that all you know how to be?" He mused, grip tightening on you. If he held on for any longer there was sure to be a bruise but he moves from your waist to your back swiftly.

His hands were cold and left goosebumps in their wake. Karl always had rough hands, most of the time they were covered in bandages from where he hurt himself in the workshop. You don't recall him wiping his hands on anything before he started touching you but you couldn't care less right now. You missed him so much it was impossible to think with him gingerly rubbing you back and his face so close to your own.

You stifled a groan rising in your throat to look at him. Karl had dark circles around his eyes, contrasting his light blue eye color. His hair was messily pulled back, so you undid it to run your hands through his tangled hair. You led your hand down his face to lightly scratch at his beard making Karl subconsciously lean towards your touch. 

He stopped rubbing your back and curled his arms around you, hands gripping your ass in the hug in a possessive manner.

"The things you do to me." he whispered to himself. He squeezed your ass a little before finally pulling away. He entrapped you at his desk, his larger frame leaning over your own and pressing you against the desk's edge. His hand gripped your waist holding you against him.

You lean against him, hovering over Karl's mouth so that he'd be the one to kiss you. He kissed you feverishly, almost desperately, trying to make up for all the kisses he missed out on. 

You sighed when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. It grazed over your teeth as he explored his new territory. He groped at your hips and thighs. You could hear the hum he tried to stifle.

The papers behind you were getting in the way. Although he knew he would have to pick up his blueprints later, Karl needed to throw them out of the way so you could sit on the desk, just where he wanted you. You gasped when the papers brushed against you as they fell to the ground, his aggression wasn't surprising but you could never get over how powerful he was in even the mundane.

"You gonna be good for me?" Karl started trailing kisses down your neck. He rolled his hips into you, making you moan into his hair to stifle your noise. 

"Apparently not," he growled, moving away from you. You whined at him and gripped his shirt, he grabbed your hands and set them on the table. You felt something cold wrap around your wrists before he finally let go of you.

Metal wrapped around your wrists like bracelets but you knew better than to think they were just for decoration. He smirked at your knowing reaction, moving the metal to pin your wrists to the table forcing you to lay on the cluttered desk. He grasped at your shirt before ripping it to shreds, leaving your chest bare for him.

His hands found your waist again before sliding down your leg and to your ankles. He attached metal cuffs to your ankles as well. His hand trailed back up your leg to grip your thigh before your legs separated. He rubbed up and down your legs before grasping at your center thighs and tearing your bottoms off.

"Look at you," he mocked "you're so good at following orders." he dipped down to trail kisses onto your naked thighs. His beard tickled your skin with every move he made, causing you to flinch and squirm but the metal cuffs kept you firmly in place, never reaching away from Karl's touch. He loved to tease you but when you acted like this it was hard to keep his composure.

"look at me." he growled, grabbing your cheeks so harsh it made your cheeks pucker. "I don't wanna see you wiggling while I work you. You don't get to cum until I say so, got it, doll?" Karl spat out doll like he was cursing at you, and glared at you expecting an answer. His grip only tightened when you hesitated, lips unable to move from his vice grip you simply nodded. 

Satisfied he let you go with a small shove, not moving you in the slightest but enough force to make you flinch. He turned to the side grabbing a much bigger cuff and warped it to fit around you neck so he could make you look wherever he wanted. He'd force you to face him through all of his ministrations.

With a smirk he moved back down to your sex. He blew at you, earning a twitch, which made his smirk widen, showing off his pronounced canines. His tongue rolled out to lap at your most sensitive part causing you to whine. You couldn't look away from him even if you wanted to, and your ankles refused to come together even enough to encase his head like you were itching to do. 

"Aren't you pathetic," he smirked gleefully, "I've barely done anything to you and yet, you're practically begging already." You whined at him, not trusting yourself to make full sentences when he's gotten you so worked up. 

"Actually, I like that idea." he continued pulling away from where you needed him most. Your confusion was prominent as he just chuckled at you. "Beg."

It was a short command, but his voice dropped an octave and became gravelly causing your sex to twitch. You wanted him- needed him to keep going so you could be ready for him fucking your lights out. Karl grew impatient at you only staring at him with doe eyes. The collar on your neck tightened, making you gasp in surprise. 

"Please, Please I need you- please, my lord?" your voice was faint from the lack of airflow but he heard you well enough to loosen the collar and throw you on your stomach. Your chest pressed against his cold desk, your hands were forced out in front of you pinned so you could barely wiggle your arm. Your ass levitated from the ground, making your back arch and your toes curl, reaching out for something. 

Karl ground himself against your ass, his erection prominent in his cargo pants even before he released his dick shortly after. His hands found their way to your ass cheeks, he smacked one of them hard enough to leave a print before soothing it with a massage. He spread your cheeks before letting them go and aligning himself with your hole. Karl prodded at it earning a moan from you. 

When he finally pushed himself inside you, he didn't wait for you to adjust before thrusting himself to the hilt. You both groaned at the action. He always filled you so well. When he started thrusting it had little rhythm to it, he seemed to be searching for his own high before your own.  Still, he rubbed up against all the right spots and his hips always met your own with each thrust. He was so deep and so big, you almost came after a few minutes but when he felt you tighten, Karl pulled out completely. 

"You better not try that again." he growled "You're just a fuck doll, my little cocksleave, you can't cum until I say so. " His mouth was right against your ear, you heard the words vibrate from his throat before he even said them. His hot breath fanned across your face and you felt him pant against your back. 

Immediately he went back to thrusting, setting a brutal and fast pace, bruising your insides. You were panting and moaning from the air being knocked out of you with each thrust. He moved one hand from your hip to your throat, pulling your head back and arching you so he reached deeper.

You were so close, practically drooling from how focused you were on not coming. Waiting for Karl's say so was agony, you felt so full and needed release. He never teetered in both his pace and his power. Suddenly he pulled out, forcing your impending orgasm to halt and your insides to feel empty.

He moved your ankles to shift you on your side before stuffing you again and resuming. At this angle, with your leg on his shoulder, he reached even deeper, hitting all the right spots. 

"Please," you choked out through a sob "Please let me cum, my lord- please."

"F-fuck!" Karl groaned "Cum- Cum for me." You finally let the tension break and came with a sob, spasming under Karl and rubbing against your restraints. Karl fucked you through it, earning another sob before he pulled out pushed you back onto your stomach and jerked himself off to cum on your back. He tucked himself back into his pants and sighed looking at you.

"Look at you." he hummed, shaking his head. He released the cuffs from around you. His hands rubbed at the markings on your ankles from the cuffs. He kissed around your ankle and up your leg gently, knowing you were put in an uncomfortable position. He grabbed the towel to the side and wiped up his cum from off your back. 

He picked you up, not even bothering to glance at the dinner before starting his trek back to your shared room. You were resting against his chest too tired to move. 

"I made a mess of you, doll." he teased, earning an annoyed groan from you as you buried yourself into his chest. 

"Thank you for dinner," he smiled sweetly, "and the show." his smile corrupted itself into a smirk. You ignored him until he finally made it to your home, setting you on your bed before leaving to the bathroom to grab a wet rag and finally clean you off properly.