Reoccurrence at Yale Club WIP (NSFW)
Content warning: chloroform, dubious intimacy, forced taming, restraints, ass eating, gunplay
The cool texture of the barrel and the front site’s curved fin had Patrick grunting between a moan and whimper. It wasn’t enough. He needed it inside. His hand instinctively reached for it until Johan seized it. Slowly dragging it against the muscular tan thighs between him, earning a sharp gasp. Â
“M-mngh,” the yuppie whines, his head falling back. Gun tracing becomes small circles and transitions to long drags as a thumb soothes the aching cock’s head. Â
“Still this needy, are you?” Johan croons, leaning closer to Patrick, his breath tickling his nape. Â
“You humans are never satisfied with anything, not with the silver spoon you were fed, the hookers you’ve murdered, the men who pitifully address you as their own. You’re pitiful Patrick,” Johan emphasizes this with a harsh squeeze to his cock.Â
“Like I’d take it personally from a f-faggot with a gun-” Patrick squirming uncomfortably and teeth gritted uncomfortably to nails pressing down his sensitive cock.Â
“Ack! G...Get it off! Get it off! I SAID GET IT THE FUCK OFF!” Patrick lashes out. His form aggressively attempts to buck the nails off him. Johan straddled him akin to an angered bull and finally having enough pressed a chloroformed rag against his mouth. Patrick’s shoulders spasming and reluctantly forfeiting his own will.Â
“Shh, that’s it. Mhm, are your eyes getting heavy? There’s no need to fret this won’t have you losing consciousness so quickly Mister Bateman.” Johan set the gun aside and took off Patrick’s tie as a makeshift restraint. His body now behind Patrick while he kept his palm still firmly pressed against his face. A muffled protest drowned after another while those olive-green eyes fluttered like a trapped butterfly. Futile. Â
Once his hands were firmly tied and his body relaxed and cock still throbbing and hardened Johan crawls on top of him. Soft skin and curves open to invitation but to the bearer of a muddled mind. Johan dutifully unlatches his trousers and shimmies off his boxers, making sure it's plopped while still grinding against him. A weak grunt from Patrick who can only watch with clouded eyes.Â
“I’ve heard you’re rather skilled with your tongue. Eating someone out? Is that what such obscenity is called? I doubt you’ll have trouble with another sex organ such as mine, besides you’ve been eaten out too, yes?” Â
Johan slowly drags it out, his ass lowering down like a stratus cloud before a light rain. Patrick’s nose pressed against soft and plump skin as his mouth began to worship it like an incubus. Â
