#m1ke

Pac is Mike's soulmate.

It's a fact that every person on the island knows, like they know the sky is blue and the Feds are bastards.

Since Pac is Mike's soulmate, no one can blame him for wanting to ensure Pac's life is as good as possible.

It's put Mike in some interesting situations, good and bad. He'd say this is one of the better situations he's been put in. Fit is tied to a chair in Chume Labs, naked and half hard against his thigh. Mike must admit he's a lovely sight, with all muscle, scars, and power: exactly Pac's type and Mike's favorite kind of person to break.

He can't let himself get distracted.

He's got Fit here for a reason, after all, to test him. If Fit and Pac are going to be together, Mike needs to make sure Fit is good enough and can handle everything Pac can throw at him. Mike grins, putting his inhumanly sharp teeth on display, and pushes his glasses up.

"Are you ready?" He questions, dragging the eraser of his pencil up Fit's cock and watching the way it twitches at the sensation. Mike notes Fit's reactivity on the clipboard in his lap and then looks back up at Fit.

"As I'll ever be," he sounds breathless already, and it's kind of doing something for Mike. Fit's inexperienced with most things intimate, and Mike is so excited to push him to his limits. Mike nods and reaches for the tray he had set out, grabbing a blue and green fleshlight with the tazercraft symbol molded on it, and a bottle of lube.

"The first test is to see how long you can last; I'll dock two minutes from your overall time to account for the fact that this isn't the real thing," Mike explains and waits for Fit to nod his head before he pours the lube straight on Fit's cock, reveling in this choked down gasp and the way his hips try to twitch away. Mike wraps his hand around Fit and strokes him a few times lazily before he presses the fleshlight down over his dick and clicks the button on a timer off to the side.

Fit gasps like it's a real cunt he's fucking, and Mike laughs, cooing condescendingly at Fit and starting to move the toy over his dick, mean and fast, to begin with. Mike catalogs all of Fit's reactions, watching his muscles flex and pull at the restraints holding them like he can't help but want to grab and touch. Fit squeezes his eyes closed, and Mike tisks at him softly.

"Oi, open your eyes, cachorro. Pac likes being looked at," Mike scolds, moving his hand faster in punishment. Fit cusses, and his eyes fly open to look directly at Mike, wide with his pupils so dilated that there's barely any color left. Mike laughs and slows down his movements, pushing the image over to Pac through their link. He feels the hot wave of arousal that spreads through Pac's body and gets some very choice words spat at him before he closes off the connection and cackles out loud.

Fit is a fucking mess, and Mike is loving it; he alternates speed and marks down little notes here and there. He constantly teases Fit, making fun of how he whines and squirms. Mike knows he can be mean, which makes this all so fun for him. Plus, Fit doesn't mind one bit. Every mean word Mike spits makes Fit twitch in his hand. Mike files that away mentally for later.

Twenty minutes later, Fit gasps sharply, and his hips fuck up into the toy in Mike's hand as much as they can. Mike holds it, and once Fit finishes, Mike clicks stop on the stopwatch. He pulls the toy away and laughs at the pathetic, oversensitive noise Fit makes. Mike sets the toy aside and writes the time down.

"Above average, you're ranking in around Philza and Bad. The longest was Etoiles; he's got crazy stamina, but you're not too bad." Mike downplays Fit's time and watches the way his brown furrows. In reality, he did very well. It's much better than average, ranking up with hybrids and actual demons as a human. Mike sets the toy aside and smiles at Fit; when they lock eyes, fear flashes in Fit's eyes, and Mike feels a spike of arousal.