Blue meeting blue.

They were looking down at the man, kneeling there, shifting his weight slightly.

"That's it," they lifted their leg, just enough to push the toe of their boot against the other's abdomen, against his bladder, to be more specific. They elicited a hiss, followed by a pained moan, followed by "Fuck you".

"What was that?"

The pressure increased, too much, painful.

Geoff whined.

What a pretty voice.

"Wanna say that again?"

"Fuck... No.."

The pressure let up. Both feet back on the ground.

The blonde had to catch his breath, it was hard to think through the overwhelming urge of his body, fighting with dignity, with habit, with preconceived instructions.

"You wanna ask for something, pup?"

Something in Geoff's mind jumped at the word, clinging to it, wanting to just give in to it. Let himself be treated like the dumb dog he could be. Drop to his hands as well, head pressing against their leg. Whining.

Dignity won that fight.

"Can I please piss?"

"Sure. Here."

He didn't curse this time. He wasn't sure if he could take the pressure again.

And he was getting desperate.

"Please... Can I just-"

"It's okay. Be good."

Geoff whined again. High-pitched and pathetic to his own ears. It was hard to care.

They weren't without sympathy. Not at all. They slowly got on their knees as well, hand first of all in the other's hair, petting, then moving down. The older man's breathing picked up when he realized what would happen. Something in his mind considered begging. He didn't get any words out.

Their hand was still just ghosting over his abdomen. Just as carefully and soothing, as the previous touch had been. Until they decided to push down.

"Fuck.."

It sounded like Geoff was about to cry. More sounds falling from his mouth, attempts at words, going nowhere, falling over themselves.

"Please..", was the next intelligible plea.

"I already told you yes. Come on, be good, just let go."

There was a slight undercurrent of desperation to their tone as well. No.

Want. Desire.

Sick fuck.

He hardly perceived anything anymore, aside from pain, pressure, warmth.

Warmth that spilled. He was far beyond the point of being ashamed for moaning.

Or worrying about his clothes. Or thinking about anything much for that matter.

"Good boy"

Their hand was between his legs, there was a certain reverence in their touch. Feeling for the warmth, wetness.