#sub!rain

There's a rustle of pages to his left, from Dew's arm chair next to the fire. There's the even cadence of Dew's breath. Rain's eyes are unfocused. Flames dancing in front of them in blurred lines.

He blinks. Things focus a little, texture comes back. But the world stays soft and fuzzy.

He shifts—can't help it. Once awareness starts to creep back in he is powerless to stop it. He takes a little pressure off of his left foot and Dew drags in a sharp breath. Rain freezes, something cold settling at the base of his spine.

"Didn't tell you to move, Rainy." Dew's tone is nonchalant, offhand, the implication is anything but. Rain doesn't look over at him. He doesn’t respond. He hasn't been given permission. He goes still again—tries to. Listens for the soft rasp of pages to tell him that Dew's gone back to his book.

Instead, he hears the book close, the sound of it setting down on the table next to Dew's chair, the creak of the leather as Dew shifts forward.

"Look at me."

A demand—but said with no venom. Rain's body, a traitor in it's own right, works before he thinks about it. Head turning to look at Dew. Dew leans a little further forward, braces his elbows against his thighs, looks right into Rain's eyes like he can see into his soul. Rain shivers.

Whatever Dew sees there does something to him. Rain watches Dew's pupils widen, just a little. Black overtaking amber in increments. Dew wets his lips, releases his stance, straightens back up. His posture is almost lazy, legs wide, hands draped over them. Torso angled back just a little—enough to give the illusion of ease. But Rain can see the way Dew's pulse beats at the base of his throat; hammering.

"Left you alone too long didn't I, Rainy?" He asks it like it wasn't the intention, like Dew hadn't positioned him here and neglected him with firm orders of don't move unless I tell you to, you can do that right? Be a good boy and stay still with the expectation that Rain would drift, that his brain would empty out of his ears, that he would fall.

Rain nods anyway. He wets his lips, isn't sure if he's supposed to look Dew in the eyes or look down—away—give deference. He finds a middle point instead. Fixes his soft gaze on Dew's fingers. Draped, long and relaxed, between his thighs.

"Made you stupid?"

Dew moves too fast for Rain's floating mind to catch up. One minute he's watching those long fingers flex, tendons and veins shifting, and the next one of them is on his face. Thumb and forefinger digging hard into his cheeks, his chin tucked into the cradle between them. Dew tugs and Rain's gaze lifts to his, distant, lost, fighting for focus on the sharpness of Dew's gaze.

Dew squeezes hard enough to drag a noise out of Rain when the insides of his cheeks grind against his teeth. The force of it forces his jaw open—just enough for Dew to shift his grip, a twist of the wrist and Dew's thumb is pressing against Rain's parted lips. Pressing in, hot and tasting of leather and smoke. He presses down on Rain's tongue, pets, and Rain's jaw goes slack.

Dew grins at him—wolfish—devious as he pulls his thumb free, swipes Rain's spit over his plush bottom lip.

"Answer me," Dew's demand is soft, angled as a plea but in truth anything but. Rain fights for a breath, for the language center of his brain to come back online. Dew waits, patient. Rain knows it's as much part of the game as it is a check in. Rain swallows, his throat is bone dry.

Rain doesn't remember the question, he cocks his head in Dew's grip, looks up at him, blue eyes wide and begging for a hint.

"Did I leave you alone too long?"

Rain shakes his head this time. "No."

"Long enough to make you stupid?"

"Yes." Rain nods. It's not an insult, it's the truth. There are no thoughts, there is nothing except the lingering taste of Dew in his mouth and the desire to do whatever he pleases. The desire to be good. The desire for Dew to make him feel something other than the ache in the arches of his feet.

"Get up," there's a little bit of a bite in Dew's words now, and when he stands he tugs, hard, on his hold on Rain's jaw and Rain doesn't have a choice but to climb to his feet too.

"Strip," Dew says, "And get on the bed."

Rain moves on numb legs, but he listens, slipping his shirt and sweats and boxers off. Falling onto the bed, his shoulders against the headboard, his legs falling open as Dew follows him, crawling between them.

Dew looks up at him through thick lashes, pupils even wider now. Control always does this to him, pupils blown out so wide there is only a thin ring of amber left. A solar eclipse.

"Hands up," Dew says and Rain listens, reaching up, curling his hands around the headboard, fingers pressing against the warm wood. "You going to keep them there?" Rain nods, Dew's gaze narrows and Rain feels a flash of something that is akin to fear. He catches himself. "Yes."

"Good."

Dew's mouth is hot when it presses, open, to the inside of Rain's hipbone. He scrapes his teeth across the spot and Rain jolts, eyes fluttering up. He has been drifting for so long that ever sensation feels sharp—pointed. This one point of contact sends sparks of warmth through him. Dew bullies his way closer until he's laying on his belly between Rain's spread thighs. Still fully clothed, black jeans, black t-shirt, his shoulders hooking under Rain's thighs, cotton soft against over sensitive skin.

Dew's mouth descends again, latches onto a spot next to Rain's hip bone that makes Rain feel like he's going to jolt out of his own skin. Dew focuses on it with his typical precision, the need to be throught. Rain jolts against him despite trying to stay still.

Dew tuts, breath huffing out over Rain's stomach—but he doesn't say anything, his mouth is busy.

Dew holds Rain down with one hand on his hip, the other snakes between Rain's legs. Drags over the length of his cock—stiffening rapidly—over the seam of his balls and lower, to press against the tight ring of muscle there. Rain whimpers, tries not to push against Dew's fingers. Dew drags his fingers through the slick collecting there. Hums appreciatively against Rain's skin as he worries that same patch of flesh with his teeth.

Dew looks up at Rain as he circles his fingers, spreading slick around. Rain's cock kicks against the side of Dew's neck. Shiny at the tip already.

"So easy," Dew says and somehow manages to make it sound like admonishment and a compliment all at once. "Don't even have to touch you to get you going."

Rain whimpers as Dew presses his finger forward. He presses one in deep, curling upward immediately and Rain's eyes snap shut as pleasure crashes into him. He digs his fingers into the headboard until his knuckles ache.

Satanas. Dew knows all the buttons to push. Knows how to empty Rain's brain of anything except sensation. Knows which ones will drive him the craziest.

"Stay still," Dew says, firm even as he's turning his head, mouthing at the side of Rain's cock, tracing a vein with his tongue. "Let me have my fill."

Dew slips another finger in, he laps up the bead of pre at the head of Rain's cock.

"Eyes open, Rainy."

Rain doesn't remember closing them. He blinks open, hazy, drunk on neglect and pleasure. Drunk on Dew.

"Good." Dew praises, and Rain feels a zap of pleasure at that too—or maybe that's just because Dew is working another finger into him, scissoring him open as he fingers him. Mouth dragging feather light up and down the shaft of his cock.

"Gonna take what I want," Dew mumbles. "Keep your eyes open. Don't cum. And I'll give you whatever you want."

Rain whines again. Dew presses his fingers together, grinds them both up against Rain's prostate as he licks a filthy stripe up the length of Rain's cock. Rain knows the game. Knows if he does it—succeeds in Dew's impossible tasks, he will get to pick how it ends. Dew will let him press him into the mattress. Will allow Rain to take whatever he needs to satisfy the desire boiling in his blood. If he doesn't? Dew will take what he needs. Will reduce Rain to a shuddering, sobbing mess.

"Eyes on me, Rainy." Dew orders.

Rain gasps, muscles tense with the effort to stay still, to be good. To keep his eyes pinned to Dew's. He already wants to beg. He's going to fail, of course he's going to fail.

"Can you do it?"

Rain shakes his head.

"No?"

Dew grinds his fingers in savagely, not gentle now—demanding, insistent. Rain howls, it takes every ouce of his concentration to not look away from Dew's face. His cock kicks against Dew's lips and Dew's smile sends a skitter of ice through Rains veins. Victorious already, even though Rain hasn't lost yet.

"You'll try though," Dew says, not a question, a forgone conclusion. Rain will try. Rain will turn himself inside out to please Dew. Will let Dew wring him dry, and then keep going. He loves it, loves how it feels to give himself over to it to surrendor every ounce of himself into the golden glow of Dew's lust.

"And," Dew continues, strokes a little slower now, more purposeful, hard and direct. He laps at the head of Rain's cock, pops it into his mouth to suck on it hard enough to make Rain jolt, to make his eyes try to roll up. Rain grinds his teeth together with the effort not to fail already. "You know I'll fuck you either way."

Rain nods, desperate. Straining against the relentless pleasure, the pressure building in his gut, circling the base of his spine, turning to lava between his thighs.

"Won't stop until I'm satisfied," Dew hums, almost like he's talking to himself. "Want me to fuck you up, don't you Rainy?"

Rain nods at that, words beyond him, language center shutting down, locking up for the night. Dew's eyes narrow, Rain swallows again, finds one last syllable within the soup of his brain.