[Lips are pliant and yielding as he swallows pills down a dry throat and takes a few thirsty, noisy gulps from the bottle of water. The gentle way that he's led through these steps of recovery is like being wrapped in a warm blanket after time in the cold. Unnecessary because it's not going to kill him; soothing, gentle, so unbelievably kind because someone cares this much to look after him.
A curious hand wanders the curve of his own ass, feeling the heat that radiates against his palm. There are no welts, no marks — and he shouldn't be so disappointed that, with some attention and tender efforts, soon it will be as if nothing has touched him at all. Yet there's satisfaction to the stinging burn that continues to throb; he finds a spot particularly affected, just at the crease of thigh and ass cheek, and presses in his thumb to feel the twinge of dull pain.
Then he wallows in that praise, those caresses, mind beginning to anchor back into a clearer pattern of thought, squirming at the renewed awareness of his dick against Cy's leg. The question earns a gust of breath — and it quickens when he feels that slick-wet probe at the entrance of his body, fingers prying at his hole, easing the way with a familiar stretch. A trickle of sweat has gathered on his brow as he turns his head to look at Cy, pinned legs flexing.]
Mm. I don't have a preference between either of those, but... I want you to be able to touch where you hit me. I want your hands there when you fuck me. [He feels — like some thoroughly satisfied animal, even wound up by the pursuit of orgasm. There's a new looseness brought on by the conclusion of being struck; he feels less inhibited, more willing to be vocal.] Cy, it felt really good.
no subject
A curious hand wanders the curve of his own ass, feeling the heat that radiates against his palm. There are no welts, no marks — and he shouldn't be so disappointed that, with some attention and tender efforts, soon it will be as if nothing has touched him at all. Yet there's satisfaction to the stinging burn that continues to throb; he finds a spot particularly affected, just at the crease of thigh and ass cheek, and presses in his thumb to feel the twinge of dull pain.
Then he wallows in that praise, those caresses, mind beginning to anchor back into a clearer pattern of thought, squirming at the renewed awareness of his dick against Cy's leg. The question earns a gust of breath — and it quickens when he feels that slick-wet probe at the entrance of his body, fingers prying at his hole, easing the way with a familiar stretch. A trickle of sweat has gathered on his brow as he turns his head to look at Cy, pinned legs flexing.]
Mm. I don't have a preference between either of those, but... I want you to be able to touch where you hit me. I want your hands there when you fuck me. [He feels — like some thoroughly satisfied animal, even wound up by the pursuit of orgasm. There's a new looseness brought on by the conclusion of being struck; he feels less inhibited, more willing to be vocal.] Cy, it felt really good.