robotfvckers:

Akande shushes Hanzo as he strains against his bindings. The cords are synthetic and smooth, designed for minimal chafing: it allows one to struggle to exhaustion without a single mark to show for it.

At least, not from the ropes.

Hanzo is beautiful, moreso when his defenses are stripped away, piece by piece, reduced as he is to a sweating, flushed mess. His hair, always drawn tight and orderly, curtains his face, disheveled from his struggles, making him appear years younger. The severe line of Hanzo’s mouth slackens, gapes as he pants, high cheekbones blotchy and rouged.

Akande hums and appreciates the view. He cups Hanzo’s chest softly, with gentleness belying his appearance. He catches one of Hanzo’s nipples between a blunt finger and thumb, rolling, tugging, and Hanzo gasps, the flesh grown taut and swollen with his teasing.

“You are so sensitive.” He murmurs, and Hanzo dips his face into his shoulder, eyelashes fluttering, mouth quivering. “Ah, ah.”

The sounds of the toy nestled between Hanzo’s thighs intensifies as Akande swivels the dial on his holopad. Hanzo tenses, cries out, chest heaving, thighs shaking, corded muscles clenching and relaxing, the dragon upon his arm twisting and coiling like a living thing.

“You are to look at me. Do not hide yourself.” And Hanzo struggles, as Akande knew he would. He is a proud warrior, honorable, from a noble family. All things he has in common with Akande himself.

He twists and plucks at Hanzo’s nipples absently, waiting for Hanzo to tilt his chin up, for his eyes to catch his own, drowned in black.

“Very good. You are learning.”

Akande sweeps his large hand down the trembling, sweat-slick curves of Hanzo’s body, mapping his scars, his badges of honor from his struggles, struggles that have made him strong. He twists his fingers in the coarse trail beneath Hanzo’s belly while Hanzo growls, shifting his hips as much as his restraints will allow, hesitant still, even after the hours Akande spent carefully eroding Hanzo’s mental restraints while trapped in physical ones.

The man’s cock bobs, thick and angry, bright red even beneath its glans. He’s bound here too, rope snug behind his heavy balls, tight against the base of his cock. Akande sighs, circles the tip of his finger along his cockhead, smearing the excessive pre-cum gathered there, wayward drops joining the mess already pooled beneath him. Hanzo draws so tight Akande thinks he will pass out, howl caught in his throat, petering out with a harsh, clipped grunt as Akande takes him in hand, just holding him, cradling his short, wet cock. Hanzo quakes, unable to stay still, unable to move properly, the toy buzzing inside him audible only between Hanzo’s labored breaths.

“Are you ready to beg? I know it is hard.” He grabs Hanzo’s chin with his free hand, staring into his face, fixating on the tightness between his brows, the way Hanzo’s eyes shine with unspent, frustrated tears. “Lessons in humility are often the most difficult to overcome.”

Hanzo’s jaw flexes, and Akande feels the power in the motion. Then Hanzo bites his lip, another high-pitched grunt gained when Akande strokes him once, twice, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, catching more spend against his fingers.

He let’s go as Hanzo draws as tight as the bow he wields, cock jumping, hips stuttering, shivery and weak.

“Do not come.” Akande orders, and Hanzo does sob then, once, shaking like a leaf in the onset of a monsoon, the first tears gliding over those noble cheekbones. He grabs for Hanzo’s cock again, grips it harder, strokes it as he would himself, tight and fast, and Hanzo chokes, releasing a sound so anguished Akande nearly feels sorry for him, though it does not stop him from pulling back once more. “Hold it.”

And he knows by the way Hanzo gnashes his teeth, feet scrabbling at the floor, that he has failed. Hanzo sobs as his orgasm hits like a wall; thick spurts of cum catch against his stomach, his chest, his beard, huge biceps flexing, whole body heaving and pained. He cries, low and deep, the sound of a man who has known and lost himself.

It takes many moments for Hanzo’s awareness to return, eyes glassy and face tear-stained. Hanzo licks his lips, staring up at Akande, so open that it momentarily shocks him.

Akande smiles, strokes Hanzo’s slackened lower lip with his thumb like a lover would.

“There are things to be learned from failure.” He murmurs. “Let us continue.”