@robotfvckers prompted Damien/Robert with soft dom Damien and formerly abused sub Robert and I was like ‘yes… it is me brand. good.’

Damien with puppy play will come sometime later today :3c

Edit: Male terms used for Damien’s genitals

Robert is not allowed to drink before coming to Damien’s house, and while he has been very good about that rule, his demeanor makes Damien wonder sometimes anyway.

He moves sluggishly, his eyes blinking slow. He stumbles sometimes.

Robert is nervous and skittish and most of the time looks like he’s about to keel over. Damien has made a point of starting their encounters by cradling Robert’s jaw between his hands and staring at his eyes intently. If Robert knows he does so in order to discretely smell his breath, he has never said so.

He gets his wild, uncombed hair petted after inspection, and is then released to stagger his unsteady way into the lounge.

Robert without alcohol is a wreck; yet he still always comes to him perfectly sober. It hurts to watch him sometimes, though; how he jerks away when he turns and sees Damien holding a blunt butter knife; how his hands shake too hard to take a sip from his tea without spilling it everywhere.

Damien has taken to feeding him, and that works. Works very well, indeed.

“Lie down on the couch, darling,” Damien murmurs, fingertips rubbing along Robert’s jaw, watching him faintly sway on his knees as if following some unseen music.

His large, dark eyes blink up at him mutely, a bit of suspicion in them. Damien smirks. “I want to use your mouth, if that’s alright with you.”

Robert has not shaved in a week-or-so, but he’s not going to push him about it. Babysteps, as they say.

Robert makes a soft sound when he descends on him; high and vulnerable, his hands a bit sweaty as they slide smoothly from Damien’s legs up his ass and up his back as far as possible; the tips dipping beneath the line of Damien’s binder.

“Shush,” Damien murmurs, hands carding through Robert’s hair, staring down intently into his eyes. “You are a good boy. Nothing is going to hurt you.” He lowers himself a bit; watches how Robert’s eyes go a little glassy as he lets him smell him; lets his humid pubes tickle the back of his nose; his swollen cock tap against the tip to make him jerk a bit, then angle his chin up. Greedy. Offering his jaw.

“That’s it,” Damien purrs, carefully seating himself, eyes fluttering closed as Robert’s lips curl around his dick, suckling tentatively. “Holy-” he takes a deep, shuddering breath; feels Robert’s fingertips slip from beneath the binder, his hands slowly trailing back down. Relaxing. Settling in to do his task as he realizes that what has been said is actually happening.

No surprises with this one, Damien reminds himself. This one wants something steady. Something dependable; even if he might not know it himself.

Robert is slow and sluggish in sucking him off, but Damien doesn’t mind. His face looks relaxed beneath him, eyes fluttered shut. Just enjoying the salty taste bursting across his tongue, swollen mouth feeling so delicious against Damien’s needy core.

He wants to hold him down, sometimes; fuck his mouth. Command him to suck so hard until it hurts… but Robert needs something else for now, and that is good as well.

He’s such a good boy. He’d done a double take when Damien had pulled his shirt off, that very first time, but never said anything about it; just taken it in stride – way more interested in getting on his knees and being gently bossed around.

He adores him in his own quiet, brooding way; that much is obvious. Glancing up at him with those dark, needy eyes as one blunt fingertips traces across Damien’s hole; pressing playfully against the tight muscle.

Damien smirks, the fingers in Robert’s hair tightening; pulling a bit more sharply at the roots, until Robert groans drawn out with Damien’s cock pressed swollen against his tongue.

“Cheeky boy,” Damien whispers, hips moving gently, dragging his dick across that hot, messy mouth. “Maybe some other day. I think I want to fuck you tonight…”

Damien listens to him whimper, high and pathetic, fingers digging into Damien’s thighs as he gets to work with a renewed vigor that sizzles up his spine in hot, delirious bursts.

He lets his head fall back, dark hair cascading down, tickling the small of his back.

The night is still young.

McCree shouldn’t be as excited to have Reaper’s ass planted on his face; he knows as much, but he can’t make himself not puppy eager, his cock already fat and eager in his jeans, the head pushing up painfully behind the heavy belt buckle after he reached down to adjust it.

It’s humid and warm – no, sweltering – between Reaper’s cheeks. He feels like a fever, the nanomachines constantly working and building up an inhuman heat.

Jesse wants to say something about it; make a low, drawling quip about how he hadn’t expected to fly into the tropics today – but Reaper grinds down right then, as if sensing his stupid goddamn joke, heavy balls grinding across first the bridge of Jesse’s nose, then his forehead; settling there warm and oppressive-

but not as oppressive as Reaper himself, his thick thighs tightening around Jesse’s head as he shimmies his hips and settles down like a goddamn mother hen.

Jesse wants to say something – he thought it was funny – but it is hard to keep a clear head when he is suffocating in Reaper’s huge ass. Everything is dark and hot and the tip of Jesse’s nose is nudging against his hole until he can manage to angle his head up and let Reaper properly sit on his jaw.

“Finally,” the dark voice sighs above him. He feels Reaper’s talons scrape at his head – almost lovingly.

Jesse’s head is spinning; his heart is hammering. He doesn’t know if Reaper would hear it if he asked him to sit up and let him get gulps of fresh air. (He doesn’t know if he would care). The thought is as scary as it is arousing.

His cock is trying to strangle itself with his own goddamn belt.

“Begin,” Reaper hisses and his thighs tighten – and Jesse feels like his head had to pop like a grape. His chest is spasming, his bladder feeling sensitive and full; like he needs to piss himself; his body so confused on whether he is going to live or die.

Reaper grunts and sits up; lets him have at least one short, desperate gulp of air before he sits back down.

“Begin!”

Jesse does. He is as diligent as he’s been way back when Reaper had not been Reaper; tongue out and liberally wet, dragging across the wrinkled skin of his anus all the while his hands were occupied with groping; squeezing at the rock hard muscles of his large, shapely thighs.

Reaper is breathing deeply above him and moves minutely; drags his hole against Jesse’s tongue and his balls across his forehead.

He is getting more excited; grinds down harder until Jesse’s head is pounding, his heels kicking at the ground, spurs jingling loud and obnoxiously. He is suffocating between Reaper’s thighs and his cock is feeling like a wound, swollen and pulsing and hot.

He can feel it on his tongue when Reaper comes; the tight ring of muscles contracting and releasing against the inquisitive tip of his tongue, his thighs tensing and squeezing his head until the joints of his jaw are pounding and he is so sure something has dislocated itself…

Reaper lifts slowly, like an afterthought, and Jesse drags in air with a huge, awful gulp, cock pulsing out cum the second the oxygen hits his bloodstream; the sensation orgasmic in itself, his beard wet with saliva and Reaper’s sweat.

He’s a mess, but when he turns his pounding head – feeling like he is running a fever – Reaper is nowhere to be seen.

i reread the virgin gabe ficlet and i’m dying. please, please write more with that. or just more of Gabe being embarrassed by Jack worshipping his ass, flustered virgin Gabe is amazing and lovely and i’m dying of thirst for this thing i never even considered before.

Gabriel’s phone vibrates quietly against his thigh but he ignores it this time, resolutely staring ahead at the orator. He is slouching, hood of his sweatshirt pulled up and into his face; he is listening but nobody else needs to know that.

His phone vibrates again and he shifts on his seat; slides down a little lower, knees falling farther apart. He couldn’t tell whether he was angry or horny – these past days those emotions were almost synonymous for one another. He was starting to form a weird pavlovian reflex to it.

Another vibration tickles along his thigh and his resolve snaps, hand digging in his pants to pull it out, schooling his face into a scowl preemptively.

Still, he could feel his cheeks burn in embarrassment when he saw Morrison’s texts.

Tonight, plz.

Plz Gabe – just once. Just try it ok? we dont have to continue if you dont like it.

gabe cmon please i cant think of anything else just let me get it out of my system i wont badger you again after this if you dont want me to

And while he stares, another one buzzes in:

just try it once PLEASE

He scrolls back up, staring at the messages beforehand – and the one picture he had taken after Morrison had been begging long enough. The one where his sweatpants were shoved just beneath his ass and he was awkwardly shooting a pic over his shoulder through the mirror.

Gabriel scowls more fiercely, belly churning in embarrassment. Angrily, he punches in his answer and shoves his phone back into his pants.

Ok. Fuck you, Morrison.

Pavlovian fucking conditioning. He resolutely ignores the rest of the excited buzzing.

.o.

Gabriel carefully shuffles a little farther up upon Jack’s eager urging and freezes immediately at the low groan from beneath him. It sounds fucking pained and he lifts up, staring down at Jack’s face in dismay.

Morrison is already flushed – not hard when one was as pale as him – eyes heavy lidded. He was practically cross-eyed, blinking up at Gabriel past his hard cock. It looked ridiculous.

Gabriel could feel another wave of embarrassment churn in his belly.

“Are you fucking alright?”

“Wha…? Yes. Yes! I’m alright. Gabriel, I’ll slap your thigh if something…” He interrupts himself, blinks, seems to reconsider. “Give me your hand. I’ll squeeze your hand if I need you to get up. And now sit down. Please for the love of-”

Gabriel lowers himself again; gingerly, one hand at the headboard to steady his descent, the other weaving fingers with Morrison. He wants to break his fucking hand, but he can’t concentrate on that now; not when his sac was dragging warm and heavy across the bridge of Morrison’s nose.

“Jesús,” he whispers when he feels Jack’s warm breath puffing against his hole and squeezes his eyes shut tight. A second later, Morrison’s tongue is flickering against the strong clench of muscle and Gabriel lets out a breath he had not been aware of holding.

Jack’s free arm curls around one of his thighs – hand liberally groping – then starts pulling him down; making him sit sit sit until the heat starts crawling up from Gabriel’s belly again, settling in his face. He was… He could feel the heat building up; how everything became moist with Morrison’s warm, gasping – choked – breaths; the eager drag of his tongue; Gabriel’s sweat.

Jack is making sounds; pathetic little whimpers which he muffles directly against Gabriel’s ass before he opens up; soft and intrusive; rudely licking Gabriel’s crack as far as he could reach, swirling around the shy pucker of his asshole, then sucking eager kisses into the soft skin behind his heavy balls.

Gabriel can’t help but groan, head sinking back, fingers tightening on Morrison’s grip because it got progressively harder to keep his hips calm and loose; not make them move and filthily grind down against the rude tongue trying to push in in in – fuck him wet and naughty on the slippery muscle.

Morrison has trouble breathing and still pushes closer; digs his stubbled chin in until Gabriel grunts and sits up straighter. His cock is hard and heavy; smearing pre-cum into Morrison’s golden farmboy hair that Gabriel wants to rip on; hold onto while he fucking bounces down on Morrison’s face, breaks his nose, makes him suck on his hole…

Gabriel whimpers, belly tightening, hips jerking minutely, unable to keep them still any longer. Morrison doesn’t seem upset by it – quite the opposite. His hand slides over, fingers tickling the small of Gabriel’s back; the top of his ass crack; all the way down until they start rubbing rudely against the slippery clench of muscle.

Gabriel can’t help but whimper, upper body twisting, trying to look at what the fuck Morrison was doing now and not managing in the slightest. His groin felt on fire; his balls smearing all over Jack’s blissfully closed eyes and sweaty forehead.

He was sitting squarely on his face, suffocating him in his progressively more humid ass and still he sounded fucking delirious.

“Crazy bastard,” Gabriel whispers – whines – back arching, hips rocking minutely…

He comes into Jack’s fucking perfect blond hair the second Morrison wriggles one broad fingertip into him. He wipes his cock on the sticky strands for good measure just to get him back for his cheekily wandering fingers.