Tag: ish

Kinktober Day 4: Mirror Sex, Spanking, Dacryphilia

“You’re lucky you cry so nice and pretty, Rhysie,” Jack spoke up in between two loud smacks of his belt, “else I would’ve really let you have it for being such a baby.”

Rhys thought that he was holding up pretty well, considering the fact that Jack had been at it for a good while now. His poor, flogged ass had almost stopped hurting in between strikes, sensation replaced with a sharp tingle, sensation stinging all the way into his spine. He sniffed and held tighter onto the forearms folded beneath his head, the burn of the rug on his elbows and knees only adding to the confusion of feelings inside his gut.

“Eyes up, Rhysie, how many times do I have to tell you,” Jack commanded after another slap, the buckle of the belt clinking against the floor for a moment before fingers wound in Rhys’ hair and tugged it upwards, forcing him to confront the sight he’d been trying to avoid.

Jack had pulled the floor length mirror from the other end of the bedroom to position it right in front of where Rhys had been pinned to the floor. He’d tried to avoid looking at it as Jack whipped his ass, knowing by the heat and wetness in his cheeks he was already crying, but with Jack’s fingers in his hair pulling his head up he had no choice.

He looked like a mess. His cheeks and eyes were bright red and puffy, a sharp contrast to the rest of his pale skin. His lips were pink and bitten and wet from spit that trailed down to the point of his chin. Rhys thought he looked completely debauched, but Jack let out an appreciative purr from somewhere above him.

“Damn. You really are cute like this. A sight like that makes me feel a lil’ more forgiving.” Rhys could feel Jack’s finger rub over the tender spots on his ass, touch a hair kinder than it’d been before. “Maybe you’re finally ready to be screwed like a good boy.”

“Y-Yes, please,” Rhys moans, looking up beyond his crying face in the mirror and where he could see Jack crouched over him. Though the dim light he could see Jack had opened the fly of his pants and let out his cock, the belt tossed off to the side, and Rhys felt like he could cry in relief if he hadn’t already exhausted all the tears in his body.

“Thank you daddy, yes, please, I’ll be good…” Rhys begged, swallowing roughly as he watched Jack finally get on his knees. Even the rough hands on his ass felt good as Jack pulled his hips up to his crotch and rubbed his shaft against the whipped flesh.

Gonna get you crying in pleasure in just a moment, kiddo. Keep your eyes forward, it’s gonna be quite a show,” Jack chuckled as he spread Rhys’ cheeks, taking a moment to enjoy their reflection in the mirror before he pushed in.

“Two Wolves, One Bone”

Rhys looked back on him, gaze wan and hardly impressed as he closed the door with a soft slick behind him. The inside glowed bright blue briefly, sealing over with a crisscross of sigils before they faded away.

“What are you doing here, Jack?” Rhys spoke, bored, as he turned to look at Jack, hands planted on his hips. Jack scowled, keeping a safe distance between himself and Rhys while squaring his shoulders and baring his teeth, trying his best to look as intimidating as he could without squandering his remaining energy trying to shift.

“What am I doing here? Don’t be an idiot, kiddo, you know exactly why I’m here,” Jack growled, his canines curling in warning over his lip.

Rhys’ eyes flashed, one glowing bright blue, as if burning with unnatural fire.

“Nope. Can’t imagine what it could be.”

“Haha. It’s about Timothy, you prick.”

This was a raffle fic on Patreon back on September. I’m catching up on past raffle fics now but should be back on track for January if you wanna pledge!

Jack and Rhys as rival incubi fighting over Tim was requested. Modern AU! Fun smutty times.  

Jack had his eyes fixed on some new prey.

He considered himself a demon of reasonably discerning taste, but he wasn’t some snob. Nothing like the thin-lipped, ebony-tower schmucks waiting around for a nubile young woman who spent all the time she wasn’t waxing eloquent on Byron lounging about in scant negligee, or a frat boy hurling around violent slurs while squirreling away gay porn on his hard drive, or a middle aged couple looking for a sexy little spike to ram in between and give them cause for divorce.

Feeding didn’t have to come swimming in poetic irony. Sometimes a meal could just be a meal, no frills, no strings attached, just a quick fuck and suck with no flowery, dramatic bullshit.

As far as Jack concerned, as long as his prey was hot then he was all in. And there were plenty of hot people in this city. For crying out loud, there was a gym and a juice bar on every god damn corner, snuggled between scores of boutiques and beauty treatment suppliers. The people around here were obsessed with their self image.

It was the perfect place for an incubus to take up residence.

His last victim had been a tall, beefy guy, bigger than Jack himself and unwilling to negotiate position, so Jack had been on the prowl for somebody a little more manageable. He was flexible, sure, and the guy had radiated off so much raw sexual energy that Jack had been stuffed (heh) for nearly a month straight, but Jack couldn’t lie to himself and say he wasn’t itching to be on top once again.

I took him a couple of days, but he finally found a perfect specimen in one of the trendy little coffee shops that dotted up and down the city blocks. Over the sounds of blenders whirring and espresso grinding he’d caught onto a whispered conversation between one of the baristas and a man leaning over the counter and politely apologizing that he hadn’t properly asked for his drink with almond milk.

Jack had shuffled closer, subtlety, pretending to check one of the many to-go cups littering the counter, his inhumanely intense eyes hidden behind a thick pair of sunglasses as he stole sidelong glances at the young man.

He was fit, and slightly muscled, but not nearly as large and ropy as Jack’s previous victim. He wore a tank top stylized with a bright pink cat that exposed the tanned, freckled skin of his chest and shoulders. He had pretty, rusty-red hair that danced the line between being dyed or natural, cropped close to his scalp on the sides and cascading in a cute fringe against one temple. And the sweet energy that had radiated off his smile, even as he fervently apologized to the barista and slipped her a two dollar bill across the counter, had Jack brimming with excitement.

A grin had spread across Jack’s face as he’d watched the young man shuffle off to the condiment bar, stirring a single Splenda into his coffee and topping the frothy almond foam with a dash of cinnamon that seasoned the already delightful scent in Jack’s nose.

He had been perfect.  

The  boy’s name was Timothy. Jack had gleaned from his discarded coffee cup before going about worming his way into the young man’s life.

Some demons preferred a more direct approach—simple invading their prey’s dreams, winding them up tighter and tighter with visions of a bacchanalia of sexual depravity until they their libidos hung plump and ripe and ready to be plucked, ravaged by a demon in the night. Which was decently fun in its own right, Jack had even done it himself a couple of times in his youth, but now he far preferred to take his time with his victims, finding the satisfaction all the more sweeter if he let them marinate for a couple weeks, stewing in their own growing temptation.

So he learned more and more about Timothy over the next couple of days, following him, phasing through walls to observe him in his home, at his job, once even in the shower just to confirm the delicious abs outlined in his T-shirt were undeniably real. Steadily, he started worming himself in Timothy’s daily routine—ordering the same bagel sandwich from his favorite cafe in the morning, following him through aisles in the grocery store, even renting the locker next to Tim at the gym, which was where he first decided to introduce himself. Fresh from the shower, with a towel hanging about his hips—he figured it the perfect entrance, and the way Timothy’s eyes lingered briefly on him told him he’s just about to hit a breakthrough.

And when Tim asked if he wanted to grab a post-workout smoothie, Jack knew he had him.

Tim had updated his social media about heading to the newly opened cat cafe so Jack pulled on his jacket and his best, low slung jeans that showed off an enticing chunk of tanned skin around his hips and belly, dark brown happy trail teasing above his waistband. He pulled on his sunglasses as he stepped out into the sun, heading out at a brisk, excited pace through the crowd until his eyes fell upon where Timothy was leaning up against the wall outside the quaint, freshly painted building, smiling down at his phone.

“Penny for your thoughts, pumpkin?” Jack chuckled as soon as he got close enough, smirking as Tim jerked up to look at him.

“Oh! H-Hey, Jack, I wasn’t expecting you here,” Tim still blushed in that same cute, pink way that made his freckles stand out like pinpricks against his skin. Jack was already super enamored with them, especially the darker little beauty mark right under his left eye.

“Always when you least anticipate it, huh? Or maybe you’re just always off with your head in the clouds and you’re super easy to sneak up on.”

Jack couldn’t resist, lifting up his finger to poke Timothy’s nose. The young man wrinkled his face, laughing gently as he pushed away Jack’s hand.

“So, kiddo, I was thinking,” Jack stretched his arms up over his head, making sure his the hem of his yellow shirt pulled up along the arching curve of his belly, showing off even more of his skin. Reel ‘im in, Jackie.

“I just got myself a big fat bonus at work, and well there’s this nice restaurant I haven’t been to since I first moved here, and I was thinking….maybe it’d be fun for you to eat something that’s not croissants or that kale smoothie crud you suck down every day.” Jack ended his spiel with a glint of his award-winning smile.

But Tim didn’t respond the way he’d thought he would. Jack knew he was shy, but still, he was expecting a little bit of enthusiasm from his offer of a free fancy meal from the man who’d been flirting with him for weeks now. Instead, Tim looked shocked, and slightly embarrassed.  

“I, um, I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but…” Tim blushed, a wonky, nervous smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I actually um. I met someone, the other day.”

Jack’s heart froze.

“What.”

“Y-Yeah. He was at the shelter I volunteer at, asked me out…I’m meeting him here now, actually, he really likes this place too—there he is! Rhys, Rhys!” Tim practically hopped on his toes, waving his arm enthusiastically to someone beyond Jack’s shoulder.

The ice in the demon’s chest was suddenly melted with blazing fire as he whirled around.

Rhys.

Sure enough, a infuriatingly familiar figure was striding down the sidewalk towards him, his eyes glittering with a malevolence unseen to everyone but Jack as he put on a wide, flashy smile.

“Hey Timmy!” Rhys called, clopping right up to the man and throwing his arms about his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his tanned cheek that nearly had Jack seeing red.

“Who’s this?” Rhys’ eyes were deep, teasing with knowing, his smile flat and guileless.

“Oh, this is my friend, Jack…”

Friend. Jack felt that right in his balls.

“Oh, cool. Nice to meet you, Jack, but we’ve got cat yoga in like, two minutes,” Rhys dared to plant a kiss right on Timothy’s lips as he spun the shorter man around, stealing a glance over his shoulder as they walked into the cafe, leaving a red-faced, furious Jack to stew on the sidewalk behind the pair.

Jack knew that Rhys was home.

He could smell his scent from beyond the crisp white wood of the door he was currently pounding on hard enough to shake the frame. He scowled, again wrenching at the golden doorknob. As the seconds stretched on with no response, Jack huffed, raising his thick, booted foot up in the air, throwing himself forward with all his weight only for the door to swing open suddenly at the last moment.

Jack just barely stopped himself from falling flat on his face, stumbling forward, arms pinwheeling as he thudded into the foyer of Rhys’ apartment. He snarled as he steadied himself, swaying back up into standing.

Rhys looked back on him, gaze wan and hardly impressed as he closed the door with a soft slick behind him. The inside glowed bright blue briefly, sealing over with a crisscross of sigils before they faded away.

“What are you doing here, Jack?” Rhys spoke, bored, as he turned to look at Jack, hands planted on his hips. Jack scowled, keeping a safe distance between himself and Rhys while squaring his shoulders and baring his teeth, trying his best to look as intimidating as he could without squandering his remaining energy trying to shift.

“What am I doing here? Don’t be an idiot, kiddo, you know exactly why I’m here,” Jack growled, his canines curling in warning over his lip.

Rhys’ eyes flashed, one glowing bright blue, as if burning with unnatural fire.

“Nope. Can’t imagine what it could be.”

“Haha. It’s about Timothy, you prick.”

“Ooooh yeah, Timmy.” A bratty smile curled at Rhys’ plump lips, showing off the little, catlike tips of his own fangs. “He’s a real cutie, Jack. I wore my tightest yoga pants today and did my stretches right in front of him. Mmm, his lust gets more mouth-watering every second.”

Jack bristled, daring to stalk closer until their noses were a couple inches apart. His sea-green eyes were as harsh as a storm, lightning occasionally cracking in their depths.

“I thought you were into girls, now, Rhysie, you said they were all soft and sweet and you liked the way they smelled more. We agreed, Rhysie, we said you’d stick to girls so we wouldn’t have to fight like this.”

“And girls were fun for awhile, Jack, but there’s nothing quite like taking someone like him…so susceptible, and grooming his lust until it’s perfectly ready….like raising a suckling pig to slaughter.” Jack could see Rhys’ mouth wet with anticipation. It made his blood roil.

“I saw him first.”

“You can’t call dibs, Jack, that’s not how it works.”

“Bullshit. You probably cheated anyway. He was obviously in love with me before you came along and screwed things up.”

“What can I say? Maybe he thinks I’m more attractive than you.”

Jack laughed.

“Really. Do you really think that.”

Rhys shrugged.

“Maybe he’s more into the nice, boy-next-door thing, rather than the bad boy asshole who waits to call because he’s too scared of looking like a pussy.”  

“Boy-next-door? More like smarmy, self-centered, Silicon Valley-style brat.”

Rhys rested a slim hand against his chest.

“I’m hurt, Jack. Deeply.”

Jack folded his arms.

“Deal with it. ‘Cause I’m not giving him up.”

“Well, neither am I.”

The two demons glared, daring the other to break the gaze first. Only a knock on the door was enough to make them snap away from one another, looking towards the apartment entrance in tandem.

“H-Hello?” Came a questioning, familiar voice. “Rhys? Are you…are you in there?”

“Crap,” Rhys swore, grabbing for Jack as the other demon lunged for the door, growling as he clawed at the back of his jacket a fraction too late as Jack managed to throw open the door to reveal a surprised Timothy standing with a heavy bottle of wine in hand.

“I—um—oh. Um. Jack?” Timothy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, eyes flickering from the panting, beaming Jack and the pouting, frustrated Rhys. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, me? Didn’t Rhys tell you? We’re old friends. We go waaaaay back.”

“Really? Wow, Rhys! Why didn’t you mention that to me? Now I feel bad about not asking you to join us for the cat cafe…” Timothy blushed.

“Aw, don’t sweat it, pumpkin, I already get plenty of pussy.” He turned to glance over his shoulder at Rhys, winking. “Right?”

Jack was pretty sure the other demon would have killed him and banished his remains back to hell if Timothy hadn’t been standing innocently right in front of them.

As it turned out, Timothy had brought the wine over for an impromptu date night. Rhys had planned to cook fettuccine alfredo, which explained the smell of cooking cream and boiling noodles that had wafted into Jack’s nose when he’d first entered the apartment. Jack, however, had dipped a spoon into the creamy sauce and scoffed, turning to smirk at Timothy before grabbing handfuls of spices from Rhys’ sleek cabinets and gussying up the dish in a flurry of supernatural culinary prowess.

“Can you believe this guy bought fresh shrimp without even knowing how to devein them?” Jack laughed as he slapped a couple of fat, freshly gutted prawns down into a pan, quickly frying them with some butter and parsley, sweat starting to bead down the slope of his jaw from the hot and steaming pans scattered on the stove.

“I…I didn’t know that these ones had veins in them,” Rhys scowled from where he was pouring an ample glass of wine for himself, before filling up Timothy’s. There had only been two glasses set up, but that was fine, Jack had already raided Rhys’ fridge and cracked himself open one of the ancient beers tucked into the vegetable drawer.

“Well, lucky you have me around, huh? Now Timmy will get a proper taste of my cooking…” Jack dipped a spoon into the bubbling, creamy sauce, cradling it with his free hand as he walked over to Tim, slipping the spoon between the young man’s lips.

Tim let out the prettiest little moan Jack had ever heard as he licked a little drip of cream off his lips. Rhys was looking positively murderous, taking a violent sip of wine.

Rhys practically drank the entire bottle on his own throughout the course of the dinner, glaring at Jack across the table as he shoveled a forkful of creamy, buttery pasta into his mouth as Tim chattered happily about the quality of the food. Jack’s chest was puffed out with pride, a sly grin pricking at his lips as he glanced sidelong at Rhys.

Finally, it seemed like the other demon had had enough. He slammed his now-empty wine glass against the table, startling Tim out of conversation. Jack could practically see the supernatural energy seeping from the confines of Rhys’ human form as he rose to his feet, stalking around the circumference of the table where Tim sat, perplexed.

“U-Um, Rhys, honey? What’s wr—oof!“

Timothy let out a squeak as Rhys bodily shoved his chair away from the table, planted his ass right in his lap, and roughly pressed their lips together.

Any little self conscious whines coming from Tim’s mouth were instantly swallowed by Rhys as the demon slid his fingers into his hair, practically wrenching it out of his scalp.

Jack’s own stunned expression quickly dissolved into one of frustration, his teeth set in an angry grind as he watched Rhys aggressively kiss poor, flustered Timothy. He clenched his fists, nails biting into the bed of his palm. One of Rhys’ eyes fluttered open as he drew back, digging his sharp little teeth into Timothy’s bottom lip, and the victorious little glimmer in Rhys’ blue iris had Jack rising up from his chair and grabbing Rhys’ shoulder, pulling the lovers apart.

“Now, that’s just rude,” Jack snarled, shaking the other demon. He was ready to quit waffling around and just pull Rhys off of his prey, when claws suddenly grasped at his cheeks and tugged him in for a sharp, hot kiss.

“Don’t you ever shut up?” Rhys hissed as he pulled back, long tongue licking at his lips, his eyes half-lidded and glowing. Jack furrowed his brow, though his crotch was starting to flutter in interest.

“Wh…what is this, Rhys….don’t tell me you’re calling a truce…”

Rhys panted, grinding down in Tim’s lap as the human looked between the two of them, confused. A smile gradually spread over Rhys’ lips, quickly matched with an eager grin of Jack’s own.

“Call it….an alliance.”  

It had been years since Jack had been in Rhys’ bed. He remembered distinctly that the room used to be painted mostly yellow, but that had since been swallowed up by a nice shade of aqua blotched by one deep navy accent wall. The bedsheets were still amusingly childish, patterned with galaxies dotted with chunky paint that glows in the dark as soon as Jack dimmed the lights and joined both the demon and their catch.

Rhys had wasted little time, apparently starting to grow impatient with his prize so close to his grasp, the demon already on his knees between Timothy’s legs and mouthing the young man’s cock through his shorts. Timothy let out a whine that had Jack salivating, and as Rhys unzipped his fly and tugged his cock out of his paw-print patterned underwear Jack crawled onto the bed besides him, canines sharp and pricking against the young man’s  neck.

“H-Hah, I….wow…” Tim mumbled, voice fluttering in his chest as Rhys pressed a sloppy kiss to the head of his cock. Jack busied himself with peeling the young man’s shirt off, tossing it over Rhys’ lamp as he hungrily explored Tim’s body with his claws. Rhys lazily met Jack’s eyes over their nervous prey’s shoulder, smirking around the mouthful of cock. Jack felt his stomach rumble in excitement, long tongue licking his chops at the sizzling, tantalizing smell of Tim’s lust. It was swollen and sweating with juices, so large and warm it practically filled the entire room—ready to be consumed by the starving demons.

Jack grasped Timothy’s trembling pecs in both hands, licking along the shell of the boy’s ear, saliva dripping on his clavicle. Rhys popped off Timothy’s cock, pre-cum trailing down his chin as he licks it off his lips.

“U-Um, I’m still not totally ah…um…” Tim stammered, squirming around on the bed. “What’s…going on here?”

The two demons chuckled at the same time. Jack pinched both of Timothy’s nipples as Rhys licked slowly up his shaft. Timothy whined, looking over his shoulder, and Jack could feel the heat of his eyes burning bright and eager.

“It’s our turn to eat, pumpkin.”  

Kinktober Day 23: Corset

Jack was positively glowing with pride.

He’d gotten nothing but compliments today—which wasn’t too different from usual, but instead of getting comments on his face or hair or incomparable business sense and charisma, they gushed about how fit and trim and strong he looked. It made Jack frikkin’ giddy.

It also made his ribs hurt like hell.

“I…I think you tied it a ‘lil too tight this morning, sugar,” Jack gasped as he braced his hands against his lower back, stretching his spine forward. Rhys frowned at him, toeing off his shoes before approaching Jack from behind, settling his hands on his lover’s shoulders.

“Well, we can take it off now that you’re not out and about….or at least loosen it, if you wanted to have a little more fun,” the young man stated as he guided Jack towards the bedroom, where the older man tried to yank the hem of his shirt up over his head. Rhys ended up having to help, pulling the clothing up and off Jack’s raised arms as he winced and grumbled from the ache.

The bright blue corset clutched tightly to Jack’s tan body, bodice fitted nicely around his pecs even as the pudge of his belly and hips squeezed out slightly at the bottom. Jack took careful, shallow breaths as Rhys’ fiddled with the indigo ribbons lacing the back of the garment, undoing the bows deftly and allow Jack to exhale, his belly expanding to fill out the front of the corset.

“Oooooh, yeah, that’s lots better,” Jack groaned as Rhys slid his fingers against the slight indents in Jack’s skin, wincing.

“Yeah um I. I think I tied it a liiiiitle too tight. Oops?” Rhys smile sheepishly as Jack cracked his neck.

“Mmm, you’re lucky I looked so damn good today, ‘else I’d sock ya for nearly breaking my back.” Jack sat down on the bed with a heavy thump, hairy stomach poking out from underneath the hem of the corset. Rhys licked his lips, trailing his fingers down the boning of the garment as he crouched between Jack’s knees.

“And lucky for you, I like you soft and doughy, so you don’t have to go through this ordeal every day.” The sour look that Jack shot him was easily wiped away as Rhys leaned in close, making quick work of his boyfriend’s pants.  

Kinktober Day 3: Muscles/Strength

for Tebs 

Rhys had been admiring Hugo Vasquez for awhile now.

It was impossible not too. He liked to use the free-weights right besides the mirrors where Rhys tended to do most of his yoga stretches. He liked to admire the muscles in his legs and the shape of his butt in his pants as he bent down and extended his legs out, cat-like, over the padded floor—and apparently so did Hugo, because the burly older man loved to flex the bursting, shiny muscles of his chest and arms and watch his reflection do the same.

Rhys also did his fair amount of watching. Subtly stealing glances in the man’s direction as he grunted and groaned through every weight set taking in the way his shorts and muscle shirt were just straining around his bulk. The man was the picture of bulging masculinity, not only incredibly beefy and thick but also practically covered in dark hair from head to calf. It looks soft, like a shag carpet, and Rhys just wanted to bury his face into it as those thick hips and stout belly pressed against him and fucked him raw. So hard Rhys would barely need his workout. That’s what he wanted.

One afternoon, he decided to be bold. He’d noticed that Hugo was starting to stare back, to occasionally meet Rhys’ coy glances with a knowing smirk. Rhys was impatient, wanting to feel those slick, bulging muscles up against him, so when he noticed Hugo wiping down the machines and heading off in the direction of the locker room, Rhys sprung up from his downward-dog position and practically skipped after him.

He watched Hugo make a beeline for the showers, his tank top already off and hanging over one broad shoulder. Rhys nearly slipped on the wet tile in his eagerness, unfortunately drawing Hugo’s attention as he pulled open the stall doors—but instead of regarding Rhys with suspicion or annoyance, a sleazy smirk stole across Hugo’s face, and with a crook of his finger he invited the young man to share a post-workout shower with him. One that Rhys was all too willing to take.

5 with rhack!

“5: Ancient god refuses to let their only worshipper/lover still alive age or die”

Anyone who brought up Rhys at all gets a punch to the face.

And anyone who suggested that Rhys’ mind has long left his body got tossed into the pit and left to the hunger of the Warrior.

Jack argued that it was a proper price to pay for an utter lack of common sense. Only a fool dared to ask a god such questions, to tread upon Rhys’ honor in such an insolent fashion. He usually delighted to hear any such offenders last cries as they were ripped to shreds by his pet, their remains roasted and fed upon for days.

One such apostate was still gurgling on the blood boiling in his lungs when Jack grew bored, or annoyed by the sound, leaving the main chamber of his lair and retreated down more softly lit corridors to the more intimate room where he lately spent most of his time. This was were Rhys lied, rested atop a dais strewn with perpetually blooming flowers as blue as the sky and as delicately white as the moonlight.

His skin was still perfect and porcelain, tattoos still dark and distinct, never fading from his flesh. His lips were pink as the pale curve of a sea shell, their call now quiet. Jack wanted to hear that voice again, not strained and sick with begging but strong and smart like it had been before he’d been forced to put Rhys to sleep.

Jack’s own golden jewelry jingled as he sat by Rhys’ side, pressing those pale, still fingers to his lips. And when he closed his eyes, he could believe the quiver of his own smile was a twitch of life deep within his lover’s soul.

and some space pirate WIP

The kid looked even more gorgeous thrown against Jack’s bed, insulted blush coloring his cheeks as the pirate captain moved on top of him, pinning his wrists down against the red coverlet. He squirmed, knees instinctively coming up as he tried to force some space between himself and the imposing man. Jack only laughed, lifting one hand from the man’s wrists to shove over his mouth. A touch of panic fluttered into his eyes as his free hand scrabbled at Jack’s suffocating palm, allowing the pirate to force his way between the captive’s’ knees and shove their crotches together.

He quickly bit Jack, digging his little perfect teeth into the web between the captain’s thumb and forefinger. Jack snickered as the kid pulled a face, turning to the side and spitting at the taste.

“You…ugh, do you pirates ever wash your hands?”

“You tell me,” Jack smiled as he lifted his hand only to shove two thick fingers into the captive’s mouth.

The young man gagged almost immediately, his free hand grabbed Jack’s wrist and trying to pull him away, put Jack pushed forward, rubbing his fingers all around the warm slick of the aristocrat’s mouth. He tried biting him again, his teeth gnawing ineffectively against Jack’s knuckle until he shoved his fingertips all the way in the back of his throat, making it spasm.

“Y…you trying to make me…ugh…” He rasped, gagging as Jack whipped his fingers away, wiping them on the young man’s coat.

“Nah. Not into puke, sugar. Just thought it was funny,” Jack admitted with a loose shrug of the shoulders.

“Funny…you have a sick sense of humor…”

“Yeah, well, you think my hands are dirty, then you just wait n’ see what I’m going to shove in their next ah…” Jack raised his eyebrow, squinting down at the young man.

“Heh. Never thought to ask your name, pumpkin. What do they call ya?”

The captive laughed, voice high and derisive.

“Y-You, you really think I’m going to tell you my name, you mongrel? Hearing it in your filthy, degenerate tongue would really end up making me sick.”

“Fine. Then I’ll make up my own names for ya. How about bitch, whore, cockslut, jizzrag, any of those work for you your majesty—“

“That last one sounds nice.”