[ He'll agree that he's greedy, soaking up all the attention he can grab from Flagg whenever he can. Like a parched man drinking his fill of water, not knowing when the next sip would come. Lloyd groans as those too-warm fingers wrap around his cock, thrusting forward as Flagg pushes into him, matching the rhythm he's set. There's not much else he can do besides hold on and pray to whatever will respond, though the litany that flows through his head is just Flagg's name like it's the only thing that will save him.
He's right on the edge of needing to come, has been there for a bit, but he can't seem to tip over the edge. One shaking hand reaches down to grasp at Flagg's wrist like a lifeline, the other holding onto the tub to keep himself from smashing his face against the porcelain. Each thrust punches out a cry, and he's so hard he's fucking dizzy. That dangerous growl reverberates up his spine and he'd come if he were allowed. Lloyd groans in frustration, the telltale prickle at the corner of his eyes only adding to the feeling. After he reaches that crest another time with no release, he resorts to begging breathlessly. ]
Pleaseplease--ungh--pl-please!
[ He doesn't know whether he's begging for mercy or death at this point, but he's entirely in Flagg's snare either way. ]
[ His laughter echoes throughout the room, bouncing off the walls. Dammit, this boy knows how to beg and Flagg loves every second of it. He strokes the back of Lloyd's head, grabbing a fistful of hair as he continues to thrust. ]
How 'bout this: you come when I do. And I'm pretty damn close. That's fair, isn't it?
[ Is there a catch? Of course there is. It wouldn't be a Flagg bargain if there wasn't a catch, baby. ]
[ If there are any more ways for him to come unraveled, the grip on his hair absolutely does it. He moans, lewd and breathy, desperate for release. He'd agree to just about anything at this point. Then again, he's not really in a position to bargain, is he? ]
Yeah, yeah 's fair. Please, fuck I'll do whatever you want!
[ Never a good idea to let the devil do as he pleases, but it's been too late for that for a while. Too much has already been chipped away and replaced with that inky darkness. Not that Lloyd noticed. ]
[ With one hand still is Lloyd's hair, the other curled around his cock, he gives one last triumphant thrust, groaning loudly before he comes and spills his hot seed inside of Lloyd. As promised, Lloyd can come, too.
There's a sense of relief, for a moment. Flagg leans down, his chest pressed against Lloyd's back as he lets out a few unsteady breaths. There's only one thing wrong: he's still rock hard, and so is Lloyd. ]
You ready for round two? [ He starts to work up a rhythm again, thrusting in and out. Round two of how many? However many he felt like, and whenever he came, so would Lloyd. ]
[ Lloyd comes with an intensity he hasn't felt in a while, even the mindblowing orgasm he'd had earlier kind of pales in comparison. There's something about a dick up the ass that makes it hard to think. Really, hard to do anything but hold onto the edge of the tub in a vice-like grip while he paints the side of the tub with his release, muscles clenching around Flagg as he tries to ride the high down. He lets his head hit the side of the tub, catching his breath and closing his eyes.
Only.. He doesn't feel as spent as he should. His muscles are tired, but apparently, his dick didn't get the memo. Lloyd whines with fatigue but after Flagg thrusts a few times, he starts to meet him half way, pushing himself back onto Flagg's dick. Lloyd idly wonders if his dick or his heart will give out first. ]
Dunno how you are. [ He's..not really complaining about it, either. How could he? Flagg's hot and strong as fuck. ]
Oh, I've got stamina like you wouldn't believe. [ Case in point: he doesn't seem tired at all, he's just getting started, baby.
He wonders how long Lloyd can hold out without something inside of him just snapping. For a moment, Flagg thinks it might be fun to fuck him silly and see if he can put him back together again like some sort of telepathic jigsaw puzzle, but he decides against it.
He needs a right hand man and he quite likes this one, as much as something like him can like someone. So he'll push him, he'll push him until his legs give out and he needs to be carried, trembling and dazed, in Flagg's strong arms back to bed, but that's as far as he'll go. ] Oh Lloyd, oh darlin' - Feel like makin' love to you -
[ He half sings, half slurs the lyrics of some old rock song as he thrusts, coming closer and closer to his second climax. Even he can get a little incoherent in the throes of pleasure.
He comes again, practically purring with satisfaction, but he's still not done. ]
[ All surveys point to his heart exploding before this is over. Lloyd idly thinks that if this is how he goes, there's not really a better death than being fucked so good your heart gives out. That's how porn stars go out, right?
As if there needed to be another reason to make him feel all flustered, that drawled out 'darlin'' makes his legs feel like jello. Is that what they're doing? Making love? He knows it's part of a rock song and that's kind of a thing, but this feels so carnal and animalistic compared to the things people sing about. Feral, almost, with the way Flagg had growled, making him feel like a cornered rabbit, too stunned to run away but knowing a wolf's got its teeth poised for eating.
His hand moves down to his own aching prick, even though Flagg's been taking care of him, has always taken care of him. He doesn't come until Flagg does, and it's with a low, croaky moan. God, he'd do anything for the man if he asked.
Lloyd already feels dazed, thoughts jumbled and caught in a fog, this will be two times that he's come and the refractory period has been nonexistent. He knows that's not natural, even on his best days, jerking off more than twice went from pleasurable to overstimulated and toward the edge of painful. Not to mention, his knees are starting to ache from bracing himself against the porcelain of the tub. ]
One more. [ He arches his back, wrapping his arms around Lloyd like he was the most precious thing in the world. ] Do one more for me and I'll make it the best you've ever had.
[ Flagg could go another ten times, or twenty, or more. He could come fifty times and still not be used up. If anyone wanted him to be exclusive with them, they'd quickly change their mind upon discovery of the sexual appetite they were now in charge of satiating.
Lloyd couldn't go as long as he liked. It'd break his poor little human mind, or give him a heart attack, or both. But he could do one more, and Flagg would make it well worth his while. ]
[ He's pretty sure the only thing keeping him upright are Flagg's arms around him and his grip on the edge of the tub. His legs are trembling like leaves on a tree and he doesn't know how he's going to orgasm again. Or how his dick is still hard.
Lloyd moans, shaking his head. He's not a quitter, but it seems pretty damn impossible. He's not saying no, he just needs a few moments to pull himself together enough for once more. Chest heaving, he pushes himself back up with shaking arms. ]
Okay..Okay. One more, I can do it. [ For Flagg, he can do damn near anything or he'd die trying. ]
[ Most people would have begged to be released by now, but Lloyd's not most people. He probably doesn't even know how special he is, how uncommonly loyal. Anyone can be grateful and keep their word but it's a talent of sorts to be full of such vibrant passion for the object of your worship.
God has his preachers and Flagg has Lloyd Henreid. ]
Just count to ten, my dear. Ten and you'll feel like you're in heaven. [ But these last ten thrusts aren't going to be as fast and feral as he's been going before. They're slow, calculated, each time he withdraws and slams back in it's almost beyond time.
One. Two. Three.
He's fully infiltrated Lloyd's mind now and swarms him with pleasure that touch alone, no matter how intimate, could ever give.
Four. Five. Six.
'You alright, Lloyd?', he means to say, but all that comes out is a guttural growl. His fingertips press deep bruises into Lloyd's shoulders, and perhaps it's a good thing that Flagg's riding him from behind so he can't see the hungry look in his deep red eyes.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
He withdraws one last time and then, with a howl that shakes the walls and sinks into the bones like the vibration of a tuning fork, he thrusts (Ten.) and comes so hot and hard it feels like he must have been holding it in for a thousand years.
He's finally, mercifully soft once it's over, and so is Lloyd. ]
[ That little bit of praise goes a long way and helps him find just enough energy to keep upright. He rests his head on top of his arms, panting as he counts. It's hard to focus, each thrust feels like it lasts forever and goes deeper than the one before it. Lloyd gets to three before he loses count and all sense of reality. He only exists, pleasure hitting him in waves that feels a bit like drowning in it.
It's like an itch he's never been able to scratch being sated. Flagg's voice in his head is overwhelming, even though all that comes out is that growl that makes him shiver and his heart speed up. It scares him, but there's nowhere he'd rather be in this moment. Not that he could go anywhere.
Everything is too much and not enough, his nerves feeling raw and overused.
Lloyd tries to pick up counting again, but he's so lost in where he left off, all that comes out is a tormented whine. Flagg makes him feel impossibly full, like he's going to explode taking anything more, but he's selfish and will take until there's nothing else to give and be grateful for it.
Given that final release, Lloyd's cry of ecstasy turns into a sob of relief, tears sliding down his face from exhaustion. He doesn't think he'll be able to get hard for days with how wrung-out he feels. Even his dick had given a lackluster performance at the end, jerking through the motions. Every bit of him is trembling, right down to his bones, and his head still feels muddled, not quite coming down from the pleasure just yet. Too exhausted to try. ]
Don’t worry, hon, I’ll carry you. [ He slides his cock all the way out and scoops Lloyd up in his arms, effortlessly. Then he carried him back to the comfort of the penthouse bed, nice and soft everywhere to take the strain off of his knees.
He kisses Lloyd on the forehead before crawling in beside him, sliding under the blankets so smoothly he may as well be some bedside phantom. ]
You did good, Lloyd. [ Was Lloyd awake and aware enough to hear his praise? Who knows. But he was good, and he managed to hold out until Flagg was done, which was worthy of some reward. ]
[ He shudders, letting out a whine of discomfort as Flagg pulls out of him, and he can feel cum dripping down his thighs. He doesn't really have it in him to care about that. Lloyd doesn't do anything to ensure he doesn't fall, trusting that he won't. Not that he'd be aware if he did tumble to the ground. He wouldn't be able to get up anyway.
His head hits Flagg's solid shoulder and he sinks into that warmth. He smells like sweat and sex. That's about the last thing that flits through his mind before he just can't anymore. Whether it was sleep or simply unconsciousness, he slips into it without much warning. If he'd have been able to last just a bit longer, he'd have reveled in the extra bit of attention and praise.
He wakes up briefly, on the edge of too-warm, but unwilling (or more like unable) to move, so he doesn't. He just goes back to sleep. The next time he opens his eyes, everything is sore and he shoves his face petulantly into the pillow. ...or maybe it's a chest. How is he to know? ]
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He's right on the edge of needing to come, has been there for a bit, but he can't seem to tip over the edge. One shaking hand reaches down to grasp at Flagg's wrist like a lifeline, the other holding onto the tub to keep himself from smashing his face against the porcelain. Each thrust punches out a cry, and he's so hard he's fucking dizzy. That dangerous growl reverberates up his spine and he'd come if he were allowed. Lloyd groans in frustration, the telltale prickle at the corner of his eyes only adding to the feeling. After he reaches that crest another time with no release, he resorts to begging breathlessly. ]
Pleaseplease--ungh--pl-please!
[ He doesn't know whether he's begging for mercy or death at this point, but he's entirely in Flagg's snare either way. ]
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How 'bout this: you come when I do. And I'm pretty damn close. That's fair, isn't it?
[ Is there a catch? Of course there is. It wouldn't be a Flagg bargain if there wasn't a catch, baby. ]
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Yeah, yeah 's fair. Please, fuck I'll do whatever you want!
[ Never a good idea to let the devil do as he pleases, but it's been too late for that for a while. Too much has already been chipped away and replaced with that inky darkness. Not that Lloyd noticed. ]
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There's a sense of relief, for a moment. Flagg leans down, his chest pressed against Lloyd's back as he lets out a few unsteady breaths. There's only one thing wrong: he's still rock hard, and so is Lloyd. ]
You ready for round two? [ He starts to work up a rhythm again, thrusting in and out. Round two of how many? However many he felt like, and whenever he came, so would Lloyd. ]
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Only.. He doesn't feel as spent as he should. His muscles are tired, but apparently, his dick didn't get the memo. Lloyd whines with fatigue but after Flagg thrusts a few times, he starts to meet him half way, pushing himself back onto Flagg's dick. Lloyd idly wonders if his dick or his heart will give out first. ]
Dunno how you are. [ He's..not really complaining about it, either. How could he? Flagg's hot and strong as fuck. ]
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He wonders how long Lloyd can hold out without something inside of him just snapping. For a moment, Flagg thinks it might be fun to fuck him silly and see if he can put him back together again like some sort of telepathic jigsaw puzzle, but he decides against it.
He needs a right hand man and he quite likes this one, as much as something like him can like someone. So he'll push him, he'll push him until his legs give out and he needs to be carried, trembling and dazed, in Flagg's strong arms back to bed, but that's as far as he'll go. ] Oh Lloyd, oh darlin' - Feel like makin' love to you -
[ He half sings, half slurs the lyrics of some old rock song as he thrusts, coming closer and closer to his second climax. Even he can get a little incoherent in the throes of pleasure.
He comes again, practically purring with satisfaction, but he's still not done. ]
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As if there needed to be another reason to make him feel all flustered, that drawled out 'darlin'' makes his legs feel like jello. Is that what they're doing? Making love? He knows it's part of a rock song and that's kind of a thing, but this feels so carnal and animalistic compared to the things people sing about. Feral, almost, with the way Flagg had growled, making him feel like a cornered rabbit, too stunned to run away but knowing a wolf's got its teeth poised for eating.
His hand moves down to his own aching prick, even though Flagg's been taking care of him, has always taken care of him. He doesn't come until Flagg does, and it's with a low, croaky moan. God, he'd do anything for the man if he asked.
Lloyd already feels dazed, thoughts jumbled and caught in a fog, this will be two times that he's come and the refractory period has been nonexistent. He knows that's not natural, even on his best days, jerking off more than twice went from pleasurable to overstimulated and toward the edge of painful. Not to mention, his knees are starting to ache from bracing himself against the porcelain of the tub. ]
Oh fuck, oh fuck.
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[ Flagg could go another ten times, or twenty, or more. He could come fifty times and still not be used up. If anyone wanted him to be exclusive with them, they'd quickly change their mind upon discovery of the sexual appetite they were now in charge of satiating.
Lloyd couldn't go as long as he liked. It'd break his poor little human mind, or give him a heart attack, or both. But he could do one more, and Flagg would make it well worth his while. ]
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Lloyd moans, shaking his head. He's not a quitter, but it seems pretty damn impossible. He's not saying no, he just needs a few moments to pull himself together enough for once more. Chest heaving, he pushes himself back up with shaking arms. ]
Okay..Okay. One more, I can do it. [ For Flagg, he can do damn near anything or he'd die trying. ]
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[ Most people would have begged to be released by now, but Lloyd's not most people. He probably doesn't even know how special he is, how uncommonly loyal. Anyone can be grateful and keep their word but it's a talent of sorts to be full of such vibrant passion for the object of your worship.
God has his preachers and Flagg has Lloyd Henreid. ]
Just count to ten, my dear. Ten and you'll feel like you're in heaven. [ But these last ten thrusts aren't going to be as fast and feral as he's been going before. They're slow, calculated, each time he withdraws and slams back in it's almost beyond time.
One. Two. Three.
He's fully infiltrated Lloyd's mind now and swarms him with pleasure that touch alone, no matter how intimate, could ever give.
Four. Five. Six.
'You alright, Lloyd?', he means to say, but all that comes out is a guttural growl. His fingertips press deep bruises into Lloyd's shoulders, and perhaps it's a good thing that Flagg's riding him from behind so he can't see the hungry look in his deep red eyes.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
He withdraws one last time and then, with a howl that shakes the walls and sinks into the bones like the vibration of a tuning fork, he thrusts (Ten.) and comes so hot and hard it feels like he must have been holding it in for a thousand years.
He's finally, mercifully soft once it's over, and so is Lloyd. ]
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It's like an itch he's never been able to scratch being sated. Flagg's voice in his head is overwhelming, even though all that comes out is that growl that makes him shiver and his heart speed up. It scares him, but there's nowhere he'd rather be in this moment. Not that he could go anywhere.
Everything is too much and not enough, his nerves feeling raw and overused.
Lloyd tries to pick up counting again, but he's so lost in where he left off, all that comes out is a tormented whine. Flagg makes him feel impossibly full, like he's going to explode taking anything more, but he's selfish and will take until there's nothing else to give and be grateful for it.
Given that final release, Lloyd's cry of ecstasy turns into a sob of relief, tears sliding down his face from exhaustion. He doesn't think he'll be able to get hard for days with how wrung-out he feels. Even his dick had given a lackluster performance at the end, jerking through the motions. Every bit of him is trembling, right down to his bones, and his head still feels muddled, not quite coming down from the pleasure just yet. Too exhausted to try. ]
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He kisses Lloyd on the forehead before crawling in beside him, sliding under the blankets so smoothly he may as well be some bedside phantom. ]
You did good, Lloyd. [ Was Lloyd awake and aware enough to hear his praise? Who knows. But he was good, and he managed to hold out until Flagg was done, which was worthy of some reward. ]
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His head hits Flagg's solid shoulder and he sinks into that warmth. He smells like sweat and sex. That's about the last thing that flits through his mind before he just can't anymore. Whether it was sleep or simply unconsciousness, he slips into it without much warning. If he'd have been able to last just a bit longer, he'd have reveled in the extra bit of attention and praise.
He wakes up briefly, on the edge of too-warm, but unwilling (or more like unable) to move, so he doesn't. He just goes back to sleep. The next time he opens his eyes, everything is sore and he shoves his face petulantly into the pillow. ...or maybe it's a chest. How is he to know? ]