Sex in C Major

Shaking, he began to lift himself to his knees.

The cock dragged. The burning roared like a fire.

And then he sank back down until he was filled so far that it hurt. Until he imagined he could feel that long cock pressing against the base of his stomach. Until it seemed to hold him down, gripping him impossibly deep inside, and keeping him upright through its hard heat alone.

Trembling so hard he thought he would fall, Stefan began to fuck himself on Yannis' dick. He worked himself open on it, whimpering until the pain gave way to pleasure, and the slick, hot slide of cock inside him was the only thing left behind. Yannis' hands caught under his arse, pushing him higher, until Stefan had to lift himself until only the head was left inside before sinking down again.

"Open your eyes."

Stefan didn't know which one of them had spoken, but he obeyed anyway. Yannis still sat under him in that bored sprawl. Stefan couldn't see his master at all. Yannis idly pulled Stefan's hands from his shoulders, and pressed them down over Stefan's breasts.

"Touch them."

Stefan blinked. They felt swollen and awful in his palms, and he felt humiliated as Yannis arranged his fingers so the nipples poked through, pink nubs on constrained flesh between the bars of his own hands.

"Hold them like that."

Stefan nodded.

"Did I say stop?"

He gulped and rose up on his knees again. Without being able to steady himself, he rocked. His stomach clenched. The downward thrust hurt again, but when he closed his eyes to whimper, his dick was cruelly pinched.

"Keep them open."

"S-sorry. Sorry."

Yannis' bored look was giving way to something more like superiority. Arrogance. Tinged with a little detached fascination, as he rubbed his hands into the backs of Stefan's thighs and knees, and urged him to move faster.

"Fuck yourself. I'm not your lover. Fuck yourself."

Stefan whimpered, but sped up. He felt slippery. He felt as though he were smearing lube and his own arousal into Yannis' lap every time he sank down. He couldn't feel the sheath anymore. Would he notice even if Yannis could come? Stefan could be filled with cum until it was running out of him, and yet he felt so wet he didn't think he'd notice.

Yannis' hands clasped him around the waist, so hard they would bruise, and he began to add to the movement. Stefan was hauled higher, then slammed back down. He clutched at his breasts until they ached with the first time, but then began to relax again, and only whimpered a breathless plea for more or less, even he didn't know when Yannis pulled him closer and his nipple was gripped in sharp, dangerous teeth.

"Fuck! Oh, fuck, please please !"

He let go. He let his breasts go and seized for Yannis' head. He pressed himself into the bite, into the explosion of fire and pain and lust that surged through his body as his nipple was rolled between dangerous points, and squeezed until he thought it would burst. Until the movement of his riding the cock inside of him would tear his nipple away-and it would hurt so bad, so good, so much-

Hands. New hands. Pressing down his hips. Keeping him seated. Yannis' cock buried to the root inside of him. Sparks crackling through his brain at the pain of teeth on his nipple. At the pinch of fingers on the other.

"This is going to hurt."

His master's voice was in his ear. Lips brushed the shell.

"If you fight, it'll hurt worse. But that's up to you. Only one way out. What's that?"

"The safeword," Stefan breathed.

"You need it?"

"No."

"Not yet," came the dark reply, then a warm wetness was pressing to Stefan's skin.

Next to next to Yannis.

Yannis' teeth tightened.

There was a push. Pressure.

Pain.

Stefan cried out as he was breached. As his master's cock-huge and hot-began to split him apart. It forced its way in. Slow. Slick. Relentlessly big. He clawed at Yannis' shoulders, but his master was stronger. He tried to pull away, to open up and ease the pressure, but he was pinned on Yannis' lap and caught between teeth. When he began to scream, fingers were shoved into his mouth. Clumsy. Awkward. He bit down on them, and had his nipple wrenched until a white-hot pain forced him to let go.

Then hips pressed into his, and the terrible shattering stopped.

The air was thin. His lungs heaved. He hurt. He could barely feel his legs. A savage pain stabbed sharply at his breast; a duller ache, tearing and terrible, consumed him below.

And yet-

As the dizzying fear receded, as his lungs caught on air and the roaring of blood in his ears began to quiet, Stefan could feel-

Feel.