[ Danny's fist drives him high enough that the bruising pressure of his teeth fades to the background. Quentin nearly reaches back for a fistful of his hair, nearly breathes harder the moment before Danny lets him go. The welts stay hot, something to warm him up when his forearms sink into the cool mud.
[ dreamed about it, Danny says, and Quentin flushes fierce enough that he half expects the sludge to come to a simmer. ]
Yes. [ And the only thing that kept him from spreading himself for the thought was time, hygiene, some sense of anticipation for his return. Quentin pushes around his fingers, pushes back against him with a drawn out exhale. ] Danny, all the time. All the fucking--time.
[ The digits don't sink deep enough, but the next firm press yanks some string loose; his back dips suddenly, balls tighten, zadza rolling dully through the bite marks over his neck. Quentin's forehead falls onto his stacked fists. ]
I waited for you. [ Rumbling, wet. ] Tell me what you dreamed.
( it shouldn't please him the way it does, knowing quentin waited for him. in a fit of post-death fucking madness, he wants to tell him everything — all his dreams, good and bad, sick and sicker and sickest. how sometimes, when he'd catch him unwisely out and about in the woods or in springwood or some derelict location built by the entity's awesome power, his mouth recently bitten red or fucked swollen by one of his undeserving compatriots, he'd imagine stroking his hair and guiding him onto his knees to fill his throat with his cock. nurse him through it, like a lover. slit his throat when he was done, little fucking cumslut good for nothing but his dick and his knife.
he wants to tell him. he wants him to know. he wants him to suffer again, and he hates this fucking place, these fucking people, for taking that right from him. he owns quentin's pain, all of it. danny's fingers quiver dangerously where they're slotted in quentin's insides, fucking him loose in preparation for his cock. )
You're mine.
( every pale, blushing inch of him, every angry and indignant teardrop squeezed from his stupid pretty blue eyes. danny's voice cracks like he's crying. because he is, again. iridescent oil-thin tears drip from his chin, anointing the milky curve of quentin's ass like black squirming beetles. )
I'm going to fuck you up, baby. ( baby, sweetheart, q. his throat squeezes, spasms on a hiccuping gasp. ) Quentin. You fucking slut.
( he's going to make him hurt again. his fingers glide out of him, replaced by his thumb and the plush head of danny's cock, pushing in side-by-side. one to pry his clenching cunt open, the other to fuck him full, little hitches until his cockhead pops his sweet cherry and he can snap in smooth, mean hips rutting him deeper into the mud. )
cw: did we warn for major dubcon? lets do that just in case
[ His. He has to say something to that, but words hinder him and tangle over themselves. Quentin slips into the connection between them like a needle, plunges the feeling directly to him, the yawning, the opening, the beckoning you can have it, I'll have you too, I'll have you, cry for me
[ The feeling flinches when Danny goes on. Recoils from his own name and the one Danny gives him. The words come quick when his hole stretches too far, too bright around his thumb and crown. ]
Wait--wait, waitwait, Danny--Danny, wait!
[ His vision whites out, senses battered out by the dry scrape as Danny fucks into him. Quentin screams and immediately bites around his forearm to stop, stop stop shut up. Mud climbs between his teeth. Holds his knees too tight, he realizes how wide he's splayed when he tries to pull away and his thighs ache and his hips moan and his knees don't budge.
[ Filthy past his elbows, he scrabbles for the hand holding his hips. Hold him. Hold his hand. ] --please--
Edited 2023-09-10 04:43 (UTC)
i did warn for dubcon upthread but it was before any real dubcon happened so u right
( oh, fuck. that's beautiful. quentin's reedy scream is a sound he hadn't realized he'd missed so viscerally until he hears it again, needled out of him in jittery notes, record-skipping and repeating as danny hitches him onto his cock and thumb. his insides resist him as fiercely as his guts always resisted his knife, but only at first, all trembling clenching fucked out of him and tighttighttight muscle yielding to the firm give of danny's cock—knife—hook as his hips jerk one final time, conqueror mean and brutal, notching into him as deep as he can go.
danny slides his thumb from quentin's trembling cunt. stares hazily between them where they're fused at the hips, quentin's muddy hand groping for danny's hand like an anchor to keep him from drowning. )
Sweetheart. ( danny can't get oxygen into his lungs quickly enough. he's the one drowning, shivery kitten moans to complement his little kitten tears like he's got the thick cock inside him instead. he takes quentin's hand, palm to hand top, lacing their fingers at the knuckles.
wrecked, needy, vicious: ) Quentin, fuck — oh fuck, fuck, baby, I knew you'd be a fucking slut for this.
( he never imagined it happening like this: out in the woods, quentin on his hands and knees in the mud, danny bowed over his spine like a fucking animal in breeding season. he always thought he'd be kissing him, licking his begging and whimpering dannys from his mouth, and he's suddenly sorry that he can't.
squeezing quentin's hand, danny draws them down in unison between the fanned spread of his thighs and wraps their joined fists around his sweet pink cock. his other hand grinds into his skinny hip, holds him steady for the backward cant of his hips as he glides out of him and keeps him corked open by the chubby lip of his cockhead. another round of spit dolloped onto his flexing, gaping cunt, you're welcome, then danny fucks back into him. )
[ At least, with Danny sunk into him, it’s warm. Quentin’s tongue drops from the roof of his mouth, lets a wobbly moan loose once the first and worst push is fully inside. Danny has to feel his heartbeat, he’s sure. Tough start, but Quentin adapts dependably with time and attention; the fingers slipping between his knuckles remind him who he’s with. ]
Danny. [ His Danny. This is okay. This is fine. Same as the first time Quentin had him down his throat. Resistance, stuttering, and then-- ] Baby—okay. Okay—
[ Quentin shudders around him when their hands wind around his cock. His forehead plants on his fist. He’d imagined them being cleaner, closer, sharing breath and whispering. But like this, Danny’s strange, raw sounds leak directly down Quentin’s spine and into his ears sweet and poisonous. The second thrust still makes him wince, but Quentin pushes back into it. ]
Fuck me. [ His wrist loosens to stroke himself, lungs loosen to stoke the fire with a hoarse demand: ] Fuck me, babe, I’m all yours.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ dreamed about it, Danny says, and Quentin flushes fierce enough that he half expects the sludge to come to a simmer. ]
Yes. [ And the only thing that kept him from spreading himself for the thought was time, hygiene, some sense of anticipation for his return. Quentin pushes around his fingers, pushes back against him with a drawn out exhale. ] Danny, all the time. All the fucking--time.
[ The digits don't sink deep enough, but the next firm press yanks some string loose; his back dips suddenly, balls tighten, zadza rolling dully through the bite marks over his neck. Quentin's forehead falls onto his stacked fists. ]
I waited for you. [ Rumbling, wet. ] Tell me what you dreamed.
no subject
he wants to tell him. he wants him to know. he wants him to suffer again, and he hates this fucking place, these fucking people, for taking that right from him. he owns quentin's pain, all of it. danny's fingers quiver dangerously where they're slotted in quentin's insides, fucking him loose in preparation for his cock. )
You're mine.
( every pale, blushing inch of him, every angry and indignant teardrop squeezed from his stupid pretty blue eyes. danny's voice cracks like he's crying. because he is, again. iridescent oil-thin tears drip from his chin, anointing the milky curve of quentin's ass like black squirming beetles. )
I'm going to fuck you up, baby. ( baby, sweetheart, q. his throat squeezes, spasms on a hiccuping gasp. ) Quentin. You fucking slut.
( he's going to make him hurt again. his fingers glide out of him, replaced by his thumb and the plush head of danny's cock, pushing in side-by-side. one to pry his clenching cunt open, the other to fuck him full, little hitches until his cockhead pops his sweet cherry and he can snap in smooth, mean hips rutting him deeper into the mud. )
cw: did we warn for major dubcon? lets do that just in case
[ The feeling flinches when Danny goes on. Recoils from his own name and the one Danny gives him. The words come quick when his hole stretches too far, too bright around his thumb and crown. ]
Wait--wait, waitwait, Danny--Danny, wait!
[ His vision whites out, senses battered out by the dry scrape as Danny fucks into him. Quentin screams and immediately bites around his forearm to stop, stop stop shut up. Mud climbs between his teeth. Holds his knees too tight, he realizes how wide he's splayed when he tries to pull away and his thighs ache and his hips moan and his knees don't budge.
[ Filthy past his elbows, he scrabbles for the hand holding his hips. Hold him. Hold his hand. ] --please--
i did warn for dubcon upthread but it was before any real dubcon happened so u right
danny slides his thumb from quentin's trembling cunt. stares hazily between them where they're fused at the hips, quentin's muddy hand groping for danny's hand like an anchor to keep him from drowning. )
Sweetheart. ( danny can't get oxygen into his lungs quickly enough. he's the one drowning, shivery kitten moans to complement his little kitten tears like he's got the thick cock inside him instead. he takes quentin's hand, palm to hand top, lacing their fingers at the knuckles.
wrecked, needy, vicious: ) Quentin, fuck — oh fuck, fuck, baby, I knew you'd be a fucking slut for this.
( he never imagined it happening like this: out in the woods, quentin on his hands and knees in the mud, danny bowed over his spine like a fucking animal in breeding season. he always thought he'd be kissing him, licking his begging and whimpering dannys from his mouth, and he's suddenly sorry that he can't.
squeezing quentin's hand, danny draws them down in unison between the fanned spread of his thighs and wraps their joined fists around his sweet pink cock. his other hand grinds into his skinny hip, holds him steady for the backward cant of his hips as he glides out of him and keeps him corked open by the chubby lip of his cockhead. another round of spit dolloped onto his flexing, gaping cunt, you're welcome, then danny fucks back into him. )
no subject
Danny. [ His Danny. This is okay. This is fine. Same as the first time Quentin had him down his throat. Resistance, stuttering, and then-- ] Baby—okay. Okay—
[ Quentin shudders around him when their hands wind around his cock. His forehead plants on his fist. He’d imagined them being cleaner, closer, sharing breath and whispering. But like this, Danny’s strange, raw sounds leak directly down Quentin’s spine and into his ears sweet and poisonous. The second thrust still makes him wince, but Quentin pushes back into it. ]
Fuck me. [ His wrist loosens to stroke himself, lungs loosen to stoke the fire with a hoarse demand: ] Fuck me, babe, I’m all yours.