[It's impossible to deny the strength that hauls him upright, pressure around his throat where the collar digs in — and the position change is difficult, putting his weight on his own knees between Cy's legs, keeping them narrow enough that there's little alleviation from tight penetration. Even when he fights back, tries to drag his body away, Cy pulls him back with that iron hold on his hips and forces him down, feeling the drag of slick friction as his cunt is filled.
A sob breaks out of him; his eyes are still wet from earlier emotion, but he sees no reason to suppress those tears in the moment now. The kiss, the yank at the sore and reddened peaks of nipples — all of these physical sensations work to sunder him, resistance made arbitrary, protest worn down.
Of course he's strong enough. It's a question that doesn't need to be asked, but is asked anyway as if to make it a challenge, some benchmark he must rise to meet. His right hand finds a place for balance on Cy's knee, and then — he does as he is made to do. He rocks his body down, thighs rigid with tension for the effort of keeping the position, and rides the man's cock — humiliating for the way it causes him to participate in this act, as if it is mutual and not coerced. He's so wet after orgasm there's almost no burn to the rhythm of desperate fucking, but it is the stretch that aches, that makes him feel so full he can't breathe properly, the way Cy's cock shoves in at this angle enough to jostle the dildo plugged in his ass. He is soon gasping with the effort, face blotchy with crying.]
no subject
A sob breaks out of him; his eyes are still wet from earlier emotion, but he sees no reason to suppress those tears in the moment now. The kiss, the yank at the sore and reddened peaks of nipples — all of these physical sensations work to sunder him, resistance made arbitrary, protest worn down.
Of course he's strong enough. It's a question that doesn't need to be asked, but is asked anyway as if to make it a challenge, some benchmark he must rise to meet. His right hand finds a place for balance on Cy's knee, and then — he does as he is made to do. He rocks his body down, thighs rigid with tension for the effort of keeping the position, and rides the man's cock — humiliating for the way it causes him to participate in this act, as if it is mutual and not coerced. He's so wet after orgasm there's almost no burn to the rhythm of desperate fucking, but it is the stretch that aches, that makes him feel so full he can't breathe properly, the way Cy's cock shoves in at this angle enough to jostle the dildo plugged in his ass. He is soon gasping with the effort, face blotchy with crying.]