[The threat is like a sting of static on his skin, invigorating, potent in his blood. He is aware of Cy's cock tucked hard against his skin with the denial of its presence inside of him, carving out that space created just for this man, in this body — but the affirmation of Cy's arousal only deepens his own.
He swallows, this time more slowly, past the need of thirst and now in a state where the discomfort has begun to set in. His mouth is sloppy on the rim of the glass, water leaking in fine rivulets down his chin where his head is forced upright by the hand in his hair. He feels his abdomen clench with a new and different strain, intensified by their positions.
But it's not enough. He wants to feel it like a blade's edge against his throat — and the glass refills again, telling Cy that he can do this. One more time.]
Please, I can't. I'm so full. [The torment strains in his voice, wet and thick and raspy, on the verge of a sob.] Don't — don't make me drink anymore.
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He swallows, this time more slowly, past the need of thirst and now in a state where the discomfort has begun to set in. His mouth is sloppy on the rim of the glass, water leaking in fine rivulets down his chin where his head is forced upright by the hand in his hair. He feels his abdomen clench with a new and different strain, intensified by their positions.
But it's not enough. He wants to feel it like a blade's edge against his throat — and the glass refills again, telling Cy that he can do this. One more time.]
Please, I can't. I'm so full. [The torment strains in his voice, wet and thick and raspy, on the verge of a sob.] Don't — don't make me drink anymore.