[It's less about thought process and more about self-preservation that gets Ray's occasional moments of cooperation occurring. A fairly simple process of 'what's in it for me?' that he manages to consider through all the speedy thought processes and buzzing of his mind and his dick. Admittedly it's getting more and more difficult to think about anything beyond the thrumming that's digging into his slowly growing erection, and he doesn't become distantly aware that that fucking ring is going to get annoyingly tight by the end of it. Perhaps it'll be removed before it gets that far, but right now Ray's not got much faith in that hope.
There's already some distant regret at allowing Armando closer as he wastes no time in pushing himself in between his knees, getting far too involved in Ray's personal space. But his personal space was invaded long ago by this guy, and he supposes that'll carry on for as long as it needs to.
Fuck, he hoped this was worth it.
It would be worth it. He was going to win. He could take on this guy any day of the week, tied down or not.
Except... it's hard to be aggressive when what you assume will be an attack turns into a guy dropping to his knees and licking your cock. It's so unexpected that Ray's hips are jerking and his entire body is left convulsing for a second as he desperately tries to adjust to that wet, warm, perfect tongue. Not fair. Not fair at all. It's like changing the rules half way through a game and not telling the other side.
Ray's left reeling and gasping, even as lips slip further down him and teeth scrape like daggers against far too sensitive skin. This shouldn't be arousing, not when he's tied and bleeding in some bizarre mafia sex dungeon with classical music drifting in the background. This should be terrifying, and yes, there's still fear and anxiety knotted in his chest, but he's so overwhelmed by feeling and confidence and a ridiculously heightened awareness of his body that it's hard to focus on the danger of it all.
Even as those teeth wrap around him, his sense of risk is all skewed, his gazes locking with Armando portraying a clear sense of desperation because jesus fuck he doesn't want anything down there bit off, but yet still full of daring, do it, do it, I fucking dare you. God, it's the worse thing to try and silently challenge someone to, what the fuck is wrong with his brain?
Coke driven confidence or not, he still huffs out a breath of relief as he's released from the grip, breath short but heavy as Armando leans in. Ray sneers, because it's virtually the only thing he can do to show his annoyance beyond trying to bite the guys face off, but the sneer quickly morphs into a confused snarl at the scrape of a nail and pressure of a finger.
Nothing should be down there. That's an out of bounds area, and his hips lift just slightly as though trying to move away from the threat of intrusion. Slice him up all you want, but this? This is just weird.]
I oughta rip your face off, fag. Lean in a little closer, why don't you?
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There's already some distant regret at allowing Armando closer as he wastes no time in pushing himself in between his knees, getting far too involved in Ray's personal space. But his personal space was invaded long ago by this guy, and he supposes that'll carry on for as long as it needs to.
Fuck, he hoped this was worth it.
It would be worth it. He was going to win. He could take on this guy any day of the week, tied down or not.
Except... it's hard to be aggressive when what you assume will be an attack turns into a guy dropping to his knees and licking your cock. It's so unexpected that Ray's hips are jerking and his entire body is left convulsing for a second as he desperately tries to adjust to that wet, warm, perfect tongue. Not fair. Not fair at all. It's like changing the rules half way through a game and not telling the other side.
Ray's left reeling and gasping, even as lips slip further down him and teeth scrape like daggers against far too sensitive skin. This shouldn't be arousing, not when he's tied and bleeding in some bizarre mafia sex dungeon with classical music drifting in the background. This should be terrifying, and yes, there's still fear and anxiety knotted in his chest, but he's so overwhelmed by feeling and confidence and a ridiculously heightened awareness of his body that it's hard to focus on the danger of it all.
Even as those teeth wrap around him, his sense of risk is all skewed, his gazes locking with Armando portraying a clear sense of desperation because jesus fuck he doesn't want anything down there bit off, but yet still full of daring, do it, do it, I fucking dare you. God, it's the worse thing to try and silently challenge someone to, what the fuck is wrong with his brain?
Coke driven confidence or not, he still huffs out a breath of relief as he's released from the grip, breath short but heavy as Armando leans in. Ray sneers, because it's virtually the only thing he can do to show his annoyance beyond trying to bite the guys face off, but the sneer quickly morphs into a confused snarl at the scrape of a nail and pressure of a finger.
Nothing should be down there. That's an out of bounds area, and his hips lift just slightly as though trying to move away from the threat of intrusion. Slice him up all you want, but this? This is just weird.]
I oughta rip your face off, fag. Lean in a little closer, why don't you?