[ It's good to get the metal gone, tossed aside. The stretchers are too clinical for him, although a necessary tool as far as this situation was concerned. Without them Ray would never be stretched wide enough, because he sure as hell wasn't going to deliberately relax, that was for sure. At least not manually.
It's deeply satisfying, though, when Ray - his breath hitching - snarls down at him. They're almost dirty enough words, he could figure them for real sex talk, like they were lovers who liked it rough; that this wasn't the kind of situation where Ray would have choked him to death with his bare hands if he got them free. It was a nice, if unrealistic, daydream, and it lasted half a second, because Vecchio realised almost immediately that he wouldn't enjoy that sort of sex talk ever again, and that sort of took the edge off the fantasy. He couldn't imagine, right now, ever wanting to have sex again, let alone have it any way that wasn't straightforward and vanilla in a nice dark room.
It was over.
It was over because this - everything about it; the power, the wrongness, the toys, Vecchio and Vecchio, the situation with Fraser, the cocaine - was all turning him on. He was high on it, head in the clouds, and sex was just going to be a minefield of things that reminded him of this moment. After pride and lust, he'd feel guilt, shame, disgust--all the things he ought to be feeling right now, but wasn't because of the coke; wasn't because he simply wasn't letting himself. He knew that at the end of the day this was impossibly far from the person he really was: that he was gentler than this, that he'd never deliberately damage a person the way he was breaking this man in front of him. But some dark part of him was enjoying this. Some dark part of him would still hate himself for enjoying it years down the line, and he felt like it was taking him over. In fact, he'd let it. He'd been letting it in since this assignment started, and yes, he'd heard all the horror stories about people going undercover and forgetting who they really were, knew that there were usually tragic repercussions.
He knew he was at risk of doing just that.
But if he didn't, he had to be this person while also being Ray Vecchio, and that was patently impossible. Ray Vecchio was the man in the chair with his legs spread. The world fucked Ray Vecchio, and Ray Vecchio had to grit his teeth and let it, because his hands were bound by the law, by morals and ethics and decency. He couldn't fight back even if he wanted to.
Ray moaned - not in pain - and Armando knew he had him. One moan opened the floodgates for more to follow, he just had to keep the sensation up. At the very least he had a secret weapon as far as that was concerned, but not yet. ]
What do you think this room is for? I got half a dozen of Vegas' finest on their backs for me if I want it. [ You done this before? He hadn't specified the beads. Fucked a cop, though. That was even actually true.
But then so was the kinky stuff. It was just that it had been consensual last time. A last ditch effort to spice up his relationship with Angie as their interest in each other waned.
He pulled the beads out again, one, two, three this time. Back in, one, two, three. Out, twice as fast. In, slowly again. He leaned back, pressing his nose into Ray's pubes and inhaling the dusting of cocaine that had fallen there. When he drew back, it was to flick the tip of his tongue, again, over the engorged head of Ray's cock. If anything would ache, that would be it. ]
Every time you hear a slot machine chime, you're gonna get hard thinking about this. You're going to remember being filled by me and it's gonna come down on you in the night like a weight on your chest, like a ghost fucking you into the bed. You're gonna wake up thinking about this with your fist around your cock, you dirty little slut. You can't even help it. Three hours with me, bleeding and moaning like a bitch, and it's gonna be the best sex you've ever had. You're going to hate yourself for that, aren't you? [ His voice dropped an octave, he looked up through his dark lashes, green eyes almost black thanks to the red lighting. ] Hey, Ray. Try not to scream.
[ There was a vibrator in the anal beads. He turned it on. ]
no subject
It's deeply satisfying, though, when Ray - his breath hitching - snarls down at him. They're almost dirty enough words, he could figure them for real sex talk, like they were lovers who liked it rough; that this wasn't the kind of situation where Ray would have choked him to death with his bare hands if he got them free. It was a nice, if unrealistic, daydream, and it lasted half a second, because Vecchio realised almost immediately that he wouldn't enjoy that sort of sex talk ever again, and that sort of took the edge off the fantasy. He couldn't imagine, right now, ever wanting to have sex again, let alone have it any way that wasn't straightforward and vanilla in a nice dark room.
It was over.
It was over because this - everything about it; the power, the wrongness, the toys, Vecchio and Vecchio, the situation with Fraser, the cocaine - was all turning him on. He was high on it, head in the clouds, and sex was just going to be a minefield of things that reminded him of this moment. After pride and lust, he'd feel guilt, shame, disgust--all the things he ought to be feeling right now, but wasn't because of the coke; wasn't because he simply wasn't letting himself. He knew that at the end of the day this was impossibly far from the person he really was: that he was gentler than this, that he'd never deliberately damage a person the way he was breaking this man in front of him. But some dark part of him was enjoying this. Some dark part of him would still hate himself for enjoying it years down the line, and he felt like it was taking him over. In fact, he'd let it. He'd been letting it in since this assignment started, and yes, he'd heard all the horror stories about people going undercover and forgetting who they really were, knew that there were usually tragic repercussions.
He knew he was at risk of doing just that.
But if he didn't, he had to be this person while also being Ray Vecchio, and that was patently impossible. Ray Vecchio was the man in the chair with his legs spread. The world fucked Ray Vecchio, and Ray Vecchio had to grit his teeth and let it, because his hands were bound by the law, by morals and ethics and decency. He couldn't fight back even if he wanted to.
Ray moaned - not in pain - and Armando knew he had him. One moan opened the floodgates for more to follow, he just had to keep the sensation up. At the very least he had a secret weapon as far as that was concerned, but not yet. ]
What do you think this room is for? I got half a dozen of Vegas' finest on their backs for me if I want it. [ You done this before? He hadn't specified the beads. Fucked a cop, though. That was even actually true.
But then so was the kinky stuff. It was just that it had been consensual last time. A last ditch effort to spice up his relationship with Angie as their interest in each other waned.
He pulled the beads out again, one, two, three this time. Back in, one, two, three. Out, twice as fast. In, slowly again. He leaned back, pressing his nose into Ray's pubes and inhaling the dusting of cocaine that had fallen there. When he drew back, it was to flick the tip of his tongue, again, over the engorged head of Ray's cock. If anything would ache, that would be it. ]
Every time you hear a slot machine chime, you're gonna get hard thinking about this. You're going to remember being filled by me and it's gonna come down on you in the night like a weight on your chest, like a ghost fucking you into the bed. You're gonna wake up thinking about this with your fist around your cock, you dirty little slut. You can't even help it. Three hours with me, bleeding and moaning like a bitch, and it's gonna be the best sex you've ever had. You're going to hate yourself for that, aren't you? [ His voice dropped an octave, he looked up through his dark lashes, green eyes almost black thanks to the red lighting. ] Hey, Ray. Try not to scream.
[ There was a vibrator in the anal beads. He turned it on. ]