[He had moaned. Fuck. He'd actually moaned. That really didn't bode well for his ability to hold back the noises for the rest of this if he's moaning from a tiny bit of push and pull. He can't help it. It's not that he's enjoying himself, but with his nerves as they are, his body is more responsive than ever.
Not to mention, depressing as the thought is, this is the most action he's had in years. This queer ass mafioso has been the first to touch Ray this intimately since Stella and that's a really fucked up thing to consider for too long. He hadn't even got laid in almost a year, which goes towards explaining why he feels excessively blue balled and like his dick might explode at any second. Worst part of it is he finds the struggle a turn on, like the adrenaline spikes of a good fight that leave you buzzing but in pain by the end of it. All this roughing up and shit talking, it's all part of it, and he thinks he could almost get on with this guy if he wasn't pressing beads into him.
There he is with a straining cock and no ability to give himself any satisfaction or blow his load, and yet his frustration is restrained well enough by Armando's attention. Even through all this his dick isn't forgotten, licked once again (but sadly only once) and getting his hips jerking upwards. The shift causes some movement below and he's grunting as he stills himself, still trying to adjust to the feeling of having them pressing inside him. It's an odd sensation to have something filling him, unusual and not what he'd ever expected he'd be experiencing in his lifetime. And yet here he is, and he'd just have to fucking deal with it because it's not like Armando's just suddenly going to stop for him now.
With each bead tugging against him, Ray's huffing out a sharp breath, resisting too much noise beyond low grunts as the pull is replaced by pushing them back in before the process is repeated all over. With his mind unfocused, his muscles start to relax of their own accord, self-preserving to make that movement just that little bit easier. He's not accepting it, not mentally, but he sure as hell didn't want to tear anything.
The little speech has got him grinding his teeth, words like slut and bitch chipping away at his pride and making him want to quickly fill it back in. The temptation to lash out again is high, a better kick, a knee, perhaps even just a spit to the face, anything to fill that shame, but his consideration is cut short by that last comment.
Scream?
What--
And then his whole body jerks upwards as one, every single muscle in him tightening so suddenly that he surprises himself. He's clamping back down on those beads and that just heightens the buzz emitting from them, vibrating deep within him where nothing has ever touched before. The scream doesn't come, his throat tightening as he strains out a breath, the sound coming out as a pathetic sounding;] Aah!
[There's just something over all pathetic about a lightly gasping, jittering, scrawny assed cop shivering his way through this like some lost or misplaced pet.
This is more unbearable than the ring. Set deeper within him and resonating throughout and impossible to counter, any tightening against it only increasing the feeling. It shouldn't feel so appealing, not something like this, but it hit every part of him too well.]
I've ha-ah-d better. [Sex, he means. Because he's not going to let this scumbag try and flatter himself with tales of amazing sex.]
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Not to mention, depressing as the thought is, this is the most action he's had in years. This queer ass mafioso has been the first to touch Ray this intimately since Stella and that's a really fucked up thing to consider for too long. He hadn't even got laid in almost a year, which goes towards explaining why he feels excessively blue balled and like his dick might explode at any second. Worst part of it is he finds the struggle a turn on, like the adrenaline spikes of a good fight that leave you buzzing but in pain by the end of it. All this roughing up and shit talking, it's all part of it, and he thinks he could almost get on with this guy if he wasn't pressing beads into him.
There he is with a straining cock and no ability to give himself any satisfaction or blow his load, and yet his frustration is restrained well enough by Armando's attention. Even through all this his dick isn't forgotten, licked once again (but sadly only once) and getting his hips jerking upwards. The shift causes some movement below and he's grunting as he stills himself, still trying to adjust to the feeling of having them pressing inside him. It's an odd sensation to have something filling him, unusual and not what he'd ever expected he'd be experiencing in his lifetime. And yet here he is, and he'd just have to fucking deal with it because it's not like Armando's just suddenly going to stop for him now.
With each bead tugging against him, Ray's huffing out a sharp breath, resisting too much noise beyond low grunts as the pull is replaced by pushing them back in before the process is repeated all over. With his mind unfocused, his muscles start to relax of their own accord, self-preserving to make that movement just that little bit easier. He's not accepting it, not mentally, but he sure as hell didn't want to tear anything.
The little speech has got him grinding his teeth, words like slut and bitch chipping away at his pride and making him want to quickly fill it back in. The temptation to lash out again is high, a better kick, a knee, perhaps even just a spit to the face, anything to fill that shame, but his consideration is cut short by that last comment.
Scream?
What--
And then his whole body jerks upwards as one, every single muscle in him tightening so suddenly that he surprises himself. He's clamping back down on those beads and that just heightens the buzz emitting from them, vibrating deep within him where nothing has ever touched before. The scream doesn't come, his throat tightening as he strains out a breath, the sound coming out as a pathetic sounding;] Aah!
[There's just something over all pathetic about a lightly gasping, jittering, scrawny assed cop shivering his way through this like some lost or misplaced pet.
This is more unbearable than the ring. Set deeper within him and resonating throughout and impossible to counter, any tightening against it only increasing the feeling. It shouldn't feel so appealing, not something like this, but it hit every part of him too well.]
I've ha-ah-d better. [Sex, he means. Because he's not going to let this scumbag try and flatter himself with tales of amazing sex.]