[ Tim muffles another shocked gasp against the sheets, as if he's been smacked on the ass again, not because he’s been struck, but because he’s been chastised. Rules? He’s forgotten the rules, he hasn’t been thinking, only feeling, begging for Quentin and chasing pleasure.
Ah. That. It’s for Quentin to give out, to decide when and how much, isn’t it? Tim wipes his eyes against the sheet, flushed and tearful with the embarrassment of having forgotten such a simple instruction. Punishment and penance can’t be rushed, so there’s a practical lesson, fucking himself on only spit. He can do that, he has to do that, needs to earn the sweetness back, take back the praise that tickles his brain, his spine, his cock. With a shuddering breath, Tim picks himself up so that he’s on all fours again instead of shamelessly pressing himself to the bed and scoots back, angling into position with the hot head against his hole. ]
I’m sorry. [ A soft, needy sob, cock hanging heavy and red from lack of attention. He gasps further at the track of his nails across his ass, searing hot and painful. Necessary. ] I’m sorry. I didn’t–I’ll do better.
[ He moves his hips back slowly, accepting Quentin inside him with a wince at the sharp stretch. It stings, but not nearly as badly as losing his praise. ]
no subject
Ah. That. It’s for Quentin to give out, to decide when and how much, isn’t it? Tim wipes his eyes against the sheet, flushed and tearful with the embarrassment of having forgotten such a simple instruction. Punishment and penance can’t be rushed, so there’s a practical lesson, fucking himself on only spit. He can do that, he has to do that, needs to earn the sweetness back, take back the praise that tickles his brain, his spine, his cock. With a shuddering breath, Tim picks himself up so that he’s on all fours again instead of shamelessly pressing himself to the bed and scoots back, angling into position with the hot head against his hole. ]
I’m sorry. [ A soft, needy sob, cock hanging heavy and red from lack of attention. He gasps further at the track of his nails across his ass, searing hot and painful. Necessary. ] I’m sorry. I didn’t–I’ll do better.
[ He moves his hips back slowly, accepting Quentin inside him with a wince at the sharp stretch. It stings, but not nearly as badly as losing his praise. ]