[ gator hooks his fingers downward, rough, pounding quentin's prostate. he can feel the hard nub inside, fingertips tapping and rubbing. his cock works against quentin's as he thrusts on his abdomen, precome slick at the head. gator wants to fuck, and he wants to fuck now. adding another finger would just rip and tear what gator wants to do himself. against quentin's wishes, gator snatches his fingers out and readies his cock against his hole. with a grunt, he pushes inside slow, all the way down to the hips, their balls rubbing as he begins to thrust. ]
Fuck you.
[ he spits on quentin again, right on his face, under his chin. he ignores quentin's cock for the time being, knowing that the frustration must be too much. he doesn't give a good goddamn if quentin actually comes again or not, his thighs spreading as he digs into quentin deeper, humping his ass. ]
Oh, god. [ It hurts. It's hot and bright, and Quentin's throat and thighs both shudder as he tries--works to make it easier. His mouth hangs open, eyes open but too full of tears to see Gator glowering down at him. His hands fist in the cuffs, back arches as he bears down. ] God, jesuschrist, Gator.
[ The name is exhausted, pleading--cursing. The wad of spit hitting his chin isn't just excruciating; it's insulting. His expression twists, tears blinking out of his eyes. ]
Fuck you. [ He echoes, venomous, and scrapes the saliva up from below his lip. Lifts his head to spit it back as Gator drags, burning, out of him. ] In a rush, huh? Like a fucking--kid.
[ quentin spits back and gator can feel his insides jump with rage. he backhands quentin not once, but twice, hips still working as he grabs him by the jaw. they look into each other's eyes, and gator stares at him, dangerous. his cock is too deep, it's too hard, it's too fast and big and there's pain - but gator likes it that way. quentin's almost too tight, his hole being ripped as gator pounds into him deep. he grunts, nostrils flaring as he smells sex and lube, thumb digging into quentin's cheek. ]
You're too fuckin' tight. I'm gonna get what the fuck I want whether you fuckin' like it or not. Open - ngh. Up.
[ gator pushes his hips all the way against quentin's ass, arms scooping his legs and lifting them up. he parts his thighs, watching his cock twitch. he knows it hurts, poor thing, but until gator comes thick and deep inside - there's no mercy. no selfless pleasure. only hurt, more hurt, and the deepest violation. ]
[ Let it be said that he does his best. Gator pops his lip open on the second slap, and the blood catches in his throat when fingers screw into his cheeks, cutting them against his teeth. He suppresses the instinct to cough, because if he starts coughing, he won't be able to breathe, and he has to breathe or he's going to fucking pass out.
[ Because it hurts like a motherfucker. His voice seizes and shatters under the pressure of his sucking inhale-exhales. He's had worse. Not--not worse sex, to be clear. Even the times he hasn't wanted it, it's been fast, impersonal, easily forgotten with a little blow and effort. But he's had worse hurt, evidenced by the scars over his shoulder that glow white against the panicked, pained flush lit up across his chest.
[ So he sucks a sob back down, grinds it into a growl. Tries for a growl anyway, but it's just a ragged, fraying moan. Gator handles him higher, carves into him deeper, demands more out of him. Look at me. None of Quentin's bad nights ever wanted him torn down like this. He could just shut down until he was safe. Gator won't let him. Wants him here, god knows why, god knows how anyone could be that vindictive, but Gator wants him here. ]
Baby. [ Sputtered, dumbfounded, thighs stretched too tight to keep from shaking, unwanted arousal a painful knot in his balls, tears or sweat smearing the blood on his lip. Quentin looks at him. ] Please. Pl-ease, just. Please, just--
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ gator hooks his fingers downward, rough, pounding quentin's prostate. he can feel the hard nub inside, fingertips tapping and rubbing. his cock works against quentin's as he thrusts on his abdomen, precome slick at the head. gator wants to fuck, and he wants to fuck now. adding another finger would just rip and tear what gator wants to do himself. against quentin's wishes, gator snatches his fingers out and readies his cock against his hole. with a grunt, he pushes inside slow, all the way down to the hips, their balls rubbing as he begins to thrust. ]
Fuck you.
[ he spits on quentin again, right on his face, under his chin. he ignores quentin's cock for the time being, knowing that the frustration must be too much. he doesn't give a good goddamn if quentin actually comes again or not, his thighs spreading as he digs into quentin deeper, humping his ass. ]
Goddamn, that's it - take it deep.
no subject
[ The name is exhausted, pleading--cursing. The wad of spit hitting his chin isn't just excruciating; it's insulting. His expression twists, tears blinking out of his eyes. ]
Fuck you. [ He echoes, venomous, and scrapes the saliva up from below his lip. Lifts his head to spit it back as Gator drags, burning, out of him. ] In a rush, huh? Like a fucking--kid.
no subject
You're too fuckin' tight. I'm gonna get what the fuck I want whether you fuckin' like it or not. Open - ngh. Up.
[ gator pushes his hips all the way against quentin's ass, arms scooping his legs and lifting them up. he parts his thighs, watching his cock twitch. he knows it hurts, poor thing, but until gator comes thick and deep inside - there's no mercy. no selfless pleasure. only hurt, more hurt, and the deepest violation. ]
That's it, baby. Look at me.
no subject
[ Because it hurts like a motherfucker. His voice seizes and shatters under the pressure of his sucking inhale-exhales. He's had worse. Not--not worse sex, to be clear. Even the times he hasn't wanted it, it's been fast, impersonal, easily forgotten with a little blow and effort. But he's had worse hurt, evidenced by the scars over his shoulder that glow white against the panicked, pained flush lit up across his chest.
[ So he sucks a sob back down, grinds it into a growl. Tries for a growl anyway, but it's just a ragged, fraying moan. Gator handles him higher, carves into him deeper, demands more out of him. Look at me. None of Quentin's bad nights ever wanted him torn down like this. He could just shut down until he was safe. Gator won't let him. Wants him here, god knows why, god knows how anyone could be that vindictive, but Gator wants him here. ]
Baby. [ Sputtered, dumbfounded, thighs stretched too tight to keep from shaking, unwanted arousal a painful knot in his balls, tears or sweat smearing the blood on his lip. Quentin looks at him. ] Please. Pl-ease, just. Please, just--