“I thought this was what you wanted.”
Obi clenched his teeth, feeling them nearly break in his own mouth. His jaw ached, sore from being wrapped around the prince’s cock for so what seemed like hours. Zen’s soft panting and delicate curses were enough to nearly make Obi spill over the bed, and he rutted against the sheets like an animal in heat. But now the tables had turned, and he was being broken in a way that felt more like a kind of sanctuary than something he should be ashamed of.
“Don’t you remember begging for it?”
Did he? He remembered the darkness of the tent, the wind howling outside the oiled fabric, whipping against the small, sheltered space. He remembered Zen’s mouth on him, curious and explorative during their first time together. The curious lips that led to bites that led to moans and kisses and… oh. Oh. No, he did remember. When he was on his knees in front of Zen, calling him Master with rough curses, his tongue swirling patterns around the head of his dripping cock… he had said how he wanted to be claimed by him. Used. Broken. Torn apart into pieces and put back together in a way that made him feel new again.
Obi groaned, feeling Zen’s chest flutter against his back with a nearly quiet chuckle, the sound almost painful between them. Obi’s head fell back against his shoulder, feeling Zen sink another inch deeper inside him. He didn’t mind being used this way - for pleasure, rather than death. He had gotten so used to be an empty vessel filled with marks of torture and horrors from his past, that hearing those delicate sighs and wanton moans made Obi feel more like a man than anything else. It made him feel like he had a purpose in this world, that he was more than just a machine for murder and intrigue. It was a twisted way to think of himself like this, but at least it gave him a little solace.
And… there were perks. This was definitelyone of them.
Finally, Obi was seated on Zen’s cock, his body filled and stretched wide. For having such a wispy, delicate frame, Zen was certainly not lacking in thatdepartment. Obi gasped again, feeling Zen turn his head just enough to lick up the curve of his throat. It was a small comfort, something almost sweet and tender. Zen’s hand slipped around the slender curve of Obi’s hips, wrapping his cool fingers around his cock.
He pumped slowly, each movement drawn out, almost teasing. “I brought you something special.”
Obi groaned, his eyes screwing shut. He wasn’t sure how much more of this his own self control could take. He wished Zen would just fuck him and be done with it. Use him. Break him. Tear him apart and put him back together in a way that seemed to defile him. He was heaving breath, gasping and shaking as Zen continued to pump his hand along Obi’s cock, a slow steady pace meant to just keep him hard.
“Don’t you want to know what it is?”
He wanted to come. He wanted to spill himself all over that lily-white hand and finally get release. If the kingdom only knew how filthy their holy prince was.
“Open your eyes.” Zen’s mouth slid along the shell of his ear, his tongue tracing the lobe with little flicks. “I promise you’ll be happy.”
Obi lifted his lashes just a fraction of an inch, and…
“M-miss…” He was embarrassed that his voice came out in such an embarrassing stutter.
She was on her hands and knees at the end of Zen’s massive bed, still dressed in a modest, but gauzy nightgown that was thin enough to show the bright red thatch of hair between her legs and the dusky color of her nipples. His cock jerked again in Zen’s hand, and Obi let go of a whine, uncertain what he was allowed to think. Shirayuki approached him slowly, her lips as red as her hair, and her eyes wide as she looked at the both of them, uncertain.
“Zen… Zen had said…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, and her eyes dropped to Zen’s hand still wrapped tightly around him. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, as if she couldn’t find and answer to her questions, but was too curious to look away. Color stained her cheeks and eventually her eyes lifted to his own. “Obi…”
No. No. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He didn’t want her to see him so broken and damaged, so hungry for Zen’s particular form of abuse. He didn’t want her to see what could make him beg, rip apart his armor and leave him vulnerable. Shirayuki was too pure and innocent, and looking up into her face broke every last vestige of control. Obi let go of a wounded sound, and his head turned to the side, away from her.
“Don’t judge me… please…”
Zen’s hand never stopped moving, its pace was steady and aching.
He shifted, his flight-or-fight instincts finally kicking in. If she saw him like this, at his lowest, at his worst, then she would never look at him the same. She would never treat him the same. Zen hissed in his ear, Obi’s thrashin obviously causing his own emotions to stir. The prince wasn’t exactly known for his self control between the sheets.
“Don’t move yet.”
There was the delicate touch of a hand on his cheek. A soft movement of fingers stroking the curve of his bones, lingering on scars, tracing his lips. He smelled the scent of gardenia and herbs, and it was Shirayuki. It was every memory of her rolled into one, and oh how he wanted it. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and he finally opened his eyes just a fraction of an inch.
Shirayuki leaned closer, her mouth moving to his lips. She paused, a curious caution in her eyes, and then her lips were on his.
Obi wouldn’t have been able to stop himself even if he wanted to. His hands snapped out and fisted in the soft fabric of her nightgown, pulling her on top of him as each kiss became hungry and voracious. What had just been an exploration only moments ago was now turning obscene, and Obi’s teeth sunk into her lower lip, growling.
“He’s like a hungry wolf.” Zen murmured next to his ear, and Obi could feel Zen untangle his fingers from around Obi’s cock. Zen’s hand slid up Shirayuki’s thigh, teasing the skin as Obi continued to take kiss after kiss, until his lips hurt all over again. “A wolf that’s been separated from his pack for too long. He’s needy and dangerous, and want touch.”
Shirayuki pulled back as Zen’s fingers slipped inside her, and her breath ghosted over Obi’s lips.
Obi looked into her eyes again, and he knew Zen was right. He didwant. He wanted all of it. He wanted Shirayuki against him. He wanted Zen buried to the hilt inside him. He wanted everything he never allowed himself to have. Obi licked his lips and his hand gathered the hem of Shirayuki’s nightgown, lifting it slowly above her head. He was fascinated by the sight of Zen’s long fingers delving inside her, each stroke growing slick with her need.
“You should take her, Obi.”
Zen pulled his fingers from inside Shirayuki, lifting them to Obi’s lips.
“Taste how sweet she is.”
Obi opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around Zen’s fingers, tasting the heady flavor of Shirayuki clinging to his skin. He grunted, feeling Zen pull away with another small, teasing smile. Obi shifted again, and Zen twitched, what little control he had was fading fast. Obi knew that whatever game Zen was playing would disintegrate in seconds the moment he got serious. He licked his lips and lifted his eyes to Shirayuki.
Whatever request played on his lips seemed to die, and Shirayuki swung her slender leg around his hip, sinking down on him in a single movement. Obi jerked, eyes wide as it felt like the universe flashed behind his eyes in a series of colors and sounds. He cursed, and tipped forward, pushing Shirayuki onto the bed. Her hair splayed out against the pale-white sheets, and she looked up at him, lips trembling.
“This is for you.”
Behind him, Zen thrust deep again, and Obi cried out. Forget Zen, he wasn’t going to last long. His mouth fell open, and he pitched forward, burying his face into the crook of Shirayuki’s neck. She smelled smelled so good, so delicious… he wanted to devour her. He wanted to bury his tongue inside her while Zen fucked him from behind. Obi wanted to try every combination imaginable to make his lovers swoon and falter and break apart under his hands.
Lovers?Is that what they were?
He moved inside Shirayuki, and Zen groaned behind him, twitching.
Lovers. They could be lovers. They could be the touch he craved, and he could be the pleasure they sought. He could be every part of them that they wanted or needed - a friend, a lover, a really, really good fuck. He wanted it, more than he had wanted anything else in his disaster of a life, he wanted this. It gave him reason to breathe, to keep living, to keep exploring, to stay by their side… he wanted this.
Obi’s movements felt like a blur, a wild rush of emotions where one body ended and another began, and he couldn’t discern which parts of himself really belonged to them. Shirayuki made the most amazing sounds, a soft squeal, a sigh, a moan, her fingers finding her clit and teasing herself with every thrust. Zen grunted like a wild animal, and the thick length of him inside Obi was enough to drive him insane. Zen was trying so hard to hold onto his self control, so hard to keep from spilling inside Obi, to make this last… but they were all so weak.
All so empty and wanton.
They ached to fill each other with parts of themselves.
Such a good boy.
Oh, those words were dangerous, like explosives packed into a brightly colored package, ready to go off. Obi didn’t like the way he felt when those words danced easily over his skin, a touch of lacy frost mingled with the burn of lightning. It was as if Master’s words were too much and not enough, all at the same time, and Obi found himself hungry for more. He wanted those appreciative stares, the bright smiles, and the little pats on the head. He was a good boy. A very good boy. He could show his Master that he was the best boy.
“You did so well, Obi.”
Obi bit back a pathetic whine, and his back arched against the too-plush mattress beneath him. It felt like his chest had somehow twisted into a hundred knots, threading and unthreading on each other, until he was a mess of tension od want . His head fell back into Master’s warm lap, and his fingers dug into the soft covers, nearly ripping the silk. No. That wouldn’t do. If he damaged something, Master could be upset, and then Obi wouldn’t be such a good boy .
Zen’s long, delicate fingers curled into Obi’s hair, brushing it from his eyes. He bent over and pressed a kiss to the scar just above Obi’s eyebrow, his thumb rubbing circles along Obi’s temple. How in the world did this feel so damn good? Obi panted and opened his eyes for a fraction of a second, looking into the ice-blue stare of his Master.
Zen smiled at him, his expression gentle as he pressed another kiss to Obi’s forehead. “You have been such a good boy. You did such a good job .” Zen’s fingers trailed down the planes of Obi’s face, tracing along the sharp edge of his jaw before pulling back. “I’m so proud of you.”
That feeling of heavy, heady tension filled his chest again, and Obi let go of a low, deep sigh, twisting his head in Zen’s lap. Master was still fully clothed, even though Obi was as naked as the day he was born, splayed out in front of him like a sacrifice for soft words and delicate praises. His muscles twitched as he felt another pair of slender hands slide up his side, bumping along old scars Obi wished he could forget. The familiar scent of herbs and gardenia swallowed him whole, and Obi pried his eyes open to see Shirayuki’s shadow hovering over him, a soft smile on her lips.
“You did the best out of everyone. You’re so strong and brave.”
She placed slow, open-mouthed kisses along his chest, and Obi’s fingers dug tighter into blankets beneath him, praying the fabric remained strong. He didn’t want to disappoint them. No, he wanted to be their very good boy. Outside the world was noise and unspeakable horrors, but in this room, Obi felt safe. And he felt loved - more than he ever had before. His head twisted in Master’s lap again as he let go of a soft breath.
“You are a very good boy.” It was as if his Master could read his thoughts, and Obi could feel shame stain his cheeks. He shouldn’t do anything to let his Master and his Mistress down. He was a good boy, Master told him so.
Zen’s hand drifted down Obi’s chest, tracing the gnarled scar with such love and tenderness, that for once Obi didn’t feel like he was the monster he considered himself. His hands didn’t feel so dirty and abused, and he felt… like he was someone worthy of this attention. Not that he deserved it, but that he had earned it. He was a good boy, and he would show both of them he could be. Shirayuki’s tongue lapped against a nipple, and Obi arched into her mouth, another whine escaping the back of his throat.
His stomach tightened as the pad of Zen’s fingers circled his other nipple, each stroke like the brush of a feather against his skin. Obi gasped as Shirayuki’s short fingernails caught in his pubic hair, her hand wrapping around the base of his aching cock in a slow, gentle push. He arched up into her hand out of reflex, but forced his hips back down to the mattress. A good boy waited for what he was given. He could wait.
“Obi…” Master’s voice was a low rumble against his ear, a promise for all the things he had yet to say. “Shirayuki says you’re a good boy, and you’re allowed rewards.”
Obi was panting as he opened his eyes again, looking up into Master’s face. Zen brushed Obi’s hair from his eyes, and smiled softly, pressing another kiss to Obi’s forehead. His hands slid down Obi’s neck, fanning out over his chest. Zen leaned over and gave Obi a long, slow kiss. His tongue traced Obi’s lips, feathering over him like a dancer’s skirt, and Obi sighed. He was a good boy.
His eyes shot open as Obi felt Shirayuki’s hot breath curl over the head of his cock, the tip of her tongue flicking out of trace his slit. He gasped and Zen pulled back, pressing his lips to the shell of Obi’s ear.
“Good boys take their rewards with grace and dignity.”
Shirayuki’s lips slid over the head of his cock, and Obi released the comforter to reach behind him, sinking his fingers into the sinewy flesh of Master’s hip. His grip was tight enough to bruise, and Obi knew he should release Zen before he got hurt, but he needed something to cling to. He needed something that felt real.
Shirayuki’s mouth slowly sunk down, until the head of his cock pressed against the back of her throat. She shivered and wrapped her hand tighter around the base of him, a soft whine escaping the back of her throat. She seemed to be enjoying this just as much as he was, and Obi’s stomach fluttered at that thought.
“You are a good boy, Obi.” Zen’s fingers still toyed with his nipples, rolling them under the pads of his thumbs as he murmured into Obi’s ear. “Such a good, good boy.”
Obi’s head fell back against Master’s lap and he sighed, letting the slow rhythm of Shirayuki’s mouth and Master’s touch lull him into relaxation. Every muscle in his body somehow felt primed for release, and Obi bit back another whine. How could he believe anything other than what his Master and Mistress told him? How could he be anything less than a good boy? Their good boy.
He felt Zen smile against his ear, and Shirayuki pulled back from his cock, the palms of her hands hot against his thighs. Their words were like a siren’s song, pulling him deeper and deeper into their spell, never letting him free.
“You will always be our good boy.”
But… so what if he crashed on the rocks?
This is the first time I've written praise kink, and I wanted to see if I was any good at it. So, I thought I might try it out on Obi, who is the BEST BOY, and deserves all the praise.