"Oh jesus fuck goddamn," Rufus panted gracelessly against his fingers, fists clenched against the head of the iron bedframe that he was ordered to grasp, pushing his ass back shamelessly at Richards' mouth, at the tongue lapping hard against his hole.
"Language, kitten," Richards chuckled, the sudden shock of cold air on spitslicked skin as the doctor pulled away to speak drawing a wet gasp from the courier. The sensation was chased away in a sharp burst as Richards' hot tongue resumed its ministrations, fingernails digging in Rufus' cheeks as the doctor spread him open further, pushing his tongue past the ring of muscle and making Rufus writhe.
Rufus pushed back hard and his cock ached, one of his hands coming loose from the bedframe to mindlessly paw south. He hadn't even gotten a grip, even a single touch to relieve some of this burn inside him when Richards pulled back fast, rising on his knees and slapping the courier's ass with a sharp crack. Rufus' breath caught in his throat, and he looked back over his shoulder, a sexstupid logicless fear crackling in his belly and he grasped the bedframe again, eyes locked with Richards'. "I believe I asked you to be patient, my dear," said the doctor. "Did you misunderstand?"
The courier hesitated just a second and Richards slapped his ass again, in the same spot, making Rufus jump. "No," he answered. "No, sir," because it felt right.
"No, I didn't think you did," Richards murmured, voice tinged with polite disappointment, the offending hand rubbing fondly on Rufus' stinging cheek. Christ, was he gonna be marked up in the morning. Between the bruises Richards had sucked into his throat, the long red marks where he raked his nails over every bit of newly exposed flesh when he had roughly undressed the courier, and now he could feel the burning red mark spreading when Richards had struck him, was petting him. He was going to look like a bad side of road after this. The thought made his stomach jump in anticipation. "So that must mean," the doctor continued, "that you were disobedient. Is that what it means, buttercup?"
The courier opened his mouth only to cry out in surprise when Richards didn't wait for an answer, bringing his hand down against his reddening flesh. "Yes, sir," he breathed, forehead resting against his knuckles on the bedframe, body arching pliantly back.
"I see. Now, would it be so hard to apologize, sweetheart?"
"I'm sorry," Rufus said.
"Not good enough," Richards sighed.
Another hard smack against the burning mark, a thousand sharp pinpricks jabbing into his skin and going straight to his cock. He whimpered. He actually whimpered, he realized from some place outside himself, oh god that actually happened. "I'm sorry."
Crack! "Like you mean it."
"I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you want me to do, whatever you say, fuck, I'm yours!"
Dr. Richards/M!Courier -- Scorchmarks and Serenades [2a/2]
"Language, kitten," Richards chuckled, the sudden shock of cold air on spitslicked skin as the doctor pulled away to speak drawing a wet gasp from the courier. The sensation was chased away in a sharp burst as Richards' hot tongue resumed its ministrations, fingernails digging in Rufus' cheeks as the doctor spread him open further, pushing his tongue past the ring of muscle and making Rufus writhe.
Rufus pushed back hard and his cock ached, one of his hands coming loose from the bedframe to mindlessly paw south. He hadn't even gotten a grip, even a single touch to relieve some of this burn inside him when Richards pulled back fast, rising on his knees and slapping the courier's ass with a sharp crack. Rufus' breath caught in his throat, and he looked back over his shoulder, a sexstupid logicless fear crackling in his belly and he grasped the bedframe again, eyes locked with Richards'. "I believe I asked you to be patient, my dear," said the doctor. "Did you misunderstand?"
The courier hesitated just a second and Richards slapped his ass again, in the same spot, making Rufus jump. "No," he answered. "No, sir," because it felt right.
"No, I didn't think you did," Richards murmured, voice tinged with polite disappointment, the offending hand rubbing fondly on Rufus' stinging cheek. Christ, was he gonna be marked up in the morning. Between the bruises Richards had sucked into his throat, the long red marks where he raked his nails over every bit of newly exposed flesh when he had roughly undressed the courier, and now he could feel the burning red mark spreading when Richards had struck him, was petting him. He was going to look like a bad side of road after this. The thought made his stomach jump in anticipation. "So that must mean," the doctor continued, "that you were disobedient. Is that what it means, buttercup?"
The courier opened his mouth only to cry out in surprise when Richards didn't wait for an answer, bringing his hand down against his reddening flesh. "Yes, sir," he breathed, forehead resting against his knuckles on the bedframe, body arching pliantly back.
"I see. Now, would it be so hard to apologize, sweetheart?"
"I'm sorry," Rufus said.
"Not good enough," Richards sighed.
Another hard smack against the burning mark, a thousand sharp pinpricks jabbing into his skin and going straight to his cock. He whimpered. He actually whimpered, he realized from some place outside himself, oh god that actually happened. "I'm sorry."
Crack! "Like you mean it."
"I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you want me to do, whatever you say, fuck, I'm yours!"