He could feel bruises forming where Richards' fingertips were digging into his hips as he pumped forward, the stretch and burn of Richards cock dragging out and pushing in, so much more than he thought he could handle, everything he didn't know he needed. He registered another gentle command, telling him to release his grip on the bedframe, and he obeyed, another fist in his hair dragging him up onto his knees. He fell back, thighs spreading, spearing himself deeper onto Richards' cock and making him groan wantonly, the hand leaving his hair to instead hold him in place by his throat. "Tell me what you feel, precious," the doctor commanded, voice finally gaining a rougher edge, losing some of its composure, his rhythm growing perfectly even as he thrust up into the courier. "Tell me how you feel."
"On fire." His own voice sounded rough and foreign. His pants grew shallow and his head fell back onto Richards shoulder, exposing his throat completely to the hand that held it, feeling his pulse beat hard against Richards' firm fingers.
"More," Richards demanded against his ear. "More, beautiful, tell me."
"Used up." The words came out of him unbidden in a low prayer. "Marked up. Perfect."
"So perfect," Richards groaned.
"Yours."
Richards' hand moved from his throat to grab his cock, and Rufus could have fucking cried. He sprawled forward as Richards drove into him with abandon, pressing him into the mattress and fucking him ferociously. He could only give in, lips babbling gibberish and a chorus of yes, yes, oh god there yes and he came far too quickly, hot spurts curled between Richards' fingers and the dirty mattress beneath his belly. The doctor seized his hips hard over already-forming bruises and fucked him like he was trying to kill him, coming hard with a restrained cry and collapsing forward onto Rufus' back, panting raw against his sweatslicked skin, "Perfect, so perfect. Adore you. So much." While Rufus just lay beneath him, utterly wrecked and covered in marks and uncommonly spent and his.
Dr. Richards/M!Courier -- Scorchmarks and Serenades [2c/2]
"On fire." His own voice sounded rough and foreign. His pants grew shallow and his head fell back onto Richards shoulder, exposing his throat completely to the hand that held it, feeling his pulse beat hard against Richards' firm fingers.
"More," Richards demanded against his ear. "More, beautiful, tell me."
"Used up." The words came out of him unbidden in a low prayer. "Marked up. Perfect."
"So perfect," Richards groaned.
"Yours."
Richards' hand moved from his throat to grab his cock, and Rufus could have fucking cried. He sprawled forward as Richards drove into him with abandon, pressing him into the mattress and fucking him ferociously. He could only give in, lips babbling gibberish and a chorus of yes, yes, oh god there yes and he came far too quickly, hot spurts curled between Richards' fingers and the dirty mattress beneath his belly. The doctor seized his hips hard over already-forming bruises and fucked him like he was trying to kill him, coming hard with a restrained cry and collapsing forward onto Rufus' back, panting raw against his sweatslicked skin, "Perfect, so perfect. Adore you. So much." While Rufus just lay beneath him, utterly wrecked and covered in marks and uncommonly spent and his.
-fin.