blood runs red ✓

XLVIII

'intimacy is not purely physical'

- anonymous

august

Ares slammed two fingers into August, thrusting at a fast pace, too fast for him. August was screaming, moaning like a fucking pornstar, when Ares found his prostate. Ares' rough fingertips pressed into the spot, leaving the younger man shaking with pleasure.

Right when August felt himself about to finish, Ares stopped, denying him of what could've been a beautiful orgasm.

"What was that for?" He whined breathlessly.

Wordlessly, Ares walked around to the other side of the desk, yanking August's chin forward so harshly that he almost fell off the leather chair he was knelt on. He held onto the edge of the desk in a desperate attempt not to fall.

"Careful, love, we don't want you to break that pretty little jaw of yours." Ares smirked, still holding his plaything's chin. "How else would I get my blowjobs from you?"

"I'm sorry." August panted, craving any sort of attention for the boxer in front of him. He just wanted to be perfect for him.

"Prove you're sorry."

Still knelt on the chair, August leaned forward and opened his mouth, doing exactly as Ares had hoped he would. The Greek man grinned and pulled down his underwear, revealing his semi-hard dick.

"Make me come, prince, and I'll let you come too. Fail to, and you're stuck with that hard-on for the next few days."

August leaned further, almost immediately, wrapping his hand around the base of the boxer's dick, and placing his tongue on the tip, teasing it in a way he knew turned Ares on. Impatiently, Ares grabbed the shorter man's head and shoved it down to the base.

The hand that was holding it let go, gripping the edge of the desk for dear life. Ares was using his face as a hole to fuck, and it made August incredibly aroused. He liked the dehumanisation. He liked feeling like he was only there for Ares' pleasure, but only when he knew it wasn't true.

"You're doing so perfect for me, darling." Ares moaned. "Aren't you such a good boy for me?"

August nodded as much as he could with a dick in his mouth, looking up at the older man in complete submission.

"Do you think you're special enough to make me cum, prince?"

August nodded again, his teeth accidentally making contact with the skin on the older man's cock. The switch up of Ares' mood was instant, and August knew he fucked up.

"What'd I tell you about teeth, August?"

August pulled off to beg for forgiveness, but was slapped in the face. It wasn't harsh, or genuinely painful, but the sting of it made him instantly beg harder. He needed forgiveness, and approval from the Greek-Italian man in front of him. He felt as if he'd die without it.

"I'm sorry, please, let me make up for it." He pleaded. "I'll do anything, sir, please forgive me."

The word sir and anything instantly caught Ares' attention, and he began smirking almost psychotically. It was unnerving, but also intriguing. August couldn't help but look up at the man again, an innocent mask on his face with his eyes giving unspoken consent for anything.

Ares walked back over to the chair and picked up the younger man effortlessly, sitting him on his desk. "Bend over my lap."

August didn't know where this was going, but obliged regardless. He craved the man so much that he'd follow him into a fire if he asked.