Convalescence (MxM)

In Your Nightmares (5)

•Spicy Content + TW•

Resting his arms on each of Deimos's legs, Ammon leaned in a little closer and took in a deep breath of Deimos's scent, having been deprived of it for years. Ammon allowed Deimos's pheromones to envelope him, encase him in that intoxicating way they do, choosing to ignore the way Deimos pulled away from him.

Ammon buried his nose in Deimos's bruised neck, his hot breath rising goosebumps to Deimos's skin as Deimos grit his teeth. Leaning in ever closer, Ammon snaked his hands under Deimos's shirt, placing sloppy kisses to his neck. Deimos bit into his lip, his cheeks tinting a light pink at their proximity as he balled his fists, struggling to resist the urge to fight back. Deimos knew exactly how this was going to go. After all, he'd experienced it before. But that didn't mean he wanted to welcome it.

Blake was shocked to see Deimos make such an expression, trying to ignore his own reaction. If nothing else, he felt aghast. How could Deimos allow Ammon to touch him in such a way? Blake couldn't help but wonder, unsure of how he was supposed to comport.

Ammon smirked, feeling satisfied that even after all these years, Deimos was still as easy for him to read as the day he left. It was like Deimos was holding on by a thread, trying desperately to keep himself composed as Ammon pulled at the edges of his demeanor, daring him to break.

But Deimos didn't want to cave in, feeling as though, if he did, there would be no turning back and he had worked years to shut the door on this part of his past. And even if he did give in, he desperately wanted Ammon to change, knowing it was hopeless. He wanted Ammon to care while knowing he never would.

The look on Ammon's face as he toyed with Deimos was something Blake hated his response to, finding it quite attractive, unable to pull his eyes away despite his conflicting emotions. Blake was watching intently as Ammon leaned in closer, running his other hand up Deimos's thigh, his tongue trailing over the bruises he had created along Deimos's throat.

Blake felt cold with his fear and yet found a heat rising in his stomach. Was Deimos really going to allow this to happen? To surrender in such a way? Was Blake meant to step in, to try to stop it? Was Deimos really okay with complying like this?

Deimos could feel his ability to suppress his urge to fight slowly becoming non-existent. He found no pleasure in the situation, wanting to refuse Ammon's advances.

But Deimos was the type of person to give into the demands of his lovers. Looking to see Blake's reaction to the situation, keeping himself as tightly in check as possible while clenching his jaw, Deimos slowly began swallowing his pride.

When their eyes met, Deimos nearly buckled right then. The look on Blake's face was pure curiosity, infatuation, even arousal, though confusion and hatred brimmed at the edges. Blake found immense interest in the game Ammon and Deimos were playing, allowing the arousal to warm his stomach further and cursing himself for it. Ammon would push and Deimos would pull, like a tug of war to see how far into submission Ammon could force Deimos.

Blake wondered why, why not just give in? Taking away the anger and fear, Blake couldn't deny his attraction to Ammon, squirming in his seat. Why did Deimos struggle so hard? Was it ego? Was he ashamed? Blake couldn't help his curiosity as lust slowly chipped away at his equanimity.

There's nothing more alluring in the world than the magnetism of a mate bond, and yet here Deimos was, agonizing over his inability to fully pull away. Blake knew he would've caved in long ago, despite himself.

Maybe it was because they were all fated, but there was no possessiveness present for Blake or Ammon. While Ammon did want Blake and didn't care about his fated bond to Deimos, Blake didn't yet hold any significance nor pose a threat to Ammon's relationship with Deimos.