The Milk Fic

Warnings: Enema, choking, rimjob, BDSM relationship with previously established safewords.

Ryan was kneeling in the bathtub, a towel under his knees and another under his hands, his head turned as he craned his neck to watch Brendon working. The younger boy swirled the spoon around in the over-large bowl before tapping it against the rim and laying it on the counter. "You know it'll cool down a little once I get it in the bag, but is that good?" Brendon bent over next to the tub so Ryan could slowly dip two fingers into the bowl, nodding once.

"It's fine."

Brendon nodded again, reaching out to stroke Ryan's hair before standing back up and returning to the sink, where all of the equipment was spread out. The hook was already hanging from the shower curtain so Brendon could hang the bag as soon as it was full. "Go ahead and take the plug out, baby." His voice was soft, gentle. "And start with your fingers."

It was the gentlest of their "darker" interludes. No name-calling or hair pulling or punishments for noises of pain. It hurt enough on it's own, was degrading enough on it's own, Brendon didn't need to add anything to that.

Brendon felt a small tremor run through his body as he heard the soft moan coming from the bathtub, knew the other boy had just extracted the plug. He glanced up at the mirror, watching the boy set the glass plug on the edge of the tub next to the bottle of lubricant. Ryan picked up the bottle, desperate to fill himself as he opened it, dripping some of the lubricant onto his fingers and rubbing them. It was cold to the initial touch, but warmed up as his fingers moved.

"You're so fucking hot like that, baby," Brendon purred, from the sink where the bag was nearly half full. "Now, go ahead."

Ryan flushed warm from the compliment, his wrist sliding down along his waist, hipbone, the curve of his ass. And then his fingers were poised, resting against his entrance before pressing in. He was already loose from the plug so it was an easy intrusion. He didn't even bother with more lubricant before pressing a third finger in, moaning outright at the stretch. He started as he heard the click from Brendon hanging the bag. "Already?"

"Don't sound so disappointed," the boy chided softly. "You can keep your fingers in for a second." He almost added a soft 'slut', but stopped himself. Brendon leaned down, reaching for the bottle of lubricant, letting himself hover over Ryan for a moment, his breath tickling the back of the boy's neck. "Just think about everything I'll do after," he whispered before straightening back up and slicking lube across the tip of the nozzle and his own fingers. "Okay."

Ryan whined, but slowly pulled his fingers out anyway. He wasn't empty for longer than a few seconds, Brendon's fingers immediately sliding over his opening before pressing in, then pulling out to press in the tip of the nozzle. "Breathe," he murmured, fingers running down the boy's spine. "I'm going to now, okay?"

"Wait," Ryan choked out.

"I'm going to now," Brendon repeated, voice a little harder this time. "You're fine." He kept his fingers running along the boy's spine as he loosened the clamp.

Ryan bit his bottom lip, moaning as he felt the first rush of the warm milk sliding into his body. The beginning of the enema was always like Brendon's fingers were now, smooth and soft almost. The cramps would come soon enough, but Brendon's fingers would still be the same.

When they started, one of Ryan's hands flew up to his stomach and Brendon stopped the flow without a word, letting the other boy massage his abdomen to ease the pain. "Just tell me."

"Okay," Ryan whispered, his hand still on his stomach. Brendon loosed the clamp again and Ryan felt the warmth continuing to enter his body. He continued to try to massage away the dull ache of the cramps as he felt his stomach slowly begin to expand from the amount of liquid he'd taken. "Stop," he choked out again. He wasn't supposed to ask how much, but he was desperate to know. He'd felt like he'd taken half already, but he knew it was probably more like a quarter of the bag. "Bren?" he asked, voice close to cracking. "I-I . . . Brenny." His voice was weak.