[ Black Mist is purring and dripping so much and that's because of him, isn't it? He's pleasing it, it's paying attention to him and he's doing well and IV is - more than than the arousal and the lust and the need - grateful. He is grateful.
(it gives him what he needs and IV would give everything to never give this up now that he has it)
And then the tendril is swelling up, is stopping the oil from escaping, and IV moans long and grateful around the tendril in his mouth, hangs placid and needy in its grip as Black Mist runs its hands over his stomach that way.
(he's so full, he's so full it should hurt because he can feel his skin stretching with it, can see and feel his stomach swelling as it pumps him full of this oil)
(it should be uncomfortable, when he's never done this before, and truth be told it is uncomfortable, he's stretched out and aching except the ache is because he's not full enough)
(he wants it to push him until he's too heavy with oil to walk, to even stand up, until all he can do is let it lower him down and stroke his swollen stomach and soothe him to sleep and stay with him, be his master and he'll be its faithful pet if it will stay, if it will give him this over and over until he can take no more)
(ｔｈｉｓ ｗｉｌｌ ｍａｋｅ ｙｏｕ ｐｅｒｆｅｃｔ it tells him and IV doesn't doubt for an instant, so he drinks desperately at the pulse of liquid it lets loose into his mouth, moans and sucks in all of it and then tries to squeeze more out of it)
He will be its pet, he'll be ｐｅｒｆｅｃｔ for it because it rewards him when he's good, it gives him what he wants and pays attention to him. He's stretched out and getting fuller, stretching out more and more and he has never enjoyed something more than this.
(he can't help but imagine V in his place, stoicness replaced by desperation, pale skin dripping with sweat and oil and that flat stomach curved outwards and full of oil)
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2012-12-21 04:16 pm (UTC)(it gives him what he needs and IV would give everything to never give this up now that he has it)
And then the tendril is swelling up, is stopping the oil from escaping, and IV moans long and grateful around the tendril in his mouth, hangs placid and needy in its grip as Black Mist runs its hands over his stomach that way.
(he's so full, he's so full it should hurt because he can feel his skin stretching with it, can see and feel his stomach swelling as it pumps him full of this oil)
(it should be uncomfortable, when he's never done this before, and truth be told it is uncomfortable, he's stretched out and aching except the ache is because he's not full enough)
(he wants it to push him until he's too heavy with oil to walk, to even stand up, until all he can do is let it lower him down and stroke his swollen stomach and soothe him to sleep and stay with him, be his master and he'll be its faithful pet if it will stay, if it will give him this over and over until he can take no more)
(ｔｈｉｓ ｗｉｌｌ ｍａｋｅ ｙｏｕ ｐｅｒｆｅｃｔ it tells him and IV doesn't doubt for an instant, so he drinks desperately at the pulse of liquid it lets loose into his mouth, moans and sucks in all of it and then tries to squeeze more out of it)
He will be its pet, he'll be ｐｅｒｆｅｃｔ for it because it rewards him when he's good, it gives him what he wants and pays attention to him. He's stretched out and getting fuller, stretching out more and more and he has never enjoyed something more than this.
(he can't help but imagine V in his place, stoicness replaced by desperation, pale skin dripping with sweat and oil and that flat stomach curved outwards and full of oil)
(he moans, helpless) ]