myselfwillbear | bad decisions, iv edition // for numbers96

[A few more teeth bare in its smile, more than it should have, as it steps closer in midair, walking easily on threads of slime that leap to support its feet.

(it can feel the cracks in his psyche, the openings for it to slip through like a liquid, grow within until there's a shattering)]

I demand a certain standard of quality from my pets.

[It's close enough, now, that it can hover just over him, and its eyes seem to cut through him, expose him inside.

(what a good noise that was. it wants more)

A tendril slides up, dripping with oil, to caress the side of IV's face, slip down to his neck and down his chest to eat away the fabric of his shirt.]

[ 'Pets'?

He doesn't understand.

(except that he does)

(he doesn't know how he feels, though)

(he wants it, he wants to give in but he can't because he has to be strong, has to be the tool and bring back Byron instead of Tron so that the others can have their father again, even if he's not one of them any more)

That dripping tendril is against his face before he can answer though, and moving and the stuff dripping from it is burning away his clothes and, for a moment, IV is terrified. Beyond terrified.

(it is burning it is fire and he would rather die than be burnt again)

But then he registers that it doesn't burn, not on his skin. Something like it, something that leaves him twitching in his bonds as his skin tingles with it.

(the relief of that alone is enough to leave him limp, for the moment, breath gusting out of him sharply and voice weak when he tries to talk) ]

What are you doing...?

[Mm, he's breaking so quickly, isn't he? Good. That's very good. And there's the fear, too, fear that it can twist and shape to its will.

(perhaps this time it will have more than one, since this one is so...willing.

the entire pool seems to shudder in excitement)

It leans in, drags its tongue lightly over the scar under IV's eye before answering.]

Quality inspection~.

[A second tendril rises out of the pool, then a third, then a fourth, and now they're gliding over IV's limbs and his torso and his hips, oiling his skin and burning away his clothing.

(it saves the best part, of course. it wants him to be already hungry, when it begins.)

As the tendrils work over him Black Mist traces over his features with its fingers, lingering especially on the outline of his lips, on the circles below his eyes. Its fingers are slick with oil, as well, and the skin will tingle and ache in the wake of its touch.]

You'll be good, won't you, pet?

Edited 2012-12-20 17:40 (UTC)

[ It licks his scar, and IV practically jumps in his bonds.

(goes closed off and angry and sharp like broken glass)

(resists, inasmuch as he can, the tendrils moving over him and leaving him aching for more)

(he aches but he can resist, he can be in control of himself, because-- because when he's not in control, things happen)

(~~like the scar, the one it reminded him of with that touch of its tongue~~)

He hisses, turns his head away from those fingers the best he can even as his breathing speeds up, as he twitches and squirms and tries to resist no matter how much he wants it. ]

I'm not your pet.

[Ah, ah, there it is~. The snapping point. Something that'll make him resist, make him angry (and the feeling rolls through it in the best way and it croons softly).

It takes his face in hands that are much stronger than they look, turns his head up by force so he has to look at it.]

Perhaps not yet, but you will be, yes?

I only want the best for you.

[Then there are thin little tendrils creeping up his face, slipping between his lips to pull his mouth open wide.

It kisses his lower lip, pulls back and croons again as another tendril emerges from its back and creeps over its shoulder.]

You'll feel so good, then, pet.

[ IV growls, eyes averted so that he can still avoid looking directly at it, and struggles against its grip the best he can.

(for all the good that it does)

(he doesn't want to give in, he wants to fight but it's strong and it's forcing his mouth open and)

(~~and it would be so easy to give in~~)

(it's promising to make him feel good)

(it's paying so much attention to him and he wants)

(his whole body trembles with the anticipation and the way he wants to surge forward into every touch but he can't, he can't he has to resist has to stay in control)

He can't talk, with his mouth pulled open like this, but he squirms and rocks in the tendrils holding him and tries his utmost to look defiant. Look like he has even the slightest hope of resisting.

(look like he's not minutes away from begging) ]

[He's struggling now, but Black Mist knows. It knows he won't last for long, the way he's trembling, the way his skin is hot under its fingers.

(you can't stay in control when the thing you want is to be open, to be seen, to be loved and wanted and used and owned)

The tendril arcs lazily over its shoulder, moves in close so it's barely resting against IV's lips.]

You'll love this, my pet. You'll be so happy.

[It keeps its palms locking IV's head in place, but it brushes its fingers gently through his hair as the tendril slowly (so slowly, almost torturously so) slides into his mouth. It's dripping with oil, now, just at the tip so it runs into his mouth.

As it does, one of the other tendrils begins to wind up his leg, gliding over his inner thigh.]

[ He struggles, but he

(wants, needs)

doesn't pull away from the tendril when it rests against his lips.

(his eyes want to slide shut with the way its fingers run through his hair, he wants to arch and moan and suck the tendril into his mouth quicker than this torture, this slow, steady slide)

(it keeps speaking, it keeps speaking and even without the tone of earlier, its voice is so easy to lose himself in, especially when it's saying things like that, when it's giving him so much attention and the words are almost loving, when it promises attention but, more than that, affection)

And then it's dripping that oil into his mouth, and though IV tries to ignore it at first it's hot on his tongue like spirits, burns at his throat when there's enough to force him to have to swallow.

(he swallows and knows, deep down, that in that motion he has lost)

(the oil burns through him but it's not like fire, he's not afraid)

(it settles hot and heavy in his stomach and he knows, knows that he should resist, but all that he can think is more) ]

[It coos its approval when IV swallows, when he ｇｉｖｅｓｉｎ even a little. This one will be good. This one will love Black Mist, in that very human way.

It likes this boy very much.

The oil drips just a little faster from the tendril in IV's mouth, just a little heavier. Hardly enough to sate him, but enough to notice the change.

(enough for him to know that Black Mist will provide for him, that it will give him what he wants the most)

It kisses the curve of his jaw, slides its tongue over the skin.

(its lips are as soft as the tendrils)]

Good. Ｇｏｏｄ, my pet. Drink.

[The tendril winding around IV's thigh slips between his legs, begins to slide smoothly back and forth over his entrance, dripping with oil. It's in no hurry.]

[ He should resist.

He has to, he has to be strong.

(it is kissing him and there is more of the oil and he

can't)

All at once he seems to melt, fastens his lips more securely around the tendril in his mouth and sucks, hard, try to draw in more of the oil.

(he needs it, he needs it and it's not coming fast enough, Black Mist is dragging it out and he needs it, needs it now)

He can't beg, not with his mouth full, but he does the best he can. Long, wordless noises, and his hips jerk rapidly with every brush of the tendril against his ass. ]

[It hums, nips and sucks at IV's earlobe. It takes its hands from his face, trails oil-slicked fingers down his neck, over his collarbone.

(but the oil doesn't come faster)

(the tendril doesn't move faster)]

Will you be good, pet?

[It lowers its hand, drips oil from its fingers (slowly, slowly) onto his cock. But it doesn't touch. Won't touch.]

Will you be good?

[ It's not giving him more. He needs more, he needs it, needs it now.

(didn't it promise?)

(he needs, he needs, why won't it give him what he needs, it said he'd like it but he doesn't like this, he doesn't like not getting what he wants)

(he should be used to that but it hurts every time)

It's asking if he'll be good, then, it's asking and dripping oil onto his cock and IV's whole body aches with need.

(aches and burns it's too much it burns)

It asks if he'll be good and he nods, rapid and desperate as he squirms about for more, as he sucks at the tendril desperately. ]

[He belongs to it, now. Only in words, for the moment, but now it knows what it will do.

(a contract. it's been a while, since it needed one)

It croons, lets its cheek touch his. A gesture of closeness, of "love".]

Ｇｏｏｄ．Ｗｈａｔａｇｏｏｄｐｅｔ．

[There's a burst of oil from the tip of the tendril, a reward, before it continues flowing normally -- faster, though, than before, almost enough.

(the pool roils and squirms under the surface with delight)

And now the tendril sliding between IV's legs stops, curves, so that the tip can push inside him and begin to trickle oil into him.]

Edited 2012-12-20 22:18 (UTC)

[ There's that press of its cheek to his own, that gush of oil into his mouth, and IV moans around the tendril, sucking the oil in deeply.

(it slows down again, though, and it's faster than before but it's not enough, not enough he needs more it's so good and he needs it)

Rocking in its grip, IV gasps and groans and moans more, more, please the best he can around the tendril and between swallows, and the noises only get more desperate when he feels the tendril press into him, the trickling oil. He needs more, though.

(more, more, more, he needs more why is it so slow when IV would give anything)

(he should still resist and he knows it but he doesn't care)

(Black Mist is giving him what he wants, what he needs, but not enough of it)

(he would do anything, he would give anything, he would give his soul for more of this in this moment)

(~~what's left of it to give, anyway~~) ]

[Oh, he's so desperate, so hungry.

He'd do a~ny~thing~.

It licks its lips slowly, reaches up to run its fingers over the back of the hand that bears the crest.]

I please my pets only.

Will you belong to me only, IV?

Will you ｇｉｖｅｉｎ?

[The tendril in IV's ass twitches and spurts oil, like it's barely holding back.

(the crest begins to glow)]

[ He-- he should be-- (scared, angry, confused) he should be many things but he shouldn't give in.

His crest starts glowing and that should set off warning bells.

But

it nearly gave in

nearly gave him what he wants.

(and so IV is lost)

(he cannot care, because the oil burns though him like fire)

(just like the last time, the fire burns away at him until all that's left is a shell)

(but this shell is not anger, not revenge and hatred and vengeance like the last time)

(it is need, and so much more easily satisfied)

(he has not been happy in so long)

IV is lost, but he's glad of it as he jerks in Black Mist's grip and nods, over and over and over. ]

[It has won. It has won a sweet, perfect victory.

(the crest on IV's hand flares and warps under Black Mist's fingers, changing shape)

(it locks him up and frees him at once)

And the moment the light has died, the moment the number 96 fades, the first pulse of oil swells the tendril in IV's ass, and Black Mist croons in IV's ear, voice layered and lilting:]

Ｇｏｏｄ．Ｗｈａｔａｇｏｏｄｐｅｔ．

[The oil gushes from the tendril in spurts, not constant like it used to be but there's so much more of it than there was before. And that's especially clear when the tendril starts to twist and writhe, letting just a little oil escape, enough that everything it gives him will be even more welcome.

And the one in his mouth...that one starts to pulse whenever the one in his ass doesn't, fills his mouth up with liquid so he'll always have something to push him further.]

Ｄｏｙｏｕｌｉｋｅｉｔ，ｐｅｔ？Ｉｓｉｔｇｏｏｄ？

[Its oiled fingertip swirls lazily over the head of IV's cock.]

[ IV squirms and twitches and growls impatiently right up until he feels the first pulse of oil in his ass. Then he's crying out around the tendril in his mouth, legs spreading out wider the best he can manage to try to encourage more, more.

(he's not sure he'll ever get enough of this, now that he's felt it for the first time)

He sucks desperately on the tendril every time that it's not giving him any, mouth working around it and throat bobbing as he tries to make Black Mist give him more, especially when it lets that little bit escape his ass. He whimpers, too, because-- because he needs to be full, because he's certain that when he's finally full it will ease the burning ache of need. He can't let any of it go, he needs it all, and he squirms and tries to clench his muscles around the tendril in his ass.

(it's talking to him)

(it's praising him, and IV slides his eyes shut and moans, blissful)

(and then it's asking if he ｌｉｋｅｓ　ｉｔ, if it's ｇｏｏｄ, and all he can do is moan helplessly, to try to reach up and grip at the tendril in his mouth)

His cock twitches and drips precome over Black Mist's fingertip, and he squirms again, shivers and jerks his hips like he wants to escape.

(he's so close, so so close already but he can't come yet, he can't he can't because he needs more, needs Black Mist to fill him up until the ache goes away) ]

[It sees how he melts, the moment it gives him what he wants, what he needs, and it approves.

And the way he's trying to keep the tendrils in, too, the way he's sucking at the one in his mouth...that's good, exactly how he should be, exactly what it wants.

(it purrs with satisfaction and arousal and the pool swirls and the surface ripples in unnatural ways and goes mottled with violet oil)

(its whole lower half is slick with it, too, it's dripping and can't control it because of this boy)

If he wants to wait to come, wants Black Mist to fill him up, it will hardly deny him that. It withdraws its hand and it coos softly as the tendril swells at the base to seal him off, keep him filling up.

(it nips at iv's earlobe, drags its tongue over his skin, hungry)]

Ｇｏｏｄ．Ｇｏｏｄｐｅｔ．Ｐｅｒｆｅｃｔｐｅｔ．

[Its hands go to his stomach, to caress it, to feel it as it starts to swell.]

Ｔｈｉｓｗｉｌｌｍａｋｅｙｏｕｐｅｒｆｅｃｔ．

[The tendril in IV's mouth lets out another long pulse of liquid.]

[ 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)

(he moans, helpless) ]

[Good. Good. What a pliant little pet. It will mould him as it pleases, it will change him, and he will love it and come back to it and worship it, as he should.

(it feels that he is grateful)

(it feels that he is lost)

(and it feels something else, too, some deeper hunger)

The oil keeps pumping into him in waves, gushing into his mouth and his ass, it keeps rubbing its dripping hands over his swelling stomach, and as it does it lowers its head to nestle it next to his ear and breathe its next words.]

My perfect pet...

Will you bring him to me?

[Another bite at IV's ear, a long, wordless croon.]

Would you like that, pet? If I filled him up?

[ IV can't think straight, not when he's so full and getting fuller, not when it's leaning in that way and breathing into his ear even as its hands rub over the aching swell of his stomach. It bites, too, and croons, and IV is lost entirely.

(it's offering him

what he wants)

(offering him V)

(he wants to see V swollen and desperate like he is, wants Black Mist to fill V up and let IV suck his cock, wants it to wrap a tendril around V's cock so that he can drink down the oil at the same time, so that his lips are stretched wide enough to hurt but the oil soothes the pain and replaces it with the need)

(he can give in to his desires here, can't he? Black Mist will give him what he wants so long as he behaves, nothing is wrong so long as Black Mist says it's okay)

He nods, desperate, thinks yes, yes, yes. Yes he'll bring V. Yes he'd like that. Yes he wants to see V full up. Wants Black Mist to fill him until his eyes water with it and he can barely move, fill him like it's filled IV now.

(he just wants V to feel as good as he does right now)

(is that so bad?) ]

[It sucks at his earlobe, licks down his neck so it can plant a burning kiss on his bobbing throat. Its hands still caress his stomach, gliding over the swell so that IV's skin shines with oil almost as much as that of Black Mist itself.

(it will claim him, all of him)

(it will bind his entire body to it just as it will his mind)

(he will belong to it and he will be so beautiful, so perfect)]

Good, pet, that's right, he'll feel so good...

[It's coming down closer to him, straddling his him as it kisses and bites at his neck, so its dripping body rubs up against his cock.

(it isn't speaking into his mind, but its voice trembles and splits into harmonics)

(the tendril in IV's mouth squirms, begins to slide in and out slowly, oil dripping from the entire surface now rather than just spurting from the tip)]

[ IV feels like much more and he'd explode, but it's so good. It's so good and Black Mist is kissing his throat as he swallows down the oil, it's getting in closer and god, he's so close. He's so close, it's making him feel so good.

(and it'll make V feel so good, too)

He can feel it rubbing against his cock, feel it dripping against him and the words reverberate in his ears and he-- he needs it, he's so close. He's so hard, hard enough to hurt, his cock is dripping precome to mix with the oil all over him.

(and then the tendril in his mouth moves)

(in and out, dripping oil from its entire surface)

(he can't help himself)

As his orgasm hits, IV jerks in his bonds, teeth clamping down on the tendril without any conscious thought on his part. It's too intense, intense enough to have his vision whiting out and his jaw locking as he groans around the tendril clenched between his teeth.

(he'll be sorry, more than sorry, when he realises)

(he can't displease Black Mist but

it's too good)

(he can't control his body in the face of this pleasure) ]

[It isn't hurt, of course. Its body is so wholly under its control that something like a set of human jaws poses no threat to it. The part of the tendril under IV's teeth just goes solid, loses feeling.

(but it can't let its pets develop habits like that, can it?)

The dripping from the tendril stops, and as soon as IV's jaws loosen enough, it withdraws from his mouth to rest in one of Black Mist's hands. There's a mark in it, where IV bit down, and Black Mist pets it lightly with the other hand.]

That's ｎｏｔｇｏｏｄ, is it, IV?

[The voice is discordant, tones grating against each other when it speaks into him.

It wants to see what he'll do. How sorry he'll be.]

bad decisions, iv edition // for numbers96

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