Chapter Text
Darting from shadow to shadow, Senkar allows himself a quick smirk as his pace finally slows, confident that he’s escaped the pursuing guards - for now, at least. Sure, he hadn’t reached his target, and yes, now they’ll be much more on guard, but who doesn’t love a little challenge? He slips into the crowd at an ambling walk to match the many drunks out at this hour, only making it a block or so before a shout that’s not quite distant enough to be comfortable makes him tense.
Quickly he follows a few people into the nearest building, the swell of some strange music letting him know it’s a club as he slips inside. There’s a stage up front with a crowd large enough to get lost in, but then he’d be cut off from a quick exit, so the bar it is. He hops onto a stool at the far end and carefully eyes the crowd for danger; however, those who aren’t entirely caught up in the music are far too drunk or high (or both) to worry him. The bartender, on the other hand... unlike the majority of the patrons, he’s tall and well-built, and it’s easy to see the muscles aren’t just for show with the effortless way he hefts the kegs of beer behind the bar.
You’re actively being pursued by homicidal guards right now, the more logical part of Senkar says, while a much more calculating and heavily biased side retorts and think how unlikely it would be for them to search some random bartender’s bedroom... Decisively, Senkar pulls out some coin and slides it onto the bar, gesturing the bartender over once he’s free. “Hi,” he says, giving him an easy smile. “Any recommendations for a newbie?” Even now he keeps an eye on the doors, making sure he’s not caught unawares. Hopefully the bartender just thinks he’s a little nervous because he’s so hot - he probably gets that a lot.
Cyrus cocks his head to the side, unapologetically raking his gaze over this - human? Half-elf? He has the delicate features of an elf, but the furtive glances toward the door were distinctly human - elves were always so damn calm. He had to admit, this kid sure had a look; the black lines on his face and peeking out from the top of his thin shirt seemed familiar somehow, but Cyrus couldn’t make himself care enough to think more on it.
“Matters what you want, newbie,” Cyrus says gruffly, eyes still calculating as he works to assess whether this newcomer is a threat to his club-goers. He looks pretty delicate, but there is a niggling voice in the back of Cyrus’ mind that keeps him wary. This kid looks like a viper. “You trying to get knock-out drunk or just have a good time? You tell me what you’re looking for and I’m sure I have something behind the bar to satisfy you.” He keeps his tone cool, but his entire body is piqued to assess the kid’s response. Either way, the best way to keep everyone in the club safe was to keep this newcomer as close as possible; Cyrus definitely didn’t have any ulterior motive for wanting to keep his eyes on this intriguing half-elf.
“Yes, I’m definitely sure there’s something behind the bar that could satisfy me,” Senkar says, his smile turning more playful as he leans against the polished wood of the bar. He can see that the bartender’s a little wary of him, but that tense readiness in his body coupled with the cool steadiness of his level gaze just makes Senkar more excited. It’s a brief, intense war with himself to decide if he wants to play up his dangerous edge - maybe provoking the bartender, which sends an intrigued little shiver down his spine, but also making him that much more obvious if the guards do somehow find him here, not to mention the possibility of being thrown into the street - or if he should relax, make himself look as small and innocent as he can manage.
He elects for a compromise, dropping out of his rhythmic door-checking but turning his now-undivided attention firmly to the bartender, giving him the same intense once-over in return. “If I was just looking for a good time, what would you offer me?”
Cyrus folds his arms on the bar, leaning in closer and smirking a little when the newcomer doesn’t pull away. Brave. Or, just stupid. “I’ve got Luxe, and Heat if that’s more your style. Or, of course, I’m free to entertain you.” He’s still just as casual, but his eyes narrow minutely as he tries to assess this newcomer’s body language. Cyrus prided himself on being able to read people - a useful skill when his intimidating size usually made his bed companions clam up - but this slick half-elf was frustratingly difficult. He had relaxed his worrying glances at the door, but the intense way he lets his gaze drift over Cyrus’ body makes Cyrus just as wary. Despite all available warning signs, Cyrus would be the first to admit a little hint of danger always intrigues him, and his gaze turns more inviting rather than guarded. “Any of those options sound good to you?”
"Why on earth would I bother with anything else when you're on offer?" Senkar asks, daring to reach out to lay a hand on the bartender’s arm.
Awkwardly, he tenses warily before Senkar can make contact, Senkar freezing instinctively in response with his free hand already resting on the hilt of one of the knives at his thigh.
As an avid knife user himself, Cyrus is acutely aware of the motion you make to draw one, but he can't help being impressed by just how smoothly this newcomer did it, absolutely fluid and calm. It was art, really.
After a tense moment, Senkar dares to finish the motion, not moving his gaze from the bartender’s cool blue eyes, just as intent on him. The muscles in his arm are hot and tense under his touch, and Senkar smiles and rubs over them, slowly moving his hand from the knife to rest flat on the bar - look, nothing here, I’m not trying anything, promise. The bartender shouldn’t have been able to see the knife with the bar in the way, but someone as cautious as him was no doubt aware of what someone reaching for a weapon looked like. Not cautious enough to move away from Senkar, though, so he smiles and leans in further. “You have a room, I assume?” Senkar asks, licking his lips in anticipation. “Convenient, too, I hope.” He lets his eagerness show, heat in his eyes working to overpower the cool calculation of before.
Cyrus' eyes flick over him again - was he honestly going to shiv me? - before deciding the risk was definitely worth it. If I die with some cute half-elf's blade in my throat, that's how I go.
"Yup, upstairs," Cyrus replies gruffly, pulling away from the newcomer's hand on his arm to empty out the tip jar. With the coins securely in his pocket, he circles to the other end of the bar and inclines his head toward the stairs. He waits for the newcomer as he slides off the bar stool, padding over to stand next to Cyrus at the base of the stairs. It's a long moment before Cyrus realizes the half-Elf expects him to go first. "There's no fuckin' way I'm turning my back on you to walk up the stairs," Cyrus says bluntly, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Not when I'm pretty sure clothes aren't the only thing I'm gonna be stripping you of tonight."
Senkar grins, and for the first time tonight it’s not at all for show, just intrigued delight at someone calling him out in such a straightforward way. “You’ve got a sharp eye,” he says, still smiling even as he doesn’t move an inch. “However, if you’ve noticed that much, I think you’re clever enough to realize that I won’t be going up those stairs with you at my back either.”
They stare at each other for a few long moments, neither willing to budge but undeniably interested to see how long the other will stand there waiting. Seeing absolutely no change in the bartender’s cool gaze, Senkar finally sighs and reaches up to run a hand up his arm, lingering on his bicep. The bartender doesn’t flinch this time, either trusting he’d see Senkar pulling a weapon before he could use it now that there’s not a bar concealing his movements or just that determined not to move first. “I suppose... for the sake of compromise... I could let you carry me up,” Senkar says, flirty smirk returning. “That is, if you’re strong enough to manage.”
"Oh please," Cyrus snorts, immediately scooping him up bridal-style like he weighs less than nothing. "I carry casks of whiskey bigger than ten of you every day." With the half-elf held securely in his arms Cyrus can definitely feel the line of a knife strapped to his thigh, and can't resist the very clever remark of "Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" He's too thrilled with himself to pay attention to the half-elf's reaction, but there's no possible way he could be as amused as Cyrus is.
As pleasantly surprising as it is to be scooped up so easily - Senkar can think of so many other fun uses for that kind of strength - Senkar absolutely cannot contain his exasperated sigh at the bartender’s terrible humor. His only saving grace is that his self-satisfied smirk is almost unfairly cute, brightening that dour face immeasurably.
He makes his way briskly up the stairs, shuffling the half-elf into one arm so he can dig out his key. "Name's Cyrus," he says lowly, finally fitting the key in the lock and closing the door behind them again. "Unless you tell me otherwise, I'm gonna call you 'kid' or 'kitten', so it's in your best interest to tell me your name too. Or at least what you'd prefer I call you."
He carefully sets the half-elf back on his feet but quickly twines their fingers together, not wanting to risk giving him a chance to reach for what he suspects is one of many knives. "And you should give me some idea of what you like and don't like. I'm fairly straightforward. If you don't like something, I won't do it." He draws the man's arms upward slightly, pressing a light kiss to his wrist but keeping his sharp eyes wary of what his companion might do next.
Being nearly effortlessly transferred to just one of those huge arms almost makes Senkar miss Cyrus telling him his name, but he just barely manages to catch it - and to laugh over the nicknames Cyrus promises him, even as he sharply eyes his hold on his wrists.
“You can call me whatever you’d like to, but my name is Senkar.” He tugs experimentally at Cyrus’ grip, his smile turning a little dangerous - though the sheer strength of the man is still intriguing under his displeasure at being restrained. “You have a thing for bondage, Cyrus? Because I have to tell you, I’d really prefer to be on the other side of it myself.” His eyes dare Cyrus to stick to his words, if he’s really honest about not doing things Senkar doesn’t like. He sighs, overdramatically put-upon. “Strip me if you must, but this” - he shakes his wrists in Cyrus’ hold for emphasis - “is not my idea of fun.”
Cyrus immediately loosens his grip on Senkar’s wrists, letting his hands drift to his waist instead. “I apologize, that’s why I asked,” he says, wary of where Senkar’s hands might dart to now that he’s freed but relaxing when they just rest on Cyrus’ chest. “I’ll certainly be stripping you either way, but if you’re serious about bondage... I prefer to be on the receiving end of it.” Bright intrigue briefly colors his otherwise impassive expression, fingers playing with the hem of Senkar’s loose shirt as he allows himself to fantasize about it a moment. This little elf was definitely dangerous - what normal person had knives strapped to them? - but the hot thrill tingling in Cyrus’ nerves as he considers how perilous it would be to let such a man tie him up is absolutely irresistible.
His hands glide carefully down Senkar’s waist and over his belt, feeling the slight rise and fall as they skate over what is most likely throwing knives. How many knives did this guy have? Finally finding the ties at the front, Cyrus undoes them deftly until he can remove the knife belt from around his hips. “Do you kiss?” Cyrus murmurs, leaning down to press his lips experimentally lightly to the corner of Senkar’s mouth. He lowers the knife belt to the floor, taking care not to let it clatter and damage any of the blades. Cyrus is significantly less tense now, resigned to the idea that if this little elf was planning to kill him, he would have done it by now instead of letting himself start to be disarmed.
“Yes, I kiss,” Senkar says, excitement still flashing in his eyes from Cyrus’ comment about bondage. “Especially lovely men like yourself who keep their word... that’s rare, you know. I’m impressed.” He’s also impressed by the care with which Cyrus treated his knives, but he’s not entirely sure how he’ll take it if he brings his attention back to the weaponry.
Instead, he leans up to press a soft kiss to Cyrus’ lips, immediately struck by the slow, lazy way he returns it. He seems much more relaxed now - either satisfied that Senkar couldn’t reach one of his many other knives without him noticing or maybe even starting to enjoy the little edge of danger. Senkar can certainly relate, smirking against his mouth and nipping playfully at his lip before he pulls back slightly. “You want me to tie you up?” he asks, hands running over the solid planes of Cyrus’ chest, still careful not to make any sudden moves. “A dangerous person like me... that’s awfully trusting of you, isn’t it?” He leans up for another quick kiss, hands sliding up to rub over his shoulders. “Think of all the things I could do, having you at my mercy like that...” His own enthusiasm at the idea is obvious, imagining all of Cyrus’ muscle held under his careful control.
“I trust that I can accept my fate no matter what you do, not that I trust you,” Cyrus replies, an almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. “The idea of a dangerous little thing like you teasing me, denying me, making me shiver with anticipation and just that little bit of fear... I’m a weak man and I’m not going to turn that down.” Senkar’s touch was surprisingly light, but somehow the gentle touch was even more unnerving than if the half-elf had started out rough.
Cyrus’ hands slide slowly up Senkar’s waist and down his arms, fiddling with the clasps on his armbands. “Let’s get these off before your hands spend too much time at my neck, though,” he grumbles, thumb tracing the outline of another knife. “I may be weak but I’m not an idiot.” As carefully as he had with Senkar’s belt, Cyrus takes his time loosening the arm bands and tugging them off, setting them on the dresser nearby so they won’t get lost in the mess of clothes on the floor. With his skin now bared, Cyrus draws Senkar’s arms back up to loop around his neck, leaning down for a deeper kiss.
Satisfied Senkar’s arms would be occupied there and not darting around for more knives, Cyrus lets his own arms drop back to his waist, fingers dipping under the loose material of his shirt to tease the warm skin. “What’s up with your tattoos?” Cyrus mumbles, lips drifting up to skim over a black line on his cheek. “They’re cute. A little excessive, but very cute.” His hands slide down to squeeze Senkar’s ass as he talks, humming in satisfaction at his reflexive grind forward. A part of Cyrus knew this was a terrible idea, but that exact same part was hopelessly turned on by that fact.
“Excessive?” Senkar laughs. “You should see some of my friends, this is nothing.” He gives Cyrus an amused, assessing glance, wondering how someone who lives in the Coalition wouldn’t immediately recognize the distinctive blackwork the assassins wear. Your life could depend on recognizing it, after all - one reason why Senkar liked his to be striking, easily noticeable. It was so much more satisfying to know you managed to take someone down when they could see death coming for them. “I’ve never had someone say they’re cute, though,” Senkar continues, tilting his head into the press of Cyrus’ lips as he rocks against him, wondering if he has another cringeworthy joke in his future - by his count Cyrus must be feeling at least three solid lengths against him - two lethal, one fun. Well, all fun for Senkar, but Cyrus’ opinion likely differs. Hands tracing over the ink on Cyrus’ shoulders, he says, “Yours are pretty nice too... even if they’re not as extreme as mine.”
Cyrus’ eyes close a moment, savoring Senkar’s fingers over his tattoos, before skimming the hands at his back forward to brush the sensitive skin below his belly. “Mmm, hope that’s not your dick, feels a little small...” he teases, deftly easing his hands under the dark fabric of Senkar’s pants until he can feel the handles of twin blades. Taking care not to nick his tiny half-elf at all, Cyrus draws them out to toss on the bed, adding “in case you want to use them later” with a smirk.
With the knives safely out of the way, Cyrus’ hands drop to Senkar’s ass, holding him in place with firm kneads as he grinds against him. The length he can feel against his thigh is significantly more pleasant than the blades - though of course they had added their own delicious edge of danger. Enthralled by Senkar’s far more relaxed posture and easy lean into his touch, Cyrus captures his lips in another deep kiss, wary of any little nibbles that might turn into bites. Every reminder of how dangerous this little half-elf is sends a delightful thrill tingling up his spine, finally starting to slowly walk Senkar backwards to his bed.
He jumps a little when the back of his knees hits the frame, but Cyrus’ reassuring touch quickly calms him again. “You wanna tie me up right away or...” Cyrus gently presses against Senkar’s hips until he sits on the bed, sinking to his knees on the floor once he does. The little play of intrigue in Senkar’s eyes is absolutely adorable, and Cyrus can’t help leaning forward to press a hot kiss to the tented fabric of his pants. The soft moan Senkar makes just provokes him further, hands shifting to rub circles in his hips while his tongue teases the increasingly damp spot in his pants, each of Senkar’s little noises of pleasure making him hum in delight. “There’s other things I can do for you first, kitten.”
“Oh, there are, are there?” Senkar asks, voice low with intrigued lust. He spreads his legs farther apart to give Cyrus more room, his body already giving an enthusiastic yes before he finds his words again, incredibly distracted by another teasing press of Cyrus’ tongue. “Yes, I think I’d like that quite a lot,” he finally says, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. Lightning-quick, he sinks his fingers into Cyrus’ hair, grinning as the sharp movement makes him tense and then shudder lightly with relief, his breath coming quick and hot against Senkar’s pants.
Giving a little tug to urge him forward - he’d pulled back the slightest bit in his surprise - Senkar teases, “You always go this slow, old man? I know we’ve got all night, but I sort of assumed I’d be doing the teasing.” His fingers scratch along Cyrus’ scalp, just a little bit harder than most people would be okay with. Cyrus’ shiver in response makes his breath come quicker, biting his lip as his dick twitches in the tight confines of his pants.
Cyrus bristles slightly after hearing “old man”, fingers digging sharper in Senkar’s hips, but loosens his grip again under the rough petting in his hair. “Careful how quick you move little viper, you’re not the only one with knives,” Cyrus growls, but it’s softer than a truly chastising tone. He traces the hem of Senkar’s pants, fingers dancing just underneath before pulling away again. Senkar makes a quiet, impatient noise, but of course that just makes Cyrus tease more - nibbling and licking him through his pants without being the slightest bit satisfying. “Can’t handle some teasing? If you’re so impatient, maybe you should order me to do something...” He looks up at Senkar with an expression that is much too self-satisfied, fingers hooking in Senkar’s pants again and pulling them down very slightly... but stopping just short of his dick and kissing the newly exposed skin instead. His skilled tongue feels so good but it’s absolutely maddening, and his smug smirk certainly doesn’t help.
“Oh, you want orders?” Senkar asks, shivering slightly as Cyrus’ tongue traces over that sensitive skin, his pale blue eyes intent on Senkar’s face. Senkar gives his hair another tug just to turn that smug grin back into a heated gasp again. “I can give you orders, big guy.” He quirks an eyebrow after the nickname, judging Cyrus’ reaction; it doesn’t make him bristle like his previous nickname had so he decides to stick with it for now. He can save “old man” for when he wants him all riled up. The thought makes him smirk, Cyrus’ eyes lighting up at the expression, clearly wondering what thought could inspire it. “Open my pants and suck me, Cyrus. Show me what that talented tongue of yours can do.”
"That I can certainly do," Cyrus hums, delighted by Senkar's commanding tone. There was just something so sexy about having this lithe elf leaning over him, perfectly within reach of the knives Cyrus had carelessly tossed on the bed earlier, and speaking to him in that extraordinarily silky voice... Cyrus was weak and he was addicted. He teases a little longer with light fingers over the buttons of Senkar’s pants, but another impatient noise and a firm tug in his hair make him move more urgently.
Senkar lets out a soft sigh of relief as his dick springs free, Cyrus immediately moving to press his lips to the precome beading at the tip. The light shiver that runs through Senkar's body makes him smirk, tongue darting out to tease the little silver ring pierced through the head of his dick. "Of course you have one of these..." Cyrus mumbles to himself, the low vibrations provoking another shudder from Senkar and breathy "Didn't I order you to suck me?"
Not being able to resist pressing one more defiant kiss to Senkar's hip, Cyrus finally wraps his lips around his dick - cutting off Senkar's repeated, annoyed order with a gasp of pleasure. Clearly finished with teasing, Cyrus bobs up and down his length with fervor, firmly fisting his dick whenever he pulls back to tease the piercing at the tip. The intensity is absolutely overwhelming, Senkar's no doubt very clever commentary cut off by so many whines and gasps he's completely unintelligible - not that Cyrus minds in the slightest, absolutely thriving off Senkar's expressions of ecstasy.
The swift transition from fleeting, teasing touches to intense sucking has Senkar reeling, each of his attempts to say something - "that's perfect," "right there," "more" - broken by gasps and moans as Cyrus abruptly switches from swift bobs of his head to clever flicks of his tongue. Fingers clutching rhythmically in Cyrus' hair, it takes all of his willpower not to thrust up into his mouth, muscles trembling with his restraint. After a long suck that makes Senkar's back arch, a loud cry escaping from his throat, he tugs urgently at Cyrus' hair, barely managing to gasp out "Off, off, right now Cyrus - !"
He can see the briefest glint of mischief in Cyrus’ eyes - clearly considering disobeying for the barest moment - but he does pull off with a lewd, wet sound. He still keeps his hand wrapped around the base of Senkar’s dick, though, teasing little squeezes of his fingers making Senkar’s toes curl. He looks unbearably smug at having made Senkar lose control like that, and Senkar narrows his eyes at him, fingers twitching for his knives. He’s not really that annoyed, though, so he settles for a sharp tug at Cyrus’ hair. “I was attempting to be considerate,” he says primly, “unless you enjoy people thrusting into your throat without warning. Yes, that’s what I thought,” he adds, Cyrus’ begrudging shake of the head making him the one smiling smugly now.
Senkar leads Cyrus’ head back towards his dick, breath hissing out as the tip rests against his lips. Eyes still steady on Senkar’s, Cyrus’ tongue flicks out to lap at the precome beading there, and the muscles in Senkar’s stomach tighten, a low moan escaping him. “Yes, that’s it, suck me again,” he says huskily, hips already starting to twitch forward. “I want to come down your throat.” Cyrus is quick to obey this time, starting up that incredible rhythm from before, but this time Senkar doesn’t hold back, eagerly rocking his hips into the movements of Cyrus’ mouth when he doesn’t falter at the first thrust he tries.
Senkar's urgency is absolutely intoxicating, only the enthralling expressions lighting up his face keeping Cyrus from letting his eyelids flutter closed in rapture. Senkar's fervent thrusts nudge his dick all the way to the back of Cyrus' throat, letting out a broken moan when Cyrus easily swallows around the tip. That pesky piercing is a bit odd, but caught up in Senkar's passion and the tight grip in his hair, he really doesn't give a single fuck.
Under his very skillful tongue - and Cyrus is quite aware of how good he is - Senkar rapidly starts to unravel, hips jerking sporadically as Cyrus does his best to keep up. Finally, he resolves to just swallow Senkar deep and let the eager little half-elf have his way with him - which he does in earnest, back arching and toes curling before spilling down Cyrus' throat with a breathy cry of ecstasy.
Senkar's muscles go slack with the warm pleasure, but Cyrus' hand quickly darts up to keep Senkar's fingers firm in his hair, pleased when the half-elf starts combing through it mindlessly as he comes down from the high. Cyrus takes his time pulling off, opting to mercilessly tease the piercing with his tongue until Senkar's desperate command of "gods, off" coaxes him to finally let his spent dick slide free. Waiting for Senkar to settle back down and regain his breath, Cyrus occupies himself littering soft kisses over his belly, murmuring quiet praises of "that was beautiful, kitten" and "you sure make some cute faces for a snake". When Senkar's breathing finally starts to slow again, Cyrus rests his cheek on his thigh to look up at him with soft but unmistakably heated eyes. "So... wanna tie me up now?"
Senkar gives him a crooked grin, the thought giving him enough energy to sit up from his lazy afterglow sprawl. “Oh yes, I absolutely do,” he purrs, tugging Cyrus up for another kiss - he’s still loose and relaxed from the frankly incredible orgasm, and it pairs well with Cyrus’ lazy, passionate kissing. He lets a hand slide down Cyrus’ chest to his belt, letting out another noise of delight into Cyrus’ mouth at the thick hardness he finds there. “Ooh, someone’s eager,” he says, nibbling at Cyrus’ lip as his hips twitch forward into Senkar’s palm. He gives him a few good rubs through his pants before he pulls back, smirking as Cyrus’ hips visibly chase after his hand.
Scooting back on the bed, Senkar scoops up his scattered knives, expertly flipping them into the air and neatly catching them again. “Come on the bed, Cyrus,” he says sweetly, letting the lengths of the blades slide over the sheets. He can see Cyrus swallow nervously from here, but after only the barest pause he follows him up - with a low groan as he straightens his knees, Senkar graciously holding back a grin and some (no doubt unappreciated) commentary.
Senkar moves to the side and gestures grandly towards the headboard with one knife in a flash of silver. “Over there, big guy. On your back, hands over your head against the headboard.” Confident that Cyrus will do as he’s told - and not just because of the sharp steel in his hands - Senkar slips off of the bed, glancing around for supplies as he tucks the knives back in his pants for safekeeping. He finds a neat coil of rope stashed conveniently under the bed and emerges with an anticipatory smile, happy to see Cyrus exactly where he asked him to be.
“Perfect,” he says aloud, climbing back onto the bed and then slinging a leg over Cyrus, neatly straddling his broad chest. Just at that Cyrus’ breath picks up, a hot flush in his cheeks, and Senkar takes in the pretty picture he makes with a smile. Of course, he’ll be prettier once Senkar gets the ropes on him. “Hold still for me,” Senkar says, leaning forward with a loop of rope in hand, letting it trail over Cyrus’ skin. “And, fair’s fair. Say red and I’ll stop.” Senkar knows many wouldn’t trust his word as far as they could throw him, but he is sincere - call him soft if you’d like, but he figures he can give Cyrus the same courtesy he’d afforded him.
He could make quick work of the whole thing - in his line of business, one gets many opportunities to practice such skills - but decides to draw it out for Cyrus’ benefit, tightening each knot with slow, gradual tugs, hungrily watching the heat in his eyes grow with each additional coil of rope holding him in place. “There,” Senkar finally breathes, fingers trailing over his completed knotwork. It’s intricate but practical, neatly wrapping Cyrus’ arms in crisscrossed rope up to his forearms, then knotted securely to the headboard. “Now, for the real fun...” Senkar draws a knife, his smile just as sharp as he lets it play over the fabric of Cyrus’ shirt. He turns it tip-down and makes a quick slash, Cyrus gasping and shuddering - then looking down and seeing no blood, just his shirt split down the middle.
“Hope you didn’t like that too much,” Senkar says. “It was in my way.” Another quick flick or two of the knife and the shirt is in shreds around him, Cyrus’ bared chest rising and falling rapidly underneath Senkar’s weight. Cyrus’ pants meet the same fate, though Senkar takes care to go slower around certain sensitive areas - though whether it’s to make Cyrus feel better or to draw out the apprehension is anyone’s guess. “Look at you, gorgeous,” Senkar murmurs, finally letting himself explore Cyrus’ bared body at his leisure. His eyes linger on his leaking dick, thick and hard against his belly, but he settles further up on his chest again, tracing over the lines of tattoos.
With how expertly Senkar secures him to the headboard with surprisingly intricate coils of the rope, Cyrus is fairly certain he’s done something like this a lot, and the dangerous implication of that fact makes him shiver in delighted anticipation. He flexes the muscles of his arms, testing the strength of Senkar’s ties, and is pleased to find they don’t even budge slightly. The knife flashing over his clothes makes him reflexively tense, but when he doesn’t feel the warm sting of cuts his muscles fall slack again. “You really know what you’re doing,” Cyrus says, trying to merely make a comment but his tone is distinctly impressed, turning it into a compliment instead. His body leans automatically into Senkar’s touch, craving every little warm brush of his fingers over his muscles.
Watching Senkar is even more of a delight than his teasing touch: the way his eyes flash as his fingers twirl his blade, clearly showing off; the smile that curls his lips each time Cyrus shudders; how he grinds just slightly against cyrus’ chest when his breath hitches, trying to take the edge off without inflating cyrus’ ego too much. “You gonna keep your clothes on the whole time, kitten?” Cyrus teases, arching his back slightly to jostle Senkar. “That’s fine of course, but there’s plenty of other things I can do for you with them off.” He licks his lips, slow and sensual to accentuate his meaning, looking up at Senkar with bright lust in his eyes.
“You do like using your mouth, don’t you?” Senkar says, grinning at Cyrus’ prompt nod. He can’t deny the eager heat in his belly at the thought, though, the wonderful pleasure of before still vivid in his mind. Carefully setting his knife to the side - he doesn’t want to shred his fine shirt, after all - he eases his shirt over his head, slow and teasing under Cyrus’ intense gaze, finally tossing it off onto the floor. The boots come off next, and he flashes the knives in them at Cyrus with a laugh before he sets them on the floor. “Surprise,” he says, still gleeful at Cyrus’ realization that he’d never been quite as disarmed as he’d thought.
Senkar hadn’t bothered to button his pants back up but he does have to pull the other knife from where he tucked it away, setting it beside its match before he starts working the pants down his thighs. It’d be easier if he got off of Cyrus to do it, but where’s the fun in that when Senkar’s squirming makes him gasp so nicely underneath him?
“Now that that’s over with,” Senkar says, tossing his pants aside as well, “just what will I be doing with you...” Senkar settles happily on Cyrus’ chest, sighing at the slide of their skin together as he props his chin on his hands, regarding Cyrus nice and close while he ponders. Giving a quick grind against Cyrus’ stomach, Senkar shudders. “Still a little too sensitive for you to suck me again... but I think there’s another way you could use that lovely mouth for me.”
He pushes himself up again and turns around, ending with his knees on either side of Cyrus’ chest and his ass oh-so-conveniently in his face. Glancing over his shoulder, he smirks at Cyrus. “Show me how well you can use your tongue on my ass, and if I like it...” he leans forward, tracing a finger up Cyrus’ leaking dick and delighting at his shudder. “If I like it, you’ll get more of that.”
The bed creaks as Cyrus’ arms pull reflexively at his restraints, absolutely intoxicated by Senkar’s fluid movements and teasing touch. He allows himself a brief moment to admire the sight before him - Senkar has a really nice ass - before leaning forward the last inch or so to press a kiss to the soft skin of his cheek. Clearly not what Senkar wanted judging by the impatient noise he hears, Cyrus smirks to himself before indulging in a long, slow pass of his tongue over Senkar’s hole. He shivers lightly in response, the movement just provoking Cyrus to lave his tongue further down, wet swipes over his perineum making Senkar squirm away slightly only to eagerly shift his ass closer again.
Quite thrilled with Senkar’s very transparent reflections of how well he’s doing, Cyrus twirls his tongue around his hole again, not pressing in just yet but giving Senkar the impression that he could at any moment. When he sees Senkar start to look over his shoulder again, no doubt to demand more or call him a ‘slow old man’ again, Cyrus deftly plunges his tongue inside, cutting off Senkar’s words on a sharp cry of pleasure. Cyrus is absolutely merciless, curling his warm tongue in eager exploration as he tries to find spots that make Senkar shake with pleasure. Senkar thought Cyrus gave good blowjobs, but damn he was amazing at eating ass.
“Fuck,” Senkar whines, fingers curling against Cyrus’ chest as he trembles with the sheer ecstasy Cyrus is giving him. He almost forgets his promised reward in the rush of it all, only the needy, instinctive twitch of Cyrus’ hips reminding him. Senkar reaches out a hand and strokes along the underside of Cyrus’ dick, pressing it up against his belly, and shivers at Cyrus’ low moan, the vibrations running through him in a dizzying rush. “Ah, gods,” Senkar gasps, hips rocking back into the hot, curling press of Cyrus’ tongue. “So fucking good...”
Cyrus hums again, whether in acknowledgement or just to make Senkar squirm - either way, it makes a cry catch in his throat, back arching in ecstasy. He gives Cyrus’ dick a few long, hard strokes as soon as he has the faculties for it, half-gasping and half-laughing. “Gods damn it, Cyrus, I wanted to ride this gorgeous dick of yours, but,” he shudders, Cyrus’ tongue pressing in deep again, “fuck, this feels too good to make you stop...”
Even without glancing back he knows Cyrus must be so satisfied with himself, each intense flick of his tongue over Senkar’s most sensitive places making him moan loud enough that someone would complain if it wasn’t Cyrus’ bar they’re in. Breath coming in desperate gasps, Senkar’s eyes flutter closed, mindlessly chasing the sensations Cyrus’ tongue gives as he teeters on the edge of coming.
The fine tremble in Senkar’s muscles as he struggles to hold himself back is hard to resist, and Cyrus wants more than anything to coax those gorgeous sounds from him when he comes again. With another deep press of his tongue and expert flick of the tip, Senkar gasps and his muscles tense sharply as he comes over Cyrus’ chest. A low groan rumbles in Cyrus’ throat, savoring the warm wetness splattering on his skin and provoking his own pulse of precome to dribble down his length. Did he really get this cute little half-elf to come twice? Damn he was sensitive.
When the residual rocks of Senkar’s hips start to slow, Cyrus begrudgingly pulls away with a parting kiss to the base of his spine. He’s thankful Senkar doesn’t have the strength to look back at him quite yet as he quickly composes himself again after the huge, self-satisfied grin that spreads across his face. “You -” Cyrus clears his throat, his voice a little raspy. “You doin’ okay kitten? You need to be done?” His muscles tense in their ties, his body absolutely not wanting to stop, but his voice is soothing and sincere. When Senkar doesn’t respond, still working to catch his breath, Cyrus arches his back slightly to get his attention. “Hey. You still with me, Senkar?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Senkar finally gasps, voice still breathy but at least he’s speaking. Muscles still trembling, he shakily sits up and slides right off of Cyrus, sprawling on the bed with an indulgent stretch as if he meant to do that. It’s almost smooth enough that Cyrus would believe it... if Senkar hadn’t nearly passed out in front of him moments before.
“Seriously, kid, you need to be done?” Cyrus asks, twisting a little in his bonds to try to get a look at his face.
With a low laugh, Senkar rolls up onto his knees with far more sprightly energy than Cyrus would have expected. “Done?” Senkar asks, leaning up against Cyrus’ side and gripping the base of Cyrus’ dick, giving it a long, slow stroke that makes Cyrus shudder. “I’ve hardly even gotten to play with this gorgeous thing and you think I’m done with you already?” Keeping deliberate eye contact, Senkar leans over and gives the tip a lick like he’s savoring a delicious treat, moaning softly as he laps up the precome. He pulls away just the slightest bit to say, “don’t you dare come from this - I’m still planning on riding you, big guy,” before he returns to his teasing licks, humming happily as he explores Cyrus’ dick with eager lips and tongue.
The headboard makes a very dangerous sound, and for the first time Senkar notices all the cracks and crudely nailed-together gaps in the wood - this bedframe was clearly very well-abused. Cyrus rumbles noises that are just short of begging but still make Senkar smirk, even as he keeps up his merciless teasing.
Cyrus' hips twitch and roll a bit with every light swipe of Senkar's tongue, but is actually holding still quite impressively given the circumstances. After all, even he was surprised he didn't immediately lose it after Senkar came all over his chest. It doesn't take long, though, for holding out to start to feel distinctly painful, the hot pleasure in his belly tightening sharply.
"S-Senkar," Cyrus pants, a low sound in his chest almost hard to hear over the creaking of the wood. Senkar's knotwork was impressive, but that just meant the bed would break before the ropes started to fray. "I can't... oh gods I'm going to -" Cyrus' back arches in pleasure, but his cry of ecstasy dissolves into a frustrated groan when Senkar's hand darts out the squeeze the base of his dick, abruptly cutting off his orgasm. Tears - of pain? frustration? ecstasy? - prick Cyrus' eyes, and he has to take a slow breath to steady himself and effortfully start to release the aching tension in his muscles. "Gods Senkar... you're keeping me so deprived I'm gonna come as soon as I'm inside you but still be hard enough to fuck you."
Senkar shivers, fingers tightening around the base of Cyrus' dick. He makes a small noise and Senkar quickly loosens his grip the slightest bit, dropping an apologetic kiss on Cyrus' hip - though he follows it up with a nip, unable to help himself. "Are you trying to get me on your dick as fast as possible, big guy? Because I think it'll work." He smirks and pats Cyrus' hip with a warning "remember, no coming until you're in me" before he releases him and slips off the bed, ducking underneath it to grab a promising bottle.
He’s pleased to see Cyrus right where he left him when he returns, still looking just as beautifully desperate. Slicking his fingers, Senkar straddles Cyrus’ chest again, already reaching behind himself to press a couple inside with a low moan. “Gods, you opened me up so well already on your tongue,” he says, eyes going half-lidded as he steadies himself with a hand on Cyrus’ chest, not caring that he’s smearing his own come over his skin. He’s so tempted to just get on Cyrus’ dick already, but remembering the delicious thickness of him makes him push in a third finger with a sigh. He’s rushing already; best not be completely stupid.
Finally he decides he’s as ready as either of them can wait for, breath hitching as he eases his fingers out and reaches back for Cyrus’ dick, slicking him with the remaining lube - though his fingers already slip through the copious precome Cyrus has spilled. “Don’t come ’til you’re all the way in,” Senkar purrs, shifting back to let the tip of Cyrus’ dick press against his hole. The bed creaks ominously as Senkar slowly pushes back, a low moan escaping him as Cyrus stretches him, just this side of pain.
Cyrus is captivated by Senkar's expression, hooked on every little flutter of lashes and soft gasp of pleasure. He can feel the deep ache in the muscles of his arms as they pull against the ropes, but it's almost lost under the hot ecstasy of Senkar's eager movements. "Doin’ so good, kitten," Cyrus murmurs, voice strained as he fights to follow Senkar's orders and hold himself back from coming.
“Gods,” Senkar gasps, hips pushing back in eager little rocks until his ass meets Cyrus’ hips, Senkar groaning at that final stretch.
The tight heat overwhelms Cyrus’ senses - and control - so much so that the moment Senkar meets Cyrus' hips with a breathy noise of triumph, he feels every tense muscle suddenly release as his hips jerk up to spill inside. Senkar barely manages a gasp of surprise before it's cut off by whines of pleasure, Cyrus thrusting up at an unrelenting pace. "Oh, did you wanna ride me?" he teases, though his tone is softened by how clearly out of breath he is as he struggles to pull himself together again after coming so hard. "Guess I got impatient... you bounce so easily on me with all my come slicking you up, I might get off again before you even get the chance."
The muscles in his stomach tense and flex with every quick jerk upwards, drawing Senkar's eyes even as he struggles to keep them open under the assault of pleasure. Cyrus can't help a minute smirk, slowing deliberately to accentuate the roll of his muscles. "This how you like me, kitten? Splattered in your come, every part of me aching to touch you, but completely at your mercy?" His eyes are dark with lust, intent on Senkar's as he struggles to respond.
"Yes," Senkar finally manages to hiss, steadying himself with his hands on Cyrus’ chest. The flex of the muscles beneath his palms makes him shiver, nails biting into Cyrus’ skin. “Though I’d like it better if I could actually ride you like I wanted to, big guy.” His words come out between gasps with each of Cyrus’ thrusts, but his “now hold still” is as firm as ever.
Cyrus obeys immediately, hips stilling underneath him and his eyes falling shut as he groans, though the sound could just as easily be pleasure as pain. “That’s better,” Senkar says, starting to roll his own hips in an easy rhythm. The movements are slick and easy, soft moans escaping him as he tips his head back, luxuriating in the stretch. “Though if you think you’re coming again before I do, you’re sorely mistaken,” he adds, a sharp grin curling his lips. “You’re going to hold on for me, let me ride you as long and hard as I want to, and you’re only going to come when I’m squeezing tight around you, spilling my come on your chest again.”
Senkar can hear the headboard creaking again as Cyrus groans, his eyes hot and intense on Senkar’s, and he smirks, bouncing faster on Cyrus’ dick. Despite his words he may not be able to keep this up for much longer, crying out as a tilt of his hips drags Cyrus’ dick over his prostate, the sensation sending sparks down his spine. “Yes, yes, yes,” he gasps, eyes squeezing shut as he rocks against him, mindlessly chasing the pleasure. “Oh gods, yes - !” With a last hard thrust down, Senkar moans and comes over Cyrus’ chest, nearly collapsing against him but barely managing to catch himself as he shakes with the intensity.
Cyrus’ breath catches, struck by how ethereally beautiful this eager little half elf is. The practiced roll of his hips, his loud, uninhibited cries of pleasure, each little shiver and moan as come spurts over Cyrus’ chest - it’s too much. With a low groan of “S-Senkar...!”, Cyrus’ hips jerk up once more to press in hard and spill inside.
He keeps his back arched, greedily grinding in as deep as he can to ride out the high. With Senkar’s muscles so weak with ecstasy there’s little he can do to escape the thick stretch, but a breathy whine of “Cyrus stop, it’s too much -” immediately stills Cyrus’ insistent rocks upward, carefully lowering his body to the mattress again. The residual shudders of pained pleasure are finally too much for Senkar, and he allows himself to flop on Cyrus’ chest, who chuckles softly at the action.
“I’m sorry kitten, you were just so hot and tight I needed as much of you as I could get,” Cyrus says softly, tilting his head down to see if he can reach Senkar for a kiss but sighing when he finds he’s just a bit short. “You were fuckin’ gorgeous, I came so hard I nearly saw stars.” He smiles, soft and genuine in a way Senkar hasn’t seen all night. “Doin’ alright kitten? Didn’t hurt you at the end did I? Can rub your back while I clean you up, if you’d like.” His own muscles ache almost unbearably, but he can’t stand the thought of Senkar being in pain too.
Senkar laughs breathily. “Alright? Gods, I feel amazing.” He giggles again, tilting his head up to look at Cyrus through the messy fringe of his hair. “Okay, I can’t really feel my extremities quite yet, but in a good way.” With a groan he levers himself back up, a low whimper in his throat as it shifts Cyrus’ dick within him. “Shit, let me just...” Senkar carefully eases himself up, breath catching as Cyrus’ dick slips out with a loud, slick sound. “We’ll see how you feel once I’ve gotten you out of these ropes, big guy. Might have to take you up on the back rub another time.” Senkar winks, scooting up Cyrus’ chest to start picking at his knots.
After a few moments, however, it’s clear that the combination of Senkar’s tired muscles and how much Cyrus’ tugging tightened them has made the task pretty much impossible. “You know what... I’ll owe you for the ropes,” Senkar says, scooping up one of his knives and quickly slicing through them instead. Judging by Cyrus’ sharp intake of breath he doesn’t mind Senkar’s methods or his ambiguous promise of repayment one bit.
Senkar only has the barest moment to register the gleam in Cyrus’ eyes before he’s wrapped in those big arms again, though he can feel them shake a little bit, muscles strained from being immobile so long. “Cyrus, oh my gods,” Senkar says, squirming in his grip. “Let me see your arms, you’re the one who needs a massage.”
Cyrus presses warm kisses to Senkar’s face and neck, ignoring the sharp pain in his arms whenever he squeezes Senkar tighter. “This first...” he mumbles, finally capturing Senkar’s lips in an exhausted kiss. It’s a sloppy slide of tongues, but it makes an absolutely delighted purr thrum in Cyrus’ chest. It feels so damn good to hold Senkar close after so long not being able to touch him. “I’m fine kitten, just a little sore. Nothing I can’t handle. You’re the one that got come in twice.” One hand trails lightly down Senkar’s back, finally resting on his ass to give it a gentle squeeze.
Even the slight movement makes Senkar shiver, so raw and sensitive from his eager bouncing on Cyrus’ lap. Cyrus’ hand quickly retreats, rubbing careful circles in his lower back instead as he murmurs “It’s alright, just relax.” He stubbornly fights to keep the strength in his arms, adamantly massaging up Senkar’s back, but it isn’t long before Senkar can feel his touch growing weaker, the occasional twitch of pain shaking his muscles.
Senkar takes his chance when he feels a telling tremble in Cyrus’ muscles, wiggling free of his hold and grabbing one of his arms instead. He tsks as he finally gets a good look at him - the crisscrossing marks the ropes left are certainly pretty, but the shaking muscles are not. “You’re lucky you’re so hot, big guy, because you’re a bit of an idiot,” he says cheerfully, kneading strong fingers into the muscles and grinning at Cyrus’ groan.
Stubborn man that he is, Cyrus reaches for him with his free arm, and Senkar ducks away. “No, no, no, silly, you got your little cuddle and you’re not getting any more until I’m done with this.” He leans over to give Cyrus a quick kiss to soften his words, laughing again as he hears a low grumble of “so mean” even as Cyrus finally fucking relaxes. “Yes, I am. The very meanest,” Senkar says, leaning against Cyrus’ side as he continues his massage. Once he’s finished with that arm he rests it on the bed, sprawling over Cyrus’ chest to reach the other.
He rolls his eyes but allows it when he immediately feels Cyrus’ free hand rubbing at the base of his spine again - it just feels too good on his sore muscles to make him stop. Still, fingers rubbing busily at Cyrus’ other arm, he says, “I’ll be very unhappy if you undo all of my hard work, Cyrus.” The chastising look he slants over to Cyrus is met with a warm, almost sleepy gaze, and Senkar can only huff and shake his head in response as he continues his massage.
Cyrus can’t help a delighted sigh as Senkar’s skilled fingers knead away any lingering tension in his arms, trying to remember the last time he had a man that had any clue what to do after tying him up.
Once he’s satisfied with Cyrus’ other arm Senkar wriggles back onto Cyrus’ chest, sighing happily at the warmth of him even as he smears more of his come on his belly. “There. I’ve done my good deed for the day.” Senkar yawns, grinning winningly up at Cyrus. “Is your good deed for the day going to be letting a poor lost kitten stay for the night?"
Cyrus is still so caught up in the afterglow an impossibly fond expression crosses his features before he effortfully pulls back to his characteristic impassive expression instead. Still, Cyrus leans down for a lazy but wholly affectionate kiss, thoroughly relaxed after Senkar’s diligent massage. “Of course I’ll let you stay, wouldn’t want a poor defenseless thing like you wandering the streets at night,” he says, looking pointedly at the many knives scattered around the room. They both chuckle softly at that, Senkar’s sweet smile positively radiant.
“I cuddle really tight in my sleep, though. Fair warning.” Cyrus combs through Senkar’s disheveled hair, fussing over him with “should really clean you up” and “you sure you’re not sore? I can massage you too.” He seems genuinely concerned about Senkar’s comfort, but perfectly willing to let the half-elf suffer in the morning if he didn’t want to get clean.
“Well, if you’re offering, I’m not sure I can refuse,” Senkar says, sighing and stretching. The motion makes him groan, his still-sore muscles protesting even as he grows drowsier. “Just as long as you don’t mess up your arms again, big guy. I’ve been advertised some tight cuddles and I think I’ll be quite disappointed if I don’t get them.” He smirks up at Cyrus, managing to look devilish even as disheveled and sleepy as he is. “Though, a fair warning to you as well: squeeze too tight and I just might squeeze back. Around your throat.” He takes a quick look around the room, assessing. “Probably wouldn’t be able to get a knife, but who knows. I impress myself with new feats of skill every day.” He leans up to give Cyrus another kiss, mischievous little nips of his lips matching his almost flirty threats.
Cyrus chuckles again, mumbling “I don’t mind a little strangling, kitten, it’s a risk I’ll have to take” as he shifts to shimmy out from under Senkar. With a quick kiss to his temple after the annoyed look he gets, Cyrus finally rolls to his feet with a deep groan. His arms certainly felt a lot better than they had before Senkar’s massage, but his other muscles ache just shy of too much.
Not wanting to stand very long and risk falling over, Cyrus quickly rifles through his pile of towels until he finds a clean one and wets it with some water in a kettle nearby. The way the towel steams makes Senkar hum happily, delighted he’ll even be getting warm water for his cleanup. Laying back on the bed with another tired groan, Cyrus carefully arranges Senkar on his back, pressing soft kisses to his neck as he wipes the come off his chest and belly. It was already getting unpleasantly sticky, and the fresh feeling of being clean lulls Senkar into a stupor as much as the careful touch over his skin.
Cyrus has to nudge him twice with a soft “roll over kitten” until the request finally registers, and Senkar manages to flop over onto his stomach instead. Cyrus can’t help a delighted growl in his chest when he brushes between Senkar’s cheeks and makes him squirm a little - “I’m sensitive!” - but he keeps the cleaning strictly clinical, finally leaning down to press a kiss to Senkar’s ass as though signing a masterpiece.
“Feel better?” Cyrus mumbles gruffly, clearly unwillingly wiping the come off his own chest. When Senkar nods sleepily he tosses the towel off the bed and cuddles in close, yanking the tangled blanket at the foot of the bed back up to cover them. As he warned, he immediately holds Senkar tightly, settling in to sleep with a deep sigh. “You gonna be here when I wake up or slither out?” he murmurs, fingers idly tracing up Senkar’s side. “I’m pretty good at making breakfast. And some quick and dirty morning sex. If that’s the sort of thing you’re into.” He shrugs, letting his eyes fall closed as he waits for a response.
Senkar hums sleepily as he considers, though his eyes are still intent on Cyrus’ face, assessing his trustworthiness. “With such tempting offerings on the table, I might just stick around,” he finally decides, resting his head against Cyrus’ chest and snuggling into the heat of his body. “Same warning applies, of course... I don’t particularly mind how you wake me, as long as you’re happy to risk a throttling.” As instinctively wary as he is after such a long night and such intense exertions, he can’t help but be pulled towards sleep under the soft brush of Cyrus’ fingers. Wrapped tight in his arms, his last drowsy thought is yes, this was a very good hideout indeed.