Dorian strains against the ties, grinning at Pagan all the while. He is indeed a mouthy little shit, a fucking brat, any and all of the sobriquets Pagan wants to throw at him. He'll lap those up and play the part, just as long as he gets the feeling of that man's lips on his.
"A brat? I'd say you need to respect your elders, Pagan."
"You'll give me everything I want," Dorian grins, straining against his bonds. He leans towards Pagan and, if he's close enough, will give him a quick kiss.
Dorian strains against his bonds, strains against Pagan's mouth, his prick strains with excitement as he kisses Pagan back, just as fiercely, just as passionately, a big sweaty, sticky mess that wants to devour this man whole.
"Pagaaaaaaan!" Dorian whines, struggling against the bonds, letting out a sigh as he does so. He feels wonderful but God, this is a delightful sort of hurt. His prick is throbbing with excitement as he strains against the bonds some more.
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He finds the ties and grabs one of his wrists, letting him struggle with the other.
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"You're right. I've always wanted a fucking brat."
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"A brat? I'd say you need to respect your elders, Pagan."
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He sits on his knees on the bed, running a hand along his chest.
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"You can do better," he sasses.
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He slides his hand in his own trousers, intending on not touching him again until he's finished.
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"More notes for next time, then."
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And then he's on Dorian, kissing him fiercely.
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"No, darling. You can suffer a while."
And he walks off.
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He is very good at torture.
Eventually, he pokes his head in the room. "Did you need something?"
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