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[Now, really. If he's going to be difficult, Ariel will just have to grab his broken wrist again and twist it further, yanking it up towards the headboard where he can bind it with a spell.]

Your struggling is cute, too.

[He sucks in a breath, sharply, the nauseating pain stilling him enough. He has to blink to clear his vision of spots, not fighting Ariel more, just trying to breathe raggedly.]

[What is he supposed to say...? He's so confused and scared and horrified and in grief but it's his brother.]

[While he's momentarily stunned, Ariel takes the opportunity to bind his other wrist as well, freeing his own in the process. With Tristan stuck it's easy to go right back to business, putting a hand down his pants and kissing him hard at the same time.]

[He whines against Ariel's lips, but doesn't turn his face away, mouth opening willingly. He doesn't want to stop breathing again. He does buck and strain his hips away, trying to squirm away from that hand.]

[He presses down on Tristan's hip with his free hand, holding him while he touches him with eager confidence. The kiss is thorough but brief, ending with a bite to his lower lip and a relaxed laugh.]

Shh, relax. You don't want me to hurt you again, do you?

No...

[He's breathing heavily from all of this, mostly just pain and horror. How can his brother look like that, so calm and sweet, while doing this? It's... It's really chilling actually. Tristan's a little afraid he's the one losing his mind when Ariel seems so unfazed.]

[Even in this situation he's a teenage boy, his body is going to react to being touched.]

I didn't think so.

[He scoots back a bit, giving himself room to get between Tristan's legs and tug his pants down for better access. His inexperience shows again when he strokes him, a little clumsy and lacking finesse, but it's enough to do what it's intended to do, and he's concentrating on what receives the most reaction now, clearly studying with intent to repeat this later.]

[Tristan chokes, turning his head to bury his face in his shoulder, face and neck red with shame. It doesn't need to be that skilled to get him hard, though it takes more effort than it would under better circumstances.]

[He makes a low noise of misery the more his body responds, sobbing against this new level of humiliation and shame.]

Ariel please.

Now now, how could I possibly stop when you're so well-suited to this?

[The shame fits his face perfectly, in Ariel's opinion. He wants to see more of it, so he'll continue to lazily, purposefully move his hand, reaching up with the other to turn Tristan's face back in view and run fingertips along his lips.]

Open your mouth.

[His face is a picture of misery, tears falling pretty steadily, red and contorted in shame and grimaces of pleasure and self-loathing. He grits his teeth then gasps at something Ariel's other hand does, lips parting. His eyes squeeze shut.]

[He takes the opportunity to shove two fingers into Tristan's mouth, reveling in watching him cry. Their lives are never going to be repaired after this, and that's a wonderful feeling.]

You can figure out what to do, right? Be a good boy.

[Nothing will be okay again. Tristan obeys, feeling cold down his spine as he runs his tongue over Ariel's fingers, licking them. He never wanted to know what his brother's skin tasted like, but he does now.]

That's right. More.

[He wiggles his fingers in his brother's mouth, slowing his touches below and waiting for him to work a little harder. He wants to see him humiliate himself, obedient and dominated.]

[The involuntary noise he makes is miserable, lips closing around Ariel's fingers, sucking on them slowly. He pushes his tongue between them, over them, along the pads of his fingers and under, cringing the whole time. But exactly what Ariel wants, obedient, degraded, submissive.]

[That's perfect. Perfectly pathetic, perfectly base, perfectly attractive. He shivers at the feeling, letting out a low, shaky breath and pressing a little harder with his thumb on his next stroke. He pulls his fingers back eventually, instead running his hand along Tristan's thigh and to his ass.]

No wonder all the girls like you so much.

[It's really alarming and disgusting, having Ariel's fingers in his mouth while his other hand keeps Tristan hard. He looks away when Ariel pulls his fingers out, lips wet but not bothering to lick them, doing his best to pull in on himself with what the position allows.]

[He's humiliated, shamed, turned on, disgusted, and every time he thinks it can't get worse it does. He feels like the rug is being yanked from under him over and over, constantly falling. He wants to scream in frustration but making much noise is hard past the lump of terror in his throat.]

[So instead his voice is quiet and meek, if a little ragged and cracking.]

Only one liked me so much. And you killed her in malice.

[It's the closest he can muster to anger right now. Exhausted grief. Even if he is incredibly popular he only ever cared about that one.]

Edited 2014-08-01 14:56 (UTC)

That's your punishment, I'm afraid.

[For not doing as he was told. For wasting his time on someone who wasn't worth it. Now she's been disposed of, and all he has is this, the feeling of his little brother's fingers, wet with his own spit, pressing inside of him.]

Have you ever slept with a man before?

[He should probably be glad Ariel's kind enough to use even his own saliva for this. But it's hard to feel grateful for anything in this situation, and he squirms, uncomfortable and tense.]

I haven't.

[He knows roughly how it works. He's not ignorant. But he was never interested either.]

When were you learning all this?

Oh, who knows? When you were busy with her, maybe?

[He curls his fingers a bit, having fun just playing around and making Tristan uncomfortable. His other hand keeps moving, and Ariel wonders if he can get his brother off like this, just with his hands, even when he's disgusted and afraid.]

[Tristan's actually a little calmer now. Because this is happening no matter what he says or does or begs, so the firm certainty in it is a little steadying. It's not pleasant and he hates it and he still feels gross, but he's not fighting it because there's no point.]

You're a bit young for thissss.

[Unfortunately that last word ends in a hiss, sharp. It's bad enough having his brother's fingers inside him, but he didn't know it could feel like that, that jolt of pleasure, and even if anatomy is his brother's interest why does he know how to look for that. He turns his face to hide the expression of conflicted pleasure and revulsion, trying to breathe carefully to keep from moaning like a whore. Despite himself his hips twitch, not to squirm away but because it feels good, rocking once between the hand on his erection and the fingers inside him, and he clenches his jaw, feeling debased.]

A woman's body is already capable of bearing children at my age, you know. If I have an interest, I'll do what I want to pursue it.

[Right now what he wants is to steadily keep working on Tristan, one hand's fingers sliding gently in and out while the other firmly strokes, thumb circling the head of his erection. He watches it all with the interest of a cat playing with a mouse, sadistic pleasure written all over his face.]

[The gentleness is unfair. The unrelenting attention isn't helping anything--except to make Tristan's breath quicken and his shoulders hunch in humiliation.]

Ariel...

[The way he whispers the name is a husky mix of pleasure and misery and desperation, a sweetly pleading note of entreaty. Trying hard to fight the pleasure, too disgusted by his own body's responses but unable to stop it from feeling good. His hips actually buck on the next stroke, Ariel's thumb gathering precum when he presses it over the head.]

It's good, isn't it? You can't deny the way you're feeling, no matter how much you want to, so why don't you just let me hear it?

[He could have been brutal, if he'd wanted to. But it's turning out much better to watch Tristan succumb to unwelcome pleasure, caving mired in humiliation and disgust.]

[There's plenty of time to be brutal later. To do whatever he wants.]

This is sick...

[Liking it makes him sick, it has to. How can he be enjoying this at all, let alone feeling his heart race and his balls tighten in pleasure at each stroke of attention.]

Maybe. You're still enjoying it.

[He stretches his fingers apart inside of Tristan, making sure to repeat every action that's gotten the best response. He wants to see him come apart.]

Go on and let it out.