[Every repeat is torture, it feels good and it makes Tristan's chest hurt, he wants to crawl out of his own skin he's so appalled by how turned on he is at this point. Even trying to hold back, he's starting to gasp softly, a low moan dragging out of him at something Ariel's fingers do. The same fucking hands that murdered June are getting him off and it's disgusting.]
[This is cruel, making him enjoy it, and he's starting to cry again, tears blurring his vision.]
[And all at once he lets himself scream, a sudden yell of wordless emotion, everything pent up from the last horrible hour, terror and hurt and grief and fury and fear and disgust and humiliation and need, all dragging out of him until his voice is a ragged wheeze. And he's arching his back, thrusting against Ariel's hands without even a hint of restraint, coming hard and abruptly.]
[Ariel doesn't stop until Tristan's completely spent, just smiling while he screams and while he comes. That's a beautiful sound and a beautiful sight, and he won't forget it. That he could make his brother sound so intense and look so shattered is a pleasure that makes him shiver all down his spine.
His face is heated from it, from thinking about what he's done and what he's going to do in the future, and he can't help if he looks a little needy himself when he sits back to survey the results of his work so far. His trails his already sticky fingers in the warm semen, lifting them to his mouth to lick the same way he always licks frosting stolen from one of Tristan's cakes. His pupils are blown wide, his cheeks pink, and it's just a matter of deciding how he's going to go about finishing this before he makes his next move.]
[Tristan stares at Ariel, watching him lick his fingers with Tristan's cum on them, and he doesn't even know what he feels anymore. It's weirdly erotic but he doesn't want to think of it that way, but even when he rebels at it it's true. He feels heavy and warm from orgasm and sick and gross from everything else. He doesn't try to look away or hide his face, too exhausted and spent, just trying to breathe.]
[He gets a few moments to catch his breath, at least. It takes that long for Ariel to settle on finishing what he started, and to wriggle out of his own clothes (he doesn't want to get his things messy). But then he's back, tugging at Tristan's hips and pressing into him without any further verbal teasing. He's too wound up himself at this point. He just wants, and he's eager and just a bit rough in his taking.]
[Tristan cries out hoarsely, sore and oversensitive from his recent orgasm. He barely has a voice to protest with though, nonverbal as he is. He's tight, though at least Ariel's fingers loosened him enough not to leave this tearing him open. It's not so bad as it could be. He squirms, twisting his hips away. The movements likely do nothing to stop it from feeling good, the expression on his face, looking straight at Ariel, raw with emotion. ]
[That's such a pretty face. He hopes to see it a lot from now on, whenever he wants it. And he will, of course. He'll have anything he wants, although right now holding onto Tristan's hips is a little difficult, given that he still is bigger and stronger. But Ariel is determined, and he'll resort to violence again if he has to.]
[He lifts the spell as promised, freeing Tristan's wrists from their binding. He expects good behavior now, and untenses, resting one hand on his brother's stomach and gripping his hip with the other as he fucks him. His breath is shaky and his face flushed, composure wavering a bit with a pleasure he's still not entirely used to.]
[Tris cradles his broken hand to his chest. As promised, he doesn't struggle, taking in deep slow breaths as well as he can against the reality of being fucked for the first time, by his own brother.]
[Seeing Ariel look like that, his composure cracking, it's so odd. Tristan tilts his hips into what Ariel is doing, not out of pleasure, not right now, but if he's being obedient he doesn't want this to last. If he's going to get used to this, if he isn't going to resist, he can try to make it go quicker.]
[Fortunately for Tristan, Ariel's inexperience doesn't give him much stamina. It doesn't take long at this pace before he finishes, gasping sharply and coming inside of his brother with a shudder.]
Hah-- It's better with you than a stranger, after all.
[It feels strange and hot and weird feeling Ariel's semen inside him. He looks away, feeling really cold and unsettled, Ariel's words making him shiver.]
[He pulls out and hops off the bed in obvious good spirits, gathering his things as if to head to the bath, like this was nothing out of the ordinary.]
[Tris doesn't even have the energy to curl on his side, sprawled where he is still holding his broken wrist and wondering if this just... Did that all just happen? It's so surreal and terrifying that the world is continuing on despite it... But it's not his first encounter with real violence, it's not the first time he's had to sit up and deal with grief and helplessness.]
[It's just this time he feels a lot filthier.]
........You're too young....
[For any of this. It's horrifying. Actually he feels honestly sick, maybe he should go throw up.]
[He can't say goodnight. He can't respond nicely. He can't. Make this seem normal. He just. Pushes himself up. He needs to get cleaned up. He feels gross.]
[Well he'll have to wait, since Ariel's taking the bath first. That's selfishness, but also a move intended to force Tristan to sit and and stew in being debauched and taken apart.]
[It's not like he has a choice, he's not going in there with Ariel, so he'll wait outside and shiver, the feeling of his brother's cum running out of him and just... Everything. It's hideous. Horrifying. He's trying not to curl up and cry.]
[He'll take a niiiice long hot bath, relaxing and enjoying the feeling of a successful conquest. And afterwards, he takes the fluffiest towel and heads to bed juuust as happy, with no intention of fixing that broken wrist tonight unless Tristan comes to ask for it.]
[Like hell he's asking for it, he won't look at Ariel when his brother passes him and he'll wash himself as best he can even though it's hard and painful one-handed. Drying himself is more painful, and the house isn't so big Ariel can't hear him making noises and swearing softly. But he manages, he gets clean, and dry, and somehow struggles into a loose shirt and pants and curls up in bed avoiding the gross wet spot and wishing his room didn't smell like sex. Until he gives up and grabs his pillow and goes to sleep on the couch.]
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[This is cruel, making him enjoy it, and he's starting to cry again, tears blurring his vision.]
[And all at once he lets himself scream, a sudden yell of wordless emotion, everything pent up from the last horrible hour, terror and hurt and grief and fury and fear and disgust and humiliation and need, all dragging out of him until his voice is a ragged wheeze. And he's arching his back, thrusting against Ariel's hands without even a hint of restraint, coming hard and abruptly.]
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[Ariel doesn't stop until Tristan's completely spent, just smiling while he screams and while he comes. That's a beautiful sound and a beautiful sight, and he won't forget it. That he could make his brother sound so intense and look so shattered is a pleasure that makes him shiver all down his spine.
His face is heated from it, from thinking about what he's done and what he's going to do in the future, and he can't help if he looks a little needy himself when he sits back to survey the results of his work so far. His trails his already sticky fingers in the warm semen, lifting them to his mouth to lick the same way he always licks frosting stolen from one of Tristan's cakes. His pupils are blown wide, his cheeks pink, and it's just a matter of deciding how he's going to go about finishing this before he makes his next move.]
My, that was even louder than I expected.
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[He gets a few moments to catch his breath, at least. It takes that long for Ariel to settle on finishing what he started, and to wriggle out of his own clothes (he doesn't want to get his things messy). But then he's back, tugging at Tristan's hips and pressing into him without any further verbal teasing. He's too wound up himself at this point. He just wants, and he's eager and just a bit rough in his taking.]
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[That's such a pretty face. He hopes to see it a lot from now on, whenever he wants it. And he will, of course. He'll have anything he wants, although right now holding onto Tristan's hips is a little difficult, given that he still is bigger and stronger. But Ariel is determined, and he'll resort to violence again if he has to.]
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Okay. ....Okay.
[He concedes, voice rough. Unhappy with this but submitting. He's already submitted to so much already. ]
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Good.
[He lifts the spell as promised, freeing Tristan's wrists from their binding. He expects good behavior now, and untenses, resting one hand on his brother's stomach and gripping his hip with the other as he fucks him. His breath is shaky and his face flushed, composure wavering a bit with a pleasure he's still not entirely used to.]
You can relax. You may as well get used to this.
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[Seeing Ariel look like that, his composure cracking, it's so odd. Tristan tilts his hips into what Ariel is doing, not out of pleasure, not right now, but if he's being obedient he doesn't want this to last. If he's going to get used to this, if he isn't going to resist, he can try to make it go quicker.]
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Hah-- It's better with you than a stranger, after all.
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When...
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[He pulls out and hops off the bed in obvious good spirits, gathering his things as if to head to the bath, like this was nothing out of the ordinary.]
It's none of your business.
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[It's just this time he feels a lot filthier.]
........You're too young....
[For any of this. It's horrifying. Actually he feels honestly sick, maybe he should go throw up.]
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[He pauses in the doorway to turn back and give Tristan one more warning smile.]
You won't tell anyone, of course. Goodnight, Tristan.
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[He can't say goodnight. He can't respond nicely. He can't. Make this seem normal. He just. Pushes himself up. He needs to get cleaned up. He feels gross.]
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