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Fern to a forest, and the glow to a firefly, was the laboratory, as the greenery scattered across the room, lighting it in an oddly warm hue. There was no difference between noon and twilight in the depths of the Abyss, on the 5th layer, and in the Ido Front where the two men stood. Yet, the soundless slumber of writhing creatures and non-existent stars was a dead giveaway for it being the middle of the night. Even the Shadows have gone to sleep, tucked away in the cozy blankets of the Moon that is their bed. All except for one.
“My my, Gueira, you’re a little desperate today, no?” Bondrewd had uttered, hushed and muffled between gasps. His tail could not help but duck in between his legs; trying to pry a certain, broad, and dominating hand away. Pelvis to ass, as Gueira cloaked Bondrewd with his size, one hand having rudely slithered down in between Bondrewd’s legs, and the other dipping its fingers in sinful seams. His fingers were so long, so wide, and so strong; squeezing the areas with just the right amount of force. Bondrewd felt his chest cupped between his fingers, as deft handiwork went to collect its salary: groping and fondling all the areas Bondrewd could not help but softly moan at. Then, a particularly loud gasp escaped, as Gueira gripped and curved his hand a tad bit more assertive between his legs, his fingers famished to press into Bondrewd’s hole, as it twitched and ached beneath the fabric of his trousers.
Gueira hand’s shook. Violently.
Speed of light, Bondrewd’s hand came to place itself atop the one between his thighs, the other lifting to cover where his mouth would be. A fruitless endeavor, would you not say? The door was hinged open, open for the world to see. There were things Bondrewd still had shreds of dignity for, at least at the given time. Which included intimate moments. Gueira, however, never ceased. As he almost lifted Bondrewd with his next aggressive and merciless shove, ramming his fingers and his hands against the area; his other hand gripping Bondrewd’s chest. Tails began to thrash, merely stopping after having wrapped themselves around Gueira’s calf. Yet another muffled moan escaped Bondrewd, elegant as if an accidental noise made at a tea party. Ah, how Gueira had admired such skill, such skill of maintaining such a picture-perfect image and voice during these times.
“You’re so cute, Boss,” Were the whispers carried by the waft of aphrodisiacs, as Gueira made sure that their two bodies could merge into one at any point. Moving about, Gueira needed to find it, somewhere, somewhere it was hidden beneath the layers of clothing.
Gueira pinched. Bondrewd gasped.
“Ah— Gueira, oh— I believe I have already told you, you may call me ‘Bondrewd’—”
Pulling the found, little stud, Gueira nuzzled his head into the crook of Bondrewd’s shoulder, sickeningly and cheekily sweet, meanwhile, Bondrewd was losing his head in the down current streams of insanity.
“Mmmm, of course I know I can, I just like hearing you correct me,”
Gueira pinched it again, more challenging. Squirming, Bondrewd’s hold on Gueira’s hand tightened excruciatingly.
“Mm—! Oh, ah— haha… my… what an odd thing to say…”
“Bondrewd, do you like being touched like this?”
He had inquired, as Bondrewd had already begun to grind his hips against the hand, perhaps unconsciously. Goodness, was it a sight to behold: Bondrewd’s tail clinging onto Gueira’s leg like a child who’s just been sent to boarding school, his thighs quivering ever so slightly from the sheer power that is Gueira’s hands, and Bondrewd looking away, looking away as if bashful. Bashful despite his shamelessly rolling hips and his adorably low whimpers and whines. And his hand, holding Gueira’s, begging it to never stop. One could suppose that that was quite an odd question too. One could also suppose that Bondrewd did not know how enchanting it had felt to be molested, to be violated, and to be groped in all crevasses and all areas. Likely because it was the doings of Gueira. And Gueira only.
“I do—”
“Really?” The beaming of Gueira’s tone and his masked face… the actions of his hands. My, is this man charming, Bondrewd had entertained.
“You are so adorable when you are excited, Gueira—” How uncouth, to interrupt and shut one’s Boss up, as Gueira had unexpectedly begun to stroke the area, stroke with a pressure riddled with passionate lust; faux, passionate, hate. Harder, tougher than ever, his fingers ground and glided across Bondrewd’s crotch, soft, supple, plump, and deliciously cushiony. It felt like a sin to think; Gueira had slightly loathed that Bondrewd did not have a cunt.
All contact between his crotch and Gueira’s fingers was lost. Momentarily.
Adeptly, Gueira removed one glove, his other hand then coming down to tug the lovely zipper open.
“Bondrewd… would you open your mask?”
Chuckles echoed across the laboratory,
“I assume you would be aware of what I ask next, then?”
A nod and Bondrewd lifted his mask, partially to only allow his mouth to be seen. Gueira tucked his face further into Bondrewd’s shoulder, not being able to see anything. Not sparing even a single second, Gueira’s ungloved hands touched its way to shove into Bondrewd’s mouth, slicking, copiously coaxing it in Bondrewd’s saliva. Deeper and deeper, before only the length of such fingers had reached the back of Bondrewd’s throat. He could not help but release a mournful whine when Gueira slid them out. Not that the mourning would last very long.
The linings of Bondrewd’s plush hole twitched as it yearned for something other than the cool air filming itself around it, yearning for something more. Bondrewd gasped, as Gueira’s lusciously wet fingers circled the opening, pressing only the tips into it. His heartbeat the metronome to his breathing, Bondrewd tried all he could to move his hips into the fingers, yet it simply would not allow it. Gueira hugged Bondrewd’s shoulder in response, mocking him, as he dived even deeper into his body, his head rubbing against it. Hurling planets and entire solar systems, Gueira had conquered in not being overwhelmed with the urge to push his thigh in between - leaving his Boss with the only option to ride against, hump against, move his hips against it. God, there were so many things he has pined for to see his Boss doing and God, was there not enough space for each. Maybe tomorrow, he mused.
“Stay still, Bondrewd,”
“My my my, are you commanding me?”
Amusing, more than amusing, Gueira being the one to order Bondrewd around. How arousing. Ropes to a hefty framed artwork snapped, as Gueira hammered in. Oh, how he despised his poor discipline - Bondrewd’s noises were merely beyond erotic, provoking all of Gueira’s senses - candle wax drooling across his body and in particular his length. He would have surprised himself if he had managed to become immune to such noises. Four fingers and Gueira made Bondrewd choke on nothing. Hand on the throat, fingers on his favorite spot, Gueira couldn’t fathom the idea of someone walking in on them, Bondrewd mewling through highs through only his fingers. Simultaneously pressing lightly the sides of Bondrewd’s throat and curving and jamming his fingers against the spot, Gueira felt his cock jolt with each of Bondrewd’s stuttering pants.
“Mm—! Gueira… good, very good — ah! Excellent, wonderful, harder, Gueira, harder—!” One could practically hear the thuds of Gueira’s fingers against the insides of Bondrewd’s navel, as it pummeled it, never stopping and never missing a beat. Every ligament within Bondrewd’s muscles began to unwind and come undone, he was getting defaced by the second, his feet now on tiptoes, Gueira’s power alone capable of hauling Bondrewd upwards with each hit of his fingers. Concertos to his ears, waves of ecstasy tumbling onto him like a never-ending tsunami. They were both going insane.
“Bondrewd, you’re so tight, so so tight for me…” Again, another punch to that lovely spot that Bondrewd never fails to whimper so tantalizingly towards. Punch after punch. Gueira could physically tell that he was close, so dangerously close. Smack to the head, and Gueira manifested a lightbulb above his head.
Languidly, Gueira took all of the time he desired to snake his fingers out of Bondrewd’s hole, scissoring them slightly before exiting. A whimper that was close enough to give Gueira a concussion with its sheer prettiness drooled out of Bondrewd. As much as he loved the unflappable man writhe and squirm with his fingers’ prowess, Gueira could not help but think about the moments he had teased him. He needed to try everything, see if anything was going to be close to making the man beg - even if it means for Gueira to become a jack of all trades. I don’t think I’ve ever…
Bondrewd’s shudder was clear enough that he had been shocked beyond belief as Gueira’s hand slithered into his trousers, getting hold of his own, long-abandoned cock. Long neglected and long put out of order only because Bondrewd was not the kind of man to pleasure himself in his own time, with neither his length nor his opening - it lacked the essence of something… something he had always romantically trumpeted about. Therefore, when Gueira’s fingers had prodded the tip and the smaller opening, a strong, thunderous shiver ran down Bondrewd’s spine.
“Do not tease me, Gueira,”
Voice firm, yet amorous; dead-pan serious yet playfully coy; manly with valiance yet elegant with grace. Gueira started to feel somewhat guilty for knocking up such a lavish man.
“Why? Why not, Boss?”
“My goodness, such defiance! Even your stubborn attitude is so cute…” Engrossed and spellbound by Bondrewd’s sorceries of tone and words, Gueira realized too late the hardness he had grasped Bondrewd’s cock, making him convulse. An efficient man likes efficient mannerisms, and being made to wait for his high was not something he had always fancied. Yet, Gueira, his hands, the homeyness radiating off every atom, every cell of his body, and his young and sleazy quirks… well, Bondrewd is never one to boast about his charm but he could not deny that Gueira had his specialties. A man is capable of a change of mind, after all.
“There, there, Gueira, don’t hold too hard and stroke it like this,” Kneading his hand down, Bondrewd’s hand rested again atop Gueira’s before beginning to guide it. Guiding it to stroke his cock in torpid but thorough movements, seductive, and beyond sensual. Divinely, as if cautiously cleaning one’s rifle. Painting strokes of galaxies with one paintbrush, painting over the once blanked minds with lust anew. Gueira’s breathing hitched, evermore turned on by the confidence that Bondrewd never fails to hold,
“I thought you never used it, Bondrewd,” Gueira breathed against Bondrewd’s ear, drowning in a sea of lewd crudeness,
“And I thought you knew that I have been a man long enough,” Bondrewd purred back, making certain to see eye to eye with Gueira before saying so, each trill in his purr a quiver in Gueira’s cock. Pulping Bondrewd’s chest, Gueira let out a shaky laugh, burdened with the ordeal that was occurring in his heart, his mind, and his length.
“Soft isn’t it?” A frosty slap across his face, Gueira could not catch up,
“S-sorry?”
Bondrewd’s free hand laced itself on top of Gueira’s prompting him to squeeze his chest harder, the rosy stud beneath it being compressed in all of the most amazing manners, making him groan from the sensation. Gueira is damned, he was hair-thin to losing it. Of course, it was soft. He did not even have enough fingers to count parts that were soft from Bondrewd’s body. Staring, gazing fervently, Gueira fell into the yawning depths of Bondrewd’s allure—
A resounding yet evermore light footstep resounded behind them.
“…Papa?”
Gueira almost tripped trying to step away to Bondrewd’s side, his tail being the culprit. Mask snicked shut. Jacket, jacket, jacket - Bondrewd swiftly closed his jacket, just long enough to, unfortunately, cover all that of Gueira’s prizes. Jacket, jacket, jacket— shit, Gueira wasn’t wearing his longer attire today. Quick, as he turned his back, facing the laboratory table, Bondrewd unhurriedly patted his jacket off of invisible dust, as if nothing had ever happened. Nonchalant and level-headed. Whilst Gueira swore sweat was dripping from his mask. His body bleeding from the sudden tear from Bondrewd’s body, like a roughly torn piece of paper, torn at the edges. Or having just tried to yank gum from paper. Ripped with pieces sticking out, Gueira was, nevertheless, not alone in the sentiment.
There, there stood Prushka, in her nightgown, clutching to one of the dolls she had recently been gifted with, as she rubbed her eyes, her hair raggedy. Her eyes were slightly tainted red, her nose pink. A sniffle sounded from her.
“… I had a nightmare…”, another sniffle. The two men only hoped that the rubbing of her eyes had saved her from the sight of them amid… business.
“Oh my… come here, Prushka,” Bondrewd’s voice, even when as elegant and regal as ever, still could not mask entirely the desperation laced in between. He was so close. So damn close. Prushka, each sniffle a step, eventually got close enough to Bondrewd for him to gracefully pick her, carrying her like a princess. Since it would not have been a good idea for someone her height to hug Bondrewd at the given moment. Bondrewd stroked all tears away from her eyes, her head nuzzling his shoulder, her arms clinging to him, not unlike how she would cling to the doll. One glance. One glance towards Gueira, and one glance towards Bondrewd.
This would have been the only time, and hopefully the last time, that Gueira had spite towards his size. How rude, how impolite, as it was a lengthy hill on the side of his inner thigh. Irredeemable. Bondrewd being fatherly did not help either.
“Papa, Gueira, what were you doing?”
Bondrewd paused, thinking. Gueira’s mouth opened behind his mask but Bondrewd was faster,
“We were having a discussion,”
Prushka gave him her classic eyes, overcame with the raging tides of curiosity; what a vague answer after all,
“About what?”
“We were just catching up, uh, about… life…” Bondrewd was no liar, but that did not automatically make Gueira a good one either. Bondrewd could not contain his gentle laugh, shifting Prushka’s mind even further, messing and chewing on jigsaw puzzles that never existed in the first place,
“But you see each other every day!”
Gueira felt the gnaw inside him like a rapid wildfire - God was it bizarre to be facing away in a conversation like this. It crept in the innermost seams of his veins and through his heart - bricks to one’s mouth: pasty and purge-worthy. Bondrewd seemed to have somehow picked the sentiment up.
“Let’s get you to bed, dear Prushka—”
“…Can I sleep here?” Clouds, pillows of the softest feathers, as Prushka pouted, fiddling her fingers innocently, leaning closer into Bondrewd’s chest.
“I promise I won’t listen! I just don’t want to have nightmares again…” Frankly, was Bondrewd given a choice? Pivoting to face the desk once more, Bondrewd was back to being by Gueira’s side, whose hands clutched the edges of the table in a desperate attempt at calming himself down. He was so close. So close to being able to ruin Bondrewd once more, ruin him and make call his name and turn his head to face the man that was utterly rearranging his—
That violet waterfall, like the sound of bamboos knocking, turned to face Gueira once more. Speechless. Gueira was left speechless with the soundless temptation of the glowing line. All turned quiet and he knew what he must do again. Prushka’s head was already bobbing, drowning, clutching longingly on the desire to stay peeled and alive, yet, who is a child who can withstand the sugary hills of slumber? Strike.
Bondrewd could not even gasp, for a hand rode up to his ass, beneath his tail, squeezing the covered ass; the shapely lushness spreading about Gueira’s fingers. Then, a silent yelp, as fingers now dipped into the crevasses of his tail, fondling the barely exposed softness. Bondrewd hugged Prushka tighter. Mischievous man… Bondrewd had murmured within his mind, his tail shaking from the touch. Each change in movements ravished all of Bondrewd’s being, his tail driven over the edge as Gueira pushed his fingers even deeper into the gaping crevasse.
“Not in front of her, dear Gueira, I would not feel that this is right,” Bondrewd murmured between constrained pants, his tail swaying its delight but one of his hands smacking away the ravenous hand. Hole protesting, it twitched.
“Oh really?”
*
Much like the prostitutes in the alleys of the slums, whose legs would shake and whose heads would fall and whose hands were held above, Bondrewd had faced a challenge he had never thought of being an arduous nor straining task. Prushka? Tucked back into bed with Gueira relentlessly groping Bondrewd in between. The two men? Right in the hallways near Prushka’s room, not having even bothered to save their shreds of dignity and stroll for a bit back to one of their quarters. The challenge? To shut himself up. Rather, accept Gueira shutting him up. His hand was wide enough to even encompass both of Bondrewd’s wrists, as they were held up high above his head, completely at Gueira’s mercy. Otherworldly filth reeked from the squelches and slaps of clothes that have ensued. Waistcoat to his waist, Gueira’s last hand made sure to grip onto Bondrewd, putting the dirty hands of the wealthy men whose dicks lust after whores to shame. More than indecent, more than vulgar, and certainly a lot more than lewd, as with Gueira’s strength alone, Bondrewd was bouncing whorishly. Each pound was so fast, so rough, it felt like you could not even see the movement of Gueira’s hips, only his cock that stabbed Bondrewd many a few times too much to his sense. Without even having removed his helmet, you could envision, solely from his gasps and pants and moans, that Bondrewd was drooling and weeping tears of unadulterated jubilation. What Gueira did not seem to understand, was that fucking a man harder is not going to shut him up. A seemingly straightforward concept having been thrown out from the wraths of impatience.
Hands above his head, Bondrewd seemed so small, so minute, so pitiful, his body and his waist like a tapered arrowhead. God, did Gueira envy Sumama. Bondrewd’s neck was wide open, pleading to be wrecked with bruises and stains, but Gueira’s hands were already full. God, if he had more, he would have pried his mask open, pried Bondrewd’s legs even further apart for Gueira. For Gueira to take him and split him and shatter him into a million shards of non-refractive glass. Squelches, now like footsteps of the echoing halls, only added more wood to the fire within Gueira.
Fuck it.
“Hold tight, Bondrewd,” muttered Gueira, low and almost condescending to the loudness that was their lovemaking. A fruitless endeavor, truly, as Bondrewd’s hearty chuckles danced across the hall, as with tangoing the man before him,
“My my, my my my, still commanding me—?”
Hands off. Mask, not lifted, but thrown. Gueira made his last dive, yanking the frilly scarf out of his way. Both arms enveloping Bondrewd now had double the strength, double the vigor, and double the momentum. Bondrewd should have held tight. Arching impossibly more into Gueira, Bondrewd cried out. Cried out Gueira’s name and cried out, weaved from the loom of lust, threads of moans and threads of mewls being the heart-stoppers of the gown of heat. A strong suck, a bite, and a kiss. It was a shame for how back Bondrewd had thrown his head, unable to constantly view the handsome face that had always lied beneath the otherwise plain and ordinary mask. His features never mattered to the details, all Bondrewd would ever lament not knowing, was that it was no dull face. And when Bondrewd laments, he has a plan to find the solution.
“You’re too loud, Bondrewd,” Another thrust from below. Bondrewd briefly wondered whether Gueira was mighty enough to fuck him through and into the wall but all thoughts perished with the next thrust. More. More. Gueira seasoned Bondrewd’s neck thoroughly, each suck mimicking each ram and each propels. He made sure to cover all of it, from left to center to right. When Bondrewd thought Gueira was at his lowest of energies, he was wrong. When Bondrewd thought Gueira was as hard as possible, he was wrong. The world was spinning and the floor was moving, as the already gargantuan cock within Bondrewd stretched further, deeper into him. Pressed against the wall, Bondrewd had somehow never fully realized Gueira’s size, only now moaning out screams barely clinging to the names of poise, as it lived up to the phrase of rearranging one’s guts. So hard, so long and so full. Bondrewd felt stuffed, a child who had indulged in more than they could take of sweets. From the length to the come, Bondrewd could only listlessly clamp down on the intruder.
Gueira, for a moment, pondered what the other Umbra Hands would have thought of him now; would they look down upon him with disgust, would they be envious, would they not give a single shit? They were right in the hallway, anyone, everyone can just walk in, and watch the two mindless men fuck to their soul’s content. What would the others think of him?
Would he have been the first man to ever use Bondrewd like this? Fuck into him, use him, ruin him, break him, split him, and take him for all he is, and never let a single drop of that delicious honey to waste. Would he have been the first man to have Bondrewd crying out like this? Gasping, panting, mewling, moaning, whimpering, and whining as he whips his head around from the exceeding stimulation.
If Bondrewd were a lady, Gueira wondered how many children they would already have by now. How many sisters and brothers would Prushka have? “Blood only helps” - of course, it is not necessary. But from Heaven’s gates, Gueira carnally wished to mark, tag, and claim Bondrewd in any form. He wanted everyone, from the Surface to the Ido Front, that the man panting under his cock was his. And his only.
Hot, hot lava pooled around Bondrewd’s navel, sticking out even with the layers of clothes he had.
What a good father.
For once, Bondrewd obeyed. From brash and audacious noises to only gasps that would sound each time the force of Gueira’s hips sent him up or further against the wall. Gueira sorely sighed over the reckless act of tossing his helmet elsewhere as Bondrewd, somehow, at some point, managed to just collect a bit of himself and glared into Gueira’s bare face. For the first time, Gueira now empathized with those who consider Bondrewd daunting. Hypnotized, Gueira ceased all movement, not having even needed to think about so. Gloved palms, whose warmth was great enough to penetrate them, cupped his face. Fields of periwinkle tulips flooded Gueira’s cheeks. Blades of grass meandered across his fluttering eyelashes, his eyes heavy, his eyes barely managing to see Bondrewd in all of his glory.
“Oh? My, you are so handsome,”
Lips twisting into waves, Gueira hastily burrowed his head into Bondrewd’s neck once more,
“How marvelous, to earn such a fine face,” Gold, honey, money, coursed from the top of Gueira’s head to his feet, a ripple, a shiver, from the drop of a rock that was the syrupy tremors of Bondrewd’s words. So charming and for what? The white paint of the highest qualities gushed out from Gueira. Irresistible. Bondrewd bucked into Gueira, his hole trembling, spasming from the abrupt release, legs clenching around Gueira’s hips. As come washed Bondrewd’s insides, shame washed over Gueira.
One compliment by his Boss and he was over.
So much for a 9-foot-tall, grown man whose strength is threateningly sturdy. A feathery, airy chuckle billowed from Bondrewd, obvious in its exhaustion. Gueira delved even more into Bondrewd’s neck, glissading down to his chest. Like a cat’s… wow, he smells nice… Gueira’s unaware nestling into Bondrewd’s chest had drawn out another chuckle. Damn… He couldn’t resist, he could only give in to the mesmerizing scents and plushness of Bondrewd’s bust. A fond hand came to pat and rub Gueira’s head,
“You are truly adorable,”
Gueira peered upwards, only his glimmering eyes visible to Bondrewd. A tender hand delicately landed on the side of his face. Endearing beyond measure.
Funny, isn’t it? To feel safest in the darling touch of Bondrewd’s hands,
The same hands that would be clasped behind his back, as children plummeted to fates worse than death.
Gueira suddenly had the stamina for round two.