Chapter Text
"Isn't it wonderful?"
Gountess looked up, though there was no need. He knew that voice better than any other. Mangy, matted clumps of hair fell around his face, obscuring his view.
There he stood, in that god-awful getup he couldn’t be caught without. At first, it was charming. Fitting, even. After all, he was an entertainer, and what good would he be without a suit that matched his demeanor? He was the Devil in sheepskin. The flesh of his body was not seen as his own, but as a temporary housing for his soul, which belonged in a god-like form beyond human comprehension. Or whatever the fuck he had said last week. Gountess tended to zone out halfway through his rants.
“What?” Gountess rasped, not really listening.
He had fallen from heaven like Lucifer, begging for answers that only He Himself could provide. According to the bastard, his rule would be 'peaceful,' and 'there would be no bloodshed!'
“I said, I’ll be hosting the Doll Festival this year. Isn’t that splendid?” The reporter beamed. “Everything’s going exactly according to plan. I’m sure you’re glad.”
“Why would I be?”
“The Sphereite will be there,” Mymo chuckled. “I’m certain of it.”
“The wh–”
“That’s no matter now. You’re looking rather weak today, Gountess,” said the Devil, caressing his face. “Shall I help?”
Gountess’s face remained stern. “You shan’t.”
“Why not, pray tell?”
“I don’t need your help.”
“You’ve always needed my help, darling. You wouldn’t be alive, were it not for me.”
“You wretch.”
“Wretch is a new one.”
“It fits you damn well.”
This was something Mymo couldn’t deny. Not that he’d want to, anyway. Gountess’s insults always sent a silent thrill through his system. If it were anyone else, he’d have put them in their place. The thing was, there wouldn’t be a point in putting Gountess back in his place. He knew where it was; Mymo had engrained it into his sense of self. The only reasonable course of action left would be humiliation.
“Don’t try to fight me, Knock. It never works.” Mymo hummed, lifting his jaw with more force than necessary. Gountess’s dark eyes were bloodshot, most likely from sheer exhaustion. For a split second, they gleamed.
“It won’t work in the long run, either. You can try to overrule me all you want! That’s exactly what makes it so entertaining. This arrangement we have–you’re like a pet,” He continued, eyes narrowing. “An asset is what you are, and I make sure to use every aspect of the assets I have within reach.”
Gountess tuned out the rest of his ramble. It was always the same old tired bullshit. Mymo began to play with the tangles of Knock’s hair. To himself, he would be a deity. To Gountess, he was a fool. That was not the reason he was here. Mymo often stopped by to drop an order, pushing Gountess’s mechanical heart to its very limits. This time was different. Gountess could taste it in the air.
“...I was thinking of our partnership,” Mymo smirked. “You don’t have to antagonize me if you simply do what I ask of you willingly.”
“Partnership?!” Gountess spat, breath shaky. “This is all your doing. Your incessant commands, these delusions of grandeur you’ve come up with… I’ve played no part in creating them.”
“Oh, but you have, Gountess!” The devil cooed, voice softening over his name. His long, red-tipped fingernails spread their way behind his shoulders, rubbing them softly. He could probably snap his neck if he wanted to. “You’ve been a perfect little pawn, ever since the day you tried to quit. Hell, even before!”
Gountess looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. “...No.”
“I’m afraid that “no” isn’t going to cut it. You haven’t paid me your dues in a long time. That’s our little deal, remember? I keep you alive, and you give me something in return.”
There was no “deal,” no matter what Mymo did to make it sound like there was.
“This time, I’m thinking of something a little …different.” Mymo smiled, straightening his coat out. “I’ll need to warm you up first, though. I’m going to ask you something quite personal. Answer me truthfully, Gountess: Have you any...experience?”
Mymo glanced down, his implication clear.
This was what he was doing it for? Sex? Really? Last time Gountess checked, The Ground had plenty of prostitutes. If he was really this down, why him? Mymo hadn’t struck him as gay, either. Visually, sure, but he had never made any sort of advances towards him.
A more pressing issue: he couldn’t give the man any pleasure from his position. Unsure of Mymo’s intentions, Gountess opened his legs slightly. The reporter ground his knee against the Giver’s crotch, eventually finding a seat on his lap. His bony ass dug into Gountess’s thighs. When God closed a door, He always opened a window.
“...Barely.”
Mymo grinned, quickly shifting his position on the other man’s lap. Gountess was a sight to behold: weak, somewhat angry, and very, very flustered. As expected, he was half-hard already. Doesn’t take him much, Mymo breathed. For a man of his position, even bending down for a tool such as this was an insult. However, in this situation… He ran his fingers over Gountess’s cock, pausing suddenly.
“Good. Now, beg.”
His hands were smooth. Warm. He was so pent-up, hardly thinking of anything but Mymo’s fingers working on him. Without hesitation, Gountess nodded, trembling slightly.
“Words, Gountess,” the Devil hissed. “You have quite a vocabulary, and I intend for you to use it. Now, form your request.”
Gountess’s face flushed red, though if with embarrassment or arousal Mymo could not tell. He opened his lips, then closed them. “I- I need...”
“What do you need?” Mymo drawled, dragging his hand across Gountess’s jawline. “Me?”
“...”
Mymo seemed to think for a second before speaking again. “That’s underwhelming.”
Sh-shut up,” Gountess cringed slightly at the stutter, not making eye contact. “Just...”
“Haven’t you any dignity?” the Devil mocked, wrapping his fingers around Gountess’s clothed length.
Gountess nearly bucked his hips up to meet the other man’s movements.
“No. You’ve taken it all, you wretch.”
“Ah-ah-ah!” Mymo scolded, abruptly stopping. “You won’t get anything from me talking like that. Now, ask me nicely.”
“...Just do it.”
“Alright, then.” he hissed, pulling Gountess in by the neck and twisting Connect tightly around one of his knuckles. He released the string after a few seconds. Rope burn, probably.
“You move too much.” Mymo whispered into his ear, nipping at the lobe. Gountess turned his head as to escape the other man’s gaze.
“You talk too m–!”
A rough groping of the crotch was enough to shut Gountess up. Eyes closed, he felt a zipper let down. The thin material of his pants was shoved from his hips to his knees, cold air hitting his thighs and undergarments. Mymo pulled those down as well, stroking his now-exposed sex. A throaty groan of discomfort escaped him.
Mymo crouched down quickly, pulling the other man’s legs apart with one hand. In the other, Elenhos was clutched. Gountess peered through a gap in his grey fringe. Did he have that before?
Gently, his mouth grazed the inside of his right thigh, sending a shiver down Gountess’s spine. He was practically throbbing at this point, scoffing at the detour that Mymo had taken. This was just a game to him, nothing more. The whole ordeal was some sick fantasy the Devil had put into play.
“F-Fuck!”
Mymo sank his dull, thick teeth into Gountess’s inner thigh, tearing into the soft meat and sucking on the wound as if it were the dead flesh of an animal. Blood seeped from it, oozing out in a slow, thin river. Crimson coated his leg as Mymo spread it, wiping his hand on Gountess’s (discarded) clothing. Pain hit like a bullet, snapping him temporarily out of his lust-induced haze. Gountess trembled, dumbfounded at the fact that he had broken skin–a lot of it, at that.
The reporter stepped back to gaze at his handiwork. Not bad, not bad at all. Without further warning, he jammed his finger into one of the slits his teeth had left, making a show of licking the blood off his fingertip.
“There we go,” he chuckled, looking up at Gountess. Pain was of no importance to him, really. It’d be a while until that wound healed, but it would be better before he’d know it.
Besides, Mymo’d have to treat it for infection somehow. Without his Watchman giver alive, his efforts at achieving godhood would be in vain.
“You have quite a high tolerance, Knock. Full of surprises, as always!”
It was impossible to fully drown him out. Order after order, day after day, his voice had engrained itself into Gountess’s brain. Perhaps it had even worked its way into his subconscious.
Click!
The sudden noise interrupted Gountess’s thoughts. Fuck, not again. Sometimes he would lose consciousness. Other times he’d be frozen in place, unable to control his own thoughts. Nothing had actually happened through Elenhos, not yet, but Mymo was as unpredictable as any.
“I order you to stop…squirming.” Mymo said, wiping the remainder of blood from his stained lips. Almost instantly, Gountess’s body fell limp against his restraints. The straps dug into his biceps. He could still speak, probably due to Mymo’s constant need for audible validation, but his movement was limited. Circumstances had been worse in the past; he would probably consider this one of Mymo’s more generous commands.
To make matters worse, he could also still feel. He pressed his thin, gaunt thighs together, smearing the blood.
Mymo’s hand reached down again, scooping up a palmful of blood and smearing it over the tip of Gountess’s cock, rubbing it in with his precome. It wasn’t half bad as lube, not that they’d need any. The reporter had no intention of that. At the current moment.
Slowly, he reached down to suckle at the tip, letting his tongue take the place of his hand. At least his mouth was useful for something.
You’re so good. The words fell from Gountess’s lips without a second thought, not bothering to hide the mild frustration in his tone. Mymo let out a soft noise of acknowledgement underneath him, taking him entirely into his mouth. His lips were soft, moist with saliva. Gountess bit his cracked own, tasting the sharp, salty tang of blood that followed. Perhaps Mymo could leave one of those marks on his neck.
Pretend it’s someone else. Anyone else. Of course it had to be Mymo. Him, of all people. Gountess’s mind wandered, settling on a rather erotic image of Too Lily. The curve of her hips, soft weight of her breasts–much better. If only it were Lily pleasuring him.
Noticing Gountess’s distraction, Mymo pressed his front row of teeth against the Giver’s sensitive sex with a low chuckle, bringing him back to reality. The man under him was anything but ideal, and Gountess grimaced at the thought. He jerked his head up in an attempt to ignore Mymo’s ridiculous mass of turquoise hair, ignoring how much he loathed their positions. Instead, he focused on how well Mymo was sucking his dick. Fuck, he must have done this a thousand times over, he was so good. He’s a goddamn whore, figures. A disgusting son of a bitch who uses his power to get off on his subordinates.
Were it not for his restraints, Gountess would have pushed Mymo off, turned him over, stripped him naked from the waist down and fucked the man himself. He could picture it now, the blood oozing down his legs, tainting Mymo’s skin. Gountess was nothing short of large, something he was almost positive Mymo was not. Nothing too wild, but certainly above the average. Despite being a technical virgin, he had no doubt in his mind that it’d be somewhat of a stretch for Mymo. He’d shove something into his mouth, too, silence his mindless chatter. Maybe, if the mood was right, he’d spare his mouth, make him hiss and whimper. A satisfying thought.
This was a fantasy, nothing more. It couldn’t possibly be more. Dominance resided only in Gountess’s mind. No, he wasn’t the one in charge here, as much as he’d like to think he was. Anything Mymo gave to him, he had to accept. Desperation would be a proper word. He was desperate. In a situation like this, who wouldn’t be?
It took all of the strength that Gountess had to not beg. His breaths now came shorter, more ragged. The other man practically engulfed him. There wasn't much more Knock could think of but the wetness of it all. It was perfect. The best he’d felt in ages. The aches in his body had begun to subside, now replaced with pleasure.
Close. Fuck. Maybe he truly was God. He felt like God. Gountess’s back arched in order to thrust deeper up. This was it, he just needed a bit more. Just a few more seconds, and–
“–I have a business meeting at four,” Mymo inhaled deeply, pulling off and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Elenhos clicked off. “The channel’s making some bullshit changes again to accommodate for the Festival. I’ll not be back until around ...say, eight? Maybe later.”
“What?” Gountess grunted softly, not processing the sudden cease of stimulation.
“You’re losing your hearing, too?”
The Giver practically whimpered his next words, his erection glaring up between the two. “And this?”
Mymo scoffed as if he hadn’t been on his knees a moment previous. “What of that? It’s no concern of mine if you can’t control your own body, Knock! You’re like a teenager, really. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so damn pathetic.”
Gountess’s nails dug into his palms. The heat of the moment was gone. “Gods don’t succumb to desires of the flesh.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve been seduced by carnal desires. A deity wouldn’t even think of stooping to this level.”
Mymo stood in silence, eyes hard and cold.
His face communicated a phrase along the lines of: “Say something like that again and I’ll rip that godforsaken string off your neck and choke you to death with it, Watchman or not. You’re lucky I’ve let you live this long without taking it.” However, Mymo did not. He refused to let his pet get the best of him. Instead, he paused, contemplating his next words. His mouth formed a small smirk.
“If you really think that, then you don’t know anything about me, Gountess. You’re out of your element.”
“I know more than I’d like to,” Gountess groaned, not entirely convinced nor intimidated by Mymo’s implied threat. His voice was quieter now, more subdued. “I’ve gathered from every time you’ve taken–”
“We’ll discuss this later,” Mymo waved his hand dismissively, the other man’s words clearly striking a nerve of sorts. “I’m not done using you quite yet.”
Gountess’s panting grew softer as Mymo walked out of the room. He swallowed hard, his throat uncharacteristically dry. The humidity in the air had risen, making the sensation of it against his skin all the more unpleasant. Whatever Mymo had planned for him upon his return, he would be ready for.