Sex in C Major

"You can cry and whine and yell all you want," Daz said calmly, probing around his opening with a single finger. The nail dragged threateningly, and Stefan held his breath. "But any more words out of you, and I'll get that chastity belt."

Stefan sucked in his lips and bit them.

"Better."

Three fingers were pushed in-and now it was beginning to hurt. Stefan was slick from his orgasm downstairs, but Daz wasn't, and the stretch burned. Stefan began to whimper with every thrust. The feel of them inside he was a glove, nothing more, and it felt seedy and impersonal and so, so good. A wave of dizziness swept over him when he felt Daz slowly push a fourth finger inside. Oh God. Oh God, was he going to fist Stefan? Would he

The hand was withdrawn. Stefan gulped for air, staring at the ceiling, then looked down himself. His dick was swollen and red; his thighs were shaking. Daz saw him looking, and sank his teeth into Stefan's inner thigh. Inches from his dick. Stefan threw his head back and yelled as teeth broke skin and he felt the hot smear of blood. His nerves exploded. He opened his mouth-to beg, to ask for more, to be sucked and licked and to come on Daz's mouth, to come between those dangerous teeth so it hurt-

Something cold pressed against his entrance.

"I'd relax if I were you."

Stefan whimpered. He couldn't. His nerves were frayed. His muscles were tight and shaking. He tried to let go, tried to open up for the coolness, but couldn't. It was too cold. Too large. Too foreign and frightening. Too strange.

Daz's mouth sealed over his dick, and sucked.

Stefan yelled. His nerves exploded. His muscles shuddered-and between them, cold rubber. It was forced into him, punching through the seize and grip of his climax, holding him open so that he came, but didn't finish; so that the world spun away, but he just kept falling. Wet heat sucking on his dick kept him in a frenzy, but he couldn't bear down, couldn't grind through it, couldn't milk the feeling for all the fire it could generate.

Cold air rushed over his cock. Stefan thrashed, gasped soundlessly, and stilled. The dildo inside of him was too big. He was a butterfly on a pin, stuck and dying, ripped open-

Daz pushed.

Stefan burst into tears as the dildo sank deeper. It was cold. Alien. Hostile. It hurt, and it didn't care. It was a toy seeking a sheath. It was an object to fuck another. It forced his legs and hips apart, buried so deep it felt like it could rise up to his throat and choke him. It was an object, piercing another object, and it hurt.

And when it dragged, the ridges on its surface caught and tugged and left him scraped raw and hollow, empty, adrift, spread thin and alone, wispy and delicate and fading away-

Stefan's entire body moved when it was thrust back in. He sobbed. His legs hung limp. His body rocked with every thrust. The brutal punch inwards, the pain and weight filling him and making him whole and centring him, pulling all the pieces together and welding them into something new and wanted-

And then the tearing fear. The emptiness. The dizzy spin of the bed. The world slipping away, darkening above him, distant and uncaring. Lost. Dead. Gone.

And in again.

Stefan cried as the rhythm got faster. The bed was shaking now. He could feel the bang of the headboard against the wall. His arms trembled on the mattress. He was slick and wet. His dick was crying for touch. He lifted his shaking hands and caught them on the headboard, pushing himself down, forcing himself still. Forcing himself to take it. And it hurt, God, it hurt, so damn good-

A bang

Stefan's blood ran cold.

The front door.

He blinked away the tears and looked down himself at Daz.

Blue eyes stared right back.

A smirk formed.

"Best," Daz whispered, "be very, very quiet."

Stefan opened his mouth. A ragged breath.

"P-ple-ah!"

The thrust was brutal. Stefan bit his lip, and blood trickled down his chin. The toy was being twisted. The ridges caught in all new places. The angle was changing. Stefan gasped when he felt Daz's fingers, when the dildo disappeared into him entirely and stilled.

That massive bulk stilled.

Stefan fought for air. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.

Then Daz closed his legs.

The movement-the rub inside, the shift of rubber, the muscles forced open and closed all at once-made the tears run over again, and Stefan strained to keep quiet.

Daz's dick was hot over his own. Slick. Wet.

It dragged.