primordialice | PSL - NSFW, approach with caution

PSL - NSFW, approach with caution

- If you're looking to make an appointment to speak with the Administrator, please speak with Ms. Marette at the front desk.
- If you're looking to schedule a boxing match with the Administrator, please speak with Mr. Roussimoff in the Pankration Ring.
- If you have a really, really urgent matter that desperately needs the Administrator's attention right now, please find a senior guard and relay your information to them.
- If you have a new tea variety you'd like the Administrator to try, please leave it with Ms. Marette at the front desk or knock to the rhythm of the first movement of Furina's Benevolence and he will be with you shortly.

All other matters are first come, first served.

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Scar's cheekbone throbs from the impact on the stone floor, possibly broken. "You like begging, don't you? Like being the one to grant mercy, or deny it."

He shifts, moving so that Brighella's cock moves within him, and his breath stutters at the sensation. "You like me at your mercy, Brigi? Chained?"

Brighella presses down harder, grinding him a little more into the cold floor of the cavern. "You're talking too much, Mezzetino." It feels too much like being seen - for someone so used to being veiled in layer after layer of lies, it makes him edgy.

But the other question, that one's much easier to answer. He growls, shoving his cock in hard. "Oh, I fucking love that."

Scar laughs breathlessly, the pain in his cheek bright and searing. "Better shut me up then, hadn't you? If I can still talk too much."

He gasps at the sudden thrust, then rocks back into it with a groan. He actually doesn't have much of a sex life since Dottore changed him--almost everyone is too afraid of him to let him that close. Brighella is a welcome exception to that, and he could almost be glad enough of it to go along even if he wasn't enjoying the specifics.

Oh, but he is.

"Not going to break, dear Brighella. Fuck me like you mean it." As long as he can talk, he's unlikely to stop goading.

"Guess I'd better." He grabs hold of Scar's head by his hair and knocks it sharply against the floor. If he manages to keep talking, at least he won't be so fucking coherent about it.

Brighella hasn't had much of a sex life either, at least not since he and Regrator had stopped fucking. Around the other Harbingers he looks like he's sixteen and around the prison he's the Warden - or Lord Harbinger - professional and untouchable. He knows it wouldn't do for rumours about his tastes to get spread around, so the few times he's felt the need to let off steam it's been above the surface and in disguise. This is a nice break, even nicer since he can do whatever he wants to Mezzetino and he knows he'll take it with pleasure, even if he doesn't have the manners to say thank you.

Brighella growls like the wolf he turned into during their fight. "I'll fuck you however I please, Mezzo, and you will take it. You don't have a fucking choice, do you?" He slams his hips in, sheathing himself the rest of the way inside him. The heat is almost unbearable, but it's good.

Scar grunts when his head is slammed into the floor and lays still for a moment, with a sharp gasp when Brighella seats himself to the hilt. "Mm... no choice," he agrees, dazed. When was the last time he was this overpowered, for anything but being strapped to a table for Dottore to examine? His head spins, and it's a good thing his face is already on the floor or his dizziness might actually affect anything. He rocks back against Brighella with a sigh. The light-headed whirling feels almost peaceful, and the other man's cock is chill inside him, and he is the closest to content he has been in years, for a moment.

Brighella chuckles softly as Mezzetino goes quiescent under him, starting to move steadily, rocking into him with one hand on his hip and the other in his hair, his grip still firm despite Scar's more subdued state. He's expecting a fairly quick recovery, after all. "Mmmm, I knew you'd be good like this, Mezzo, you're taking my cock wonderfully." He punctuates that with another snap of his hips. "And so tight, fuck -" It's so damn good. Other men might have trouble controlling themselves, but it'll take more to make Brighella lose himself.

"Been so long..." Scar admits, still slow and dazed. "Too strong, too nightmarish..." And most people don't want that. And people who are afraid of him are boring.

Brighella isn't afraid. Brighella is the farthest thing from it. If Scar was an ordinary man, he might be afraid of provoking someone who can so wholly outmatch him.

He isn't.

"Can take it, take more--" He rocks back against the other man, to the degree Brighella's grip on him allows it.

"You're beautiful, Mezzo. Most beautiful monster I've ever seen." His hand in Scar's hair gentles for a moment, but just a moment. "Next time I'll show you I'm serious." The thought of getting intimate with Scar in his beast form - that definitely gets his blood pumping.

"Ah-ah-ah-" Brighella chuckles, his grip tightening again. "You get more when I'm good and ready, Mezzo. This is about what I want, remember? If you want to take what you want, you'll have to beat me first."

Scar's hands flex, black claws lengthening from his fingertips to scrape the air. He laughs, rough and breathless. "No one's ever called my real skin beautiful before..." Because even if it's the self he can be driven out of, he considers it a truer shape than this small one, cramped and pale.

Brighella actually wants him, isn't just doing this because he's available and desperate and unresisting and annoyed him into a fight?

He's never going to leave him alone, even after he has to stop playing at prisoner.

"Don't you want more? To take me?" The other man is so irritatingly difficult to goad. "At your mercy, Brigi..."

Ahhh, there it is, the key to getting inside of him and never letting him escape - the need to be seen, to be desired as the monster he is rather than the human skin he's wearing. Brighella feels like Mezzetino must have felt when taking a bite out of him - it's delicious. The fact that it's true doesn't hurt, Brighella won't need to pretend to desire Scar in whatever form he's in, only makes it easier. He releases his hair to take one of his hands, stroking the long, clawed fingers. "When I felt these inside me... fuck, that was incredible."

He laughs, squeezing his hand like it's a fond joke. "Maybe if you beg a little more, Mezzo. Tell me why I should fuck you harder. Tell me how desperate you are for me."

"You glowed so pretty when I clawed you open... You liked it, my fingers buried in your gut?" His claws curl, and he shivers at the gentle touch on them. No one likes fighting Mezzetino, either. He's too much, too destructive, too bloodthirsty and vicious. Dottore despaired of using him for anything more nuanced than aiming him in the general direction of a target where collateral damage is acceptable. He doesn't like holding back or taking care. He doesn't like being small.

"Want you, Brigi," he says. But he knows what Brighella wants to hear from him, doesn't he? "Please, Lord Brighella," and there's a breathless irony in it but also a sincere plea. "Take me, fuck me, use me, harder, please--"

"They got so deep." Brighella's voice is almost a growl. It had been a glow of pain that had lasted as long as they were digging into him, not there and gone like a cut or tear. It had lit up his nerves like they hadn't for years. He hadn't felt that much pain - that much anything for a long, long time.

Oh, that is what he wants to hear, his title on Mezzetino's lips, even half-sincere, begging for him so sweetly. "That's right, Mezzo. My beautiful beast, my gorgeous monster -" He gives him what he wants, slamming back into him harder, hand clenching on Scar's talons.

“You want them there again, Brigi? Want to feel my hand inside your gut? You held onto my claws like you wanted them to stay, like your flesh wanted to keep them there…” It had been an interesting sensation.

Scar groans, pleasure sparking through him, his back arching, his cheekbone flashing in little jolts of pain with each thrust as his face drags on the floor, his broken arm jarring with a grinding ache. This is Brighella training him, isn’t it? The carrot and the stick.

Does he mind? He feels good, and the compliments shiver over his skin. Praise is entirely foreign to him. He wants to press into it as much as he’s pressing back into Brighella’s thrusts. Brighella likes him being a beast, a monster.

Scar dips into the slowly regenerating pool of his abyssal energy again, uncaring that it will delay his injuries healing, and lets his horns spiral out of his head. Even if he must be small, he can be inhuman.

Edited 2024-11-08 14:59 (UTC)

Wriothesley groans, imagining the claws back in him, probing deeper and deeper, claws pressing upwards into his lungs. It would hurt so beautifully.

He's surprised as the horns spiral out of Scar's skull, nearly hitting him, but he just laughs, low and pleased. They're long and thick and beautiful, curving backward in a perfect arc. He strokes his hand along the length of one, enjoying the sensation of the smooth ridges, rubbing the skin at the base, wondering if it's sensitive. "Showing off for me, are you? Letting me taste the beast? Good boy, you're so beautiful, you deserve it." He's getting a bit breathless now, his thrusts only speeding up. It's exciting, seeing Scar let loose a bit again. He wants more. Waiting a week is going to be hard.

Scar whines, tilting his head into the touch. He didn’t know the base of his horns felt like that. Brighella’s fingers feel incredible. And he is, isn’t he? He’s not just letting his nature loose, he’s showing off, an unspoken plea for Brighella to keep admiring him. He wants more. All of this, the fight, the losing, the chains, the sweet words, he wants more.

Maybe if he makes Brighella happy, there will be more.

“Yes, Lord Brighella,” he pants.

Hearing the title without demanding it or coaxing it from Mezzetino hits Brighella low in the gut with twisting heat. Willing submission, eager obedience - he loves it even more than when he has to force it. And in the end it was so easy to gain - just doing something he wanted to do in the first place. "Good, so good..."

He slides an arm around his chest and pulls them both upright so he can easily access his horns, tongue pressing along that skin that made him whine, teasing it for a moment before he bites down. His other hand slides to Scar's cock as he keeps thrusting into his willing, eager body. He's going to be all Brighella's, it's only a matter of time.

Scar cries out at the bite, arching back into him, writhing in Brighella’s arms. The teeth on his horn, the hand on his cock, it’s all so good. His mind is hazy with pleasure and the bitter ache of each thrust jarring the broken arm trapped between their bodies. He wants, he wants, he needs— and Brighella’s thrusts hit him just right, and that and the hand on his cock send him over the edge, jerking in the other man’s arms, head thrown back, his come splattering onto the stone floor to join his blood and ichor.

Brighella groans, holding Scar tightly against him as his body shakes against him and around his cock. It's too much, too hot - he manages a few more thrusts but then he can't hold it back, burying himself deep as he bursts inside him, his teeth digging sharply into the base of Scar's horn.

He pulls out and lowers Scar carefully onto his side - the one with the arm intact - getting a good look at his cheek for the first time. It's already a lovely variety of colours - shame it'll be going away so soon. "You all right, Mezzo? You want out of those chains?" He combs his fingers through his hair, rubbing over the bite he left. Fuck, that was good.

Scar groans at the stinging rush of Brighella’s come inside him, the sharp pain of the teeth on the sensitive base of his horn. He lets the other man move him, lie him down on the floor, and he just lays there for a long moment, breathing ragged, gathering his faculties. He doesn’t think sex was that good, last time he managed to have it.

Odd to have Brighella checking on him, like he’s being careful. But the truth is easy. “Good. I’m good…”

And as for the other question… “What would you do if I stayed in them?” Would it be interesting, or would he just leave him bound and bored?

"Heh. There's an idea." What would he do with a chained up Mezzetino? The imagination runs wild. "Stash you under my desk and use you to warm my cock?" Scar runs hot, his mouth probably feels amazing, and it's not like the underside of Wriothesley's desk is short on space. "Maybe let you come if you do a good job."

He rests next to him, occasionally idly scratching the base of one of Scar's horns. "Work my frustrations out on you after meetings with idiots, too. You do take a beating very prettily. I wish you'd keep those bruises."

“Keep more than you do,” Scar points out. He leans into the touches. It feels… nice. “Would stay injured if I just kept using up all my energy as soon as it regenerated.”

His hunger for chaos and destruction will return, but for a moment, he feels… quiet.

He doesn’t want to wait a week between getting Brighella to touch him.

“A week if I don’t fight anyone,” he says. “What if I’m good, Lord Brighella?”

"True enough." That reminds Brighella he should probably put his scars back on before they see anyone else. They slowly start appearing on his skin, flashing blue first before settling into their usual colour.

Oh, he still loves how Lord Brighella sounds in Scar's mouth. He wants to say every night, but - that would probably be unsustainable if they're using this room. The trainees need it. Still, there's a lot of unused space in the Fortress, burrowed through the rock of Mount Esus. He could find somewhere else. It's not like he needs that much sleep, his body restores itself throughout the day so he rarely gets tired.

"If you're good... two days." That would give him enough time to find another space for them to play in and make sure it's accessible. "You can manage two days."

Scar watches the scars reappear with their glow. “Such pretty lights inside you…”

Two days. He can… probably manage that. “What does a good monster do, for two days?” If he’s going to actually try, he wants to know exactly what he’s trying to do.

Wriothesley laughs, rubbing the scar on his cheek. "That's true. It's a shame I don't bleed more, it'd be pretty."

"Let's see... no starting fights. Work your shifts at the meka factory, don't taunt the guards or staff. You can still fight in the Pankration if you want. Hell, if you want extra credit, you can step in if you see anyone getting bullied - I'll make an exception to the fighting rule for that, but no killing. If you feel yourself getting too bored, you can come find me in my office." That should be enough for two days, right?

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