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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Brighella's blunt nails dig into the sensitive skin around Mezzetino's horns as his cock twitches - even without the continued stimulation of his throat, the way Mezzo looks is almost enough to have him coming. "Shh, shh..." He rubs the horn base soothingly with his thumb. "You're all right. Look up here, look at me, lovely..." He strokes his own cock, watching Scar trying to recover himself, so close it feels like he's going to burst almost immediately.

Scar shivers at the touches at the base of his horns, tilting his head back to look glassy-eyed up at the other man, his inhuman pupils wide and dark. "Yes, Lord Brighella?" he rasps, his voice wrecked and uneven, some sounds not coming out at all.

Brighella is looking at him like he wants to devour him. Like he's an amazing thing to look at. Like he wants him, like this. (And Scar's cock is throbbing neglected between his legs, this is hardly a hardship, to let himself be used, is it?)

"I just want to look at you like this, completely wrecked by my cock. It's a good look for you, especially with those pretty eyes... open your mouth again." He doesn't take it fully, this time just resting the tip inside as he strokes himself - it doesn't take much, only a few more strokes before he bursts inside Scar's mouth, letting him swallow as much of his come as he can.

He relaxes with a breathless chuckle, stroking his fingers through his hair. "You have no idea how much I want to pluck one of those pretty eyes out," he murmurs. "Keep it for myself. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

Scar opens his mouth obediently, swirling his tongue over the head of Brighella's cock until his mouth is filled with the burningly alive salt of his come. He swallows, feeling it sear all the way down, especially on the abused tissues of his throat.

"Not sure if they'd come back the next time or not," Scar rasps. "No one's ever tried." Is his true self built anew every time he changes, or is it always there, hiding, and he only lets it free?

Brighella rubs his thumb over the skin right under Scar's eye, biting his lip slightly. "Hmmm... better not, then. At least not yet." Someday, maybe, he'll take Scar's eye and preserve it so he can look at it whenever he likes. He tucks his cock away, shifting his foot to nudge the toe of his boot against Scar's cock. "I was going to ask if you enjoyed your reward, but it doesn't look like I need to. I can feel how hard that made you..." And he loves how wonderfully Scar's body reacts to being used.

Scar's breath hitches at the touch to his cock, making his throat spasm so he coughs again. "Yes," he manages. "Please, Lord Brighella..." Now that he's been reminded of his own arousal, he's desperately aware of it. And he has no way to do anything about it, though Brighella probably wouldn't want him to without permission, not when he likes him like this, bound and helpless and used.

"Of course. You were very good for me, my beautiful Mezzo, you'll get what you need." He shifts his foot so he can rub it against the length of Mezzo's cock, firm and rough. He loves not needing to be careful with him, not having to worry about too fast or too hard. Watching him suffer in ecstasy is gloriously satisfying, and something Wriothesley is starting to think he might like too much. He's never going to want to let him out of the Fortress at this rate.

Scar's breath comes hard in a gasp and he coughs again, leaning forward into the stability of Brighella's lap so he doesn't have to try and balance. Brighella's boot is hard and ungentle against his cock, and he groans raggedly, hips bucking forward into the touch.

Brighella encourages the leaning, stroking his hair and rubbing his horns in time with the movements of his foot. "Come on, Mezzo, let me see you come. Don't hold out on me..." He presses harder with his foot, knowing the pain will only make Scar like it more.

Scar was already close, worked up from Brighella using his throat, so only a few crushing strokes more bring him to the edge, collapsing entirely forwards against Brighella's legs as he comes.

Extra credit was worth being good. It was so easy, to find a bully and stop him. He'll stop every bully in the Fortress if it keeps Brighella using him like this.

Brighella laughs as Scar collapses against him, wiping his boot off on the carpet. He could make him lick it up, but... maybe another time, when he's better trained, when he's really embraced obedience. This is a good start for now. "Beautiful. You really were made to be used, Mezzo." He's smearing ichor and saliva and come all over his pants now, but Wriothesley doesn't even care. He can change - it's worth the mess.

Scar laughs, low and rough, triggering more coughing that makes him choke again. "Mezzetino was made to fight and destroy, too well. Too strong to be used."

"Well, fighting and destroying's one use, but all you need is someone strong enough to take you down to your knees and we see what else you're good for." Wriothesley finally reaches up and pours some of the water he has in a cryo-chilled jug on his desk into his cup, pulling Scar up to sit straight and helping him drink some of it to soothe his throat. "I have some ideas on how you can improve your fighting, too."

It’s sort of… soothing, having his head tilted to sip cold water. Almost tender, though that word is a poor fit for Brighella. The chill of it does, actually, make his throat feel better, even though the contrast against the heat of his body and the further inflamed tissue is so sharp he could almost think it was cutting.

“Has to be someone who wants to,” he rasps. “I’m Eleventh. Any other Harbinger can kick me down and we all know it. But il Dottore’s never used me like you, no matter how many times he’s strapped me to a table and cut me open.” He tips his head back to look up at Brighella again. “You’d make me better at fighting, too?”

"Well, Dottore... doesn't know what he's missing out on. Nor do the rest." Brighella thought it was a shame that the Fourth's brilliant mind was so laser-focused on his research that he couldn't enjoy anything else. He was surprised Pantalone hadn't tried, but maybe Scar was too much of a brute for him - he enjoyed manners and subtlety and Scar didn't have either. Brighella had learned a lot about using people from him.

Pierro had his plans, Capitano was too caught up in his honour, Columbina seemed to pay no mind to sex at all, Sandrone had her automatons, Arlecchino was interested in women, and Signora was dead.

But their loss was Brighella's gain - Mezzetino was so eager to be used he'd have gone to his knees for anyone willing to put him there. If one of the senior Harbingers had gotten there first, Brighella wouldn't be enjoying this now.

"I have some thoughts on your training, yeah. You're good, Mezzo, but I can make you better. We can start on it tomorrow." Now that he's got Mezzetino in a cooperative frame of mind, they can do so much together. He's looking forward to it.

Scar laughs again, managing to only cough a little. "And what are they missing out on, Lord Brighella?" His tone is light, teasing. He looks up at the other man, face streaked in ichor and drool and come, with his four yellow eyes and the weight of his horns dragging his head back.

"Do I get to fight you, for training? To be better at fighting you?" He wants to tear Brighella apart again, to bury his claws in his gut and leave them there, to take more burning bites of his flesh.

Wriothesley slides his hand under Scar's chin possessively, looking him over with pride - and not a little bit of hunger. "A beautiful beast, ready to be used by whoever can appreciate him properly."

"Yes. We'll start there." Once he has better control he can fight some of the trainees, teach them how to deal with a larger opponent and manage their fear. It'll be good for both sides.

"Guess you're the perfect candidate, my lord, since no one else has ever thought the beast was beautiful." He's quite glad he went to prison and decided to annoy Brighella. It turned out better than he ever dreamed. He assumed all he would get was annoying the other man into beating him into the ground, which would of course be a pleasant outcome. He didn't expect this. He swallows, his throat straining, caught on the unforgiving metal of the collar.

"Said two days. Tomorrow night?"

"I'm fine with being the only Harbinger with taste, I suppose. That just means I don't have to share you." The beast is all his, something that satisfies a primal need deep inside him. Knowing that Mezzetino is only here until the Fontaine courts figure out how they fucked up and release him is mitigated by the fact that they'll see each other again. Maybe he can even teach Mezzo the secret ways in and out of the Fortress so he can visit.

"Tomorrow night." He licks his lips. "I'm looking forward to it."

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