Pana is breathless, boneless, breakable with Dan’s fingers squeezing around his throat. He kneels on their bed, hands tied together at the small of his back, head bent, waiting.
(“Let me swallow you,” Dan had husked out. “Let me eat you up.”
And Pana nodded so hard his teeth rattled.)
Dan uses an excess of strength to press him down deep into the dark canyon between sated and scared. The part of Pana that isn’t hard and panting, smiling and floating, that part deep in his gut flips with fear, froths with slow panic, runs the nerves in one straight line that thrums up the shaft of his flushed red cock-ringed dick- that part shouts inside his head that Dan’s canines seem to have grown sharper, hurt more than normal, that Dan tapped him with his forefinger and Pana fell in a heap onto the bed, wondering…
The rest of Pana (not brave or brash, this foolhardy part of him throws trust at Dan like women throw pussy at Pana, giving and giving, begging for hurt and Dan all night and too much of Dan and it’s never enough) thrums and waits, for Dan to kill him with love, to sink in and suck all of him out.
The intermittent tooth-chattering buzz in Pana’s ass starts up again, throwing him off his cloud of anticipation, forcing his body to surge upwards.
Then the vibrations inside him crank up so high that Pana’s smile falls, all of him begins to fall over sideways, with so little air and so little of Dan touching him, anchoring him that his slow indulgent deluge of tears becomes earnest little whimpers, whines and any small noise his throttled throat can eke out. He needs Dan now, he needs, he needs…
"Sorry," Pana tries to say, but those fingers tighten in warning until he can only think his apology. A palm pushes against his shoulder, the anchor that brings Pana back down to this bed and this earth and tears stream from Pana’s eyes.
"Pana." Dan sounds different, wet and bleary, as if his mouth were half-full. Pana can’t see Dan, can barely open his eyes, is only peripherally aware of Dan’s wide shoulders leaning over him, of the spine-jangling vibrator purring once, twice, before it stops and stops being too much.
The hand on his neck eases up in lazy degrees, and Pana doesn’t shoot up to the surface too fast, and Dan doesn’t apologize, and it’s perfect with Dan catching him in mid-lean, one arm around Pana’s body, one hand giving Pana the beautiful bright green shock of a lazily applied backhand across the face that makes Pana’s head loll back, his dick throb and gush.
And Dan’s teeth scrape against Pana’s throat, trailing along the sides of Dan’s tongue, and when have Dan’s teeth ever felt like razors ghosting icy pain up Pana’s bobbing throat?
But the fear speaks up too late, and the kicking flailing panic is useless when those impossible sharp teeth sink in somehow, slice through him and Pana goes limp, hears his heart straining to pump more and more to give up to Dan, feels weak and garbled and more alive than he’s ever felt the more Dan takes, the more he gives.
In the dark Pana is so raw-boned, so starving, so careless that Dan grips his collar, drags him into an alley, lifts him nearly off his feet and shakes him hard until Pana’s growls turn into whimpers.
"Hungry," Pana rasps.
"Wait," Dan orders. He lets go of Pana’s jacket and Pana sags into him, petulant until Dan slaps the pout from his face. "Pana. Wait." Dan rolls up his sleeve, presses his wrist to Pana’s drooling mouth, snatches his hand away when Pana opens his mouth. "Will you be good?"
And Pana nods so hard his teeth rattle.