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Trust In The Devil

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Paul has always found it difficult to sit still.

There’s an anxiousness that encircles him when he’s doing nothing, sitting and focussing on nothing in particular until his thoughts urge him to move, to keep busy, distract him.

Even now, hands tied in loose knotted red rope behind his back and kneeling on Monty’s bed, ass in the air, Paul feels the need to fidget, or push his glasses up his nose, at least. His nude body twists, shifting his weight slightly as an ache begins to dwell in his legs from being stuck in such a compromising position.

“Monty?” Paul calls out, cheek pressed against the soft duvet, looking behind him. “H-how much longer—?”

“Ssh,” comes the smooth reply from Monty, accompanied by a silky glide of his fingers across the small of Paul’s back. “Hush, now. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Paul sighs quietly, his skin tingling from where Monty’s soft fingers had touched him, making him crave more. He hears the opening of a drawer and the subsequent rustling of clothes before Paul feels Monty approach him, his footsteps as light as a snowflake hitting the forest floor, like his heaven is tip-toeing towards him, ready to devour him.

“Stay still, Sevier,” Monty whispers, sitting down on the bed beside Paul, caressing his hand through soft, balack hair. He leans in close, breath warm on Paul’s lips, teasing him. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Paul replies without hesitation, twisting against his restraints, wanting Monty’s lips on his own so desperately, forgetting all about who Monty is and the illegal acts he’s recently been involved in.

For all the drugs and arms dealing, Paul still feels drawn to Monty in inexplicable ways, like he wants to kneel at his feet just to get a kiss.

Monty chuckles, seemingly knowing that’d be the answer he’d receive. “Good.”

Paul watches carefully as his lover brings a blindfold into his line of sight, red in colour and its silk material shimmers in the low light of the room. Gently, Monty takes Paul’s glasses from him and fastens the blindfold around Paul’s eyes, tying it in a firm knot at the back of his head, running his nimble fingers through his thick black hair for extra reassurance, caressing the nape of his neck as he pulls his hand away.

After settling the stirring in his stomach at his lack of vision, Paul exhales through his nose for a long few seconds. He knows the game that Monty is trying to play. Paul knows that Monty has to have the upper hand in every aspect of his life, including his relationships.

Paul is only happy to submit underneath those corrupt hands.

“You’re ready, kitten,” Monty announces, and Paul imagines him standing at the foot of the bed, lapping up the image of him restrained and naked on Monty’s bed, completely dependent upon him for guidance. “Now, Sevier. Do you wanna know why I’ve done this?”

“Yes,” Paul replies, toes twitching in anticipation of what’s going to happen to him.

Monty huffs, and Paul imagines him flicking a strand of his ginger hair from his face.

“You’re too much of a good boy. A prim-and-proper little analyst who always wants to do the right thing,” Monty tuts, and Paul can almost hear his grin. “I don’t want you to be good for me today. What do I want you to be?”

Monty trails his fingernails up the inside of Paul’s thigh, making the younger gasp in shock at the sudden pleasantly teasing touch. Paul knows exactly what game Monty is trying to play; corrupt the boy.

Monty’s favourite game.

N-naughty.” Paul guesses, wanting to say exactly what Monty wants to hear, and he feels his cock beginning to stir at the mere notion of being punished, the simple thought of Monty touching him as roughly as he likes. “A…bad boy.”

And for the first time since he’d tied Paul up, Monty moans; a low, guttural grunt that sends a shiver down Paul’s spine, a wave of arousal up his legs and straight to his cock.

“That’s right,” whispers Monty, the sound of a bottle top flipping open suddenly catching Paul’s attention and, before Paul can ask what’s going on, he gasps, feeling a warm liquid being poured over his plump ass cheeks. It dribbles down the parting of his ass, dripping across his hole and down his thighs, some staining the sheets underneath him.

Paul tenses, breathing through his gritted teeth as he feels Monty’s hands grip his cheeks, parting them, exposing his entrance to the cool air of the room. There’s a cold sweat beginning to appear on Paul’s pale skin as his arousal grows with each passing second that he’s denied Monty’s touch—or even the mere sight of his glorious lover.

“It’s a good thing I’m here for you, Sevier” Monty purrs, and Paul can’t help but cry out as one of Monty’s fingers enters him, dragging in and out at an agonisingly slow pace. “You need my help. You need my guidance. My corruption, maybe.”

Adding a second finger, Paul rocks his hips back, greedily wanting another, scrunching his eyes closed underneath the blindfold.

“Y-yes!” Paul cries, stifling another moan. “Monty. I’ll do whatever you want, just—ah! Please.”

Monty lets out a low chuckle, his free hand grasping the skin of Paul’s ass, and Paul is absently grateful that the little bit of extra weight he’s carrying seems to have stayed on his ass cheeks. With two of his fingers, Monty begins scissoring his lover open, the warm lube coating his fingers, encouraging him deeper.

“Stay still for me,” Monty says and Paul immediately stiffens, body turning as ridged as his awkward kneeling position will allow him. He whimpers, and Monty’s free hand takes hold of one of his bound hands, entwining their fingers as much as they can with the rope in the way. “That’s it. Let me feel how much you want me.”

Paul groans, scrunching his eyes closed despite the blindfold, feeling overcome by the sensations that Monty is causing his body to feel. It’s overwhelming; nothing could compare to this, not even seeing a little alien boy with blinding white light shining from his eyes. Monty Schafer is out of this world. He clenches around Monty’s fingers, trying to show him just how much he wants this, just how much Paul is willing to give Monty everything he has.

When Monty adds a third finger, Paul’s hips canter on their own accord, fucking the air with hungry moans, lost to his desires.

“Monty, I can’t wait, I need it—need you,” Paul whispers, beads of sweat cascading across his forehead and down his temples, dampening his red blindfold.

“Ah ah ah,” Monty tuts.

Too quickly for Paul’s liking, Monty pulls all three of his fingers out, lube coating his digits, skin sticky from Paul’s heat.

“Being greedy will come later,” Monty says, but Paul chooses to focus on the sounds of clothes rustling, cursing the blindfold that’s denying him the sight of his lithe lover undressing for him. But still, Paul licks his dry lips as Monty keeps talking, imagining the soft material of Monty’s shirt sliding up and off over his chest, his trousers sitting comfortably on his sharp hips until he removes them, tugging them over his ass and over the bulge at the front of his briefs.

 “—And I’m going to ruin you.”

Zoning back in at the end of Monty’s sentence, Paul swallows hard. The soft ropes around his wrists are suddenly loosened, allowing his arms to fall free from their tight hold, their landing ushered down by Monty’s soft fingers.

“Onto your back,” Monty orders, giving his lover’s ass a quick pat for encouragement.

Paul does as he’s told, feeling his cock bob along with his movements, heavy with arousal, with the need for a release. Monty’s hands guide Paul into his desired position; flat on his back, legs spread and arms limp by his sides. Feeling the bed shift underneath Monty’s weight as he climbs on, Paul arches his back unconsciously, cool air teasing his leaking tip.

Mr Schafer,” Paul begs with a shaking tone, hips twitching in anticipation. “Tell me what you want me to do. And I’ll do it.”

Paul’s hand moves slowly towards his fully erect cock, desperate to get some sort of release. His fingertips manage to graze his shaft, but Monty’s hand is quickly around Paul’s wrist, pulling it away, leaving his cock achingly hard. Paul groans, and he hears Monty smirk, obviously interested to see his young lover come undone on his bed.

“Can you feel your body getting hotter, kitten?” Monty asks, and Paul can almost feel his lover’s hungry gaze lapping up his naked form. “Can you feel how aroused you are? You’re so…bad.”

“Yes,” Paul moans. “Yes, Monty. Make me bad. Please.”

“Do not make a sound,” Monty says, whispering in a low tone.

The bed creaks as Monty shifts, and Paul breathes hard, feeling the warm and wet tip of Monty’s cock being pressed against him, ready to enter. Clamping his lips shut, Paul does his best to suppress his moan, eyes wide underneath his blindfold, desperate to look Monty in the eyes as they become one. Monty’s nimble hands grip behind Paul’s trembling knees, opening him up for the taking, ready to be consumed.

“Good,” Monty praises, slowing pushing himself in further. “You’re doing well, Sevier. See? It’s not difficult to do as I say.”

‘Not when you’re making me feel so good,’ Paul thinks as he bites his lip, fingers grasping the sheets underneath him. It’s a game, and Paul knows it; there’s something alluring about Monty’s need to keep people surprised, to keep people deceived, his need to constantly do the unexpected.

Paul imagines, for a moment, what this scene would look like to an onlooker: him, pale and trembling, spread open and silent underneath the lithe body of the most corrupt man in America, Monty Schafer, blindfolded, deprived of the sight of seeing Monty’s blushing cheeks. He arches his back as Monty pushes in up to his hilt, opening his eyes to see the golden silk blindfold in front of him.

With a slow drag out, Monty heartily begins increasing the pace of his thrusts and, despite not being able to see, Paul imagines what Monty must look like as of now; red hair sticking to his forehead, green eyes electrified with the passion that their touch always brings one another, stomach taut with the tenseness of his muscles.

Ah! Oh!” Paul cries out, immediately flinging his hand over his open mouth, unable to stop his own ragged breathing as Monty’s thrusts become slow and strong, the sound of skin colliding filling the room. “S-sorry!”

Paul moans from his throat, his head twisting to the other side, his back arching but Monty’s hand is suddenly around his wrist, pinning his arms above his head, freeing his groans from behind the confines of his palm. Before Paul can make another sound, Monty’s wet lips are suddenly on his own, surprising him with a hungry kiss, his cock still sliding in and out of Paul’s clenching entrance.

“Ssh,” Monty swipes his tongue over Paul’s lips before pulling away, sparking a moan of disappointment from the younger. “I will allow for one mistake.”

No,’ Paul mentally protests. ‘Punish me. Tell me I’m bad.’

But nonetheless, Paul chooses to stay quiet.

“Control yourself,” Monty says.  

Paul nods frantically, resisting the urge to stroke himself off, the pressure in his balls tightening with each of Monty’s thrusts. He imagines how beautiful his Monty must look, eyes filled with lust and a blush that’s spread over his chest, nipples erect and his cock ploughing into him, making his thighs shake.  

“Then again,” Monty mutters, and Paul’s breath hitches at his hard thrust. “I love it when you fuckin’ moan for me.” 

Is that his way of telling me to moan like a whore?’ Paul thinks, though before he can comment, the blindfold is tugged off of his eyes, and it takes a moment for his vision to adjust to the marvellous sight above him, albeit a little blurry without his glasses.   Monty’s cheeks are flushed with a bright pink blush, his red tousled hair covering one of his eyes, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he grunts, his climax obviously drawing closer. 

“Oh, fuck!” Paul yells, stretching his hand out, begging for Monty’s touch, and the other seems only happy to comply.  Paul’s hand cups hold of Monty’s reddening cheek as he leans forward, pushing Paul’s knees back until they’re almost touching his own chest, opening him up as wide as he’ll go. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” Monty smirks, but Paul’s feels compelled to obey, never wanting to break eye contact with the man he’d sell his soul to save.  

“Always, Monty,” Paul gasps. “Oh, keep going. I’ve been what you want me to be, come in me.”

“Mmm. When I come, you’re going to come too,” Monty says, leaning down to graze his lips against Paul’s. From this proximity, Paul can hear the sounds of Monty’s choked breaths, desperate for release. “You’ll let go of everything you’re holding onto. You hear me? Give me everything.

Paul parts his lips to respond but his voice doesn’t come, only a powerful moan that’s quickly lapped up by Monty’s hungry lips.

“I’m close, Sevier,” Monty whispers, trailing kisses along Paul’s jawline to his ear, breath heavy against his skin.

“M-Monty, please!”

Spreading Paul’s knees apart a just a little more as part of his show, Monty opens him up, his cantering at a speed that’s driving Paul towards the edge of his orgasm, his calves trembling. Monty grunts; a guttural, animalistic noise as he buries himself up to his hilt inside of Paul as he comes, moans loud in Paul’s ear.

And Paul cries out but is suddenly rendered silent as he arches his back, eyes rolling and mouth hanging agape, coming in stuttered spurts onto his own stomach, hips jittering of their own accord as he’s filled with his lover’s seed. Paul’s hole is spasming around him, milking every last drop of his seed from his cock. Only when he’s stopped coming does Paul make a sound, a long and exhausted gasp followed by quick breaths as he tries to regain a little sanity, lying bonelessly underneath Monty’s body. With his lips trailing gentle kisses up Paul’s sweating temple, Monty whispers to him gently.

“My boy, my kitten,” he says, pulling his cock out of his lover’s hole, making him gasp from oversensitivity. With closed eyes, Paul feels the matress shift underneath Monty’s movements until his warm body is next to him, soft fingertips caressing his bottom lip. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

“That was. Just.” Paul opens his eyes slowly, staring at his lover, feeling well and truly on the dark side of the law, having completely submitted himself underneath Monty’s corrupt fingers. “Monty. I—”

Monty’s lips consume the rest of Paul’s sentence, a kiss so soft and deep that Paul swears it’s like the first time, bringing forth his pure and undying love for the man who owns his heart.

“You can stay the night,” Monty says, brushing his hands through Paul’s damp hair. “I’ll take you shopping tomorrow.”

“Shopping?” Paul frowns. “For what?”

“Lingerie,” Monty says. He runs his hand down Paul’s chest and to his cock, stroking it slowly. “I’m thinkin’ some pretty red stuff to match your blindfold.”

Paul moans, “Y-yes…sir.