Jack is immobilized. His left arm is twisted back behind him, his right arm held against the foam padded walls he is desperately trying to claw through. He feels heavy breathing on his neck and after a pause to… is that sniffing? Is he being smelled? He feels a hot wet lick along the length of his jaw.
“I hope you taste as good as you smell.” That voice sends chills down his spine, dripping with a sort of threat you just can’t fake.
“What the fuck?” Jack manages to gasp out in his shock. “Mark, this is weird. Let me go!” They had been play fighting, just being cute for the cameras: two friends rough-housing each other, nothing unusual about that.
Well, that is, until Mark took it way beyond too far. It didn’t take much to overpower Jack; after all, Mark is way heavier and more muscular than him. Now that Jack is pressed up against the wall, he doesn’t find it playful anymore.
Jack feels a sharp bite at the base of his neck and winces, thrashing against Mark’s hold and trying to budge him off to no avail. “Ahh! What the fuck?”
Mark chides him with a stern voice. “No, Jack, you need to be good.” He crowds against Jack, mashing the Irishman’s face on the foam padding and making it really hard to breathe properly. “If you’re not good, then you won’t get a prize.” Mark tugs Jack’s left arm further up his back, sending a twinge of pain up to his strained shoulder. A warning.
Jack’s blood runs cold and he can no longer control his own breathing. Realization starts to sink in but Jack refuses to believe it. He tries one last time: “Mark, let me go right now or I will scream, and you know how loud I can get.” Jack tries for steely assertion, but his voice shakes with fear.
He hears his friend’s laughter, once so welcomed, now sounding like warning sirens. “Oh Jack.” Mark nuzzles against his hair, bringing up all the wrong kinds of shivers for this situation. “Even if anyone hears you through all the sound proofing, I can just say we were playing a rage game.”
Mark lets go of Jack’s right wrist and the Irishman immediately lashes out, slapping and scratching at whatever he can reach. He manages a few good hits until Mark recaptures his arm and brings it back to join the other one behind his back, holding him down with only one hand. Mark’s free hand is used to pet gently through Jack’s hair. “Jack, this is your last chance: Be good, or I’ll have to break your wrist.” In a second the gentle gesture turns menacing as Mark tugs harshly on Jack’s hair and viciously squeezes his trapped wrists.
Completely taken by fear, Jack nods silently, feeling tears falling freely down his face.
“Are you okay so far?” Mark inquires, gentling his hold for a second.
“Yes,” Jack answers back.
“Good boy!” Mark coos, and licks Jack’s face clean of tears.
Jack stays quiet and still through all the preparation, too shocked to do anything but stay put. Mark clumsily pushes Jack’s jeans down and out of the way, and Jack has one less layer to block out the feeling of Mark’s hard cock humping against the soft flesh of his ass.
Jack crashes back to reality when he hears Mark unzipping. The sound is followed by what sounds like Mark spitting and Jack can feel a dribble of wetness against the crack of his ass. Jack feels Mark’s cockhead start to force its way inside and the panic finally registers.
Jack yells and flails, catching Mark by surprise for long enough to be able to escape from his grip. With his pants still clumsily knotted around his knees, Jack doesn’t get very far and soon falls hard on his knees when Mark tries to tug him back. The Irishman desperately tries to crawl away, but his tormenter effortlessly flips him on his back.
Jack keeps yelling wordlessly and fights back as best as he can, scratching down Mark’s solid chest and punching at his shoulders, trying to shove him off. Mark is a solid wall and does not budge a single bit. He simply places a large powerful hand around Jack’s neck; not squeezing but certainly threatening to.
“Color?” Mark asks.
“Green,” Jack mutters back.
“Shhhh, it’s okay. Shhhh, calm down, I get it.” Mark shushes him as if Jack was a fussy child. His hand presses just a little bit against Jack’s windpipe, immediately causing him to stop his struggling. “I understand,” Mark says with a soft smile. A few of Mark’s scratches were starting to bleed, but he seems completely unfazed by it. “I took too long to give you your reward for being good. Don’t worry, I’m going to make you enjoy this too.”
Mark lines up his cock again and completely ignores Jack’s sobs. Mark’s pleasured moan clashes harshly with Jack’s scream of agony.
Mark keeps one hand wrapped around Jack’s throat: a constant reminder of what he is capable of doing. With his other hand, Mark cups Jack’s flaccid dick gently and plays with it, rubbing and tugging until it starts to harden in his hands.
Jack tries twisting his hips away from the forced pleasure. The American only mildly acknowledges his attempts, moving the hand that encircled Jack’s neck down to hold his hips in place with bruising force. Jack feels safe enough to go back to struggling. He tugs at Mark’s hair and keeps running his nails down every bit of skin he can reach. If anything it only causes Mark to moan louder.
Jack can’t resist Mark’s touch for much longer, no matter how much he tries to stave off his orgasm. He cums with a sob and finally loses the rest of his will to struggle, falling pliant into Mark’s hands.
“Oh, you are such a good boy, you deserved that reward, such a sweet boy cumming so pretty just for me,” Mark coos, gathering Jack’s limp body up in his arms and biting marks all over his neck and shoulders, staking his claim even more than he already has. “All mine, all mine…” Mark shoots his load as deep as he can inside of Jack.
Jack gives Mark’s forehead a soft kiss, indicating the end of their scene. Immediately Mark springs into action, scooping Jack into his arms and moving him over to the other side of the room where their bed sits against one of the walls. He deposits Jack on a small mountain of pillows and moves away briefly to retrieve their “post-scene kit” from one of the dresser’s lower drawers while Jack gathers up their favorite blanket from the foot of the bed.
Jack’s head still feels floaty and empty, a side effect of a good and intense scene. He is really craving a good cuddle, but they need to tend to any injuries first. He checks Mark’s back to find it injury-free while Mark is dipping cotton balls in disinfectant for the worst of the scratches. Jack steals them from Mark’s hands and sets out to help him clean up while Mark hisses at the sting.
“Not many deep ones today… I think I slapped you more than anything.” Jack’s voice sounds hoarse in all the best ways.
“Yeah, I think so too, grab the spray please.”
Jack tends to all of Mark’s wounds and aches, kissing him tenderly on the lips once he’s finished. Mark separates again once they are done, moving to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room to grab his favorite juice-box and a plain water bottle for Jack. Once they are all set up, Mark joins Jack at the head of the bed and cuddles him close under the blanket.
“Did I hurt you?” Mark asks a little shyly, hiding his face in the crook of Jack’s neck. He is living proof that doms need aftercare too. He has the bad habit of dropping straight after a scene is over, feeling like a terrible monster of a man even though the whole thing is discussed and consented in advance by Jack.
“No, you were perfectly in control. I felt deliciously helpless and claimed. Besides, you know I always prep myself before a scene.” Jack kisses the top of Mark’s messy hair, taking a break to sip at his water. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, not at all. You kept to the areas I told you to. It’s gonna be easy to hide the marks tomorrow.” Jack can feel Mark’s steady breaths against his chest. Knowing Mark, he’d soon fall asleep with a half-drunk box of mango juice still cradled in his hands.
“You know… at first I thought it would be hard to conciliate a masochistic dom with a rape play kink, but it fits surprisingly well.” Mark looks up and pecks Jack right on his lips.
“We fit surprisingly well,” Mark continues, letting all his affection come out into that sentence. “You slippery weasel of an Irishman.”
Jack giggles “Didn’t expect me to try and run off did yeh?” Mark nods, “Well, I gotta keep you on yer’ toes, can’t have you getting bored of me.”
“I can never get bored of you,” Mark states confidently, making Jack blush.
“Heh, wait until we’re two kinky wrinkly eighty year olds to tell me that.”
“Ok I’ll tell you again then.”
“Just take your nap and stop being sweet!”
“Thank you, Jack.” Mark kisses the closest bite mark and lets his eyes fall closed.
“Thank you, Mark.” Jack whispers, running his fingers through his dom’s hair.