That's always the criteria of success, for Elio. Getting people to answer, getting people to respond, so that he isn't yelling into an abyss. He's been yelling into abysses so many times, he knows the difference, between that and this, Lucifer's hand tightening around his cock, holding him. Still, it means. Elio's had people leave and he's had people chase him off, being met somewhere in the middle is rare, at least with the kind of men he's used to - well, calling for. Being with.
Giving himself to.
At Lucifer's words, he pauses completely, instantly. It's almost a freeze, if he'd been a fumbling virgin who couldn't recognize a domination scenario when presented with it, that would certainly be what it was, right? Instead it's like a shut-down in his body first, then in his mind, secondly. His shoulders relax, the tension in his muscles seeping out a bit. His entire lower body is aching and throbbing and screaming for him to move, push, take, but as long as he stays like this, the buttplug's just intrusion and stretch, nothing more. Lucifer's hand is just pressure and heat, nothing more, he can take it. He can bear this.
Elio glances sideways at the other man, lets his eyes run down his front, to the enormous bulge in his pants and it's so evident, so visible how he wants him, how he wants to give him his cock when they get back that Elio's own cock actually jerks against his palm. Oh. Like this? Just like this?
Swallowing hard, he fixes his eyes on the stage. People are beginning to return to their seats, although they don't truly register, as if they're in another world and Elio's here, wherever the heat of Lucifer's voice has taken him. The weight of his palm. Commanding, commanding. ]
I'll be still.
[ And he is, very still, very good, his voice only shaking a little bit, as the lights start dimming above their heads. ]
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That's always the criteria of success, for Elio. Getting people to answer, getting people to respond, so that he isn't yelling into an abyss. He's been yelling into abysses so many times, he knows the difference, between that and this, Lucifer's hand tightening around his cock, holding him. Still, it means. Elio's had people leave and he's had people chase him off, being met somewhere in the middle is rare, at least with the kind of men he's used to - well, calling for. Being with.
Giving himself to.
At Lucifer's words, he pauses completely, instantly. It's almost a freeze, if he'd been a fumbling virgin who couldn't recognize a domination scenario when presented with it, that would certainly be what it was, right? Instead it's like a shut-down in his body first, then in his mind, secondly. His shoulders relax, the tension in his muscles seeping out a bit. His entire lower body is aching and throbbing and screaming for him to move, push, take, but as long as he stays like this, the buttplug's just intrusion and stretch, nothing more. Lucifer's hand is just pressure and heat, nothing more, he can take it. He can bear this.
Elio glances sideways at the other man, lets his eyes run down his front, to the enormous bulge in his pants and it's so evident, so visible how he wants him, how he wants to give him his cock when they get back that Elio's own cock actually jerks against his palm. Oh. Like this? Just like this?
Swallowing hard, he fixes his eyes on the stage. People are beginning to return to their seats, although they don't truly register, as if they're in another world and Elio's here, wherever the heat of Lucifer's voice has taken him. The weight of his palm. Commanding, commanding. ]
I'll be still.
[ And he is, very still, very good, his voice only shaking a little bit, as the lights start dimming above their heads. ]