dreadful_kinks | Prompt Post 1

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Victor disengaged his hands long enough to allow Dorian to slide the garment off his arms, then leaned in closer, wrapping himself around Dorian, narrow chest pressed to narrow chest, milk-pale skin against Dorian's honey-gold. Dorian rubbed his cheek against Victor's, faintest rasp of bristles against the smoothness beneath, and ran his hands down Victor's sides, slipping them under the material still clinging to Victor's hips. "May I?"

"Oh - uh -"

Dorian smiled at Victor's confusion, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He tugged the fabric down by a fraction of an inch. "These," he said. "May I take them off?"

Victor kissed Dorian's lips, clumsily, but with unmistakable intent. "Please do."

Dorian knelt, smoothing the fabric down Victor's legs, gently lifting each foot to slide them out of the cuffs. He resisted the temptation to nuzzle Victor's half-hard cock; they had all the time in the world, and Dorian didn't plan to rush. It could wait. He unbuttoned his own drawers, letting them fall to his feet as he stood again, kicking them to one side. "Come to bed," he coaxed.

Victor allowed himself to be led to Dorian's wide bed with its smooth linen sheets and its soft eiderdown spread over the blankets. Dorian settled him, running his palms over Victor's skin in long, slow strokes, watching appreciatively as Victor hardened at the touch. He lay down beside him, nestling close, bringing his hands to Victor's face again to draw him in for more kisses.

Victor was learning the knack of it, finding a rhythm, taking brief pauses for air only to return to Dorian's mouth with renewed fervor. His body echoed it, his spine arching and relaxing as he pulled Dorian's body half atop his. Dorian moved easily against him, letting Victor set the pace, taking in every shift and squirm with greedy intensity, aroused beyond words at the knowledge that everything Victor experienced was new. He let his hand drift now, away from Victor's side, the same slow strokes now moving from collarbone to chest to belly, down and back up, a little lower each time until he brushed a flat palm over Victor's cock.

No gasp this time, just a louder moan, and Dorian shivered happily at the sound of it. He curled his fingers around Victor's shaft, running a thumb lightly over the tip of him. "Keep going?" he asked.

"Yes. Please," Victor said.

"Open your eyes and look at me," Dorian murmured, quietly, but unmistakably an order. Victor's eyes fluttered open as Dorian began to stroke him. Dorian watched him intently, seeing the pleasure build in Victor's eyes, listening to his breath come in shallow gasps. He was achingly hard, every inch of his skin tingling, just from the sight of Victor's discovery. He stopped before long; Dorian didn't want to finish Victor off before he'd given him what he'd promised. He smiled as Victor arched his hips, whimpering, seeking his hand. "Still want to fuck me?"

Victor's immediate pout nearly made Dorian laugh. His voice was cross even through the hoarseness of desire. "Did you really think I'd say no?"

"Not at all," Dorian said. "It was more a question of timing."

"Now would be acceptable."

Dorian didn't bother to suppress his chuckle. "As I said before, I am guided entirely by your wishes. Give me a moment." He rose from the bed, and went to his shaving-stand, taking up a wide-mouthed jar. There was the pot of salve in his nightstand, but he didn't want to use that; its heavy, resinous fragrance was entirely wrong for this acerbic, determined boy. The sharp herbal-menthol scent of the cream he used on his new-shaved skin suited Victor much better. And there was another, less whimsical reason; Victor was unlikely to last very long in his inexperience, and Dorian wanted the sting of the menthol to make up in intensity of feeling for what he wouldn't get from Victor in duration. He brought the jar back to the bed and lay down again.

"How...I mean, what's the easiest way..." Victor trailed off, at a loss to express himself.

Dorian bent his knees, spreading his legs apart. "Like this," he said. "There are other positions, but I want to be able to look at you." Victor nodded, swallowing nervously. Dorian took the top off the jar of cream and dipped his fingers in. "I'll get myself ready. Unless you'd like to?"

Victor shook his head. "No. Show me."

Dorian grinned, and set about the task, making a lewd display of it, biting his lip and arching his neck as he spread his arse wide with one hand and slid his fingers in and out, making sure he was thoroughly anointed with the cream. He looked at Victor from under flirtatiously lowered eyelids, and noticed with some amusement that Victor's expression spoke more of scientific observation than uncontrolled desire. I'll change that, he promised himself.

"Now you." Dorian took more cream from the jar, with the hand he hadn't been using on himself, thank you, and in one quick motion smoothed it over Victor's cock. A swift intake of breath, let out in a groan, and there was the desire on Victor's face, the cool observation entirely gone. Dorian reached up and grasped Victor's shoulders, pulling him down. "Here, like this...but kiss me first." The scientist was an apt pupil; this kiss was everything Dorian could have wished for, slow and insistent, unhurried but utterly demanding. Dorian reached down for Victor's cock. "Go slowly. I'll guide you...go in until you feel some resistance, then wait."

Victor nodded. "Of course. The actions of the sphincter ani internus…" Dorian laughed at that, and placed a finger against Victor's lips.

"Please, no anatomy lectures, Doctor," he said. "I'm doing the teaching at the moment." Dorian gave Victor's cock a gentle squeeze, and guided it carefully inside him.

Victor's face had gone nearly blank with wonder. Dorian trailed a finger down his spine. "Well?" He smiled at Victor's silence. "That's right. Don't try to describe. Just feel." Dorian was feeling any number of delightful sensations: the familiar stretch of his body around a cock heightened by the cool burn of the menthol, Victor's smooth skin under his hands, and then, inevitably, the muscles relaxing, adjusting to the intrusion and craving more of it. He pressed his hand gently against Victor's arse. "There. Feel that? Deeper now."

Victor slid into him, pressing close, and leaned down for another kiss. Dorian welcomed it hungrily, kissing back until his breath was gone. He brought his lips next to Victor's ear. "You can move now."
And Victor did, slowly and deliberately, with more control than Dorian would have believed possible from a virgin; an exquisite slide, withdrawing nearly his entire length before thrusting inward again. Dorian arched and purred, glowing with pleasure. He reached down and wrapped one hand around his cock, not stroking just yet, but wanting the counter-pressure of his own touch, ready to match the pace when Victor would inevitably speed up.

Except Victor didn't; he kept gliding back and forth with those long strokes, his breathing steady, his eyes fixed with inward concentration. Dorian breathed with him, enjoying the sensuality of it, but it was definitely odd, and not the response he'd expected. "You can go faster if you'd like," he encouraged.

Victor sped up the tempo of his hips, and Dorian rocked with him, letting out quiet, absolutely necessary moans, but even as Victor's thrusts grew harder, his breathing stayed even, and he made no sounds of his own. The menthol burn was getting stronger, and Dorian wondered how Victor could possibly be managing to last, until he looked up into Victor's face and saw the pupils of his ice-blue eyes, not dilated with expected lust, but still in their morphine-induced pinpoints. I'd forgotten that effect. Foolish of me. "Victor," he murmured. "Do you think you're near a climax?"

Victor paused, and Dorian bit back a frustrated whimper. "No," he answered, after a considering moment.

"Do you think you will reach one, if we keep on like this?"

An experimental thrust or two, and another pause. "Probably not."

"Would you like to?"

A derisive snort. "That is rather the point of the exercise, isn't it?"

Dorian grinned. He could grow to enjoy Victor's sarcasm, he thought. It was refreshingly free of pretense or sentiment. "Would you like to change places, then? I think the extra stimulation might do the trick." Pun very much intended, though Victor wasn't likely to spot it.

Another kiss, this one thoughtful; Dorian could almost hear wheels turning inside Victor's head. "I support your theory, and I believe we should test this hypothesis." A short, decisive kiss for punctuation.

Dorian ruffled Victor's hair, delighted by the rush of affection he felt at the doctor's absurdly detached wording. "Get on your hands and knees, then. It's not as intimate, but the angle's easier, and I'll be able to do more for you, more easily."

Victor did as he was told, and looked back over his shoulder to where Dorian knelt behind him. "More?"

"Like this," Dorian said impishly, reaching around to grasp Victor's cock, pleased at the resulting moan. He reached for the jar of cream, and hesitated; yes, he ought to prepare Victor, but with the morphine he'd taken, there was very little he'd feel as pain, and the idea of the first thing ever to penetrate him being Dorian's cock was irresistibly arousing. Dorian spread himself generously with the cream, and nudged himself against Victor's entrance, gently stroking his cock as he did. "I know this sounds illogical, but don't try to relax to take me in; bear down. It'll open you up to me."

"It's perfectly logical-" Victor protested, and then broke off into the most glorious, abandoned groan that Dorian could ever have hoped for.

"No more talking," Dorian said. "Unless you need to tell me to stop. You can do that any time you need to, and I will."

"Don't even think about stopping," Victor said raggedly. "More."

And Victor's body was ready for more, indeed, softening and opening to Dorian, tightening around him as he slid deeper, hot and responsive and enticing. Dorian didn't bother with the slow buildup that he would have used in other circumstances, with any other beginner; Victor needed the sharpest sensations he could get, hard thrusting and fast, rough pulling at his cock and the sharp burn of the menthol on his sensitive insides, just to get through the haze of the opiates and bring him to completion. Dorian felt the hard little nub inside Victor with the tip of his cock, and angled his hips so that every thrust hit it, again and again, and now, finally, Victor's moans were coming faster and higher, and it was all Dorian could do to hold back his own climax until Victor spent in hot bursts all over the sheets and his gripping hand.

When Dorian's vision cleared, he bent down and placed a kiss on the nape of Victor's neck before he withdrew. He hugged him from behind. "There." His voice held notes of both affection and smugness. Victor just groaned, and Dorian hugged him tighter. "I think we can reasonably say that you aren't a virgin anymore."

Victor wriggled, and Dorian let go. Victor slumped to the mattress, then turned over to look up at Dorian. "I'd say that's correct." He took in a breath, and his expression softened. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Dorian said. "As well as yours. I hope."

Victor snorted. "Don't be an idiot. I don't think it could have been more obvious."

Dorian stroked his face. "I'm glad." He sighed. "I'd better get you cleaned up. The menthol in the cream-"

"I thought it must have been," Victor interrupted. "Fascinating effect."

Dorian laughed. "I'm glad you liked it. But, as I was saying, the menthol in the cream may have been enjoyable in the moment, but it won't do you any good to leave it on you- or in you- the rest of the night. Let me get a towel." He went over to the wash-stand, and brought back not only a soft Turkish face-towel, but the jug and basin, a cake of soap, and a flannel as well. Carefully, thoroughly, he cleaned the residue of the cream (and other things, better left unmentioned) from Victor's body, within and without, drying him tenderly afterwards. He gave himself a more cursory wash; he at least wouldn't take any lasting harm, but it was pleasant to be clean nonetheless. Setting the things on the floor by the bed, he curled up against Victor's side.

Victor nestled against him. "I'm sorry I accused you, earlier."

"I'm not." Dorian kissed Victor's cheek. "If you hadn't, you might not have come here at all, and then this wouldn't have happened. And I, for one, am very glad it did."

Victor tucked his head into the crook of Dorian's neck. "So am I."

"Will you stay the night?" Dorian kept his voice light, not wanting to let on how much he wanted the company, not wanting to pressure Victor into making an answer out of politeness, not that Victor seemed to make politeness a consideration of his, but still.

"May I?"

Oh, the surprise in Victor's voice! So plainly the innocent who knew nothing of the etiquette of dalliance, of the customs and manners of casual affaires. Dorian squeezed him. "I'd like it very much."

"So would I," Victor said simply.

"Then you may. Get some rest. We'll have breakfast in the morning. In bed, if you like."

Victor stiffened. "But your servants-?"

Dorian laughed softly. "I know. But they're used to my scandalous ways. I assure you, they've seen things far more shocking, and I pay them handsomely, enough for them not to talk."

"Must be nice," Victor muttered, settling into the blankets. Dorian stroked him lazily, watching him as he fell asleep.