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388 posts
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@solvreyu
no tricks, just treats :'-) art: @solvre0
Luuk blindfolded and gagged, flinching as Rover traces a line down his naked chest and breathing raggedly because of his deep-rooted fear of not being able to see anything—and him gradually relaxing as Rover maintains a steady stream of whispered reassurances right into his ear. "I'm here. It's alright, Luuk. I won't let anything hurt you." Sweat trickles down his skin. He hasn't felt that in a while. He didn't think he'd fear anything enough to physically react. But as expected, Rover would know. And not quite as he would expect from him, he'd decided to make it his problem. A long line of solid warmth. Rover's weight. The ticklish brush of silky hair, nudging under his jaw while that same hand scratches down a path on the center of his chest and abdomen. The sensation of fingertips catching on the waistband of his half-undone slacks. A moment of pause as Rover observes. Luuk quietly breathes. And then the same warmth he could feel pressing against his chest drifts lower to cup a palm around him, massaging the heavy bulge with care. His body reflexively jerks. He doesn't need his eyesight to know this, nor does he need a voice to say it. It's Rover who made him react. And as if answering to what Luuk couldn't say, Rover starts rubbing the firm arc of his hand over it in gentle back-and-forth motions until the smooth texture of the fabric grows damp and sticky. He knows he's dripping wet when the hand finally pulls away and he hears the faintest squelch. "—You're leaking, Luuk." Luuk's ears flush, and Rover laughs quietly. His hand returns to lazily jerk him off through his slacks, peppering small kisses over his throat as he does. Then, as he reaches the underside of his ear, Rover whispers, "Is it because of me? Did I get you hard and wet?" 'Fuck.' Precum bursts hotly through his slit. Luuk pants through his gag and he uselessly tries to swallow, dizzy from the words and the low sound of Rover's voice, closer and somehow more dangerous with no other senses to distract him. "Luuk," Rover murmurs with laughter in his voice. Luuk's abdomen tightens at the sound. He hadn't realized it until now, but is that how Rover usually says his name...? He shudders hard, his pulse thudding away with an irregular rhythm in his ears. "Is my voice doing it for you? You twitched when I called your name." Underneath the strip of cloth, his eyes are starting to roll up from the pleasure. Rover has taken to teasing his frenulum through the fabric, tracing a short line between it and up his cockhead and no doubt witnessing the now steady dribble of precum seeping through his pants. "Do you like this, Luuk? Does my hand feel good?" 'If he keeps doing this,' Luuk jerks against his bindings, his jaw slack around the gag while his entire body tenses up, 'I'll come. I'm close. His hand... it's too—' In an achingly sweet voice, Rover whispers, "Too much for you? You can come. Be good and come for me, Luuk." The scent of burning cloth briefly filters through his mind—the ichor subconsciously overflowing from his wound and freeing him from his binding—but he stays obediently put. His cock won't stop pulsing, full and hard, the thick and milky fluid of his cum seeping through the dark fabric in long, steady bursts while Rover continues with his teasingly light touch. By the end of it, he barely registers the blindfold and gag being taken off of him, dazed and drooling from what Rover had made him go through.
