Chapter Text
i believe tamsy is an excruciatingly patient man—water in the kettle set to simmer. your foul quips muttered under your breath and subtle glares are nothing short of juvenile, immature. you like to fool around, always finding ways to crack the surface, hoping the others would see. so, he stays silent, avoids the bickering you desperately seek with crossed arms and warm hums.
but you've somehow managed to crank the knob, spike it to the highest setting when you sneak into corvus' office and whisper redolent tales about the sphere, about the watchman, about tamsy. he doesn't know how much was said, but corvus' skeptical gaze and the dimple in your cheek gave him plenty to work with. that stupid triumphant little grin irked him—your audacity irked him.
irked him to the point where tokushin had no option but to be summoned, to call upon 'net', to watch the rope pinch the apex of delicate skin.
"your immaturity is repulsive." he spits, his tone stripped from that saccharine facade—the water from the kettle burns. you lie on your stomach. your arms are locked behind your back, the rope connected at your wrists extends to your ankles, restricting all movement of your lower half completely. tamsy savors the flicker of hope diminishing from your eyes.
his cock is in your mouth, but you struggle to reach the bottom, avoiding the wispy hairs from tickling the tip of your nose. so, he pushes your head further and further, right until you gag. and god, is it ugly, a moist retch that tightens your throat around him deliciously as spit bubbles around the corners of your mouth—he's forced to suppress a groan. snot dribbles down your philtrum, tears cascade down the plump of your cheeks as you gaze up at him with dread. this is how he likes you.
he keeps you there a bit longer, relishing in tokushin's ropes tightening along the curve of your body from your fruitless squirming before shoving you off. your gasps for air are immediate. and once your lungs find the right capacity of oxygen, he senses the tentative glower reach your face—brows furrowed and teeth bared. hmm, you still have some fight left.
"immaturity? give me a fucking break," you pause to clear your throat before inhaling. whether its for air or to ease your apprehensivity is unknown to the two-tone-haired man. "and just what do you think you're down here for? i remember what you told me: how life on the sphere was an agonizing bore. got nothing up there to keep you busy so you come down here fill that void, right? you play your little games until the other players get sick of your shit—ugh."
fingers grip the bone of your jaw and you wince at the sudden pressure—his nails gradually dig into soft flesh.
"what a dirty mouth you have. not really befitting for lips like yours, i must say." he pries your jaw open to see your quivering tongue. his thumb traces along your bottom lip.
"what we made was an agreement, remember? You know nothing of my plans." yellow embers burn brightly and you twitch under his stare. his thumb feel along your canines, have they always been so sharp? "your troublesome act almost defiled my cover. fortunately, corvus' is a level-headed individual so whatever nonsense you spewed was just enough to encourage a mere sensible chat in his office. your persuasion clearly was inadequate.”
the digit in your mouth finds solace on your tongue, caressing the wet muscle as though he's counting each microscopic taste bud.
then he smiles, and the look rids him of any humanity that barely clung to slender fingers and blemished skin—his lips veering outward and a rosy tint decorates the apples of his cheeks as if he's been gifted the thickest slice of cake at his friend's birthday party. his eyes squint from its force, sandy lashes curling up at the corners.
"but that book certainly does come in handy."
you don't know where this urge came from, but you bite. you bite down hard, until the bitter taste of metal coats your tongue. you're unable to see your efforts before his hand is wrenched away from crimson lips and held to his chest, inspecting the damage that's been done. blonde covers the apex of his face.
blood trickles down the ivory cotton of his shirt. what a contrast, you think. an angel smeared in blood. part of you wishes you didn't find it so beautiful.
you hear a faint giggle and you finally see him—that maddened grin still plastered on his gorgeous fucking face.
you scoff, with a subtle smirk adorning your lips, it's almost humorless.
"what a freak. i can't wait for your demise." he adjusts his hips until his shaft reaches your pursed lips, he glides his length along it, watching as his dick becomes covered in his blood (what savory treat for you) and your eyes look up him as he does so. he finally releases that groan.
"you would want that, wouldn't you?"