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"S'good," Carter promises. Are his words slurred? Possibly. Does he care? Not a bit. "Gonna fuck me now, sir?"
Sir chuckles, and… it's a concerning chuckle. It's not a yes, sweetheart, of course I'll fuck you, chuckle. It's a you have a long way to go before that, sweetheart, kind of chuckle.
"I'm going to let you enjoy your toys for a while, actually." Sir gives Carter's cock a single stroke before stepping back. "I thought I'd do some sketching."
Carter's eyes snap open wide, but all he sees is the empty bed he's on. Where the fuck did sir go? He was just there. "S-sketching, sir?"
"You said earlier that to make our date better you should have let me sketch you." Sir moves behind him, doing… something. Carter tries to turn to look, but his ropes pull too tight on his cock and his clamps sway and yank on his nipples, so he quickly rights himself. Fuck.
"I have my sketchbook and you're looking so nice and pretty for me," sir continues, either oblivious to his plight or just uncaring. "Why wouldn't I take the opportunity?"
"B-but, sir-"
"You offered, sweetheart. Don't you want me to enjoy our date?"
Carter swallows hard. That's just not fair! "Sir, I - I'm very…" he trails off, realizing sir knows he's horny. It's plain as fucking day by the cock bobbing between his legs. Carter sinks further into the mattress and moans, partly because this whole situation is fucking hot and partly because it makes the vibrator press harder against his prostate.
Sir chuckles again. Definitely not a good sign.
Carter is so doomed…
The time ticks by slowly, every second an eternity of pain and pleasure. His nipples ache. His cock throbs. His muscles start to protest their restrained positions. His holes feels impossibly needy for more.
Carter’s heart nearly lurches right out of his chest when sir finally strolls toward the bed. He lifts his chin, smiling at the man.
Sir doesn’t even meet his gaze, ignoring him as he goes to work. He adjusts some rope near Carter’s elbow and shifts Carter’s hips so they’re facing more toward the chair sir is using. Then he switches the vibrator to a higher setting and tugs playfully at Carter’s nipples.
“Sir,” Carter whines, his hips twitching as his body tries to find some sort of relief.
Sir smiles at him before brushing a kiss to his lips, soft and teasing. The man pulls away when Carter tries to deepen the kiss, Carter nearly falling over when he tries to chase him. His muscles begin to shake with the effort it takes to keep his balance.
“Are y-you done, sir?”
“Almost.” Sir adjusts his body again, thankfully helping him get into a steadier position. Then he – then he fucking sits back down! “Hold still now.”
Carter hangs his head, which is caught between the floaty space sir tends to push him toward and the sharp awareness that this much arousal hangs him on. He feels ready to explode. Which is fine, really. He trusts sir to take care of him after. It’s just… he’d really prefer his explosion to be with an orgasm. And on sir’s cock.
“Sir,” Carter begs after he’s certain another few minute have passed. Tears are starting to trail down his cheeks. His cock feels ready to burst, sound or no sound. “Sir, please. I – I need.”
“Shh. You’re alright, sweetheart. Sir is finished.” Carter nearly cries in relief. Then he is crying - not in relief but in shock - when the sketchbook lands on the mattress by his head. "What do you think?"
Carter blinks. He actually sketched Carter just as he is now. It's fucking beautiful. He's certain he can't possibly be that beautiful. Is this how sir sees him?
Except… wait.
"Sir?" Carter asks hesitantly.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"The marks…" Carter swallows, his eyes glued to the charcoal smears across the drawing-Carter's ass cheeks and thighs. Drawing-Carter has been recently hit with something. "I - um - I don't have those, sir."
"You will.”
Carter's stomach flip-flops at that, goosebumps crawling along every inch of his skin. Even his fucking scalp tingles.
"Color?"
It's not even a question. "Green, sir."
