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Blindfolded, arms tied firmly behind his back, legs bound into folded positions, Deshival panted as he was he was held aloft. Arvain had hooked his hands inbetween Deshival’s thigh and calf on each side, and the fact that he was just that strong was incredibly hot on its own - but Deshival was also naked and fairly certain Arvain was beneath him at the moment, hopefully as hard as he was wet. He whimpered faintly.
“Getting impatient?” came Arvain’s voice, teasing.
Deshival gave his best frown - tempered by the pulsing need between his legs, it seemed the effect was rather lost as Arvain chuckled. Still, he felt the tip of Arvain’s cock brush against his folds as Arvain slowly began to lower him onto his lap. It found his entrance at last, and Deshival let out a wanton moan at the feeling; it was cut off with a cry, though, as he was suddenly dropped onto Arvain’s lap and filled all at once. Deshival leaned forward against Arvain, breathing heavily into his collarbone as his head spun with shock and pleasure at being full.
Arvain let him have a moment, before gently prodding him back into a sitting position.
“Did I say you could try to touch me?”
Hesitantly, Deshival shook his head.
“That’s right. Sit up like a good boy now and take what I give you.”
Before he could react, Deshival was suddenly pulled off of Arvain’s lap - only to be dropped back onto his cock again. Over and over he was suddenly filled to the brim, then ripped off of Arvain’s cock before he could grow used to it; his moans began to fill the room, slowly growing more and more desperate for release.
For his part, Arvain was enjoying the show. The way his lover’s face switched so expressively between desperation and satisfaction was beautiful to watch. He wondered how long he’d be able to hold out once Deshival began begging; it was so hard to deny Deshival anything, but he kind of wanted to see if he could make the man cry from the overstimulation first. It was so hard to force that kind of reaction out of Deshival, but Arvain was sure it was possible if he was patient enough.
And he was very much looking forward to throwing a completely overstimulated and desperately edged Deshival onto the bed and fucking him into next week; Arvain could already feel the way Deshival would start cumming around his cock as soon as Arvain touched him, the way he’d be unable to stop as Arvain kept fucking into him. The way he’d collapse beneath Arvain, helplessly writhing and calling his name like a prayer. Like devotion.
Like worship.
Perhaps it was blasphemy for him to covet such a thing, but no one else had to know. It would be between him and his own, traitorous heart, and perhaps one day his goddess would judge him for it - but until then, Deshival was there, begging for his mercy.
And he was a merciful god.