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“Blitzy!” Stolas scolds sharply, “what did I say? Now my paperwork looks shaky.”
And although the papers he had been notating and signing do look messy, he’s not actually worried about it. In fact, for the last half hour he’s been focused on the way Blitz’s legs shake astride his left thigh and the tensing of his shoulders as he grips hard to the edge of the desk for better leverage to work himself onto the silicone dildo strapped there. Not to mention the very wet sounds the imps pussy has been making riding the toy. Blitz is completely bare as Stolas is still fully clothed, and the power exchange not so frequently given is as intoxicating as it is distracting.
Overall, Stolas thinks he’s been very good, as per his instructions.
“Don’t cum until I say, and don’t make me mess up my paperwork, darling.”
Blitz hasn’t cum despite the desperate moans and gasps, but the most recent and sudden enthusiastic roll of the imps hips up and down the length of the toy had jerked his hand across the paper in such an unsightly manner.
Stolas believes this warrants punishment.
“Don’t pussy out on me,” Blitz had said when suggesting this rendezvous.
Stolas is ready to rise to the challenge.
Blitz is momentarily still, breathing heavily as he sits with the thick silicone deep inside of him. He moves forward, crossing his arms and resting his forehead against his crossed wrists, trying to calm his breath. Stolas may not be able to feel the way Blitz’s pussy throbs, but he assumes from the raspy hitch in his breath and the twitch of his hips that there was almost an orgasm that he’s trying to beat down.
Stolas decides to play dirty, thumb sweeping under Blitz’s tail while the rest of his fingers splay along the imps lower back.
He grips tightly and pushes, and pulls, and lulls Blitz back into a slow and deep rhythm, accompanied by a muffled groan.
“Now I didn’t say you could stop,” Stolas intones.
Blitz huffs, clearly frustrated, lifts his head to voice his displeasure.
“You just said-“ and his sentence cuts off with a yelp as Stolas grasps the imps tail and yanks, pulling Blitz flush against his thigh again and inhibiting all further movement of his hips from there.
“You’d rather just sit?” He teases, his other hand working over the papers still splayed across the dark wood of his desk, playing the ever aloof dom of the evening. Thank Satan he can multitask because in actuality he’s burning from the inside. He knows there’s a wet patch forming on the seat of his pants and he would rub his thighs together for any sort of friction if one of Blitz’s muscular thighs wasn’t already taking up the space.
“No, Stols, c’mon,” Blitz whines. Stolas delights in the strain of Blitz trying to ride again against his hand.
“Look at the mess you made, though,” Stolas gestures over the few pages the pen and ink had jolted over, “I’m not sure I should let you continue.”
And the desperate squint of Blitz’s face and a small whimper attests his desire for pleasure, yet he remains still as he moves to rest against his crossed wrists again.
“Will you control yourself?” Stolas requests.
“Yes, yes, I’ll be more careful, but please,” Blitz begs. His love is desperate for the release that Stolas controls.
“Very well, Continue,” Stolas releases his grounding grip on Blitz’s tail with a final push forward, spurring the imp back into movement.
His hips roll beautifully, careful as he promised, but pleasurable still assumedly by the way his tail twitches back and forth. Blitz is moaning and gasping in no time.
Although Stolas would like to abandon his tasks, that’s not part of the game. He flips several pages to continue his work. Even though the slight jolt of Blitz’s hips and the desperate noises are amplified in his brain tenfold by his desire, he tries to remain focused on the fact that Blitz wanted him to bring the imp to the edge, control his pleasure until the brink and last straw, deny him until he begs and cries.
Blitz is still not there yet.
Stolas, with given consent and enthusiasm, wants to break Blitz.
Stolas continues to write, keeping tabs on Blitz’s white knuckle grip on his own forearms and the increased quiver of his thighs. Blitz’s dick is rock hard and leaking onto the fabric on his thigh. The roll of Blitz’s head back and forth betrays his need.
“Stolas, I’m close,” Blitz pants out, voice needy and thin with ecstasy.
Stolas’s beak presses into his bottom lip in delight, glancing at the push and pull of the toy against the outside of Blitz’s slit as his pace increases. The wetness of his arousal eases the way and drips down to soak the khaki of Stolas’ trousers.
“I’m not yet done, Blitz, hold it,” he husks. Stolas scrawls as quickly and as accurately across the pages of his duties as he can, desperate to meet Blitz on his peak. He doesn't have the heart to stop the imps orgasm a second time as he knows with this amount of teasing alone that it will be a beautiful sight.
“Stolas, fuck, please, please, pleASE,” Blitz stutters.
Stolas signs the last paper, throws his quill down without preamble and grasps Blitz’s hips with both hands, moves his thigh in tandem with the rhythm of his hands to create a brutal press against the imps insides. He roughly increases Blitz’s pace, a slight slapping sound forming between their skin despite the cloth and his soft feathers separating them. Blitz’s head leaves the desk finally, thrown back as he cries out. Blitz’s eyes close, brows furrowed, teeth bared. His arms unfurl and push his beautiful back into an arch, leveraging against the edge of the desk to gain the depth of the silicone within him.
“Yes, oh fuck YES!” Blitz exclaims, riding into his orgasm.
“Stolas, STOLAS!” and then Blitz is moaning high and satisfied, cum squirting from his cock to coat the top of Stolas’ thigh and his pussy soaking the spot beneath the toy even more than before.
Stolas revels in the way Blitz shakes apart in his hands. His head tips forward again as he comes down and Stolas brings his talons up from the bruising grip of Blitz’s hips to run over his back soothingly. The imp shiver under his touch.
Despite the heat pulling at Stolas’ insides, the urge to take care of his overstimulated lover takes lead. He gently pushes Blitz off the fake cock and deftly unbuckles the mechanism strapped to him. It falls to the floor with a thud.
He pulls Blitz back into his lap, nuzzling into his sweaty neck and kissing the damp skin there. The imp writhes in his grasp, whimpering and squirming.
“Was that good, my darling?” Stolas asks, breath ghosting and chilling against the imps heated skin. Blitz eventually settles, relaxing and burrowing his own face against Stolas’ neck and breathing deep, quiet but for his steadied breathing. The lack of quips from his loves quick tongue tell the owl all he needs to know.
“Do you need…” Blitz trails, and although Stolas’ insides ache to be filled, his imps lax body against his is hard to deny.
“No need right now darling, relax.” Stolas lets his talons roam over Blitz’s entire body; up his toned stomach, down his arms, up his thighs, caressing and cupping his face.
Blitz sighs and relaxes further. “Are you actually done with your stuff?” Blitz murmurs.
“Yes darling,” Stolas hoots, rising from his chair and bringing Blitz with him into the cradle of his arms.
“Let us go to bed,” he muses. The only response he gets is a semi approved hum from Blitz as he burrows further into Stolas’ exposed chest feathers.