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“Honey, I’m ho~ome!”
The call rings through the penthouse as Aventurine saunters in through the front door, hip-checking it shut behind him. The cat cakes have already gathered to greet him (or, more accurately, beg him for food) but his hands are too full with purchases to reach down and pet them.
“Just a minute, little ladies,” he coos, carefully picking his way through them to deposit his bags on the countertop, the lights of his kitchen automatically flicking to life. “Papa’s got treats for you too, don’t worry.”
“Treats?!”
“Father has treats!”
“Treats for us!”
The chorus of squeaky voices and excited meows rises to a fever pitch and Aventurine can’t help a laugh as their little feet frantically paw at his pant legs.
“Hey, hey, calm down. Only well-behaved cats get treats!” He finally reaches down to scritch his girls, a little confused at the intensity of their behavior. “Why are you acting like you’ve been starved for affection all day, hasn’t Sunday been playing with you?”
“Mister Sunday won’t plaaaay.”
“Sunday has been in Papa’s room all day!”
“He won’t come meowt!”
“Has he now?” Aventurine finds his amusement growing by the moment. “What a bunch of little snitches you are. Still, we can’t have him ignoring you…” Honestly, he’s grateful for the inspiration. It’ll be the perfect segue into introducing the latest toy he picked up while he was out and about.
After feeding the girls and making sure they’re well doted-upon, Aventurine finally toes off his shoes and rifles through the bags until he finds the one he’s looking for. Bingo. He’s giddy just thinking about how much Sunday’s going to hate it…
“Good evening, princess,” he greets, swanning upstairs into his loft bedroom without knocking. Sunday would have heard the commotion downstairs in the kitchen by now. The penthouse is soundproofed to an almost disturbing extent, but that only applies to the walls shared with other units.
As he expects, Sunday’s wrapped up in a plush robe (one of Aventurine’s, notably, not his own) and sitting on the bed, legs tucked up beneath him in a staged manner as he focuses on his phone. Nobody lounges in bed like that. There’s a few empty glass bottles of water on the side table, and Aventurine knows he’s already gotten rid of any evidence he’s been eating candy or other such ‘frivolous’ snacks.
Sunday’s words, not his. Aventurine fucking loves frivolity. Which probably explains why he’s so fond of the feathered little thing currently wrapped up in his blankets.
Sunday’s eyes flick upward, taking him in. “You were certainly gone a long time,” he says, aloof and bordering on imperious, but Aventurine knows it for what it is.
“Ah, sweetheart, did you really miss me that much?” He crawls over the top of the bed until he’s perched over Sunday, pressing his phone down to his lap. “You could have texted me, you know.”
“I was fine,” Sunday says, impassive, trying to jerk his phone away. “I have plenty of things to keep me occupied.” Aw, he’s being bratty. He really must have been lonely.
Aventurine tsks. “That’s not what the girls said. Locked yourself in here all day, hm? You smell like my shampoo. Are you even wearing anything under that robe?”
Sunday glances away as Aventurine slips a hand into the opening of the plush fabric, running his gloved fingers down a delightfully naked, smooth chest. The way Sunday’s wings shiver isn’t lost on him.
“Poor thing,” he breathes, teasing over a nipple and enjoying the way Sunday tries to hold still and act unaffected. “All alone, no one to see to your needs. Did you touch yourself in my shower, hm? Did you rub one out with that toy I got you? Did you make yourself cum in my bed?”
“No,” Sunday says, voice wavering just a little. He had acted unimpressed, borderline offended when he’d first been gifted a dildo molded from Aventurine’s cock, but after a few weeks, the truth had certainly shown itself— namely in the amount of times Aventurine had walked in on him using it.
“Mm, are you sure?” Aventurine lets his hand trail down lower, tugging the robe open. His favorite little angel is wearing only a cute, lacy pair of panties in the soft dove grey that suits him so well. “So if I touch you down here…”
Sure enough, Sunday hisses as Aventurine cups his cock through the soft underwear. He’s always so sensitive after he’s cum, it’s a dead giveaway. So is the little trail of slick dripping from the head that Aventurine discovers, once he’s slipped beneath the fabric. The two little wings that frame Sunday’s cock ruffle as Aventurine inspects them— sure enough, they’re slick in a way they shouldn’t be if Sunday had just showered. He really must have jerked himself off on the bed right afterward, the naughty thing.
Sunday winces, trying to subtly edge away from him.
“You filthy little liar.” Aventurine grins at his prey. “First, ignoring the girls all day, then denying the obvious right to my face, hm? If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s looking for trouble.”
“No,” Sunday insists with a nervous flush, finally showing the first bit of real emotion on his face since Aventurine stepped into the room. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I’m still not— used to my body reacting to things I have no control over. It wasn’t like this, before. In the Dream.”
Sunday always has a reason for everything. But that’s alright, Aventurine’s not offended— by the excuses or by Sunday’s frequent, obvious attempts to hide his sexual urges. He gets it, after all. They’re two of a kind— it’s just that Sunday likes taking his penitence on his knees, and Aventurine likes giving his standing.
“Well, I’ve got the perfect solution for you then, angel.” Aventurine gives him a lingering kiss on the cheek, just because he loves how it still makes Sunday flush. “Got you another little present that should help you out with that pesky little problem.”
“What do you mean?” Sunday asks warily, and for good reason. Aventurine just turns towards the bag he’d deposited on the end of the bed, then draws out a pretty little package.
“Just shut your eyes,” he croons, enjoying the fleeting glimpse of confusion that passes over Sunday’s face as he tries to make sense of the image on the box before he obeys, shivering. He’s so responsive when he can’t see, and those little fluttering wings— both above and below— really do give everything away.
Aventurine takes his time opening the package, letting Sunday sit there and stew in his nervous curiosity. “Nuh uh, no peeking,” he tuts, even though he’s pretty sure Sunday was just hiding behind his wings, not looking through them. “Patience is supposed to be a virtue, right?”
Sunday grumbles something unintelligible, then freezes as Aventurine slips his gloved fingers beneath those pretty panties and draws them down.
“Hips up, angel. Keep those eyes shut. Just trust me.”
Slowly, painstakingly, he nudges those cute little wings aside and positions Sunday’s soft cock into the pink silicone of the cage, adjusting his balls properly. It’s fun to watch him squirm, a tiny gasp escaping his lips. He’ll be getting hard again soon, but no matter. The cage will take care of everything.
“There we go.” Aventurine locks the cage and pockets the key, grinning at his nervous little toy. “Open your eyes, precious. See how you like it.”
Sunday’s eyes open slowly, like he’s afraid to look, but he sits up immediately when he sees exactly what’s going on between his legs.
“What is this?” He asks, voice shaky. “What have you done?”
“Just a cock cage, nothing too crazy,” Aventurine preens. “Thought that baby pink would look so cute on you, and I was right! Now you won’t have to worry about getting hard and needing to touch yourself when I’m gone.”
“There’s… it’s locked?” Sunday swallows so hard his throat clicks. His eyes dart nervously to Aventurine’s. His pelvic wings shiver. “But you have the key?”
“I sure do,” Aventurine assures him, leaning in to thumb at his slightly agape lips. “Aren’t you going to say thank you? Don’t you like your present?”
Sunday’s eyes are already blown dark in a way that looks very, very promising.
“I— it’s cruel,” he insists, but he’s licking at Aventurine’s thumb like he can’t help himself. “Why?”
“Because,” Aventurine drawls, slipping two fingers deeper into Sunday’s mouth, petting at his tongue. “I like it when you’re all flustered and needy. I like seeing you squirm and beg and whine for me. And I especially like it when I’m gone and all you can do is whine and hump the bed but nothing can give you the relief you’re after. No getting hard, no cumming. Only when I say you’re allowed. Told you, it’s the perfect solution.”
It’s not strictly true, of course, but he’s not about to tell Sunday that it’s possible to cum even with the cage on. Maybe once he gets used to this, Aventurine can work him up to a flat cage. Shit, the thought is turning him on so bad.
“You’re aroused,” Sunday says, voice faint. One of his hands has made its way into Aventurine’s lap, as if needing to check for himself that Aventurine wasn’t lying. “You really… enjoy this?”
“Why don’t you take a taste and see for yourself, kitten?” Aventurine gives him a saucy grin, pressing Sunday’s hand down over his erection.
It’s not long until Sunday’s a sobbing mess, Aventurine’s cock distending his throat as he kneels on the floor in front of the bed between Aventurine’s legs. He always cries so much when he gives head— nose running, drooling, the whole nine yards. It’s so cute seeing him all disheveled like this, and it’s extra fun to tease the wings, use them as handles.
“That’s a good boy,” Aventurine coos, fucking deeper. He doesn’t know if it’s a Halovian thing or just a Sunday thing, but the sheer lack of gag reflex on the man might have him believing in the Harmony after all. “Take it nice and deep— this is all you’ll be getting so you might as well enjoy it.”
Sunday gasps and drools when he’s finally allowed up for air, clinging to Aventurine’s hips. He’s dripping through the cage, all over his smooth milky thighs that he can’t seem to stop squeezing together. It’s perfection.
“Such a perfect little toy.” Aventurine gives voice to his thoughts. “See? No more troublesome erections to deal with.”
“Please,” Sunday rasps, already begging for it even sooner than Aventurine expected. “It hurts. I don’t like it.”
“Aw, what’s wrong?” Aventurine turns on his most saccharine voice as he tilts Sunday’s messy chin up towards him. “I thought a man of the cloth like you would appreciate it. After all, aren’t you called upon to serve? I’m just helping you out, here.”
Sunday makes a miserable noise, biting his lip as he hangs his head.
“You’re being cruel,” he insists, hands making angry little fists at his sides as he stares down at his caged genitalia, so pretty and pink and miserably dripping. His pelvic wings tremor with feeling. Aventurine just laughs, running his gloved hand through that soft grey hair.
“That’s what you love about me,” he reminds his recalcitrant pet. “I do all the things to you that nobody else will. I give you what you need. And let’s not start splitting hairs about who’s more cruel. It’s not like I’ve put a countdown timer on your cock. You won’t die.”
Sunday groans, mulishly glaring up at him through his hair. “That was different. You said you wouldn’t bring that up in bed.”
“I’m not holding it against you, sweetness. Just a little reminder to keep things in perspective,” Aventurine teases. He runs his silk-shod foot over Sunday’s caged cock, delighting in how gutturally and pathetically his submissive little angel groans and bucks into the touch. “Wow, and here I didn’t think you were into feet.”
“Just let me out,” Sunday whines, trying to sound authoritative and absolutely failing. “I won’t touch myself while you’re gone anymore, I promise.”
“Mm. That’s great and all, but I’m enjoying this, so it stays on.” Watching Sunday’s face crumple fills him with sheer, sadistic glee. “Actually, that reminds me…”
Five minutes later, he has poor Sunday trussed up like a sacrificial offering, or maybe a roast. His surly little angel has his wrists cuffed to his thighs, bent forward on the bed with his ass in the air and a spreader bar keeping his ankles apart. Aventurine’s got a handy little rig for moments such as this— one that can nicely support a high powered vibrator aimed right between Sunday’s legs, meant to tease his balls with merciless torment.
Sunday hisses as he clicks the vibrator on, his entire body going rigid.
Aventurine had clipped his collar to the restraints hidden under the bed, and his ankle cuffs are held additionally secure at the other end, one pulled toward each post on the foot board of Aventurine’s very sturdy bed frame. No matter how much he squirms, he’s not going anywhere or closing his legs. There’s no escape, unless he uses one of his magic words.
“How’s that?” He runs his gloved hand over the divots of Sunday’s spine, drinking in all his pitiful little noises as his poor sac is stimulated to the point of tears. “You look like you’re having fun.”
Sunday pants and whines, forehead rolling from side to side against the sheets. “It’s too much,” he whimpers, looking beseechingly up at Aventurine with those pretty golden eyes all full of tears. “It’s trying to get hard but it can’t. Ahh, I swear to you, I’ll be good, just please let me out!”
“I know, precious, I know,” Aventurine soothes him, soft and oh so gentle. “It’s a lot, hm? But you’re a tough boy, you can take it for me. You were being such a little brat earlier, trying to act like you didn’t miss me. But we both know the truth, huh? You love it when I torment you.”
“N-no,” Sunday tries to protest, bucking and groaning as Aventurine turns up the setting on the vibrator. “No, please, I don’t like it! I don’t want it!”
“You’re dripping everywhere,” Aventurine murmurs, collecting some of the pre cum with his fingers from between Sunday’s thighs. “Open up, angel.”
“Nngh, please!” Sunday’s protests are quickly muffled by Aventurine’s gloved fingers in his mouth, covered in his own fluid. It’s always so satisfying watching his eyes roll back— makes Aventurine want to fuck every last little thought out of his brain.
“Shhh. You think I don’t know what you want?” Aventurine shoves his fingers deep, rings disappearing between Sunday’s lips. “What you need is to be punished. Giving into so many sins in one day… sloth, dishonesty, lust. You need to be cleansed, and this is the only way.”
Sunday makes a despairing sob, shuddering and squirming in futility. Without being able to vent his frustrations verbally, he seems to give up some of the fight— which is right where Aventurine wants him. Having his mouth stuffed once he’s in this state always works a charm.
“Mmm. Look at that, so easy for me. Already such a desperate, greedy boy. Add that to the list of things you need to repent for.”
Sunday shivers intensely, his hips trying to jerk away from the incessant vibrations against his balls. Aventurine can see the cage twitching, but it holds steady. There’s no way it’s coming loose— he was precise with his measurements, having taken them when Sunday was sleeping.
“There, there,” he breezes onward, groping Sunday’s plush little ass, his hip, his chest, all while fucking his mouth with the other hand. “We can’t let a sinner like you out into the world without the proper atonement. You’re just going to have to take your punishment until I’ve decided you’re sufficiently forgiven.”
Sunday makes a despairing noise, trying frantically to get free, but he can’t escape Aventurine’s fingers down his throat any more than he can escape the spreader bar or terrible vibrator or cute pink cage. It’s adorable, watching him struggle. Makes Aventurine just want to eat him up. So he does.
His precious angel makes a noise that can only be described as a squeal when he feels Aventurine’s tongue lave over his twitching hole, seeming unable to decide whether to jerk away from it or lean into it.
“Now, now,” Aventurine chides, holding his ass steady as he straddles the vibrator rig to get a proper handle on his treat. “No squirming, pet. I know how much you like this.”
Sunday sobs as he’s eaten out, Aventurine sucking on his rim like he’s eating oysters, savoring a delicacy. He can feel the vibrations traveling up through Sunday’s body, can feel how close he is to absolute ruin. It’s always so satisfying to break him. Force him to confront how much he loves to be denied, how he loves to be tortured with things he can’t have. Aventurine could easily spoil him day in and out, but all sweetness with no spice makes for a very dull boy indeed.
“You need this,” he continues between licks, groaning at the delicious taste of him. “Poor little Sunday, needing to cum so badly. You make it too easy for me.”
Sunday lets out a piercing cry when Aventurine finally divests himself of one glove and slips a lubed finger inside him, going straight for his sweet spot. He jerks when Aventurine finds it, playing with his prostate, cruelly forcing more sensation on him.
“Please—” he begs, trying to twist to look at Aventurine, caught short by his collar. “No. I can’t! No more, please!”
“Are you sure you want me to stop?” He can see how much Sunday’s dripping onto the sheets. Leaking like a pretty little faucet from inside his baby pink cage, his poor balls flushed a deep reddish purple from the constant caress of the vibrator. “Looks like you’re getting close.” He punctuates this with another teasing rub over Sunday’s prostate, making him flail in his bonds and howl.
“No more! No! NO, please no!”
So Aventurine stops, after a minute. Watches with satisfaction as a full-body shudder runs down Sunday’s spine. He’s glistening with sweat, both sets of wings fluttering in agitation. His pink hole clenches on nothing, now that Aventurine’s not playing with him.
“Are you sure you really want me to stop?” Aventurine questions, lightly, tracing his wet fingertips over the curve of Sunday’s ass where it meets his thigh. “I think you want to cum.”
“S-shit,” Sunday swears, voice wet and thick, which means he’s really feeling it. “Aeons have mercy. I can’t— I need—”
“Shhh. I told you, I know what you need, princess.” Aventurine rocks his naked groin against Sunday’s ass, letting him feel how hard he is for him. “But you can’t have it, you already took care of things earlier. Why would I want leftovers?” In fact, he fucking loves railing Sunday after he’s cum— hell, he’d even gladly stick it in after someone else has had their fun with him first— but it’s far more fun to tease.
“M’ sorry,” Sunday weeps, a frustrated sob choking up his throat. “Please, I won’t— not without permission, I swear. Please, Master.”
Aventurine loves when he gets to this state— begging and mewling for relief. He’ll say just about anything at this point. Case in point… Master?
“Hmm… that’s a new one,” he muses, tracing his hands over Sunday’s quivering flanks as he continues to tease and grind against him. Sunday surely has to know the significance of calling him that, of all people. He puts a pin in the thought before he can go too far down that path. “You must be terribly desperate if you’re trying to butter me up like that.”
Damn, he can even feel the vibrations in his cock, traveling up through Sunday’s body. It’d be so amazing to fuck him right now… but no, he’s got other plans.
Sunday squirms, making the most exquisitely pained, aroused whimpers. “Please,” he tries again. “Aven—turine— need to cum, please— I’ll be good, promise I’ll be—hngh, so good!”
“Oh, I have no doubt.” Aventurine dismounts, slinging a leg over the vibrator rig so he can slip off the bed and move around to look Sunday in his miserable, pink face, soaked with tears and drooling onto the bed. “Oh, look at you… poor thing, who would leave you in such a state?”
Sunday pleads with his eyes, at least until he has to close them to weather another wave of sensation from the vibrator. “Please,” he chokes out, a fresh deluge of tears slipping down his flushed cheeks. “‘Venturine, please. Master. I can’t take it!”
“You say that every time,” Aventurine coos, petting through his hair, pushing the damp tendrils from his hot forehead. “But you’re always such a good boy for me, aren’t you? How’s this— if you can manage to make me cum with your mouth, I’ll give you what you want.”
It’s sloppy and messy, absolutely terrible— Sunday has no concentration left whatsoever. But fucking his face against the bed feels pretty incredible, and Aventurine doesn’t mind doing most of the work himself. Sunday’s such a goddamn pillow princess, he’s plenty used to it. Even kinda likes it…
His orgasm sneaks up on him faster than he was expecting— something about Sunday’s miserable face, his sobbing noises, his pleading eyes and pathetic little wing flutters just does it for him. Aventurine groans low in his chest, holding Sunday close so he can shoot straight down his pretty throat, stroking over the bulge his cock makes against the sleek column of his neck. Feeling each pulse as he empties himself.
“Fuck… good boy, such a good boy, swallow it all…” Aventurine pulls back so the last spurts land on Sunday’s tongue, taking his cock in hand and smearing it over his mouth. His entire body is tingling as he watches Sunday pathetically try to lick him clean, but he’s so overstimulated, so gone, it’s just adorable.
“Your turn,” he murmurs, then gives Sunday a wet kiss on the forehead and re-positions himself behind his bound submissive. Another lick of his fingers and then it’s two inside Sunday’s hole, pressing in slow but not stopping. Sunday cries out, tensing a little, and Aventurine shushes him with soothing rubs on his cute butt.
“Now, now. Time for you to cum too, princess. Aren’t you excited?”
Sunday makes a ragged moan that could mean anything. He sobs again when Aventurine teases at his prostate, but he clearly doesn’t have enough in him to shy from the touch. Aventurine doesn’t stop, forces him to take it, stroking a little firmer, until finally Sunday screams bloody murder and jerks uncontrollably, trying to twist away but held tight by his restraints. Fuck, he’s so gorgeous like this, crying and wailing and jolting as Aventurine forces an orgasm out of him, cock still locked down and untouched.
“That’s it, good boy,” Aventurine coos, stroking him through it. Pressing a little firmer to make Sunday scream and writhe again. “Just a little more, you can take it.”
He finally lets up when he senses that Sunday is too choked up to breathe properly, carefully withdrawing and turning off the vibrator, just petting at Sunday’s soft, sweet hole as he watches his favorite little angel collapse into a boneless puddle on the bed.
“That’s my boy,” he praises, leaning in to press a little kiss to the pink rim he’s been slightly abusing, then slowly begins the process of undoing Sunday’s wrist-to-thigh restraints, unfolding him from his bent position, then freeing his ankles from the spreader bar and the under-bed restraints.
The collar stays on, Aventurine decides, stroking through Sunday’s hair. His golden eyes are half-closed and he’s still just staring into the distance of Aventurine’s bedroom, utterly mind-broken. The lights are on, but nobody’s home, and if their previous exploits are anything to go by, he certainly won’t be back anytime soon.
Aventurine busies himself with wetting a cloth in the sink and carefully wiping down Sunday’s ass and thighs, gently rolling him over so he can clean the cum from his stomach.
“Guess you managed to cum even with this on,” he muses, as if that wasn’t the intention all along. “Ah, well! I’ll just have to find something stronger.”
He retrieves the key and removes the cock cage just long enough to wipe Sunday’s bits down and clean off the pink apparatus in the ensuite bathroom before returning and putting it right back on him. It’s just too damn tantalizing, leaving him all locked up like that. And the pink is so cute next to his soft grey pubic hair and ivory skin.
“Such a pretty captive you make,” he sighs, fondly. “And I would know.”
Sunday doesn’t respond— he’s in another fucking dimension, apparently, but it’s fine. It’s cute. Aventurine presses a fond kiss to his forehead and his cheek, turning the cloth over to a clean spot so he can wipe the tears and drool and god knows what else from Sunday’s pretty face.
“You’re gonna need another shower,” Aventurine teases, then positions Sunday more comfortably with his head on a pillow. He grabs the blankets he’d tossed aside earlier and drapes them over his sensitive little submissive, then rids himself of the last vestiges of his own clothing and accessories.
He’ll never tell Sunday this, but the cuddling afterwards is kinda his favorite part, especially when Sunday eventually comes back to this plane of existence and looks up at him with shining eyes and a warm, healthy sheen of embarrassment.
“So cute,” Aventurine teases, peppering his face with kisses until Sunday scowls and shoves at him, only to bury his face in Aventurine’s chest and hold him tight.
“I’m not cute,” comes the muffled response, and Aventurine just pets his hair, soothing his fussy little angel.
“Of course not. You’re very intimidating.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“And your presence is exceptionally commanding.”
“I’m glad someone noticed.”
“I’m leaving you in the cage, by the way.”
“...okay.”
xx