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“Sammy, please.”
Higgs’ face is a mess of tears and smeared makeup.
He paws at Sam’s leg like it’s all he can do to anchor himself from toppling over into his own madness, doesn’t care to struggle with the shackles on his wrists despite it being the first time he’s actually been able to lift his own hands in front of himself in days. It’s a truly pathetic sight, something that Sam can’t help but marvel at in his own quiet way. The man who’s been a constant thorn in his side, a foreboding sign of agony to come has been brought to heel before him all thanks to the fault of his own body.
The changes hadn’t been entirely immediate, but Sam remembers the point in which Higgs’ aggressive demeanor had made the switch to authentic desperation.
He’s straining now, but it isn’t to free himself. Instead, he’s solely focused on trying to reach the source of the ache between his own legs. He just can’t seem to control himself, already having created quite the mess below with the precum constantly dribbling from his neglected cock. Sam only observes him, as if contemplating something far deeper than what it really was. It’s obscenely captivating.
Higgs still can’t reach it, of course. Even with the chain around his wrists temporarily slackened, he’s offered a minimal range of motion at best. So Sam watches him writhe, watches the dark outline of his length throbbing between his thighs. He can’t get off that way, either - legs shackled far enough apart so he’s forced to keep them spread, unable to grind out his release unless someone decides to be charitable enough and come tend to him.
In other instances, Sam would have taken no pleasure in a sight like this.
Even now he wasn’t quite sure how to feel, grim display as it was - yet there was an undeniable sick sense of justice about it, stemming from the knowledge that Higgs himself had done and would have chosen to do so much worse. For a man that reveled in suffering, such a “punishment” wasn’t half bad.
Yet here he was, acting like it was the worst thing in the world that they could’ve possibly chosen to do to him. As if the only thing that mattered anymore was whether he had the ability to get off or not. Days ago, he’d given up what little shreds of dignity that were left in favor of this; a pathetic, squirming thing that was currently leaking all over the floor.
The whining had gradually been reduced to pleading, and now on to the soft little protests of his miserable state. Much less deadly, yet somehow still managing to remain an obnoxious pest to anyone remaining in the vicinity. That trait would stick with him for as long as he managed to carry on.
But Sam hasn’t tired of seeing him like this. It’s obscene, a display that had started off by eliciting some feeling of shameful wrongness within and gradually evolved into something darker, some repressed emotion that had been driven to the surface by circumstance.
Something he doesn’t want to admit to himself that remains there, festering.
And right now, he was doing it again. That sniveling, whimpering, pleading for contact. Clutching at Sam’s ankle, head tilted in some miserable bowed posture like the weight of his suffering was far too profound to keep it upright.
Morbid curiosity kept him here, Sam told himself.
It was beginning to feel less and less like the truth the longer he stayed. That faint twinge of pleasure he’d felt before, growing stronger now. Why was he still watching?
Sam didn’t look away, refused to move from his place. The dark entrails beneath Higgs’ chest plate writhed. Distress reflected within.
Sam felt himself twitch, faintly so.
Higgs repeated that simple word, voice a broken whisper. “please.”
Sam reached for him, sudden movement in the heat of the moment. His grip caught on the chain tied tightly between his wrists, the one thing preventing him from going further.
He hesitated, just for a moment. Didn’t allow any more thought to what it entailed.
With an unceremonious clatter, Higgs was free of his chains - only superficially, shackles remaining bolted to the floor where they held.
The tether around his throat remained.
Sam spoke before Higgs could take his ideas any further.
“Hands off yourself. Might get somethin’ for it.”
Higgs’ eyes are wide, disbelieving. It’s the first time he’s been able to move so freely since coming here.
That disbelief is short lived as he registers the sight of Sam above him, and the fervor returns in full.
He’s reaching for the porter in an instant, hands clutching at his body like he’s clinging to his last hope for survival. Sam gives a grunt of displeasure and forces him down with a knee pressed against his chest, distaste for the weight of him, the fullbody contact that would follow.
Higgs only whimpers, presses his cheek against Sam’s thigh. Has to have something to hold to, just can’t keep his hands to himself. Sam’s stomach churns with something distasteful, yet he doesn’t pull back any further.
Higgs tries again. This time, it’s testing. Pressure against his legs, slinking upwards. He’s warm, a lot warmer than he should be. More than he would have been if he still had any humanity left in him.
His touch creeps up to Sam’s thigh. It results in a slight flinch, but there’s no attempt to stop it. Sam’s gaze seers into him, but his attention is only locked on the parts he can touch. Is touching, there in that moment. That is what drives his obsession.
Sam feels himself throb beneath coarse fabric, grits his teeth a little harder to ensure he stays silent. A mechanical hand slips against his inner thigh, pressing to the soft flesh there. The only thing preventing its completion is the layer of coarse denim dividing them from contact in full, and Higgs wants it gone.
Higgs paws at his bulge. The same desperate look from before is written all over his sorry, teary eyed face. Sam only watches him. Doesn’t move, doesn’t touch. Not until Higgs’ fingers are moving for his waistband does he do something about it, though what he chooses to do is a spur of the moment decision built on impulse alone. It’s partially because he wants to see what will happen and partially because he’s already half hard, and for one reason or another Higgs’ pathetic, pleading face must have done something to cross his wiring because it really does seem like the best choice he could be making right now.
He takes hold of Higgs’ hand and pushes it right up against his crotch, and Higgs goes still with a look of disbelief that might’ve been hilarious under any other circumstance if it weren’t for the rush of genuine arousal it brings.
Now Higgs’ hand moves tentatively upwards, hesitating as if he’d be expecting some redirection at any moment now. There was none. He’s allowed it all, the whole show - utterly infatuated when he pulls down the fabric to reveal Sam’s cock.
As soon as he’s able to reach, he dips his head with intent to lap at it with the hint of a black tongue already peeking out from between his lips. He’s met with a fist clenched roughly in his hair, preventing his further movement as the desperation momentarily returns to his eyes. It’s a look of confusion, and its own brand of betrayal.
“Sam?” He all but whimpers the name, pleading gaze following to Sam’s own face.
“I don’t trust your mouth.” Sam replies gruffly, answering the silent question Higgs had just been begging to get an answer for.
Upsetting as it may be, Higgs wouldn’t have much time to let the feeling linger. Sam’s hand is already guiding his own, and he eagerly lets him. Anything in exchange to give all the touch he could offer.
So uncharacteristic of his more familiar behavior, Higgs’ movements are nothing short of hesitant in the beginning. He’s afraid of it stopping, of Sam finding some reason to cease the contact completely. But Sam guides him along, placing the padded tip of his thumb against his cockhead.
His fingers twitch, just slightly. Sam’s hand momentarily wraps around his own, encouraging the uncharacteristically timid man to get on with it.
Higgs rubs his thumb against the leaking slit, and Sam’s cock throbs in his grasp at the feeling of the soft material dragging against it.
That’s all it takes for Higgs to snap out of his dumbfounded state, giving way to something much more familiar. Something desperate and aching for contact, uncaring of how he might degrade himself in the process.
Before Sam has time to react Higgs is already mouthing at his cock, black-gold lips pressed at the base as Sam grabs a fistful of his hair, fully prepared to wrench his head back.
But he doesn’t, and it isn’t because some better judgement took over in the moment. It’s because the look in Higgs’ eyes is frantic, manic in his submission that is so tellingly separate from their numerous past encounters. Like his one desire was to worship the body of a man he’d tried over and over again to destroy. The malice was gone for now, driven by something far more distinct.
So Sam didn’t force him away, no. He took it all in, watched as Higgs dipped a little lower, working over the tip with his fingers while he pressed his nose against Sam’s balls.
Higgs’ free hand is brought up to his thigh to massage against it with a pace that remains slow, reverent. He takes in a deep breath of his scent, letting out a muffled groan as his cock bobs between his legs. It’s strongest here and he just can’t seem to get enough, shamelessly nuzzling against him in a display of lustful worship.
The heat of every breath, the gentle prodding makes him ache with want. The first beads of precum dribble from the slit to wet his fingers as Sam grabs at the hand on his cock, pressing Higgs’ palm to rub firmly against it. Higgs’ own motion there has stilled in distracted hesitation, but Sam has no intention of making it stop.
The sole of his palm is slick and smooth, squishing up against his length with an inviting soft tension as his grip is made to tighten. He drags it up slowly, teasing the tip of his cock with it to leave a glistening trail against the translucent pad.
Higgs lets out a muffled whimper, lips pressed against his sac before he trails slowly upward. He’s salivating heavily, overwhelmed with Sam’s scent and his own unfettered arousal. He could cum like this, if only Sam would allow him just the slightest bit of attention. Might be able to anyway, even without it. Maybe, if he could stay like this for just a little longer..
But Sam’s focus remains on working his hand up and down the shaft, so Higgs’ attention is drawn there. He takes charge of his own motion again, at least in part - rubbing his thumb in a slow circle against the head while his fingers press and stroke.
Sam tangles fingers in his hair, a firm petting movement that almost seems to offer praise. Even more likely, it’s a reflex. Something to help anchor amidst the pleasure, keep his mind somewhat clear. Whatever the true intent, Higgs takes it just as well. Because Sam is touching him, openly getting pleasured by him. It’s more than enough, so much more than he deserves.
He grinds his palm against the twitching length, teases around the slit with the pads of two fingers and hears Sam’s breath hitch in his throat. It sends another excited spark through him, the infatuation only growing. So eager to play the game even if he’s not the one in control, because he’s getting what he wants just now. Even if that truth is only temporary, it’s all he needs.
His lips hover over the tip of Sam’s cock, just inches away from touching it. He knows Sam is looking, but he does nothing to stop it this time.
How quickly things can change in the heat of the moment.
It’s not an opportunity Higgs would ever dare waste, greedy as he is for anything that could even remotely resemble this. But Sam is really here, allowing himself to be touched and teased, and he is the one to do it.
The tip of a dark tongue peeks out from between his lips and he leans closer to lap at the mess as if he’d been starved of it, pushing up to lick at the strands of precum beading at the slit.
Sliding swiftly down, he takes his chance where he can see one. Lets it elongate to twist and writhe while Sam huffs out in quiet approval.
It curls in a dripping spiral around Sam’s length, subtly constricting. Sam shudders slightly, just faintly so. Higgs’ mouth is hot and wet, the subtle squeeze and drag of his tongue threatening to drain him of all he had before they’d even really started. Sam’s grip on his hair tightens close to the scalp, pressing him closer to hold him in place. Higgs gazes up at him with a look of pure reverence, scarcely moving save for that subtle pulse from the dark tendril curled around him.
His hold only loosens when he’s ready. Just enough for Higgs to start moving again once he doesn’t feel the threat of letting go so soon, because he doesn’t want to show such a blatant lack of control over his own body. Doesn’t want Higgs to feel like he has that kind of control over him, because he knows just how badly the other man desires it. Knows he’s willing to kill to achieve it, and along with that, so much more.
Sam glowers down at him, a potent cocktail of lust and malice in his eyes. Higgs’ own are half lidded, laced with all the haze of willing servitude. Purely infatuated and unwilling to fight it.
So Sam rocks forward, a sharp snap of his hips that leaves Higgs’ nose pressed into the dark thatch of hair leading to the base of his cock. He stretches to take it, hot and tight and far too easy to press into.
His tongue doesn’t stop grinding, miniature suckers keeping it in place while Sam fucks his throat. He can feel Higgs’ breathing against him, sharp and sudden. Taking in everything he can of Sam’s essence even with his airway almost completely blocked as the pain does nothing but spur him on.
That coiling pressure is starting to build, deep in his gut and lower still. He knows he isn’t going to last long, but doesn’t hold back this time. He pushes on at a brutal pace, in and out as tears prick at the corners of Higgs’ eyes and threaten to fall again. It’s worth every damn second to see that, even if the hurt still brings him pleasure.
Sam cums down his throat, throbbing and spilling himself within the coils of his tongue as Higgs lets out a muffled groan at the taste of him, throat contracting to squeeze his cock tighter.
When he pulls away Higgs seems no worse for wear, attentive and obedient. He needs release badly, Sam can tell. Has known since they started this, since he’d allowed for so much more indulgence than Higgs ever deserved.
But when Sam only rests there, regarding him without a word, Higgs begins to shift his weight in subtle discomfort. The tension is getting to him, the growing possibility that he might not be able to relieve himself after so long. That’s what it had been, for days now. Sam lets him sit with that possibility, enjoying that little flicker of something that bordered on despair.
Just when Higgs begins to think that he really might not get it after all, Sam extends one leg beneath him to press the toe of his boot against his cock. Higgs groans low in his throat, ruts his hips against it once in a slow drag. His eyes lock on Sam’s, frantic and pleading.
The porter’s lip curls into something, maybe the slightest hint of a smirk. All it takes is a single nod and Higgs is on him, clinging to his thigh in an effort to hoist himself up.
His arms wrap around and under his knee for leverage, anchoring him there as he begins a jerky push and grind against Sam’s leg.
Sam only watches him, expression giving away nothing save for a hint of distaste. Higgs has debased himself so deeply already, and seems to have no shame about doing so even more.
It should have been disgusting. It was in its own right, but said disgust had a funny way of going straight to his cock.
He can already feel the warm heat of Higgs’ precum soaking into his clothing, and knows he’s not going to last long like this at all. Maybe a minute tops at this rate, no care to make it last considering where his head’s at by now.
It all serves to help something, to sate a part of him that’s scarcely been touched on until now. A satisfaction over having him, for once, under his total control. After everything Higgs had put him through, it was really the least he could do to make amends.
Higgs’ thighs are shaking, straining with artificial muscle. He’s acting like he can hardly keep himself upright, and maybe there’s some truth to it - his upper body is draped over Sam’s leg as he does it, jerking shudders becoming more frequent as he continues to move.
His breathing comes in short gasps, the rocking motion driven to an aggressive and uncoordinated pace until he finally stills.
Sam feels everything as it happens, and when it’s over Higgs lets himself go limp on top of him.