clayking: (Default)
Caliban | Prince of Hell ([personal profile] clayking) wrote2020-10-21 08:07 pm
Entry tags:

Contact Post | Caliban



voice | video | text | action
calloused: ᴇᴀꜱʏꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ (116.)

there's always time if you ever feel like it!!

[personal profile] calloused 2021-08-11 01:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[ If Derek can have everything he wants tonight, then he'll definitely keep his promise - he'll test just how much stamina Caliban really has, pounding him into the hotel bed until his knees give out and he forgets how to walk, and then he'll take him outside, press him against the alley wall and leave his load dripping down his thighs right as the sun starts to rise. He'll kiss him, hard and sloppy, hand on his throat and holding his windpipe, and then he'll slap Caliban on the ass, thank him for the fun night and head back home. Nice and simple.

But he's not going to just rush straight to the end. Caliban teases him, and Derek just laughs deadpan and unamused, his grip getting a little firmer on Caliban's shirt. He makes a noise, a quiet, thoughtful hum, and then he pulls, tearing Caliban's shirt and popping off the buttons. He tugs a little harder, makes the fabric rip, forcing Caliban closer to his body when he does without giving him time to find his balance, and it only takes a few more needy, urgent pulls for Caliban's shirt to be reduced to shreds of fabric hanging loosely off his shoulders. Another quick, forceful tear, and whatever is left of Caliban's shirt hangs loosely from his belt, the rest of the tatters a pile on the ground. ]


Kneel.

[ That's an order - Derek's voice is strong and commanding, like he'll take no argument. He drags his palm up Caliban's bare chest until it reaches his shoulder, and he pushes down on it, urging the demon to sink to his knees. Derek's other hand goes straight to his own underwear, slipping a thumb beneath his waistband in an invitation for Caliban to strip him down. ]
calloused: ʙᴇᴛɪᴄᴏɴꜱ (144.)

[personal profile] calloused 2021-08-11 02:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It looks like Derek fucking loves being called sir, from the sudden, intense look that darkens his expression. Easy, willing submission like this always sends blood rushing straight to his cock, the bulge in his underwear flexing as he grows, and Derek's lips part a little as he stands where he is, letting Caliban touch his body however he likes. His boxers fall around his thighs, pre already beading at the tip of his head. He won't rush this. He wants to - but he won't. ]

You're only saying that because you want me to wreck your throat.

[ Derek grins, sharp and wolfish, as he rakes his fingers back through Caliban's hair, smoothing it away from his forehead to get a better look at his eyes. Derek used to resist eye contact when he first came here - he'd fuck strangers when he had to, paint their face with his cum, then leave, shamefaced and tense like his bones were made of iron. It's not really like that, anymore. He's loved the opportunity to just take control and find power in domination to feel as reticent as he used to.

He darts his tongue between his lips, quietly nodding to show his assent. ]


Go ahead. Touch me. I'm giving you permission.