Trained by T. M. Chris

Author:T. M. Chris [Chris, T. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tanya Chris Publishing
Published: 2018-11-12T16:00:00+00:00

Thoros

It was entertaining seeing how many positions he could fuck Dalin in, how tightly he could truss him up before he did it, sometimes curling him into shapes that tweaked at the limits of his flexibility and other times spreading him out in ways that had little to do with the upcoming contest. He just liked to see Dalin on display—all the heft and meat of him restrained for his pleasure, helpless to fight against the way Thoros took him, though Thoros never minded a fight.

At night he left Dalin unbound—giving his limbs a chance to stretch—and promised himself he wouldn’t bother the man, but the way Dalin came to him when summoned, slithering low across the dirt floor as though not to draw attention to how eagerly he moved, carried its own thrill. Both Dalin’s willingness and his unwillingness had their appeal, and after a day of having Dalin at his mercy, Thoros enjoyed those moments that could almost be called consensual. As though they were lovers—tired from training in their mutual cause, reaching out to each other in the blanketing quiet for relief.

Dalin would win. Thoros couldn’t doubt it. He was … perfect. Astoundingly perfect. So full of fire, so stoic and untamed. The subtle ways in which he bent to Thoros almost undid him. Thoros had known what he wanted to craft Dalin into, but Dalin surpassed anything he could have imagined.

Lucky Atalanta.

Thoros turned away from where Dalin lay placidly despite the extremity of the arch into which Thoros had bound him—toes touching the back of his head, arms overwrapped around calves, all his body one smooth circle of manly flesh rocking on the long rod of his hard cock. Dalin almost always got hard when Thoros tied him up now, whether Thoros fucked him or not. Anticipating it. Anticipating being fucked.

But no, Thoros wouldn’t fuck him. He was becoming too attached to this man he trained for someone other than himself, too accustomed to sinking into his body searching for comfort and release, too eager to watch the gorgeous slopes of Dalin’s naked body as it moved around his spare cottage. Soon Dalin would belong to Atalanta, and Thoros …? He would go back to an existence he hadn’t known was lonely.

“How long can you keep that up?” he asked.

“It’s not like I can go anywhere,” Dalin replied. “The rope does the work.”

That meant he’d bound Dalin well, but: “I meant the way you’re working your cock. Such a wanton slut, aren’t you? I can tell you want me to fuck you, but perhaps I won’t today.”

“Mm.” Dalin rocked so that the table massaged the hard length which bore his weight. “Don’t need you to maybe.”

And so Thoros watched, spellbound as surely as Dalin was rope-bound, as Dalin stimulated himself to orgasm, his eyes closed and his body lax, just a gentle rocking that culminated in the quietest of gasps and a puddle of come soaking into the wood of the table.

“Surprised there’s anything left in you,” Thoros observed as he mopped at the droplets with a rag.

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