Disobedience (Zakhar and Evgeni)

"You've gone quiet quick."

The tip of the knife traced over the bare skin that was revealed to him and he gave a little him, cutting along the inseam of a leg.

"I think I'll have you branded..." He traced a square with the tip of the knife on the man's inner thigh. "Here. My tattoo. My other Slave sports the mark well. I think you will be very much the same."

The knife traced a little harder over the skin, splitting a little. Small beads of blood formed along the cut he had just made.

Evgeni shuddered as the metal brushed over his skin, legs trembling in their bonds as he cursed quietly in Bulgarian.

Any other time, he would have resisted, refused to get the tattoo, insult and wind up Zakhar, but he didn't like knives. He really didn't like knives. Especially when they were so near such a vulnerable part of his anatomy. He was well aware of the damage that knives could do and he didn't care to test it out.

"No..." he murmured quietly.

He grit his teeth, inhaling sharply as the blade pierced the skin, trying hard not to jerk away.

"Yes."

He pursed his lips, eyes turning to one of the empty beds in the room. The one Damien occupied.

"Perhaps I'll ask Damien to do yours, too. He was good with Lino when he wasn't trying to touch him inappropriately."

He set the knife aside for now and gave a hum. "Yes. I'll definitely ask that of him next time I see him." The one problem he'd have would be trying to convince Damien to A) believe that Evgeni was willing or B) bully him into doing it to an unwilling person.

As soon as the knife was set aside, he started to twist again, snapping up at him.

"I'm not your Slave."

He hated the idea of belonging to anybody. Especially Zakhar. His lip curled and he spat up at him, twisting violently.

"Find someone else to brand."

The younger Man lashed out again, slapping him across his cheek once again.

"Do not spit at Master. Do not defy Master's wishes." The second was a very basic rule of Submissive position. The first a personal preference that he would train out of the man. He hated people spitting at him.

"I find that the more disobedient you are, the more I want to own and break you." He had Tyrael to try and dominate now. He could afford to break Evgeni.

He bowed his head to lick up the beads of blood on the older Lycan's thigh, holding him in place with firms hands, one on his hip and the other on his leg.

He recoiled from the hit with a wince and a hiss. His eyes flickered open to glare up at the man in anger and frustration at not being able to do anything to defend himself against the hits.

A soft whimper slipped from his lips as Zakhar bent to lick the blood off his leg, head falling back on the mattress as he felt himself becoming aroused.

He wouldn't let Zakhar break him.

"Do you want more?"

He gave a low purr, nipping at Ev's thigh.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" His tongue laved up to circle his tight ring of muscles slowly with another low purr.

"I can fuck you slowly or I can fuck you fast. Which one would you prefer, Slave?"

His jaw clenched in an attempt not to make a sound as Zakhar's tongue ran over him, a quiet whimper muffled between his lips as his body jerked sharply.

"I am not your slave."

He refused to acknowledge that, and he wouldn't let Zakhar think that either. Every time Zakhar called him that word, he would deny it, and he wouldn't beg for it. He would never beg.

So he wouldn't answer the question

"My Slaves always start out so disobedient." He shook his head with a little sigh.

"I will break you just like I did Lino. You will be an obedient little slave that will cater to my ever whim."

His tongue laved over the man's entrance again, pushing against him.

He snorted in disbelief and defiance, shaking his head slowly. "I will never."

A breath hitched at the back of his throat, back arching as the man's tongue pressed against him again, hips attempting to rock back against his mouth unsuccessfully in his bindings.

His breathing started to speed up, whining in frustration as he attempted to move.

"Chuka!"


(translation: "fuck!")

Zakhar's lips curled upwards at the corners as he continued to lick the man, holding him in place.

Evgeni would break eventually.

And he'd enjoy every minute of it.

How long could he sit here rimming the Lycan? Who would crack first; would Ev want more first, or would he get bored first?

His hips attempted to thrust back a little quicker, the jerking movements shallow, incapacitated by position and the leather constraining him.

He swore loudly, head falling back down on the pillow as he panted heavily. A quiet whimper escaped him, writhing and he bit down sharply on his lower lip.

No, he wouldn't give in.

But this was so unsatisfying, and he needed to be touched, or even entered in some way just so long as it meant something more than this.

No. No. He wouldn't.

His eyes screwed up tightly, drawing in a long, shuddering breath as he tried to calm himself.

Zakhar could almost hear Evgeni's resolve cracking.

He wanted more and he was fighting with himself; to beg or not to beg? So far not begging was winning but that shouldn't last for too much longer.

Sexual frustration was a terrible evil and he was certain that it would make the Bulgarian crack eventually.

He just needed to wait him out.

His hips attempted to rock against the sheets to get some friction against his arousal, letting out a long, drawn out moan, the noise muffled in the cotton.

Every movement he made to try and get some relief only made him more aroused and more frustrated, the pleasure only being short term in the end.

Another keening whimper was choked out, spreading his legs apart as much as he could manage in this position.

"Pl..."

His voice cracked with shame at himself, burying his head in the mattress to hide his face and muffle his voice.

"...Please..."

Zakhar grinned.

Evgeni had given in first. If he kept going on like this, Zakhar was certain that he'd be able to break the man fairly easily given some time and motivation to do so.

He hummed and pulled away, picking up his knife again to cut away the material of his jeans completely, leaving the man spread, bare and aroused, laid out on a platter for him.

He was enjoying the sight immensely.

"Fast or slow?" he asked, stroking the man's backside.

Evgeni tensed a little again as he felt the rest of his clothes being cut away, jaw clenching in anticipation of the cut.

When it didn't come, his body relaxed a little, attempting to rock against the mattress again with a quiet whimper.

"I don't care." he growled.

He refused to specify how he wanted to be fucked. Zakhar could use his own imagination.

"Just do it."

He sucked two fingers then pressed one against the man's entrance.

"Come now, tell me. Or I'll just leave you here like this for a half hour and see if you're more willing to decide then."

He could quite easily pull on some slacks and leave the room.

He'd like to know how far he got before Evgeni broke down. A test of sorts.

Zakhar pulled away and strolled towards his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of slacks and pulling them up his legs.

"Be a good boy while I'm gone and I might reward you," he chuckled and he strolled leisurely towards the door.

He pushed back as a finger pressed against his entrance, mouth falling open slightly as he whimpered softly, eyebrows knit together in frustration.

His teeth clenched together as Zakhar pulled away again, but didn't make a sound, only burying his face into the mattress as he got up to leave.

He wouldn't beg. He could hold out.

"I'll see you later."

His voice was nonchalant. Nobody would be able to guess from his voice that he was aroused if it weren't for the little quiver at the end of his words.

"I don't know when I'll be back. Enjoy yourself while I'm gone. Think of me fucking you in any and every position you can think of."

And then he left. He went for a walk around the mansion grounds and along the fringe of the forest.

Nature was beautiful to him and he'd look for any excuse to walk around in it.

He ignored the man leaving, suddenly realising his predicament when the door slammed.

"Laino." he groaned.

At first, he just tried hard not to think of anything arousing, eyebrows screwed together in concentration. But he couldn't just ignore it. His arousal throbbed demandingly, and he tried to squeeze his legs together, but he couldn't.

His hips attempted to jerk against the mattress, letting out a low moan, finding it hard to get the right leverage to rub himself against the sheets without the use of his legs or arms.

He let out a dry sob, writhing on the sheets in an attempt to find any sort of relief, but unsuccessfully.

"Koochi sin!"


(translation: "Shit"
"Son of a bitch!")

The walk Zakhar had been on had lasted well over a half hour.

When he returned to the room, he smirked. "Did you miss me?" He'd either get a frustrated sob or a growled insult in response to that.

He padded towards the bed slowly, grinning to himself.

"Are you ready to tell me how you want me to fuck you?"

Evgeni did both.

"Son of a bitch!" he sobbed into the mattress as he shamelessly continued to try to rub up against it.

His thighs shook from keeping himself up so long, combined with the unbearable arousal and he was so desperate and so hopeless and aroused that he just gave in. He needed to be touched.

"Fast." he mumbled.

He needed release fast, and it seemed like the less painful option right now.

Zakhar gave a laugh.

He loved how amusing peoples reactions were.

Zakhar strolled forwards, letting his slacks drop to the ground and kicking them aside.

He knelt behind the man and gave a grin. "You want it fast?"

The Russian pushed into the Bulgarian slowly, starting an agonisingly slow rocking of his hips.

He cried out at the feeling of being entered without preparation, eyes watering from the pain. Immediately, he regretted his decision, attempting to writhe away.

"No! Slow... please... I want it slow..."

A shudder rippled down his body as the man started to move inside him, slowly adjusting. As he adjusted, his hips began to jerk with each thrust, attempting to push back against him, trying to coax Zakhar into a faster pace. Perhaps... fast was right after all.

His head tossed forwards, panting, as he let out a long moan.

Zakhar's pace didn't change.

His hips moved in an agonisingly slow rocking motion, his hands gripping the man's hips.

He'd do this until Evgeni was sobbing and writhing and begging for a good release.

His lips curled upwards a little.