[M] The Power's Training

"I think you're going soft in your old age," Zakhar snorted softly.

He disentangled himself from Belial's hold and sank to his knees in front of him.

"You don't even want to see me on my knees like this?" he asked, looking up at the Fallen innocently.

He leaned forwards to press a kiss to his thigh over the top of his pants, lips feathering upwards slowly, his hands sliding up at the back of his thighs. His eyes never left his lovers.

His teeth scraped over his clothed flesh gently.

"Are you sure you don't want to see me on my knees?"

"Well I blame you for that, not my age."

He muttered the reply as he looked down at the Lycan, Zakhar was making him soft, but he couldn't resent that, it was better than being empty.

Belial took a sharp inhaled breath as Zakhar slid down him and ran his mouth over his thigh.
The Lycan knew how to get to him, he knew what made him react.

"I'm meant to be the one guiding you towards sin."

He muttered, his hands running through the man's hair as he looked down at him, his eyes glowin with arousal.

Zakhar smirked a little.

"You just don't want to admit that age is making you go soft."

He caught a patch of jeans and skin between his teeth again, biting down harshly until he was sure it'd bruise darkly through the thick fabric.

"Perhaps its more than just how soft you're getting that your age is affecting..." He smirked as he moved up to tug the button free with his teeth, unzipping his flies with his teeth, too.

"You're losing your touch in your old age."

Cheeky, yes. Probably going to earn him a slap and a deliciously sore ass for his efforts? He damned well hoped so.

He hadn't been allowed sex since Belial had taken him as a Slave once more and Belial hadn't taken him once. He was horny and bored of jerking himself off. Right now he wanted Belial to tie him down and fuck him hard.

If getting him to do that meant riling him up then so be it.

In one sharp tug, Belial's jeans pooled around his ankles. Zakhar's tongue lapped out over the Fallen's member gently as his hands caressed his legs gently.

Belial scoffed softly as he looked down at the Lycan.

"I'm like a fine wine, age will only make me better, but a child like you wouldn't understand that."

He murmured as a smirk spread across his lips.

A small shudder ran through his body as Zakhar's tongue lapped over him.

"I'll show you who is losing their touch."

He warned, in an instant he had the man pinned against the floor, holding his arms up above his head, his hips pushing against Zakhar's.

A soft growl rumbled in his chest as he leaned down, laving his tongue over the man's neck.

He grunted when he was forced onto his back.

His eyes flashed and he smirked at the Fallen, tugging slightly at the hands gripping his wrists, grinding his hips upwards against his lovers.

Zakhar's head tilted back when Belial's tongue laved over his neck.

A purr sounded in his chest.

He held onto Zakhar's wrists tighter as he tried to tug them, holding the man firmly in place.

Belial may not want to treat the Lycan like a proper Slave but that didn't mean that their intimate moments would suddenly become vanilla, no, they would always be a flurry of dominance and fetishes, delving deeply into each others perversions.

His hips ground against him firmly, letting the man feel every inch of his body as he bore down against him.

Belial's teeth sunk into Zakhar's neck sharply, biting down firmly as he sucked and licked at the flesh caught between his teeth, leaving behind a dark purple mark.

His little smirk widened as he was held tighter.

That was better. He was showing some dominance. Not enough to keep him satisfied. No, he'd have to do a little more to get that sort of dominance from him.

He continued to writhe in Belial's hold.

Zakhar could play the brat rather well when he wanted to.

A soft groan sounded as teeth sank sharply into his neck but he didn't stop writhing. He wanted his Master to be rough with him.

A soft growl rumbled in his chest as Zakhar continued to writhe and move about, Belial could tell what he was trying to do, he was trying to pull out the dominant side of him.

If that was the case the Fallen was more than happy to oblige. He grabbed onto Zakhar and pulled him up, forcing the man against the edge of the bed so he was kneeling on the floor but bent over the mattress.

His hand came down with unrelenting force, cracking against the Lycan's backside so a large hand print blazed across his cheeks.

A soft whine sounded when he was pulled up and manipulated until he was leaning over the bed.

His hands fisted in the bedsheets when the Fallen's hand came down on his clothes backside. The Lycan gasped softly, pressing backwards insistently, hips swaying side to side a little.

He was going to be the brattiest person he could be today.

Then perhaps he'd get a good punishment that'd last more than just the length of this Session. The thought of a punishment like that got him hot and bothered.

But what could piss Belial off more than just writhing? writhing was fun but it got boring after a while. Ah. He knew.

Very little pissed Belial off. But when Zakhar did something that Belial enjoyed doing himself... Sometimes that got a rather strong reaction from the Fallen. He'd see if that was the case today. If it was perhaps it'd help towards getting himself a good punishment.

One hand unfurled from the sheets, sliding down to undo his slacks, sliding his hand into his underwear to stroke himself gently.

Belial growled, the tone was low, a threatened warning as he snatched the Lycan's hand, pulling it away from himself and pinning above his head again.

Zakhar wasn't going to satisfy himself when he was right there, the man was his Mate and if he could not satisfy him then he had failed.

The Lycan's pants were hastily ripped down and discarded as Belial's free hand delved beneath the bottom of his shirt, his warm palms gracing over his stomach and chest.

He wanted to feel all of Zakhar, to experience his body again after so long.

Belial tore off his own belt and bound Zakhar's wrists together so he could no longer touch himself.

Leaning back down his tongue traced along the lines of his banding, lapping out over the black lines of his mark before biting down on it harshly.

Another smirk curled his lips.

He knew what would annoy the Fallen so well after being his Slave for so long. It was amusing how predictable he could be in times like this.

Zakhar pressed his backside upwards when his slacks were yanked down to pool around his ankles, purring softly as his back arched in a very cat-like manner; stomach pressed down against the Fallen's hand as his backside pushed up in the air.

A soft whine left his lips when his wrists were bound together above his head.

Touching himself was out the window. What else could he do to piss Belial off?

A low moan sounded as his Mate's slick tongue trailed over the lines of his mark, following by a loud gasp as he felt teeth sink into his tender flesh.

"Belial," he groaned softly.

Rule one: Call him Master at all times. Broken.
Rule two: Do not speak unless told to. Broken.

One word breaking two rules.