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Herman’s aching.
His balls ache, his thighs and stomach ache, but he can’t stop.
His hips grind feverishly into that unending force, hard pressure on his cock, and he can’t stop. The air around him is acrid with smoke, but his heaving chest sucks it down greedily. He can faintly hear himself whining, whimpering, pathetic and desperate.
There are tears in his eyes from the strain, from how bad he needs to cum, and it’s just not happening.
“You need some help, bud?”
“N-no sir, thank- thank you sir, thank you,” he chokes, breaking into a coughing fit as another plume of smoke hits his lungs. Still, he ruts. Greedy. Drooling. Pathetic. The words course through his head like he’s actually hearing them. The leather of Robert’s shoes creak with the force, pressing down further onto Herman’s aching cock, and he sobs.
He’s being so messy, so bad, drooling and leaking precum all over his own belly, on Robert’s nice dress shoes, on his slacks. Herman grips those slacks like a lifeline, pressing his foot closer so he can continue his feverish movements. The tears start to flow freely now, hot and uncomfortable as they stream down his cheeks, hiccuping sobs breaking through his desperate moans.
Another cloud of smoke. It burns Herman’s eyes. He coughs again, unsteady breaths forcing him to take in the toxic air.
“You look good like this, Herman. You’re being such a good boy, you know that? Messy little thing.”
Herman whines in response, the noise thick in his chest, full of want, and breaks into more sobs. He can feel his chin curling unattractively, and he leans forward to press his lips to Robert’s knee, wet, open mouthed sobbing wetting the fabric.
It burns, that ache spreading so far it curls his toes, turns his grip into a trembling, white knuckled affair. He’s getting close now. Robert’s words spur him like a trophy, eager for more praise, more degradation, more anything.
“Thank you- sir, thank you, thank you,” he blubbers, the words muffled by tears and Robert’s leg. Herman’s throbbing steadily now as that burn starts to shift. He’s getting close. The words try to bubble up, but all that comes out is more gratitude. Herman is grateful. Giving him even a foot, the dirtiest part of him, is more than Herm could ever wish to ask for.
“That’s a good boy, Herman. Lift your head up for me. Tongue out.”
Herman couldn’t bear to refuse. He looks up, face burning, tongue hanging limp out of his mouth as Robert blows another cloud of smoke into his face. Robert turns the cigarette around, pressing the burning cherry right into the center of Herman’s tongue.
It hurts, but the sting is dulled by the moisture in his mouth, the sizzle of the burning ember making contact is louder than anything Herman’s ever heard. Robert twists it a few times, making sure the burn dies completely, then tosses it away.
“Close and swallow.”
The ash on his tongue tastes disgusting. Bitter and sickening, and yet that’s what has Herman spilling. He faintly hears some stitches rip as he comes, curling over the hard line of Robert’s leg as he comes, hot and pathetic in his pants, flooding his boxers. It feels like it never ends, tears hot on his face as he sobs out his release.
Herman’s breaths are wet and gravelled, the sound more akin to a broken faucet than a breath. He coughs as he folds forward, going limp on Robert’s shin, the liquid in his lungs pungent and bitter as he coughs it into his mouth. He’s shaking, all the tension in his body leaving in a gust as he relaxes.
“Thank you..” Herman slurs, trying hard to sniff away the moisture on his face. He’s sure he looks like a wreck. A wet mess of lanky limbs. When he looks up at Robert, though, he knows that’s not what Robert sees.
Robert’s eyes are somewhere between predatory and proud, an undeniable affection in his gaze as he reaches down to pet the wet hair off of Herman’s forehead. Herman leans into it like a dog, the barest affection making the tears come right back, sickly sweet.
“You did so good for me Herman. Are you okay? You wanna go get cleaned up?”
“Wanna… help. Help you,” he whines, a shaking hand skipping sticky over Robert’s slacks, up to where he’s bulging the fabric. Robert tenses and lets out a harsh breath, betraying the composure he’s been keeping.
“Are you sure?” Robert asks, fingernails scratching at Herman’s scalp, but Herman’s already halfway there. He lets go of Robert’s leg, nudging it away from his mess, sitting up as much as he can to shakily undo Robert’s belt. His fingers slip over the leather, but he gets there eventually, still sniffling as the downpour continues.
“Okay, Herm. Go on,” he relents. Herman wants to be good. He needs to thank Robert for everything he’s been given, and this servile attention is his best attribute. Wet fingers pull Robert out of his slacks, and Herman uses his burned tongue to swipe up the underside. The burn doesn’t hurt anymore, but the taste remains. He wants to flood that taste with Robert, wants to earn the gifts he was given.
Robert groans above him, and it sounds like victory. Herman’s eager already, using the last of his strength to bob his head over the length of him. His precum is heady in Herman’s mouth, sweet compared to the ashes left there. Fingers curl into Herman’s hair, gripping tight and slowing him down.
“Easy, bud. Not a race. Don’t hurt yourself,” Robert soothes, and his concern is enough to start the tears all over again. Herman whines around him, eyes pleading up at Robert. His mouth opens wider, and he sinks to the base of Robert’s cock. His gag reflex has been all but destroyed after years of using his power, and he wants Robert to abuse that fact.
Herman nods around him, brows pitched up so high it’d be hard to miss what he’s asking for. Robert concedes silently, losing the race against his own arousal as his hips roll into Herman’s mouth. He sets a pace like that, slow and rolling, savoring the feeling of Herman’s wet throat around his cock. The sounds are filthy. The room is flooded with gasps and wet, sticky noises, mingled with groans from Robert and pleading whines from Herman.
Robert uses his free hand to lift his shirt up, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. “Not gonna be long. Fuck, your throat feels good. You’re so good for me Herman, just hold on a little longer,” he grits out, words laced with breathy arousal. Herman’s eyelids flutter and roll back in his head, and he somehow relaxes his jaw even further to accommodate Robert's cock. His tongue slides out over his bottom teeth, and every thrust connects his tongue with Robert’s balls.
It’s getting hard to breathe now, Robert’s thrusts getting shallower, his breaths picking up as he gets closer. His fingers tighten hard in Herman’s hair, a low moan escaping him, and he presses Herm as close as he can get. Robert pulses down Herman’s throat with his nose buried in the mess of curls at the base of Robert’s cock. Herman’s eyes roll, and he does his best to swallow, but the lack of oxygen is getting to him.
His body jerks against Robert’s grip, freeing him, and the sudden movement dislodges Robert’s cock. Herman coughs up the cum that spilled there, coming out his nose, and the last pulse of Robert’s orgasm stripes over Herman’s nose. Herm has to cough a bit more, clearing his throat, and the second he can manage his words are all apologies.
Herm couldn’t handle it, couldn’t let Robert finish himself off, and he feels like a failure. “S-sorry, I’m sorry, couldn’t- wanted to- ‘m so sorry, sir, I’m sorry-” he blubbers, fingers curling into the carpet. Robert’s on the floor with him in an instant, not having even tucked himself back in his slacks. There’s lips on Herman’s face before he can stumble through another apology. The affection soothes Herman’s blazing nerves like a blast from a fire extinguisher, and he falls into it greedily.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Herman, you did fucking incredible for me, okay? You did so, so good, Herman,” Robert urges, hands cupping Herm’s face, holding him up as his body starts to go limp.
“You’re- not- you’re not- mad?” He asks weakly.
“I’m proud.”
Robert’s words are resolute, and Herm blinks more tears out of his eyes before he nods. He can accept it for now. This warm little bubble they’re in is nice and accommodating, and Herman would spend the rest of his life here if he could.
“Can you stand?” Robert asks, swiping his thumb through some of the mess on Herman’s face.
“Mhm- I- I think so…”
“Let’s go get you cleaned up.”