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The loud noise of heels clicking against the wooden floor made Chance become aware of their surroundings again. They struggled against the chair they were tied to in—a futile and almost childish attempt to escape whatever was about to happen. Way too futile considering their body was currently chained up.
That was the first time they truly felt they ran out of luck.
As soon as the door opened, Chance straightened their posture and squinted their eyes, trying to see the figure of the person approaching him again. Of course, due to the poor lighting, they only ended up with a headache instead. Chance's breathing was ragged, and they didn't know if it was from all that nervousness building up inside or if their lungs were finally failing them. Regardless of that, they still gave it a try.
"Itrapped? Itrapped is that you?" Chance said between coughs, their words barely managing to leave their lips.
The door shut loudly behind the slim figure and Chance panicked.
"I-Itrapped?!" They called again, voice cracking as they tried to speak louder. Panic clawed its way up their chest, sharp and suffocating. "Please don't do this to me!"
"I want to hear your voice, please?" Chance begged, the words turning into shameless sobs before they could even finish them.
Itrapped didn't answer at first, he only watched the scene in front of him. He couldn't lie it felt good seeing Chance in such a desperate state, folding instantly when he barely did anything—it made him wonder how far he could push their buttons until they ended up completely ruined.
As he heard Chance's crying, Itrapped took a deep breath and smiled to himself, the desperation in it. The fear. All of that made him happy, it intoxicated the room, and intoxicated him as well.
Then, he decided to finally walk towards Chance. The heels clicked softly against the floor, but Chance felt like they were piercing him from the inside. They froze at the sound, breathing turning shallow.
Itrapped stopped just in front of them. Close enough to feel their hot breath invading his personal space, it was all around him. He reached forward and grabbed them by the leash attached to their collar. Chance gasped sharply as the metal pulled tight against their throat.
He chuckled softly.
"You really don't understand the situation you're in, do you?" he asked. His voice was calm. Gentle, even. That's what made Chance even more frustrated.
Itrapped pulled the leash closer to him, forcing Chance to move forward. The sudden movement made the chains clatter violently as their body jerked towards him, losing their balance. Their knees scraped against the floor, pain blooming hot and immediate.
Itrapped tilted his head slightly, studying their face. The swollen eyes. The tear-streaked cheeks. The trembling lips. Chance looked smaller like this, if he wanted, he could crush them.
And so he does.
Itrapped's foot moved before Chance could even process the shift in his posture. The sharp tip of his heels drove straight into their ribs, the impact was precise and merciless. Air exploded out of Chance's lungs in a broken gasp, their body folding inward instinctively as the chains rattled and scraped against the floor. A strangled cough tore its way out of them.
Chance let out a pathetic hiss as an attempt to gain just an inch of control of the situation, but Itrapped simply wouldn't allow that. He stepped onto their hand, crushing the digits underneath. Chance let a moan leave their lips, they looked at Itrapped almost offended by what he just did, and completely unprovoked.
His lips curled upwards, eyes narrowing at the sound, he was almost impressed by Chance's attempt to regain control of the situation—although they'd only end up getting more hurt.
"Don't try to fight back," he warned.
He kicked them again. Harder.
The second blow landed higher, stealing whatever breath Chance had managed to drag back in. Their body jerked violently, shoulders curling forward as they choked, coughing helplessly, lungs refusing to cooperate.
Itrapped hissed sharply through his teeth.
"Are you that weak already?" Itrapped asked, voice low and mocking. His heel pressed briefly against their shoulders before throwing them to the back again. "I should've put you down earlier. Break your rib cage, stab you in the chest, or maybe collapse your lungs? But you'd enjoy that, wouldn't you? I can already see your throbbing cock from there."
Chance unconsciously looked down and felt their cheeks starting to burn, ah shit… it's really there. Well, obviously they could tell, they've been handling with their pulsing cock for a while now, but how did Itrapped know if the room was dark? Did he just call Chance a pervert? Well, in their defense anyone in their position would get a little excited, wouldn't they?
"N-No…" Chance croaked immediately, panic flooding their voice despite the pain clawing through their chest. Their fingers trembled as they forced themself forward, dragging their body across the floor towards Itrapped. "D-Don't say it like that."
The chains clinked with every small, desperate movement Chance did as they tried to reach out for Itrapped again. And then, instinctively, helplessly, Chance pressed themself closer, their body seeking something familiar, some sort of relief for the pain, and for their arousal as well—although they couldn't tell the difference right now. Their hips moved without permission, grinding weakly against Itrapped's leg, Chance felt like a dog in heat, everything felt like it was too much, they couldn't handle it. Not alone at least.
Itrapped froze and his face turned into one of disgust, for a second, he didn't know what to do. The scene was so unbelievably nauseous he forgot how to behave.
Then, after regaining consciousness, his hand shot down, grabbing a fistful of their hair and yanking them away from his leg. Chance gasped, eyes wide and glassy, breath hitching uncontrollably. They looked at Itrapped with a pitiful face, maybe they could reverse the situation if they really wanted to.
"Stop giving me that face," he said. "You look absolutely disgusting."
Chance muttered a sincere apology but Itrapped had already moved away from them. And then, Chance heard the heels clicking on the floor again and the sound of his shoes made them even more anxious, he could be anywhere, doing anything, but they couldn't see. There was something happening in the background but Chance didn't what exactly it was, they only felt Itrapped's presence moving back and forth, it almost felt like he was being agitated on purpose to mess up with Chance.
Then, without warning, the lights suddenly turned on and Chance flinched like an abused dog—well, one could see they definitely were one right now. Chance looked at Itrapped's slim figure and tried to run after him, but their legs were already failing them and their crushed hands weren't moving at all.
Itrapped walked towards them again, holding something in hands that Chance couldn't exactly pinpoint what was it, but based on his smile, it couldn't be good. He placed a bowl in front of Chance, who looked more confused than before, they tilted their head slightly and Itrapped smiled fondly at them.
"Ah… I forget you're stupid sometimes," He said, getting on his knees to look at Chance in the eyes. "Let me explain. This is your food, you're going to eat." he smiled.
"I'm not that heartless after all."
"Is that dog food?" they asked, voice thin with disbelief. Their eyes dropped to the bowl, sniffing the food in front of them. "I'm not going to eat that." Chance laughed, kicking the bowl to the side.
Itrapped was still smiling at them fondly, but his eyes were far from soft.
"Oh, Chance," Itrapped chuckled. "You don't get to choose here."
He moved closer, his fingers slipping into Chance's hair with ease, gripping just tight enough to make them shiver.
"I don't ever remember dogs talking back to their owners."
Chance bit their lips and took a slow, deep breath. This shouldn't be arousing, being beaten up and treated like a dog shouldn't make their dick hard and yet… their mind kept telling them that maybe if they disobeyed they'd get more? But at the same, they were scared of trying. Itrapped was unpredictable sometimes.
"Unless," he continued calmly, "you want to be starved for a few more days."
Chance swallowed hard, the offer was too tempting.
"In that case, I wouldn't argue with you."
Itrapped didn't wait for an answer from them. His hand pushed them forward, forcing Chance down until their face hovered inches from the bowl. The smell hit them stronger now and their stomach rumbled from the hunger they felt.
With his other free hand, he grabbed Chance by the face and opened their mouth open Chance's mouth, grabbing a handful of dog food and shoving inside. They choked on the food, spitting it out, and Itrapped put it inside their mouth again.
Itrapped clicked his tongue disappointed.
"You dumb dog," he muttered, his fingers tightening around Chance's jaw. His thumb pressed against their chin, forcing their mouth shut before they could spit the soggy pieces back out. "Don't even know how to eat, do you?"
Chance made a small, pathetic sound in the back of their throat, muffled by Itrapped's hand and the texture of the food sitting heavy on their tongue. Their stomach twisted violently.
"Eat it," he ordered.
Chance hesitated at first, their lips trembling under his grip, but they slowly started to give up and yielded to Itrapped's orders, swallowing the food slowly while their stomach churned. They wouldn't be able to endure this much longer, but they had to. If they ended being nice maybe Itrapped would be more pitiful next time—or maybe next time they'd get to treat Itrapped even worse, they were fine with both honestly.
Itrapped watched closely, his hand only easing slightly when he felt Chance swallowing the food. He smiled proudly at them.
"Now that's a good dog," Itrapped praised them, petting their head before taking his hands off of them. "Too bad you struggle to listen to what you're told to."
"But we still have time to fix that."
Chance nods eagerly at Itrapped's words of praise and smiles at him while their mouth is still full, Itrapped chuckles softly but pretends not to care, or else Chance would get too comfortable.
Despite being so obedient until now, Chance's not sure if they're going to be able to finish that, considering the bowl is still quite full and their stomach is starting to hurt awfully. They wouldn't want to disappoint Itrapped again but… this isn't going to end well and they're scared of something happening.
Chance looks at Itrapped, seeking any sort of reaction, or emotion in his face, but he's only watching them attentively instead, beside from smiling a few times but that means nothing. When their eyes meet, Chance is still staring, like a lost puppy waiting for someone to guide them, so Itrapped looks at the bowl and brings it closer to Chance.
"There's still plenty of food, it'd be a pity if all of that went to waste, no?" Itrapped argues, grabbing a few more and shoving inside Chance's mouth again.
This time Chance isn't arguing with Itrapped; they just let him feed them himself, swallowing everything he's putting inside their mouth like the good, obedient puppy they are. Itrapped chuckles at how easy it is to make Chance submit to him, perhaps they don't even realize that.
"That's a good puppy," Itrapped hums in approval, taking a few strands of hair off Chance's sweaty forehead. "You're doing so well. We're almost done."
Chance takes Itrapped's words as a boost and tries their best to finish everything. They swallow the rest of food Itrapped gives them, they could get used to it eventually if that meant Itrapped would still take care of them in the end. As if seeking for orders, Chance parted their lips slightly as they observed Itrapped, waiting for his orders again. Their chest rises and falls a little heavier now.
"It wasn't bad, was it?" Itrapped asks, rising from his knees as he grabs the bowl to set it aside. "If you weren't such a brat none of that would've happened. But you wouldn't want that, you like it when I'm rude." he laughs.
Chance didn't answer him right away. Well, there's nothing for them to say to be honest. Itrapped is right and they both know it; their silence is more than a confirmation.
So instead, they watched Itrapped's every move intently, trying to predict what's happening next. And, as if aware of this, Itrapped calculated each of his movements so that they would be unpredictable, he moved agonizingly slow, causing Chance to get even more nervous.
Unfortunately for Chance, they couldn't have predicted that moments later their stomach would turn, causing him to groan in pain. Itrapped was quick to notice—after all, Chance wouldn't stop moaning in his ears, and walked towards them.
Chance forces a weak smile as Itrapped approaches them, afraid they're going to get beaten up again.
"Itrapped…" they whined. "…I don't feel so good."
Itrapped's expression doesn't change. He just tilts his head slightly.
"It's okay," he says gently. "You will eventually."
Chance shakes their head quickly, more urgently this time. "N-No, not like that," they whisper. "I think I'm gon—"
Before they could finish their sentence, Chance began to purge everything they had ingested just a few moments before, it felt like their body was rejecting everything. Their body jerked forward violently, and everything they'd just swallowed surged back up their throat in a hot, uncontrollable rush.
The sound is wet and awful. It spills out of their mouth, splattering everywhere—onto the floor, onto Itrapped's heels, onto the legs of his pants, but Chance just can't stop vomiting. Chance chokes, coughing, more spilling out between broken gasps. Their hands grip their own stomach as an attempt to force it to stop, but their body doesn't seem to listen.
That only makes Chance vomit even more, this time not only because of the food but also out of fear; their body isn't responding to their commands and they have no control over the situation. Perhaps it would have been better to have starved and died of hunger.
Their stomach just keeps emptying itself.
When it finally stops, Chance is left hunched forward, in a pool of vomit. Trembling, breathing hard, spit and tears streaming down their face, they're crying very, very ugly. They're still holding tight onto their stomach, ashamed of what just happened and afraid of Itrapped's reaction.
Chance's entire body is trembling: small, helpless shakes they can't control. Their throat is burning and their eyes sting so badly they can barely see.
"S-Sorry…" Chance starts. They squeeze their eyes shut tighter, tears spilling out anyway. "S-Sorry, sorry… I'm sorry."
"I'm disgusting…" Chance lets a loud whine out, the sound of their crying is enough to give anyone a headache. "I'm s-sorry, 'Trapped! I'm sorry! I didn't– I didn't mean to, I–"
Itrapped doesn't say a word, he won't try to comfort Chance, to touch them and tell them not to worry. He just stands there, looking down. His heels are soaked. Ruined. His pants, stained and clinging unpleasantly to his legs. The smell is suffocating.
Surprisingly enough, he's not mad at Chance, not in the slightest. In fact, he's amused by the courage they had to speak back to him, after not only embarrassing themself, but also for ruining his clothes and expecting apologies to solve everything.
Itrapped's jaw tightens as he looks down.
"You're pathetic," he says sharply.
Chance flinches like they just got hit again. Before they could mutter their apologies again, Itrapped is already talking.
"I gave you food," Itrapped continues, his voice much sharper now. "I take care of you. And this is what you do in return?"
Chance shakes their head frantically, even though they still won't look at him.
"If you're so sorry," he starts. "Then clean your mess."
Chance freezes. Their breath catches mid-sob. They look down at all the vomit around them, then back up at Itrapped, they look confused, as if they didn't understand his words right.
"I- I will," Chance stammers. "I'll get something, I'll–"
"But how?"
Itrapped tilts his head slightly, watching the panic spread across their face. He watches Chance search for the right answer of their own question. But they don't really have one.
He exhales slowly through his nose.
"Why don't you give your mouth a better use?" he scolds.
Chance tilts their head and stares at Itrapped in confusion, like he just said something obscene. Their red, tear-filled eyes widen, their lips parting slightly in disbelief. He was joking, right? He had to be, who in their right mind would ever… who would ever eat their own vomit?
But Itrapped looked dead serious with what he said. And at this point, there wasn't much Chance could do to save himself.
"Do I have to repeat myself?" Itrapped asks, his voice making Chance go back to their senses. "Go on, start with the heels first."
"Itrapped, can I-" Chance starts, but they were quickly interrupted by him.
"You can't," Itrapped cuts them sharply. "You can't do anything under my control, remember?"
"It's better to start now, or else you'll have something other than your vomit to clean."
Chance accepts their defeat and nods their head in agreement, leaning towards Itrapped's feet. The smell, the texture, everything about that makes them want to throw up again.
They take a deep breath and close their eyes, beginning to clean their mess with their own mouth. The taste is awful, disgusting—all of this is disgusting, their stomach feels weak again, but Chance won't let anything happen. They can't. Chance chokes in their own vomit a few times, they look at Itrapped to see if he's discontent but Itrapped keeps a poker face the whole time.
After they're finally done, Chance sighs loudly. They're tired, sick, and worst of all—very horny. Once their cock throbs, Chance looks instantly at Itrapped, waiting for him to praise them again. Or at least tell them that they did a good job, anything will work, really.
Itrapped could feel their stare piercing through him, so he looks down and spots a very eager and nervous Chance looking at him, he gives them a dry laugh.
"What?" he asks. "Are you expecting me to say something nice?"
Chance shook their head in disagreement, thinking they shouldn't have made it obvious. They were too easy to read. After all the humiliation Itrapped had put them through, they were still enjoying being treated like this. That was a new low for them.
Itrapped didn't buy Chance's answer and scoffed in annoyance. He close the gap between him and Chance as he walked closer, now almost stepping on them. Fuck, they'd enjoy that too.
"Look at all the mess you made, you mutt," Itrapped said harshly, kicking them in the stomach as Chance's body collapsed, hitting their head hard on the floor. "Shouldn't you feel embarrassed? Or are you getting off to this?"
Chance made a soft whimpering sound at Itrapped's accusation. He wasn't wrong, but when he said like that, Chance felt even more horny.
"T-That's not true! You're doing th-" Chance tried to defend themself for no reason at all, considering they weren't even trying to hide their arousal, but Itrapped didn't want to hear their excuses now.
"Stop talking," Itrapped said. He moved closer to Chance's half-conscious body, heels resting on their throat. Itrapped could feel their Adam's apple bobbing up and down against it. Chance looked so vulnerable that Itrapped had to fight his urges to destroy them—even more—now.
"You're always ruining everything to me," Itrapped cussed. He stepped away from Chance's body and kicked them in the stomach once again. Chance tried to fight back but ended up coughing up blood, they covered their mouth to prevent more blood from coming but it felt like their body was finally collapsing, could things get any worse?
Itrapped decided to ignore Chance falling apart under him, if it was truly their time to go, so let it be. He fixed his clothes before moving close to the door. Chance watched him leave and started getting desperate, he'd come back, wouldn't he? He's not… some sort of psychopath. He can't just do that.
"Don't do anything until I come back," he warns. Itrapped turns off the lights again and locks the door.
It not like Chance had enough physical strength to get up and escape from Itrapped, but locking them in a dirty, dark room with no one else around was enough to induce their paranoia, and Itrapped wanted them as miserable as possible.
Chance tried to call for Itrapped, they didn't what exactly they were trying to achieve, and what sort of comfort would Itrapped bring after being physically and emotionally abused by him—but they still needed him around, fuck, that was all too much.
"Itrapped! Itrapped, you–haah–bastard…" Chance let a weak huff out, grunting as they crawled on the floor, trying to reach out for the door.
Chance scratched at the door like a dog in distress, howling and crying for Itrapped, even though their throat was already sore and their voice failed to come out from all that screaming. They later accepted defeat after all their attempts to get his attention being completely in vain.
After leaving Chance alone for about fifteen minutes—that felt like eternity—Itrapped returned in newly changed clothes, or what seemed to be clothes, if a thin piece of fabric could be considered one. Chance looked at Itrapped and then looked at his exposed legs and gulped, they tried not to stare but it was so hard. Everything felt like it was on purpose.
There was silence as Itrapped hovered over the room, Chance didn't want to speak first to avoid bothering Itrapped even more, but they couldn't keep their mouth shut for their dear life.
"Itrapped…?" Chance called for him like a child seeking comfort from their parents.
"Hmm?"
Itrapped turns his head slightly, as if he hadn't been expecting to hear his name. He looks at Chance with his familiar cynical smile, and before Chance could look at his face, they notice something else instead.
Itrapped holds a revolver around his fingers and Chance wonders where he got that from—not that it'd be hard for Itrapped to get his hands in a gun, they just didn't notice it before. Did Itrapped had that with him the whole time? Chance felt almost thrilled with the possibility of Itrapped having something like that in his possession.
His fingers move with careful precision as he runs a cloth along the barrel, cleaning it carefully, taking care of it. Chance's breath catches as they feel their pants tightening again. They could do some really good use of this gun.
"Why did–" Chance starts, but suddenly changes the question to a better one. "What are you doing?"
Their eyes remain glued on the revolver, watching every small movement of Itrapped's hands, every touch of his slender fingers against the cold material of the steel.
Itrapped steal a glance at Chance. And then at the gun. Then back at them again.
"What do you think?" he asks, laughing softly.
"I'm actually not sure," Chance admitted.
Itrapped laughed warmly and his cheeks slowly turned into a light shade of pink. He tilted his head to the back slightly as he laughed, and when the sound faded, a soft, breathy gasp lingered behind it.
"You're so cute," he murmured.
His eyes moved slowly over Chance's face, observing their every detail. Their eyes. Their trembling lips. The way their shoulders curled inward, as if they were trying to make themself look smaller without realizing it.
"You look so frightened," he continued gently, almost fondly. "Are you scared, Chance?"
Chance's heart slammed violently against their ribs, they shook their head almost immediately.
"N-No!" they stammered. "Not at all…"
"I'm not going to do anything with you," Itrapped said softly.
Chance's shoulders loosened after hearing Itrapped's words, they weren't too convincing but Chance wanted to believe they were if that meant their nerves would calm down a little. Itrapped noticed the shift in their posture.
"At least not for now," he chuckled under his breath.
Chance noticed Itrapped moving the gun under his clothes and the relief died instantly. He wasn't going to do what Chance thought he was going to, right? He isn't crazy… oh no, he probably is.
Chance's fingers curled weakly against the floor. "W-What are you doi-"
Before they could finish their sentence, Itrapped makes himself full of the heavy metal of the firearm, Chance gasps at the scene happening in front of them and for a brief moment their brain has a short circuit.
When the barrel meets his skin, Itrapped shivers. It's too cold, or maybe it's just Itrapped that's feeling too hot down there. He pushes it in even further. It hurts at first, it's far too big and he's never taken something like that before, he's never taken anything at all to be honest. Itrapped tries to ignore all of that, though. He still has something else to prove right now.
As the gun spreads him open, noise spills out of Itrapped's mouth—moans and babbled pleas, and he keeps fucking himself hard enough until it starts to hurt. Itrapped grasps for something to hold onto, he wants to bite down on something, he wants to come, anything will do.
"C-Chance–" Itrapped tilted his head to the back, hitting hard against the wall.
"F-Fuck, Chance, are you w-watching?" he asked between between shaky breaths. "Are you getting off to this shit, you pervert?"
And Chance indeed was. The room was now filled with the sounds of Itrapped's wet cunt and Chance jerking off furiously, their cock's been deprived for too long now. They couldn't even answer Itrapped properly.
The trigger guard pressed against Itrapped's clit and he had to muffle a loud moan from coming out, when he finally finds his rhythm, Itrapped starts to move the gun faster, wanting to finish this as soon as possible. It's too big, too rough, he can't help but wonder if that'd feel the same if it was Chance instead—not that he wanted it to be them, that's not it.
"You wish that was you instead, don't you, Chance?" Itrapped asks, his tone feels almost mocking.
Chance didn't answer, they're too busy trying to cum to process any words.
"Answer, you mutt!" Itrapped barked louder.
"A-Ah! Y-Yes, Itrapped… fuck, do… don't tease me like t-that," Chance said between small whimpers.
Itrapped hits his orgasm with a cry, back arching against the cold wall. When he finally opens his eyes he's welcomed by a desperate Chance still trying to cum, that makes him extremely furious. He takes the gun off his cunt and walks over Chance, holding it in his hands.
"Stop."
"H-Huh?"
"I said stop, are you deaf?" Itrapped asks, no hint of humor in his voice.
"Open your mouth, don't make me say it twice."
Chance did as they were told, and although their dick still leaking, they fight the urge to touch it again and only focus on Itrapped's orders. As they open their mouth, Itrapped shoves the firearm inside it, Chance feels both scared and excited at the same time, it's too hard for them.
"Clean it."
Chance takes the gun in their mouth without even complaining and starts sucking it carefully, slowly. The taste of his cum mixed with blood and steel against their hot tongue makes them feel dizzy, it's almost overwhelming and they need to taste more of it.
Their eyes are glued on Itrapped the whole time and to the point it feels almost uncomfortable, he tries not to make eye contact or else Chance will definitely get the wrong idea—but they're taking it so well Itrapped feels intrigued, he could try something different, something more dangerous next time.
After they finish cleaning—sucking—the gun, Chance takes it out of their mouth with a loud, wet pop. The firearm is still resting on their tongue and Chance isn't sure if they should move away or wait for Itrapped to give them more orders, considering he's still holding it.
But their thoughts were quickly shut as, without warning, Itrapped pulls the trigger and shoots the gun in their mouth.
Chance instantly fell hard to the ground. No movement, no reaction from them—just their stiff body. Did their time finally come? They wouldn't mind dying at Itrapped's hands, but a less embarrassing death would be better.
"Can you quit the act now?"
A familiar voice called for them, if Chance had truly died, why were they still hearing it?
"You stupid bitch! Get up!"
The voice grew more aggressive. When Chance didn't react, Itrapped rolled his eyes and crouched down beside them. The gun was still in his hand, but he didn't even look at it anymore. His attention was fixed entirely on Chance's face, they weren't dead. They couldn't be.
Without warning, he swung his leg over Chance's body and sat on their stomach, his weight settling there carelessly. He leaned forward, his free hand reaching down to grab at Chance's face, giving it a hard slap.
"Itrapped?" Chance spoke, finally looking. at him, although they sounded a little lost. "Did I die?"
Itrapped's mouth twitches up into a smile.
"You wish," he chuckled. "I'm not going to hell with you."
"What– what did you do to me? How am I not dead?" Chance asks visibly confused.
"Safety's on," Itrapped said, bringing the gun closer to Chance. "Want me to deactivate it?" he asks.
"N-No! I mean…" Chance started, but immediately regretted their words. "I don't mind I just… no, forget it."
"And you pissed yourself," Itrapped laughed, squeezing Chance's cock under their now wet pants. "Aren't you disgusting?"
"You're no different..."
"Who gave you permission to talk back?" Itrapped huffed.
Chance lowered their head and put themself in their own place again.
Well, Chance didn't know exactly what to do with that information; it must've been the least embarrassing part of their day so far, so they didn't care that much, as long as Itrapped didn't make them do anything disgusting about it.
"Now be a good puppy and clean your mess, will you?"
Maybe they spoke a bit too early.
"Are you serious?" they exclaimed. "How am I supposed to do that?"
Itrapped wasn't being entirely serious at first, but Chance's reaction enticed something inside of him and he wanted to push them even more. Just to see how far they could both go.
"Since you're so useless," Itrapped said harshly, pressing himself further against Chance's wet pants. "Let me help you myself then."
Itrapped got off Chance and positioned himself between their legs. Chance, as stupid as they seemed to be, obviously understood what Itrapped was going to do, so they just took a deep breath and let whatever he wanted to do to them happen.
Itrapped removed both Chance's pants and boxers and, without warning, put their entire shaft in his mouth. Itrapped didn't bother to be gentle or take his time with them; for him, it would be more torturing to bring Chance to their climax and then neglect them. It sounded more fun too.
The taste of piss mixed with cum on Itrapped's lips was a little—very—bitter, but he hardly cared. If anything, it made him hungrier. He knew it also made Chance feral for seeing him in a rather submissive position—although he felt like it was the opposite. Well, it didn't really matter if at the end of the day the one squirming, crying and pissing in their own clothes, wasn't Itrapped.
Meanwhile, Chance was trying their best to control themself, but Itrapped was nearly tearing their cock to pieces. Chance was going to cum soon and they both knew that, Itrapped felt their cock pulsing against his mouth and Chance no longer was trying to talk back, or talk at all. They became lightheaded.
With a loud pop, Itrapped took the cock out of his mouth and gave it a few kitten licks before depriving it again. Chance looked at him with both confusion and frustration in their eyes, and their cock was still twitching under them.
Itrapped looked back at him and laughed.
"You'll have to finish that yourself," he said, crawling towards Chance.
He closed the distance between them once again and observed Chance's expression very carefully, almost fond of what he was seeing. Of how fragile and vulnerable Chance looked under him. Being feared meant something good to him.
Itrapped reached out for Chance, taking their chin by his slender fingers and tilting up their head, forcing them to look at him. His thumb lingered against their jaw, tracing an absentmindedly slow trail over their skin. Chance watched Itrapped's movements almost with excitement. His thumb continued its slow path to their lower lip, his fingers were almost trembling against Chance's skin, as he never allowed himself to display any sort of tenderness—if one would consider—towards them.
Itrapped's gaze dropped to their lips, he knew he'd regret what he's going to do but if Chance said anything later, he could just knock them out. Chance parted their lips slightly as if they were thinking the same as Itrapped.
He exhaled sharply before finally closing the distance between Chance, pressing his mouth against their with a suddenness that bordered on desperation. Very unfamiliar of him.
His kiss was firm, deliberate, a contradiction to the hesitation in his hands. One of them curled into Chance's hair, gripping just enough to tilt their head back further as if he couldn't bear even an inch of distance. The other slid from their chest to the small of their back, pulling them flush against him.
Chance tried to follow Itrapped's pace but he simply wouldn't let Chance match him, his lips were faster, more aggressive. Itrapped swallowed them whole, his tongue fucking their mouth with an insatiable voracity.
Inevitably, everything made Chance nauseous. Both the taste and feeling. It almost felt like Itrapped was trying everything in his power to reduce them to a disgusting mess and it most certainly worked; they felt their vomit coming back on their throat and wanted to break from the kiss, but Itrapped forced their lips closer, leaving no space for Chance to escape. His tongue was almost inside it when Chance felt like throwing up, everything was awful—they felt awful.
As the vomit filled their mouth once again, Chance cried. They cried ugly, desperate, but Itrapped didn't mind a single bit. He swallowed everything Chance gave him, he took pride of making Chance come so many times to him in so many different ways. When Itrapped finally broke away, his breath was ragged. He studied their expression, fond of what he's seeing—although his eyes were still unreadable for Chance.
"...There," he murmured, voice rough. "Now we're even."
His thumb brushed over their lower lip again, cleaning the vomit left behind. Chance reached to clean the border of Itrapped's lips in return but he slapped their hands before they could even touch him. Chance made a sound that could be a sob but Itrapped only huffed.
Itrapped was still looking at them, at their ruined figure and how they look almost adorable when defeated, his lips curled upward and Itrapped hoped Chance didn't notice that or else they'd start saying bullshit again.
"Lost something?" they asked softly, tone teasing despite their voice failing to come out. "You've been looking at me for a while."
Itrapped's expression snapped shut instantly. "I wasn't," he shot back, too quick. His hand pressed harder into the floor beside Chance's head. "Stop talking."
Chance's smile faltered just a little at the sharpness in his tone. "Sorry," they murmured, quieter now. "I was just–"
"I said stop."
They did.
Itrapped finally looked away, but he didn't get off Chance yet. If anything he made himself even closer, and Chance tried to muffle a sharp breath from coming out. Itrapped was so hard to deal with sometimes.
Their hands hovered awkwardly at their sides, unsure where they were allowed to rest. A few seconds ago they'd tried to touch Itrapped's lips and got slapped away. But they were still aching for him.
"…I want to do that again." Chance said without much thinking, breaking the silence that was hanging around them for a few seconds.
Itrapped stiffened.
"What exactly?" he asked, as if he couldn't believe Chance's own words.
"The kiss," Chance clarified, barely above a whisper now. "And everything else… I want to do it again."
Their hands clenched slightly against their own legs.
"I won't disobey you," they added quickly. "And I won't touch you unless you let me. I just–"
They hesitated.
"I really liked it."
"You're crazy," Itrapped said, unbothered by Chance's attempts of convincing him.
"Please?" Chance's fingers twitched at their sides like they were resisting the urge to grab Itrapped and force him to break them again. "That was the hottest moment in my life."
Itrapped's face burned. "You're so weird."
"Please Itrapped–" Chance dragged his name out in a soft, dramatic whine. "Itrappeddd…" they whined after being left with no answer.
Itrapped exhaled sharply; that's not how things work, he was unlikely to be moved by Chance's begging—even though he liked hearing it. He gave a dry laugh and spoke one last time.
"I'll think of that," he smiled.
Chance's eyes were sparkling again and Itrapped had to knock their expectations down instantly.
"But don't get your hopes too high."
They weren't, Chance is a very patient person—they've waited longer for things they wanted, things they couldn't just put their hands on, Itrapped was one of them for example.
They surely could wait. But now Itrapped's words sounded more like a bet than a warning, as if he wanted Chance to cross the line.
Unfortunately for him, Chance would risk everything to get what they wanted.