[ The second he hears Belial's voice again, Sandalphon wants to hit him. Not for any reason in particular, so much as on instinct, and it seems like the correct way to react to Belial anything at all. There's a distinctly smug undertone to his voice, or at least more than usual, that Sandalphon doesn't like, and he likes it even less when Belial sounds to pleased with himself. He makes another small, groggy noise, instead, pressing a hand to his palm and running it through his hair and closes his eyes. Well, it's not a surprise that Belial would be so pleased with himself, considering how he just—
How he just—
Sandalphon stills and freezes in place, eyes snapping back open, as the events of the past hour or so suddenly begin to really, really, truly register, and with it, so does a very distinct awareness of his own body. His own completely naked body, tired and aching, covered in a fine sheet of sweat, lying in Belial's bed, who's just as naked himself, and a distinct sensation of... something wet dripping from inside him... oh. Oh, right, that was... he had... the realization brings with it horror of the thought that he had, with his own words, with his own mouth, asked for it, begged for it, let Belial see how badly he needed him— has had Belail not just inside him again, but in his mouth, and, and...
... And that every second of it felt so, so good. The horror and disgust with himself that comes with each recollection is offset by the pleasant, warm buzz running through it, the aftershocks of orgasm still remaining, the thought of how his mind kept going blank and vision blinded with the pleasure, the sheer relief of having this horrible clawing ache in him finally satisfied. Belial gave him everything he craved and wanted, and yet even more, things Sandalphon himself didn't know, didn't so much think he'd want or need, and the result is that he feels pleasantly, wonderfully spent. The stickiness of sweat and fluid dripping inside him isn't pleasant, but if it weren't for that source of discomfort he thinks he'd almost prefer to stay in bed.
... But he's not going to let Belial know that. No way. Not when he knows he's also already given Belial ample material to mess with him and tease him. And, actually, speaking of which— Sandalphon turns his head back to look at Belial and glares, less venomous than exhausted: ]
I imagine you have a lot to say to me. [ He speaks finally, in a hoarse voice that's worn out from use. ] ... Go on ahead, then. Just... [ He sighs, and says in a resigned tone: ] Get it out of your system.
no subject
How he just—
Sandalphon stills and freezes in place, eyes snapping back open, as the events of the past hour or so suddenly begin to really, really, truly register, and with it, so does a very distinct awareness of his own body. His own completely naked body, tired and aching, covered in a fine sheet of sweat, lying in Belial's bed, who's just as naked himself, and a distinct sensation of... something wet dripping from inside him... oh. Oh, right, that was... he had... the realization brings with it horror of the thought that he had, with his own words, with his own mouth, asked for it, begged for it, let Belial see how badly he needed him— has had Belail not just inside him again, but in his mouth, and, and...
... And that every second of it felt so, so good. The horror and disgust with himself that comes with each recollection is offset by the pleasant, warm buzz running through it, the aftershocks of orgasm still remaining, the thought of how his mind kept going blank and vision blinded with the pleasure, the sheer relief of having this horrible clawing ache in him finally satisfied. Belial gave him everything he craved and wanted, and yet even more, things Sandalphon himself didn't know, didn't so much think he'd want or need, and the result is that he feels pleasantly, wonderfully spent. The stickiness of sweat and fluid dripping inside him isn't pleasant, but if it weren't for that source of discomfort he thinks he'd almost prefer to stay in bed.
... But he's not going to let Belial know that. No way. Not when he knows he's also already given Belial ample material to mess with him and tease him. And, actually, speaking of which— Sandalphon turns his head back to look at Belial and glares, less venomous than exhausted: ]
I imagine you have a lot to say to me. [ He speaks finally, in a hoarse voice that's worn out from use. ] ... Go on ahead, then. Just... [ He sighs, and says in a resigned tone: ] Get it out of your system.