[ Any hesitation Matt has around inflicting pain is purely the fear of going too far. It's been ingrained through a lifetime in a world that treats preternaturals with suspicion, and part (though only part) of Matt's affinity for submitting. How better to know you aren't taking advantage? That you won't use your power to hurt someone?
The stranger is far stronger than him, which helps. But more potently, he couldn't make his enjoyment more clear. It's enchanting to watch, irresistible to take part in. Matt tracks Marazhai's shudders and tilted head with a heavy-lidded gaze, savoring his noises of enjoyment. Nails dig into his hip, piercing skin; their cocks rub together through their clothes. The combination pulls a whimper from the back of Matt's throat. Feeling the length and breadth of Marazhai's erection, he thinks, I'd choke on that, and the thought makes his hips rock against him again, urgent. ]
Yes. [ He aims to catch the stranger's eye, returning his exhilarated grin with something akin to wonder. Overwhelmed, fascinated. ] It feels good, it--
[ Whatever he says next, he needs to say it wearing fewer clothes. Matt scrabbles to get his sweater off, singeing the wool as he jerks it over his head and tosses it aside. Underneath, he's slender, his skin almost entirely unmarked. There are only a few exceptions: the emerald lotus tattooed on his heart; the half-monkey, half-man figure that winds around his right hip; and, beside the stranger's hand, a serpentine scar that coils from beside his left hipbone to just below his navel. Something absolutely deadly happened there, and not too long ago.
Matt doesn't give the stranger too much time to look him over before bending back to his nipple. This time, it's his lips closing around it, Matt moaning as the too-hot metal hits his tongue. He licks, laps; his teeth scrape at spot he's just burned, now damp with spit. ]
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The stranger is far stronger than him, which helps. But more potently, he couldn't make his enjoyment more clear. It's enchanting to watch, irresistible to take part in. Matt tracks Marazhai's shudders and tilted head with a heavy-lidded gaze, savoring his noises of enjoyment. Nails dig into his hip, piercing skin; their cocks rub together through their clothes. The combination pulls a whimper from the back of Matt's throat. Feeling the length and breadth of Marazhai's erection, he thinks, I'd choke on that, and the thought makes his hips rock against him again, urgent. ]
Yes. [ He aims to catch the stranger's eye, returning his exhilarated grin with something akin to wonder. Overwhelmed, fascinated. ] It feels good, it--
[ Whatever he says next, he needs to say it wearing fewer clothes. Matt scrabbles to get his sweater off, singeing the wool as he jerks it over his head and tosses it aside. Underneath, he's slender, his skin almost entirely unmarked. There are only a few exceptions: the emerald lotus tattooed on his heart; the half-monkey, half-man figure that winds around his right hip; and, beside the stranger's hand, a serpentine scar that coils from beside his left hipbone to just below his navel. Something absolutely deadly happened there, and not too long ago.
Matt doesn't give the stranger too much time to look him over before bending back to his nipple. This time, it's his lips closing around it, Matt moaning as the too-hot metal hits his tongue. He licks, laps; his teeth scrape at spot he's just burned, now damp with spit. ]