[Theo likes this. Theo was made to like this. Theo learned to like this. Theo grew to like it - all different ways of responding to the same thing - submitting control entirely to someone else. A different being, whose own needs supersede his own. Theo's face is flush with color, half because of the inherent humiliation in being just a hole to fuck and half because of how thrilling that is, the closest he gets to a controlled sense of fear and instability without actually plunging into it.
He has no way to tell this man would actually keep him from falling. But that's the coin flip that comes with letting just about anyone stick their cock into you - fifty fifty, odds meagrely in his favor since he hasn't tipped over yet. The snap of Zephir's hips caught him unprepared, his rhythm turning into Zephir's by force - body accommodating with a pliant bend, a moan past his lips as he's corrected from trying to brace himself. His hand around his cock, he keeps his eyes closed, pumping himself with the faith that the painful crush of a body against him will keep him from falling. At the very least he'll get off before he dies, God damn it - he whimpers at the rush that panicked, horny thought allows.]
F-Fuck.
[He doesn't have it in him to string a sentence, gasping every time a particularly deep thrust careens him forward only for him to halt just shy of being flung too far forward. He's going to come, cold air stinging his face and filling his lungs as his hand keeps moving. Snow falls from where it stuck to the manor's exterior, falling in sheets from inches just below where Theo nearly hangs. His glamor lapses, falling away with it.]
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He has no way to tell this man would actually keep him from falling. But that's the coin flip that comes with letting just about anyone stick their cock into you - fifty fifty, odds meagrely in his favor since he hasn't tipped over yet. The snap of Zephir's hips caught him unprepared, his rhythm turning into Zephir's by force - body accommodating with a pliant bend, a moan past his lips as he's corrected from trying to brace himself. His hand around his cock, he keeps his eyes closed, pumping himself with the faith that the painful crush of a body against him will keep him from falling. At the very least he'll get off before he dies, God damn it - he whimpers at the rush that panicked, horny thought allows.]
F-Fuck.
[He doesn't have it in him to string a sentence, gasping every time a particularly deep thrust careens him forward only for him to halt just shy of being flung too far forward. He's going to come, cold air stinging his face and filling his lungs as his hand keeps moving. Snow falls from where it stuck to the manor's exterior, falling in sheets from inches just below where Theo nearly hangs. His glamor lapses, falling away with it.]