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It is slowly becoming unbearable.
Fucking let me move, Izzy thinks. Even just once. Please.
But he doesn’t say any of it of course. He’s been forbidden to talk, again. It seems to be Lusius’ favorite way of using the power he has over Izzy. They’ve not talked during sex in a month now. If you can even call this sex - and he really woundn’t.
Sex involves at least some activity. And some fucking movement. What is happening now is the exact opposite - everything is still. Terribly, excruciatingly still.
Except for Lucius turning the pages of the book he’s reading, of course. Which somehow makes it even more infuriating for Izzy - Lucius is enjoying himself in some way at least, while he’s just sitting there, fighting with himself not to move.
It is supposed to be an exercise in patience, Izzy reminds himself. He’s sitting in Lucius’ lap, naked from the waist down. The scribe’s cock is in his ass - but Lucius behaves as if he was completely unaware of what is happening.
Being ignored in a situation like this makes Izzy feel very strange. It’s not a bad feeling, just peculiar - something he’s never experienced before. Lucius is the first man who wants more than a quick fuck from him - he wants a relationship, wants to understand him and give him what he needs.
And yet now he is ignoring Izzy - as if he just isn’t there, as if it is yet another ordinary reading session for him. Please, please let me move, Izzy thinks.
It is so very difficult not to squirm. He's semi-hard, his body reacting with excitement to how humiliating and demanding the situation is. The cock in his ass feels so perfect, as if he was created just to take it. But it is also teasing him in a way that gives no promise of relief. Unless he is allowed to move. If he could get any friction…
He whimpers - realizing too late that he’s doing it. But it’s not talking, right? It should be alright -
Lucius pauses his reading. He sighs in a way that speaks of disappointment and frustration. The sigh is a theatrical one, which reassures Izzy that the scribe isn’t really angry at him - it’s just a part of the game they’re playing.
“Hush,” he says in a tone of gentle reproach. “I need peace and quiet.”
And just like that he goes back to his book.
Fuck, Izzy thinks. Shit. Motherfucking fuck.
Trying to focus on anything other than the rising need in his groins, he looks around his cabin. There’s very little to look at - he's never been interested in possessing things, always content with owning just bare necessities. The only thing in the room that serves no real purpose is a sketch that’s been nailed to a wall.
It was a gift from Lucius - if you can call it that. With gifts you are given an option to refuse them - and the scribe just informed him that it's going to decorate his wall from now on. It depicts Izzy lying naked on a desk, his face contorted with desire - Lucius drew it during an earlier patience training session.
Looking at it now, Izzy thinks about how much he hates the sketch - a grim reminder of how much he still has to learn, according to his lover. Yet at the same time he adores it with every fiber of his being - seeing it as a proof that Lucius wants to invest his precious time in teaching him how to be a good boy. These conflicting feelings are a torture - and unfortunately being tortured is what gets him excited.
Thinking about this draws another moan from his mouth, as the muscles in his thighs twitch. He discovers that he has no control over this - his body acts without any conscious decision on his part. Fuck, he thinks. He really has a lot to learn if Lucius wants him to be fully in charge of his own body.
The moan isn’t loud - little more than a whisper. But together with the spasm in his muscles it’s enough for the scribe to stop reading again. This time he puts the book down, with yet another over-acted huff of disapproval. Shit.
"Baby," he says, his tone soft and sweet as if he was talking to a child. "I told you I need you to be quiet and keep still. You’re distracting me and now I will have to start the page all over again."
No, Izzy thinks, the terrible pressure inside him growing to a new height he's never experienced before. Let me fucking move or I will die. His muscles tense as he squirms a little - as though he was trying to squeeze Lucius' cock with his insides and get some stimulation that way.
The scribe doesn't like that. At all.
"This is your second warning, darling," he states in a voice of calm authority. "If you're naughty again I will have to read the whole chapter from the beginning, I think."
Izzy bites his lip, so hard that he tastes blood in his mouth. Oh, if only his body wouldn’t react the way it does to being pushed to its limits. Staying still is so difficult when he’s so desperate for relief - and that difficulty only makes him even more aroused.
Lucius is back to his book now. It is terrible. Izzy is used to having things done to him - painful and humiliating things that he finds exciting. But this is a whole new level of torment. He’s never had a problem with intense experiences, but he's also never been very patient. He is used to things happening fast: his lovers would hurt him, fuck him, get rid of him. That's how it’s always been and that’s how he liked it.
This here is the exact opposite of that, he muses, putting all of his willpower into ignoring his needs. He needs to be good for Lucius, to prove to him that he can control himself. If the scribe wants him to learn patience, then learn patience he will.
How many pages can there be left in the chapter? Lucius promised that this will last for as long as he needs to read one chapter - and surely he must be getting near the end? How long has it been? It feels like hours and hours, but Izzy knows it can't be true. It's just his body lying to him to get what he wants. He needs to be stronger than it and tell it to wait.
He closes his eyes, unable to bear the sight of that cursed sketch any longer - it seems to be taunting him, laughing at his misery. Just breathe, he tells himself. Breathe and it will be over soon. And he will allow me to move…
Nothing happens except for the sound of pages being turned. It also seems to be poking fun at him as he feels his insides turn in a way he’d never knew was possible. Every cell in his body seems to be screaming for release. Time seems to have stopped. Please, please let me move, he begs in his thoughts - there is no response, of course.
Izzy desperately tries to find something to think about - and finds his mind blank, as if he's used up everything that was there. There is only his body's need for release which is being deliberately ignored. His dick is hard now - when did that happen? - and its throbbing feels like an attack against his willpower. He honestly doesn't know how much longer he'll be able to take it…
Lucius makes a tiny movement in order to turn a page. It's enough to send shivers down Izzy’s spine. In his current state he feels it like an earthquake.
He whines, loudly. He pushes his back against Lucius' body. And only then he realizes what he's done.
Fuck. No. Please, please, not this.
He opens his eyes to look at the scribe - he needs to see how angry he is. But Lucius just seems sad - he's being forced into punishing someone he loves.
"I'm going to ask you a question," the scribe announces. "And you're going to answer me with a single word. Are you in any pain?"
Izzy thinks about it. He knows that Lucius is worried he might get hurt - they’ve discovered some of his old injuries have a habit of acting up at the worst possible moments. They're playing it safe now, stopping their games whenever there’s a threat of it happening again.
It would be so easy, he realizes. To say that yes, he's in considerable pain and he needs to stop - hell, he could even use his special word to make it more believable. And Lucius would stop this torture and let him rest. Maybe he would even allow him to cum to make him feel better…
His cock leaks a little, excited at the prospect of getting the attention it needs.
It wouldn’t be honest, he reminds himself. Even if Lucius never finds out, he will know. That's not the way good boys behave.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck. He takes a deep breath, feeling tears start to form in his eyes. Fuck.
"No," he says, feeling like he's passing a sentence on himself.
"Alright. You know what happens now, then," the scribe replies. He sounds sad for Izzy, like he does this because there is no other choice. "I'm going to read the chapter again. And I was almost done. And you’re not cumming tonight, of course, that's not for boys who get three strikes."
In response Izzy sniffs. His dick is so hard. The hunger for release is starting to feel like it’s driving him insane - he can't focus on anything else but the terrible all-consuming desire. How on earth will he endure another round of this?
His body starts to shake uncontrollably. For a second he's terrified that it would incur yet another punishment - but Lucius puts down the book and looks into his face. And then he hugs him. He fucking hugs him.
"It’s alright," the scribe cooes. "Take a minute to get yourself together. You can do it, I know you can. It's going to be very difficult, but I know you want to be a good boy for me. It's fine if you need to cry, just don't make too much noise, alright, darling?"
And as if nothing happened, he picks up his book again.
Izzy screams internally. It's a good thing he has permission to cry.