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When they get home, Argenti is silent, licking his tongue against his teeth. Boothill’s grinning, incorrigible, a creature of temptation. He knows , he knows what he’s been doing, knows what Argenti’s going to do in response, and he looks so utterly pleased with himself.
Argenti sets his bag down next to the door, drops his keys into the bowl on the table. “You have ten minutes,” he says, breaking the silence. Boothill smiles at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Argenti’s hand flexes. He wants to touch, isn’t giving in just yet.
Boothill doesn’t have any such hangups, leaning right in until his lips brush Argenti’s. “If you can last that long, sir ,” he teases, and Argenti almost shakes with how much he wants to take.
Ten minutes feels like forever. Argenti washes his hands, strips down to his shirt, leaves his shoes at the door. Cleans what he needs to, lays them out where Boothill will see them in the play room. Then, he sits, waits, tries not to think about how he’s already half-hard, how Boothill had pressed against his hip at the store. How he’d licked Argenti’s ear, goaded him there in the car home once Argenti had finished what he’d needed.
He hears Boothill go looking for him, clears his throat once, and his beloved appears in the doorway to the play room. His eyes flick to the table, where Argenti has the collar laid out, and swallows hard enough that Argenti can see the bob of his throat.
“When you’re ready,” Argenti says, doing his best to not rise to Boothill’s taunts. “Strip and kneel for me.” There’s a small pillow on the floor in front of him.
Boothill huffs out a breath, hands flirting along the bottom edge of his shirt. He pulls it off, sets it aside, then steps over the pillow. His knees brush Argenti’s, smiles. “Make me,” he says, and Argenti purses his lips.
“Are you sure?” Argenti raises an eyebrow. Boothill nods. So, Argenti leans forward and grabs the back of Boothill’s neck. Drags him forward until their noses brush. “Kneel,” he says, sharper, and the sound Boothill makes is akin to a whimper. He doesn’t move, though. Argenti increases the pressure, and Boothill’s knees buckle. Argenti rubs his thumb against Boothill’s skin, unfolds his legs and brackets Boothill with them.
He curls his fingers in the hair at the base of Boothill’s neck and tugs, careful. “It’s cute that you think you’ll win,” he says, and Boothill’s eyes darken, start to unfocus. “Sweet boy, hmm?” Boothill tries, he really does – Argenti slips his thumb between his teeth and Boothill bites down, hard enough to notice. Argenti hisses out a breath. He taps Boothill’s knees with his foot – then shoves them apart when Boothill doesn’t move. “Do you want your collar?” Argenti asks, sees Boothill pause.
He takes a breath, then nods, once. “I want it.”
He's still being a brat about it. Argenti leans forward, rests his hand against Boothill’s throat. There’s no pressure but a sweet catch of breath sounds anyway, Boothill’s eyes getting a little bit hazier. “Yeah, you want it,” he murmurs, lets go to pick the collar up, buckle the soft leather against his throat.
Once it’s in place, Argenti hooks a finger into the D-ring, yanks him forward. “I was going to be nice about it,” he says, “But if you’re insistent on being a brat, you can stay there.”
Then he stands up. Boothill goes to move, to follow, but Argenti settles a hand on top of his head, applies just enough pressure to stop him. “ Stay ,” he repeats, firm, and a shudder rolls through Boothill.
Argenti grabs the lube, the toy he’d chosen earlier, holds it up for Boothill to see. “This is what you get, now. If you’re lucky, I’ll use your mouth.” He loves him, loves him enough to be harsh like Boothill wants. So, he says, “Put your hands on the edge of the bed.” When Boothill obeys, Argenti stands, crouches beside him. Boothill’s back is in a pretty arch, and Argenti grabs his ass, firm. Then he’s shoving Boothill’s pants down, off the curve of his ass. He coats a finger in lube, rubs it against Boothill’s now-exposed hole. Boothill presses back against it, and Argenti hides a smile.
He fingers Boothill open quickly, up to four fingers as his beloved whines below him. He doesn’t tease, keeps the touches simple. Boothill’s hips keep tilting – trying to coax him deeper, trying to get Argenti’s fingers where he wants them, but Argenti resists. His hand on Boothill’s hip tightens, keeps him steady. Once he’s satisfied, Argenti grabs the toy. It’s a simple dildo, firm with enough suction at the base to keep it steady.
He fits it to Boothill’s hole and presses. His baby shakes, moans, and Argenti slows down. “Good, green, green-” Boothill gasps, even as his thighs tremble, and Argenti takes him at his word. Once the toy is in, he holds still, pets along Boothill’s spine. He may be acting up, but the toy is big enough that Argenti wants to let him get used to it first.
Once the tension disappears from the small of Boothill’s back, Argenti rubs his thumb against the spot, kisses the back of Boothill’s neck. “Good boy,” he says, gets a choked off moan in response. “Alright, sit back.”
Argenti guides him back again, holds Boothill’s hands to his own thighs. The toy rests on the pillow, stays in tight, and when Argenti stands, he can see the fine tremors across Boothill’s body – can see how much he wants to move. He flexes his hips, once, twice, a choked sound escaping him, and Argenti just watches for a long moment.
Boothill realises that he’s not being stopped, starts to grind in earnest, pants still around his thighs. The fabric stops him from moving too far, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem for him.
Argenti leaves him to it for a second, grabs his second item from a drawer. He keeps it hidden in his hand as he sits back on the bed, frames his pretty sub with his legs once more. Boothill’s head tips up, hair sliding off his forehead. His mouth is ajar, breath steady, harsh, and Argenti leans forward. He takes a deep breath, bites the blade of Boothill’s jaw. Then – Argenti clips the leash to the D-ring of Boothill’s collar.
Boothill shudders to a stop, eyes going wide. Argenti tugs lightly, and Boothill moans, tipping forward a little more. Argenti smiles, sweet and soft. Deceptive, and he knows Boothill is aware of it. Argenti hums, soft and low, then says, “Don’t stop on my account.”
Boothill blinks up at him, licks his lips. Argenti is patient, but that’s temptation in and of itself. He drags the end of the leash over Boothill’s lower lip, taps it against Boothill’s cheek. His beloved’s hips jerk, breath escaping in a puff of air. He drags the end down Boothill’s throat, taps it against the ruby hanging from the collar. “Mine,” he murmurs, soft. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”
Boothill nods, immediate. One hand grabs at Argenti’s leg, cupping the back of his calf. “Yours,” he agrees, gasps as his hips flex. Argenti taps the end of the leash against his collar, brushes it lower to drag over one nipple. Boothill shivers, then jerks back against the toy with a soft sound. “Please-”
“Oh, now you’re being good, hmm?” Argenti says, and Boothill’s eyes widen. “You misbehave until you want something, is that it?” It’s not, they both know it, but if Boothill wants to brat then Argenti’s going to see it through. “Just had to get something in you?”
Argenti leans back, drops a hand to his fly. Undoes it, button by button, then stands as he pulls himself free. Boothill’s tongue is already out, catching the dribble of pre that drips from him. Argenti balances himself with a hand on Boothill’s head, lifts a foot, uses it to shove Boothill’s pants a little lower on his legs. He presses the ball of his foot to Boothill’s cock, rubs carefully, applying a little bit of pressure. Boothill shudders, tipping forward, hips hitching up. Argenti does it again, and again, until the underside of his sock is damp with Boothill’s pre. Then, only then does he plant his foot in front of Boothill and press his shin to his sub’s front.
“Open your mouth,” he says, and Boothill obeys, tongue sliding out, expectant. It’d be appropriate to deny them both, but he doesn’t want to – Boothill’s being good, now. So, Argenti leans forward, spits to coat Boothill’s tongue, then presses his cock between those waiting lips.
The moan he gets shudders through him, and Argenti pushes deeper, tugging Boothill’s head forward. He doesn’t keep him there long, feels the shift of his shoulders and the first shudder of Boothill’s throat protesting the intrusion and lets him pull back. He doesn’t stay there long – Boothill takes a deep, shuddering breath, then pushes himself back down, lifting off the dildo and grinding forward against Argenti’s shin at the same time.
Boothill squeaks – caught, shuddering, and Argenti watches his eyes roll back as he realises the predicament he’s in. He grabs Argenti’s calf, his thigh, pressing back against the toy as he pulls off Argenti’s cock, then grinds forward, clinging, shuddering. Argenti lets him – leaks into Boothill’s mouth, onto his waiting tongue, and watches as his submissive gets shakier, more erratic in his movements. He fucks forward, once, to catch Boothill off guard – feels Boothill’s throat tighten around him as the man shudders, gasps as soon as his throat is clear. The soft sounds of desperation are music to him. The tension in Boothill grows as his grip tightens on Argenti’s leg, as his movements grow frantic. Argenti tugs at the leash and when Boothill opens his eyes – hazy, bleary, he’s so, so deep – Argenti says, “Good boy,” and Boothill breaks.
As Boothill shudders, moans soft and sweet, dampens the front of Argenti’s pant leg with his spend, Argenti cups his face in both hands. Rubs his fingers along the blade of Boothill’s jaw, presses in behind the hinge of it to keep his mouth open. He fucks Boothill’s hot mouth in short, sharp strokes. He’s close – he’s never been unaffected by Boothill’s pleasure and it’s no different now, watching his beloved shiver and whine as tears drip from his lashes.
He doesn’t hesitate. Argenti presses in deep as the winding tension in him snaps; moans, pulls back as one hand cups the base of his cock. The movement drags come over Boothill’s tongue, his lips, his chin, and he strokes himself once, twice. The last dregs splash onto the leather of Boothill’s collar, and Argenti has to swallow hard, breathing heavy, unsteadily as his hand shakes against Boothill’s skin.
Boothill pushes up, shudders, pulling fully off the dildo as he chases the taste of Argenti. He swallows what’s on his tongue, then licks over Argenti’s length and Argenti shivers again, hand gripping tight at the base of his cock. He shoves it back into Boothill’s mouth, rubbing his thumb through a dribble of come on Boothill’s chin, rocks forward as he brings it to his mouth and licks it clean.
Boothill licks, suckles him as he softens, then Argenti’s pulling back and putting himself away. His hands are steady as he unclips the leash, hooks under Boothill’s arms and lifts him to his feet. When Boothill stumbles, Argenti hoists him higher, scoops him up and carries him the handful of steps to the ensuite. Sets him on the counter, pulls him in with a finger under his collar and kisses him slow, sweet. “I’ll run you a bath,” he murmurs against Boothill’s lips, smiles as Boothill tries, fails to hook his legs over Argenti’s hips, then starts to kick his pants the rest of the way down. “Then make us something to eat, okay?”
It’s as close as he can get to an I love you , for now.