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whatthebodygraspsnot · 2 days ago

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part three of baby sub ian tags: sex club, first time sub! ian, experienced dom! mickey, ian is nervous and cute and doesn’t know what he wants exactly, all he knows is he’s very into mickey new tags: fingers in mouth, light slapping, spit [ part one ] [ part two ]

“Might be your first time and all, but shit…” he huffs, right over the trace of a smirk that levels Ian into the ground. “Already know exactly what you are…”

It pins him.

Has Ian’s eyes flicking away, then instantly back. “What?” Call it morbid curiosity.

But the answer he gets is an unsatisfying one. It’s the light pressure around his throat disappearing. The backwards scrape of the chair and the rush of the dom standing, suddenly towering over Ian all over again when he says it. “Open your mouth.”

Oh shit. “Are you gonna-” but before he can finish, the dom’s palm cracks across his face, the rest literally slapped clean from his mouth and-

It…takes a second for it to register. To work through the shock of it. But then comes the pain, warm and blooming pleasantly from the center of his cheek.

Holy…

Fuck…

“What did I tell you.”

Jesus Christ.

With a breath that trembles, Ian gathers himself, his pulse in his ears. “To-…uh…”

“You speak outta turn, what happens?”

Oh. That. “I get hit,” he repeats. Because he definitely did warn him about that.

Just as clearly as he’s speaking now, calm and collected like he didn’t just slap the shit out of Ian and turn his world upside down, solidifying that curious box tick on his form. “Now what’d I tell you to do?”

His senses are starting to return to him now, so Ian gathers his hands in his lap and tries to keep still - to ignore the blossom of pain that still echoes on his cheek, tempting him to feel for himself.

“You told me to open my mouth,” he hears himself say.

And when the dom raises his eyebrows at him, waiting expectantly…

Right…

It’s a very easy thing to do without talking, it turns out. He could have - should have - done this the whole time, even if it feels a little awkward.

Because here Ian kneels, shirtless, with a stinging cheek and an ache in his lap and his mouth wide open, waiting patiently for whatever the dom decides to do with him. It’s his first time at this level - looking up instead of looking down.

And when that hand reaches out again, Ian flinches on instinct - lashes fluttering through an aborted wince and plucked pulse. But there’s no slap this time. (Why would there be? He’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing.) Instead, he feels the leisurely drag of Sir’s thumb across his bottom lip, slowly taking in the swell of it.

“Got a pretty mouth on ya,” he says. “Even if it doesn’t know when to stop movin’.”

Another compliment. One that makes Ian’s chest heat over almost as much as getting slapped. “Thank you, sir…” he murmurs against it, feeling his thumb tug just a bit. “Your mouth is pretty too, sir…” Very pretty. Temptingly so. “We should-”

Oh-… No.

By some miracle, he stops himself. Takes the rest of his wishes and swallows them back down before he stumbles right back into dangerous territory. He’s gotta be a fast learner. For Sir.

Even if he’s enticing him up there, with his curious grin and those eyes that are starting to drive him crazy with want. “We should what?” he prods, slipping his thumb past Ian’s bottom row of teeth and right onto his tongue. “Hm…?”

It’s a trap. A hot one - don’t get him wrong. Ian’s never been the one with fingers in his mouth before and it’s definitely nice, in a weird, intrusive way. But…

He gives his head a little shake, blinking innocently up at the dom.

He won’t speak out of turn. Not so soon at least. Even if he wouldn’t exactly mind another-

“Just outta curiosity… You got a partner, Ian…?”

He strokes the pad of his thumb back and forth, across the width of Ian’s tongue.

It fills his mouth with spit like clockwork - like some sort of strange press of the Dom Button.

A little head shake no. That’s all he can answer with right now.

It flies. “No commitments?”

He tries to swallow. Shakes his head.

“Not even anybody you got a crush on…?”

And…

Something in Ian’s chest flutters again. And it must transfer to his face, because the dom keeps his hand cupped under Ian’s chin, but slips his thumb out of his mouth.

Permission to speak.

And if that’s the case…

“Well…” Ian murmurs with spitty lips, “there is someone…”

“Oh yeah…?”

Bait.

Ian resituates on his knees. Pulls himself in extra neatly, the way his hands clasp in his lap casually covering the bulge that’s grown in his pants. Because, “Yes, sir…” he admits up to him. “It’s you, sir…”

Best-behaved.

It’s what he’s supposed to be saying, but honestly it’s not even that much of an exaggeration. Since the moment this man planted himself front and center, Ian could feel it. Even now, it’s swirling in his chest as he sits here, under the watch of those scary-pretty eyes and that scary-handsome face.

He wants this man’s attention.

His touch.

Ian wants him, period.

Or on second thought, maybe he’s not supposed to be saying this at all. Because for one brief moment, surprise flashes across the dom’s face. Pleasant surprise. Like he wasn’t expecting that answer, actually.

And suddenly the heat in Ian’s chest is threatening to sour into embarrassment. Because Christ… Wait a minute…

But, “Is that right,” Sir finally says, and the way he cups Ian’s freshly-slapped cheek does nothing more than deepen the pink. “You got a lil’ crush on me, Ian?”

It’s teasing, but Ian’s gotten himself in this now, so he pushes through. Feels himself leaning into his palm as he mumbles it, truthfully. “Not ‘little’…”

God, his pulse is hammering away like he’s in fucking school again. And the dom’s doing nothing but helping it quicken, his palm sliding back and around to card through Ian’s hair, getting a good handful in his grip so he can hold him still while he says it, dangerously close. “You’re a fuckin’ treat, ain’tchya…”

It’s too many sensations to focus on, layered on top of the scrape of the chair getting pulled forward again. It leaves Ian nodding aimlessly even though that wasn’t really a question because all his attention has narrowed, point blank, to that pretty fucking mouth just inches away and how bad he wants the dom to kiss him…kiss him…fuck, kiss him please.

“Open your mouth.”

Ian does it without hesitation, his pulse spiking and heart in his throat when his secret wishes are finally answered - with enthusiasm - Sir’s tongue licking right past his lips and into his open mouth to seal it all in a kiss - warm and wet and noisy and yes, God, fucking thank you.

Ian’s eyes roll closed. Lips part even wider, too overwhelmed to break out his moves, but he doesn’t have to here. The dom’s got it more than handled, controlling their pace and keeping him steady - keeping him upright, tilting his head so he can lap at Ian’s tongue and then suck it into his mouth, gentle but skilled.

It has him absolutely aching, the noise that escapes him coming from deep within his soul.

The dom hums around his tongue, and it’s a chuckle. A tease.

And Jesus Christ, maybe if he’s good this man will just swallow him whole.

“Open…” he hears, and in an instant he’s following instructions, his lashes fluttering just in time to see Sir pursing his lips above him.

Another curious box tick. Another clear affirmation, Ian’s eyes rolling shut all over again as the dom spits into his mouth, and then leans right back down to lick it up.

Holy fuck…

It makes for a sloppy kiss. Drooly lips as the space widens again for him to hear it. “You like that?”

Ian huffs out a heated breath, “Yes sir…” He really fucking does.

“Then what do you say?”

“More, please…”

“No…” Leading. Instructing. “You say thank you, don’t you?” Oh. “Good boys say thank you when they’re given somethin’.”

Ian tries to find a place for that to stick in his brain - an olympic task when he’s got that mouth pressing more kisses to his lips. “Mm…” he feels fucking dazed. “Thank you, sir…”

And it’s now that the discomfort in his knees is starting to make sense, just enough of his brain still online to realize that he’s crept his way off the pillow - slid himself right up between the dom’s legs so he’s damn near in his lap, head tilted so far back to keep him in his sights that he has to steady himself on his warm, heavenly thighs.

Surely this can’t be right.

Surely Ian shouldn’t be all up on him like this - touching without permission.

But the dom is feeding right into it. Feeding Ian more attention, more kisses, more spit - drawn out this time as he drools right onto Ian’s tongue, letting it slide back on its own before speaking. “Swallow.”

Ian swallows.

“Open.”

Ian opens. Blinks up at him, arms wrapped fully around his middle now to cling on for dear life.

“You’re bein’ real good for me, Ian,” he says, and it’s as he slides three fingers over the flat of his tongue, keeping them there. “A real good boy.”

If he could answer, Ian would. But his mouth has been stuffed full, drool pooling and brows furrowing and god, he’s hard.

“You know what I’m gonna let you do for bein’ so good?” A little pump of his fingers… Stilling as Ian wraps his lips around them, ready for the bomb to drop… And an absolute bomb, it is. “I’m gonna let you eat me out a little.”

It shakes his pulse. He can feel it in his chest - in his wrists - in his fucking breath as the dom pulls his fingers out and uses the same hand to give his cheek a few gentle, spitty pats.

“Speak.”

“Uh-…” The words are tripping up. Tangling in the horrifically horny mess. “Yes sir, that-… I’d fucking love that, sir…”

It pleases. Enough to stop the gentle slaps, at least. “Course you would. But this ain’t about you.” And then the dom is reaching around himself, leading Ian’s clinging arms off of him so he can push back in the chair again and stand, “It’s about me,” his back to him now as he saunters over to the low, red velvet chaise in the back of the room, “and I got a feelin’ that sweet mouth of yours is gonna get me good and ready for that cock.”

When he turns to face him again, all the energy - all the power - draws in and sharpens, with pinprick accuracy, as he snaps his fingers and then points to the floor beside him.

“Come.”

Ian’s not gonna make it outta here alive.

#(suburban dad waving to the mailman as he mows his lawn voice) mornin #gallavich #ray writes #check the tags we’re starting to get a little nasty #baby sub ian au

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