#pt2 of varadha being a clown

[rambheem-is-real]

Hurts So Good Part 2

pairing: Varadeva

warnings: NSFW, yes this is the throatfucking fic as ppl in the server have called it

part 1 here

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Deva’s heartbeat starts rising against his will. Stupid, he thinks. He doesn’t know where the instinct to take Varadha’s fingers inside his mouth came from, what the hell? Varadha’s closer than Deva wants right now. If the other man starts touching him, Deva’s not sure if he can control himself. Even now, with just the barest press of fingers on his tongue, a dozen filthy fantasies are running through his mind. If Varadha really tried something with him, Deva sure as hell wouldn’t stop it. He’s been under Varadha’s control, mind and body, his entire life, and seven years of separation have only made him long for Varadha’s touch once more. 

“I’ll make you a deal, Deva.” Varadha speaks. “I’ll let Aadhya and Amma go. Once they’re out of Khansaar, they’re free to go anywhere they want. I’ll issue an order that they are not to be touched.” 

The fingers leave his mouth, Deva fighting a whine. He tries to think through the fog in his brain. Aadhya and Amma leaving, that’s good. That’s what he wants. But clearly Varadha wants something from him. There’s a Deva-shaped hole in the equation. 

“What do you want me to do?” Deva rasps. 

Varadha doesn’t respond for a few seconds. Deva nearly jolts when he feels those fingers in his hair, smoothing the strands out, almost lovingly. Suddenly, as if Varadha realized just where he was, Deva’s hair is yanked back, fingers tightened to a painful degree. 

“You’re the sacrifice, of course. You stay here in Khansaar.” 

Deva’s brows furrow. That can’t be it. “What’s the catch?”

“The catch? You’ll be here for a special purpose.” There’s a certain… eagerness in Varadha’s voice. Deva wishes he didn’t have a blindfold on, so he could see Varadha’s face to try to figure out what he was thinking. Of course, that was probably why the blindfold was still in place; Varadha knew very well that Deva knew him better than Varadha knew himself. 

Varadha lets go of Deva’s hair, and cups his jaw. “I’ve always thought you were pretty. Thought you’d make a fine husband for another Shouryanga.” He drags Deva’s bottom lip open, swiping his thumb over the cracked areas. “Maybe I want to test that out for myself.”

Oh. Deva swallows, and knows Varadha can feel it from where his hand is positioned. His skin feels like it’s been set on fire. This is exactly what he had feared. Varadha thinks he’s humiliating Deva, giving a punishment worse than death, but how can he know this is what Deva has always secretly dreamed of? He’s always longed for Varadha letting Deva serve him, whether that be through pleasuring him, protecting him, or anything Varadha desired. He’s letting Amma and Aadhya go, Deva thinks. They would be safe. But what would happen afterwards? Amma wouldn’t be there to stop Deva anymore. And Deva wouldn’t be able to stop himself if it was his beloved commanding him. He’d go back to being the monster he sees in his dreams.  

“Thoughts, Deva? If you don’t agree, I can just kill all three of you.” Varadha removes his hand entirely, so there’s no point of contact between them. Deva just barely restrains himself from leaning forward, from chasing the warmth again. Fuck. He’s already lost. 

“You know I have no choice, you bastard.” Deva lets his head hang forward out of resignation, making it seem like it’s costing him to agree. It’s the truth, but for different reasons than Varadha thinks. “I accept your deal.”

“A smart choice,” Varadha purrs in satisfaction, and the velvet timbre of his voice stirs a heat in Deva’s lower regions. “Of course, before I let them go, I’ll have to test your cooperation. You’re a dangerous man, Deva, I need to know you’ll be able to keep your end of the deal.” Varadha pushes down on the other man’s shoulders until Deva’s kneeling on the ground. Deva stays silent, letting Varadha manhandle him, wondering what that means.

His mouth is pried open again, Deva absentmindedly wondering if Varadha has a thing for his lips for him to be this obsessed, before he hears the order. “Keep it open.” Is he…? There’s a quick rustle of fabric before something is pushed into his mouth. 

It’s thick and warm, and there’s an overwhelming scent of Varadha, of home. Varadha stays still for a couple of seconds, letting him get used to the sensation, and Deva has to fight to stay silent, to not moan or do something equally embarrassing. 

“You’re so tight,” Varadha teases. “I’ll enjoy the rest of our time together.” He slowly inches forward until he’s buried completely in Deva’s mouth, wiry hairs tickling Deva’s nose. Without warning, he thrusts hard, a few times before pulling out to see Deva’s reaction. Deva coughs, spit dripping from the corner of his mouth. Seemingly satisfied, Varadha pushes back in and sets a punishing rhythm. 

Deva loses track of time, forcing himself to stay still and unresponsive, until Varadha pushes a little too deep and Deva chokes. 

Varadha immediately pulls out, and Deva gasps for breath. He’s not thinking, doesn’t stop himself from opening his mouth and trying to find Varadha’s dick again. Varadha stops him with a hand around his throat, scoffing in disbelief. 

“What the hell were you doing outside all these years? Are you this much of a slut, that getting fucked in the throat by your enemy is getting you off?”

The words are degrading, but fuck if Deva doesn’t feel a strange, sharp spike of pleasure. He moans, throwing caution to the wind. He just wants Varadha back, to feel that sense of closeness with the other man again. 

Varadha pushes at Deva’s crotch with his foot, and pauses at feeling his hardened dick. “Devuda,” he breathes. 

Spurred on, Varadha pushes into Deva again, placing his other hand on Deva’s throat as well and using it as a grip. He fucks into Deva’s mouth over and over, using the other man like a toy, not caring for Deva’s pleasure. 

“I bet your girlfriend would be horrified to see you like this,” Varadha taunts. “Well, that won’t be a problem anymore, now that you’re all mine.”

Given that he doesn’t actually have a girlfriend, Deva’s in heaven. Never once did he imagine he’d actually get to suck Varadha’s dick, or hear himself be claimed as Varadha’s. He lets himself lean into it, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard instead of continuing to stay still. He feels Varadha’s dick tightening up, and prepares himself to swallow when the other man suddenly pulls out. 

His mouth is still open when he feels rounds of what must be Varadha’s cum coat his face, the sound of Varadha stroking his dick the only thing Deva can hear above the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears. His face burns at the knowledge that Varadha had just come on him, but whether it’s out of embarrassment or enjoyment Deva doesn’t know. Maybe both. 

Both are left panting for breath for a few seconds, until Varadha fully lets go. Deva hears more fabric rustling as he lets himself drift idly, until he feels a soft cloth wiping his face. The action is gentle, entirely in contrast to the rough handling of his throat just a minute earlier. Deva wants to smile at it, his Varadha was of course a gentleman. 

The cloth is thrown to the side somewhere, and Deva doesn’t hear anything else. Varadha’s presumably kneeling in front of Deva, but he’s not moving. He squirms, and the action triggers Varadha into action. To Deva’s shock, Varadha kisses him. It’s a passionate kiss, Varadha slipping his tongue inside Deva’s mouth. Deva slightly pulls back. 

“Varadha,” he moans. He’s not sure what he’s asking for. An end to the mixed signals, perhaps. This Varadha, the one he hasn’t seen in seven years, is both cruel and soft. Rough and gentle. Deva doesn’t know what to make of it. He could have just ordered Deva’s death, as was the suitable punishment. Deva would have accepted it, too, as he was the one who wrote it into law. If he wanted to make Deva suffer, he could have tortured him. But keeping him as a bedmate? What possible reason could Varadha want that, if not to give Deva the hope that maybe, Varadha loved him back?

“Varadha, please take the blindfold off,” he begs. Deva just wants to see his Varadha again. He wants to read Varadha’s face, to know exactly what he wants from a single glance, the way he used to be able to do. 

Varadha pulls back, and Deva hears a frustrated breath. In the next second, Deva’s head lolls to the side from a sudden smack. 

“Why couldn’t you just leave it alone,” he hears Varadha mutter, then speaks louder for Deva to hear. “Don’t forget, Deva, that you’re a prisoner here. You’ll have that on for as long as I want you to have it on. Same with the chains. But I trust-” He stumbles over the word, and starts again. “But I know you won’t try to escape the second I walk out of here, so it’s time for me to keep my end of the deal.”

Varadha calls for a soldier, and Deva hears him telling her to issue an order that no Khansaar force should touch the two women they have caught as prisoners, and that they should be escorted out of the city.

The soldier assents, and walks away. 

Varadha turns towards Deva once more, returning the gag to its original position. 

“I’ll be back.” It’s the only thing he says before Deva hears Varadha walk out of the cell, down the hall. 

Deva yells, a short scream muffled by the gag. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He’d be content being Varadha’s little pet, if that’s what he truly wanted, but the lack of understanding is killing him. The soft touches, the kiss, the possessiveness, all contrasting with the rough handling and the slap at the end there. Deva screws his eyes shut, and hopes. Against all odds, if Varadha.. was also pretending? If that was all an act as well, spurred by jealousy? That the mask was just slipping every time Varadha went soft? 

It might be too outlandish to hope. The last time he had seen Varadha, his beloved’s face was ashen from grief, from the countless days of mourning Baachi. He had issued the order that Deva was to be exiled from Khansaar. It had hurt, but Deva had no regrets. He remembers the choice, that he could save either Varadha or Baachi. Of course he had remembered his initial promise to Varadha, the reason that Varadha had brought him to Khansaar in the first place. But when he was standing on that field, forced to make a choice, Deva knew who he’d pick. He was too selfish, too unwavering in his love for Varadha. But Varadha, and understandably so, had taken it as a rejection of what Varadha wanted, a rejection of Deva’s initial promise. 

Deva had also mourned the boy, of course, later. But that was nothing compared to the pain of being separated from the man he loved once again. And now, if Varadha wanted Deva to be his bedmate, at least Deva could be useful to him once again. At least Varadha wouldn’t immediately associate Deva with Baachi’s death. 

There was hope.

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tags: @deadloverscity @vardhamannartitties @sada-siva-sanyaasi @sambaridli @sometimesbrave @just-a-lazy-person @vijayasena @sinistergooseberries @tulodiscord @mad-who-ra @umbrulla @jitterbugbetty @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @varadevlawyer @hum-suffer @nini9224 @varadevaficrecs @ghostdriftexistence @arkangel9