fuguestates | DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

Their gaze is bright and cautious, tracking Justin's every move.

"I do," they reply, though they look askance, unable to meet the man's gaze directly while speaking. This close, Monty can see the deep blues of Justin's eyes, the strong curve of his jawline. They can see just how big the man's hands are, how thick his fingers. Monty takes a deep breath.

"I've had a lot of time to think through this already. Everything looks good on paper. But, I wanted to meet you anyway. To get a chance to thank you in person for everything you’ve been doing for me so far, everything you’ve been paying for. But also so that I could get a chance to actually meet you, to see you face to face." Monty pauses, considers his next words. "...And to get a chance to ask you why you picked me."

Edited 2022-11-08 04:40 (UTC)

He rewards Monty's answer with an encouraging smile, but his eyes are steady and intent as they observe him, the way he is standing at attention, nervous but very clearly grateful for what he imagines Justin has done for him. And the more Justin watches him, reading his body language and manner, the more certain he is that this wild chance he'd taken would pay out. Almost subconsciously, his body language shifts as well, projecting a subtle but irresistible command, the self-assured entitlement of a powerful man who knows exactly what he wants and how to get it without coercion. Who knew exactly how to make someone want to give him what he wanted.

"I don't know if you even saw me, that night at The Body Shop," he says, pitching his voice low. "You had this look on your face... it was longing and desperation, greedy for what you could see, but felt you could never actually have for yourself. Something in that spoke to me. I don't know your background or history - though I'm sure you must have answered enough questions about that already for a lifetime, your caseworker doesn't share anything with me without your consent - but I can recognize a dream deferred when I see one. And it was such a little thing, really, for me to give you that chance, to open a doorway, grant you an opportunity."

He tilts his head, his gaze burning bright bright blue, practically pinning Monty in place. "I know it might be too early to tell. But... are you seeing a possible pathway to your happiness? Rather than simply staring at it enviously from the shadows?" He holds up a hand, as though to preempt an immediate answer. "I want an honest answer, even if it doesn't involve me beyond this meeting and the end of the current contract."

The man's entire demeanor seems so large, seems to fill the entire room, gripping Monty with its intensity. Their knees shake, nearly want to buckle. It's a good feeling. They could get used to this.

"I'll be honest, I don't think I remember you at all. I'm sorry. But," Monty's face lights up suddenly at the memory, "my favorite dancer was on, I remember that. Violet is always so beautiful. His outfits and the way he moves...his confidence..." Monty casts their eyes down again, stares briefly at their small chest and immediately brings their arms around to hold himself, covering it.

"I know what this opportunity is," they say with a rare air of certainty. "I know what it means to me and what it can do for me. So, I want to see this through. If...if you'll have me."

"I hope you've learned by now that it goes both ways," he murmurs, and then stands up, walks forward until he is standing right in front of Monty. He reaches down for his hands, pulls them away from his body and folds them up in his own (Monty was so slight and slender, his hands practically engulfed by Justin's large ones), and observes the way Monty's simple loose clothes fall around him, the unexpected curves revealed by movement.

"Shall we find out together?" He asks, letting go of Monty's hand and cupping his chin, forcing him to tilt his head up to meet Justin's eyes. It is not exactly a question, and Justin doesn't wait for a verbal answer before he is bending down to kiss Monty's parted lips, forceful and confident.

They take a step back, feels the edge of the mattress hit the pit of their knees and they nearly stumble and fall if not for the way Justin is holding onto them.

His palms are warm and smooth, accented only by a single cold signet ring. These are the hands of a man who wants for nothing. These are hands that are never empty.

Before they can answer at all, there’s a mouth on their own and Monty makes a muffled sound of surprise. The wet push of a determined tongue forces their lips wider apart and Monty finds themselves moaning against the slight strain, eyes closing and soon enough, they're kissing back (inexpertly and not yet well practiced, but earnest nonetheless). It feels good. So good. It feels better than when they’re alone with just their own imagination, or watching others do it from the outside looking in.

But in the back of their mind, a worry begins to spin. This close together, surely Justin has started to notice (and perhaps even feel) the softer parts of Monty, the parts that they try so hard to hide, the parts of them they still don't know how to reconcile.

Monty's weight is slight, almost negligible, and the delicate, tentative way they return Justin's kiss, however inexpertly, is almost sweet. Justin had always been observant and detail-oriented, especially when it came to people, and he is very motivated to keep a close eye on Monty at the moment. He swallows his moan, using his hand to tug Monty even closer against him, to feel his body against Justin's own, through their clothes.

"Mm," he murmurs, thoughtful and pleased, and pulls away from Monty just enough to be able to look down at him - at them. "I never asked," he says softly, "what your preferred pronouns were, did I?"

They freeze, their entire body like a puppet whose strings were suddenly tugged tight and tense. Their chest is now pressed lightly against Justin's own but Monty suddenly pulls back, shyly. Nervously. "I," they begin, weakly, but can't seem to finish.

This has happened before, it's clear. This has happened before and it didn't end well.

Monty twists a little in Justin's hold, feeling suddenly a little trapped. "...Anything is fine, really," they murmur in such a way as if to convince themselves it were actually true. "But, technically I go by They/Them. It's just...easier."

He steps back when he feels Monty shifting uncomfortably, but keeps his hand wrapped around his - theirs - gentling his own touch, their fingers linked in a hovering bridge between their two bodies, Justin's broader fingers curled around Monty's slender ones. "Thank you for letting me know," he says, offering subtle emphasis, his body canted towards Monty's, while still leaving space for them to step back further out of Justin's reach, if they chose to.

"May I kiss you again, Monty?" He asks, voice still soft, tempering the earlier command.

They blink back their surprise. Justin didn't look...repulsed or confused. If anything, the man remained exceedingly calm and...gentle, even. Monty nods then, a light blush rising to their cheeks and they lean forward again, lashes lowered, lips parted.

Monty's pinking cheeks are adorable, and Justin takes full advantage, wrapping his arms around them and pulling them flush against his own body, close enough for Monty to feel the way his cock is stirring in his pants with obvious interest, before he brings their lips together again for a far more forceful, hungry kiss. Monty is so slight, so slender against Justin, the contrast in size giving Justin all sorts of interesting ideas.

This was a first meeting, intended to be a formality, an introduction, though the circumstances were such that more intimate and explicit contact was common. He's participated in over a dozen of these in his lifetime, but this is the first time he's been so very tempted to push the boundaries of what typically occurred within these four monitored walls.

"Will you let me see you today?" He says, and it is not a question, but a carefully phrased test. There is, as always, space for Monty to stop or refuse, but Justin has a hunch, an inkling, of what exactly he held in his arms right now, and he's intent on confirming it.

They nod their head after a moment, looking down at the obvious (and sizable) tent in Justin's well-tailored trousers. "Ok. But I want to see you too."

They take a deep, shaky breath and move back, getting onto their knees on the bed behind them so that they remain level with the man's face. And they start to undress.

They're movements are still skittish and careful, fingers trembling as they briefly toy with the hem of their shirt, crinkling it before clumsily sliding the whole thing up and over their head. The pants come next and soon enough, Monty's completely bare except for a set of sheer, cheap underwear covering a pair of perky breasts and a small cock that sat nestled right above a hairless, pink little cunt.

They can't help but to avert their gaze now, unsure if they're ready to see the man's reaction to the truth.

In the past, he'd gotten used to the performances of smooth, composed, professional Companions, who knew their own assets very well and were fully comfortable in their own skin, the obvious result of extensive training and a natural inclination towards this kind of work, utterly self-assured and deliberately aware of the effect their appearances would have on the potential Patrons and audiences they were likely to garner wherever they went, even if they could adopt different mannerisms as a matter of course.

But there's something so unstudied and genuine - so different about Monty, the tremble of fear and anticipation in their limbs, the shy, uncertain way they glance between Justin and the floor as they slowly shed their clothing. Even that, too, was a significant departure from the attire - or rather, lack of attire - that Companions usually adopted for these kinds of initial meetings, dressing to make an impression, accentuating their best assets.

There was something so sweet about the way Monty had hid themselves instead, even though Justin was starting to get the full picture of what lay behind the somewhat cryptic updates provided by their caseworker, the way the estimations of what Monty's eventual contract would entail had fluctuated so widely as they went through the gamut of tests and assessments.

But even with that slight foreknowledge and anticipation, Justin could not have guessed at what would actually be revealed, once Monty had stripped down to their underwear.

"Oh," he whispers, sounding almost reverent, his fingers twisting and halting, pulling himself back from just reaching out and touching. "Just look at you," he murmurs, almost to himself, and he reaches out finally, to gently cup Monty's cheek and turn their face towards Justin, to meet his eyes, his expression almost reverent.

"May I touch you, Monty?" He asks, his thumb stroking over the arch of Monty's cheekbones.

"Oh," Monty echoes back, eyes wide, genuine surprise flooding him. Never has anyone reacted this way to seeing all of them as they were. Never before have they felt so exposed and yet so...wanted at the same time. Monty is used to confusion, disappointment, and even repulsion. But not this. They've never dared to think they'd ever get this.

"...Yes. Please." Their words are tender but eager as they turn their face up against Justin's touch, long lashes fluttering. Their own arms slowly unfold from around themselves and they tentatively reach a small hand out to touch the man's chest, feels the hard curve of it under their palm. Monty sucks in a breath, a near-groan of want.

Edited 2022-11-09 02:33 (UTC)

His grin sharpens at the sound Monty makes, the sharp intake of breath, the muffled desire. He leans into Monty's hand, lets them feel the muscle and strength underneath his perfectly fitted clothes, the warmth of his larger body, as he steps closer to the bed. "Do you want to see me first, Monty?" He offers, curious where Monty's predilections lie. Whether he would enjoy the inherent contrast of Justin, still fully clothed, exploring a vulnerable and naked Monty to his heart's content, or if they would want to seize this opportunity to see and touch Justin's body for themselves.

Monty thinks for a moment but then shakes their head, their fingers clenching suddenly into Justin's shirt and using that leverage to tug the man forward. He barely budges, of course, but the intent - the offer - is there nonetheless.

He leans forward, brushes his lips against the top of Monty's head - almost absent-mindedly, without thought - and then he rests his large hands over Monty's abdomen, measuring the contrast between their trim waist, the miracle of their anatomy, his palms gliding warm over Monty's skin.

"Lay back on the bed for me, Monty," he suggests/commands, his eyes steady and intent. "I want to see and feel exactly what I've managed to get my hands on."

They sigh almost happily when Justin’s hands slide down their body and slowly, they do as they’re told. There’s something about the way Justin phrased things that made Monty feel like a treasured object. Something held, something owned.

It’s oddly thrilling.

The mattress is chilly against their back and they shiver involuntarily, tilting their head down to watch how Justin starts to touch and explore them.

Justin takes his time - soft, slow movements, his hands roaming over Monty's arms and shoulders, but there is no hesitation or tentativeness. He seems absolutely assured of his welcome, his palms and fingers mapping over Monty's sensitive areas, at first skirting the straps and lines of their undergarments, until he finally unwraps Monty's bra, his large hands squeezing over their now-revealed breasts, palms warm and coaxing,

The moment the man’s fingers brush over their nipples, Monty keens, back arching just a little, their body seeking more of that touch.

“That feels…good,” they admit, watching the way Justin’s hands cover each inch of them, how their breasts fit perfectly into the man’s palms. When he squeezes just so, Monty has to bite back their gasp of satisfaction.

“…harder,” they find themselves saying, revealing little by little exactly what kind of way they preferred to be treated.

He smirks, feeling his internal certainty - that he'd been right to follow that long-ago whim, that Monty was truly going to be worth the investment Justin had made in them - start to build. He obeys Monty's plea for the moment, all his skill and experience coming to bear as he practically strums Monty's body, for now focusing on their breasts and nipples, coaxing them into sensitive peaks before pinching them tight and twisting them in his large but expert fingers, learning all their preferences before playing them like a master. He keeps half an eye on the rest of Monty's body, on their other reactions, but his immediate focus is on Monty's face for now.

He would have plenty of time to do that in the future, even if Monty didn't know that just yet.

Their eyes squeeze shut, brows knitting together, focusing in on that sensation. The burst of pain is delicious and bright, making them start to squirm on the bed, their fingers gripping the sheets beneath them.

Monty feels how wet they're already getting between their thighs. They wonder if Justin's noticed.

"I wonder how you'd react to being tied up," Justin murmurs, watching them squirm, eyes bright with fascination and lustful anticipation, kneading deliberately at their breasts and feeling the way Monty gasps and shivers with each breath. "I think you'd love that, Monty. All eyes and attention on you, utterly helpless - all you'd have to do - all you'd be able to do - is to just feel what's being done to you, your body being used."

They immediately turn their head away, feeling so exposed, so seen. Justin had just vocalized a deep, secret desire (one of many) and Monty isn't sure how to admit to that and to manage the influx of feelings they just felt. It's a combination of misplaced guilt, heavy lust, repression, and confusion.

They bite their lip. "I'd...I'd like to try that."

The words stutter out of them before they can stop them.

"Hmm," Justin hums, his hands sliding down along Monty's shoulders, past their elbows to their wrists, pinning them down briefly to the bed, fingers wrapped tight around them, just enough to hurt a little bit, just enough to be impossible to ignore, the implication obvious. "I thought you might." He leans in close, his still-clothed body radiating warmth, covering Monty's skin, to whisper in their ear: "I wonder what else you might like, if you were willing to give yourself over to me completely, let me learn every last bit of you, inside and out, so I can take you apart and put you back together. Would you let me do that, Monty? Let me unearth every single hidden part of you, all your secret, selfish, guilty pleasures and imaginings, bring you exquisite pain and incomparable joy, remake you until every part of you pleases me?"

They suck in a sharp breath through their teeth, eyes widening. They feel Justin's fingers press into their skin. It hurts, souring as if beginning to bruise. But instead of struggling back, Monty feels their legs already starting to spread ever so slightly.

"Y-yes," they admit, quietly, almost shamefully, feeling their cock twitch and throb with obvious interest in their thin underwear. "I...I want to please you. Teach me how." A pause. Then -

"Sir."

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