fuguestates | DOING SOMETHING UNHOLY

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."

He sighs out, warm breath against Monty's ear, stirring their hair, and then suddenly pulls back and away, releasing Monty's wrists, leaving them spread out and practically naked on the bed.

"You know I can't do any of that until we have a full contract," he says matter-of-factly, reaching up to unbutton his shirt, fingers smooth and practiced, the only sign that he's affected by the interaction between them the sight of his cock, hard and obvious in his tailored pants.

There's something about the way Justin is only now undressing, gazing down his nose at Monty splayed out and flushed and almost naked on the now messy bed that makes them feel so...objectified. And so hot.

"I know, sir," they say, eyes trailing up and down Justin's body, stopping only at his groin. They lick their lips, unconsciously. "So far, I don't have any hesitations on signing."

He bites his lip, muffling an amused chuckle as he shakes his head. "You haven't even seen my offer yet," he points out, shrugging off his shirt. Normally he would wear proper layers, but for this meeting, he had forgone his usual approach, so he is bare-chested already, revealing substantial, well-defined muscles, broad shoulders, tapering down to a trim, strong waist. "It's a good thing your caseworker is going to be the one handling your negotiations."

They are staring, they know they are, their own hand sliding down their body, pausing to fondle the lace trim of their panties, almost idly. "I think I'm seeing more than enough of it right now, actually."

His hands, dropping down to his belt, stop short, and he smirks, letting them fall to his sides. "Mm, is that so?" He purrs, a low rumble of sound. "I've always been the type to be a little more hands on, with my...purchases." He watches Monty squirm, watches the way they touch themselves idly through their panties, the bulge of their little cock stretching the cheap, lacy material, already visibly damp. "I want your hands up above your head, Monty," he says, off-handed but with clear authority in his tone, "and keep them there until I say otherwise." It was skirting the boundaries of these first meetings, to be sure, but he feels a deep and significant surety, settling deep in his core, lending a pleasant frisson of heat even to the eye contact between them, without any physical touch.

They almost whimper. Almost.

"Yes, sir," they reply and although the term is still a little strange on their tongue, it's getting easier. It's starting to feel like something they've been saying for years, something they could see themselves continuing to say for years to come.

Monty stretches their arms slowly over their head, uses one hand to grip the wrist of the other. They shiver slightly.

"Is there anything else you want me to do, sir?"

"Don't hold back," he replies, his eyes flicking up to Monty's obedient hands, then back down to meet their eyes.

Then he hooks his fingers in the elastic of Monty's panties and tugs them down off their long, slender legs, leaving them completely naked and vulnerable on the bed in front of him, their little cock already stiff and red and their thighs damp and shiny with arousal. It's so fascinating to see both, the clear physical evidence of Monty's state of mind.

He looks between the panties and Monty, before he scrunches up the material and holds it up to Monty's lips. "I still want to hear you," he clarifies, waiting for Monty to open their mouth.

Monty's heart is pounding, fluttering about wildly in their chest, their small breasts rising and falling as they inhale shakily.

Their lips part, clamp back down on the cheap polyester. "Mmrgh," they groan in the affirmative as they nod, hanging onto Justin's every word, every murmured command, and moans softly, enamored by how muffled the sound gets now that their mouth is stuffed.

Justin seems fascinated by what he's seeing, not at all appalled or baffled. This just isn't something Monty is used to experiencing and so they're not sure exactly what to do or how to react. It's why they're relieved every time the man gives a direct order. There's a safety in that.

Monty slowly pulls their thighs apart, just a bit. Not nearly enough to be lewd, yet. But welcoming.

Edited 2022-11-10 17:21 (UTC)

He smirks, pleased at the effect he's clearly having, at the mindset Monty seems to be in at the moment, and then he leans forward, his weight on the bed causing Monty to slide - just a little bit - closer to him. He rests his hands at Monty's hips, stroking against the smooth skin there, feeling the structure of bone and muscle joined together, giving Monty shape.

"Are you going to just spread your legs for me Monty? Or are you going to make me work for it?"

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