[Harry is a very prim and proper man... in public. In the privacy of their tent, though, he feels no shame in what he wants to do to Tim.
He kisses him back and fumbles to get his buttons undone, discarding his shirt with a few sharp motions. He kisses Tim again, tugging at Tim's soft as well even though he seems reluctant to allow the time and space for Tim to actually get it off.]
[ His nails rake up the expanse of his chest, scratching through course hair and thumbing over his nipples, soft sounds into his mouth as he drinks him in. Whatever shame he was supposed to feel from the other night is gone, replaced with pure need. To claim him as his, to further cement himself as the one Harry needs to vent out his frustrations, who can give him anything and make him feel capable and powerful. He's a good man, he deserves that. ]
You're in charge. [ Taking advantage of the break in the kiss to pull his shirt off, noting Harry's hopeful nudging. ] Where do you want me?
[Harry gives his love very easily to people - some would say naively so - but what he feels for Tim is on a level that borders on obsessive. The second Tim has his shirt off Harry is on him again, kissing his neck, the lovely curve of one shoulder.
He has to pull back to look around, having a whole new blind spot he's not used to. The tent is severely lacking in anything to bend Tim over.]
The sleeping bag. Arms and knees on the floor, arse in the air, please.
[There's pillows, too, to put under Tim's knees for comfort. A funny thing to think of, he supposes, considering what he's planning to do.]
[ Obsession. Worship. Love. It's all the same to him, one bleeding into the next like the imagined wounds on his hands just days before, life dripping out on himself, on Harry, in the sleeping bag they've been sharing. It takes devotion to be enveloped in one another so thoroughly, to let another person in so deep that they can hurt you. That you want them to. ]
Yes, sir.
[ Tim plucks open the button, unzips his short jean shorts, and pulls them down, asking as he steps out: ]
What am I being disciplined for?
[ Part of the game for him, something to focus on, an improvement to strive for so that he can relax enough to take it. Tim's transgressions are rarely so serious as they were in June, but there has to be something, no matter how small. ]
Well...Hawk. [ Obviously. But he lowers himself to his knees, so that he's looking up at Harry, cheeks tinged with pink. Tim tries not to look, he really does, but the house has made that difficult, providing these tiny little shorts for everyone and forcing them outside in the peak of summer, covered in sweat and lake water. ] And, um. I was watching people swim. With Koby.
[ Shanks emerging from the water, sun shining on glistening, wet muscles, shorts clinging and leaving very little to the imagination. And, well...Koby's told him some things... ]
I have. Passing thoughts, nothing happened.
[ His face burns with shame, regardless, as he crawls over to the sleeping bag, arching his back and pressing his face down against the cushioned bag. ]
Hawkins, obviously, yes. [Who doesn't look at Hawk? Well. Some women he supposes. But what he wants to hear about is the others.
Harry isn't particularly upset - he'd be the worst hypocrite if he were - but he knows that Tim will feel guilty about it. And that's what they need here. He lets Tim crawl into position with real pleasure.]
Who was it?
[Partly the need to humiliate, but mostly genuine curiosity.
Harry moves behind Tim and again tests the heft of the cane, lining himself up so he can gently tap it over the swell of Tim's buttocks.]
[ Tim's face turns to the side, still pressed against the sleeping bag, but facing outwards enough that he can answer. Even if he would prefer not to - Harry's right, he is ashamed of it. It was energy he could have given Harry instead. He doesn't even want him. ]
Shanks. We work together at Dead Men. I would never-- he's a terrible judge of character.
[ He shivers at the cool touch of wood against his ass. Pleasure, anticipation, the smallest bite of fear. Tim made the thing, he thinks he should know what to expect, but he hadn’t tested it. No one ought to be using it but the man carved into the handle. Hopefully it's sturdy enough, and the marks it leaves are raw and pink enough, to overcome whatever disappointment his confession provokes. ]
But he was swimming around shirtless, and he's got a connection with Koby, so I know some things, so I wondered what it would be like. Just for a minute.
[ The first one’s just a tease. Tim is looking at Harry over his shoulder, he knows it’s coming, but it still pushes a gasp out of him, a twitch of his cock, encouraging it to swell further as it hangs, untouched, between his legs. But the second. He can hear the thin, sturdy length of the cane whip through the air before it makes contact with a stinging whack. The point of impact is smaller than the tawse, but no less punishing. Only concentrated, the pain singing from the fleshy curve of his ass from the first real smack.
He’s a good sport about it. Stoic, for now. ]
Koby said...and, um, I could see with his shorts clinging to him. He's a large man, and it’s...proportional. [ He’s 6’6” and broad, what do you expect? ] He’s got the same kind of feeling-magic stuff as Koby, but a lot more powerful. So...
[ Shame burns in him anew. Thinking about it was bad enough, now he’s sharing with Harry? Best friends whispering and giggling about their lovers is one thing, but telling one lover that a man you’ve no intention of ever touching is probably a great lay? It feels wrong. ]
[Said with that dry, polite sounding amusement that Harry is capable of when he's comfortable.]
I think that you would enjoy it as well. Someone who could read your every desire, your every emotion. He'd know what to do with you instinctively.
You feel badly about wanting that, don't you?
[Three strikes, each with a pause in between. They land in a line, one above the other. Harry pays close attention to the skin - the tool is new to him and he doesn't want to accidentally cut Tim's ass up.]
[ He waits for the break between the strikes, focus tuning into the fire in his swatted cheek, three pink lines like tally marks, counting every sinful thought. Harry sounds curious more than stern, but the way he puts it makes Tim feel awfully guilty, as if a handful of stray, unserious thoughts were somehow indicative of something lacking in Harry. Maybe he’s not as muscular, and he doesn’t have any superhuman enhancements – that doesn’t matter. He’ll always fuck him better because he loves him, because Tim wouldn’t always be wondering if he wouldn’t condone playing games with everyone’s lives, too. ]
I already have that. [ Gripping the sleeping bag tightly in his fists, breathing forced even. ] You and Hawk don’t need magic to know me like that. So it’s just...greed, to want it somewhere else. Even if I only thought about it for a minute. I’m sorry.
[One more hit, this one in the same place as the first. Tim can withstand much more, but Harry can't help but want to do other things to that ass.]
Yes, you are a greedy one. But I'll tell you a secret, Tim: I like that about you.
[He puts the cane carefully, almost reverently, aside. Then he moves to fetch lubricant from inside the little box serving as their nightstand. He pours some into his hand and warms it, spreading it over his fingers before he kneels behind Tim and sets to working him open.
Harry's voice is soft, almost conspiratorial.]
I enjoy that you can't ever seen to get enough love. Enough... sexual congress. You're a beautiful creature and you need attention to thrive. I should like to give it to you.
[ Greed is a sin. He shouldn’t like that about him, but Harry seems to like everything about him, all his sweetness and all his stubbornness, every stabbing insecurity and flash of madness, whether they’re brought on by the house or his own heart. He is an endless bounty of love, which Tim soaks up like a dried out sponge, expanding with every drop. He can’t get enough, it’s true, but since Harry is so happy to give, why not let himself take for once?
Needy and shameless, he rocks himself back onto Harry's fingers with a low moan that would alert the next tent over, if they weren't so close to the lake. Or maybe they can hear. After the death carnival and the mirrorverse sex tape, does he even care? ]
[Tim is all his right now, the stripes on his ass as good as a brand. It fills Harry with a sense of fierce possessiveness that adds to his arousal. He pulls away and takes himself in hand, slicking his cock up and then just stroking a bit because it feels good. (And maybe to make Tim wait just a little.)
He turns back to Tim and lines himself up, one hand on Tim's lower back. With a low groan he pushes himself in slowly until he's fully seated.
[ Tim squirms, impatient, and juts his ass up as high as he can while still looking behind him, at Harry and his hand wrapped firm around his own cock. A low, whining noise reverberates from the back of his throat, greedy as charged, he wants it inside him, wants to be stretched open on it until the brand he's left him stings, so he can't forget for a single moment.
When it finally happens, Tim sings, a melody of gasps and grunts from the first push to the hilt, the red stripes on his ass pressing against Harry's body. It's his favorite part, the second round of punishment mixed with his pleasure. ]
[ The light reprimand earns him a restless little groan and a tensing in his thighs, forcing himself to remain still rather than taking it upon himself to fuck back onto him. Heat boils in him, and with it, the promise of reward for taking his punishment, for letting Harry have things his way.
Tim closes his eyes, focusing on the delicious friction of Harry's cock pushing slowly in and out of him, the luxurious drag against the most sensitive parts of him thst make his spine tingle and his cock twitch and dribble, a familiar mess in their cozy little tent.
As if on cue, he invites Tim to touch himself, and he does, as he only ever does on demand, taking himself in hand and stroking slow, in tune to Harry's thrusts. ]
[Harry can't help but smile - once of the first things he'd needed explained to him was 'daddy' as a sexual term. His naivete seems funny to him now.
Harry keeps giving Tim slowly but the force with which he drives himself forward increases. He can feel the slap of Tim's ass against him, can imagine the little sting the must accompany it every time.
That more than anything is what gets him to speed up.]
[ Harry's come a long way, from asking about basic terms and looking for permission just to kiss him, to threesomes and slapping his ass. He won't give himself all the credit, but the sex only gets better, the more comfortable Harry becomes with himself.
Pride and pain. The sharp sting of the raw stripes on his ass scratching against the hair on Harry's thighs, the heat swirling in his gut with every thrust. Breathy moans spill from his mouth each time his cockhead brushes his prostate, and gasps every time he pulls away. Tim's body tenses, winding tighter and tighter until he stops jerking himself in time with the harder, faster thrusts, and squeezes around the base of his cock instead, trying to last a little longer. ]
[ The slap makes him yelp and clench, tightening around Harry, his whole body coiled and just waiting for the tension to spring. It has him wobbling right on the edge, from his thighs to his hands, clumsily resuming their workings over his own cock until he can meet his lover's demands. ]
Harry.
[ High and airy, the last thing out of his mouth before he comes, white hot onto the squeaky nylon of the sleeping bag. ]
[It's exquisite. The hot clench around his cock, his name on Tim's tongue. Harry abandons any thought at all, then, gripping Tim's hips and fixing into him as hard and as fast as he can manage.
When he comes he gasps shallowly and folds over, hips jerking and stuttering. When he can think again he presses kisses to Tim's back.]
[ He's spent, but Harry keeps going, keeping him full as he rides it out. The clapping against his raw stinging cheeks only amplifies the peak of his pleasure, a stronger focus to overwrite that pain.
He keens, squirming and whining on each overstimulating thrust, until the final shuddering gasp, the mess filling him that feels warm and satisfying. Romantic, in a way. If he were a woman he'd elevate his hips in hopes that it would take, and he'd have the joy of something of Harry's growing inside him - but this is perfectly satisfying, these slow, lingering kisses on his back, the pleasant ache in his muscles. Tim grins, looking behind him with sweat slicked over his forehead, soft and warm and quite pleased with himself. ]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2025-08-22 10:59 pm (UTC)He kisses him back and fumbles to get his buttons undone, discarding his shirt with a few sharp motions. He kisses Tim again, tugging at Tim's soft as well even though he seems reluctant to allow the time and space for Tim to actually get it off.]
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Date: 2025-08-23 05:33 am (UTC)You're in charge. [ Taking advantage of the break in the kiss to pull his shirt off, noting Harry's hopeful nudging. ] Where do you want me?
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Date: 2025-08-23 05:45 pm (UTC)He has to pull back to look around, having a whole new blind spot he's not used to. The tent is severely lacking in anything to bend Tim over.]
The sleeping bag. Arms and knees on the floor, arse in the air, please.
[There's pillows, too, to put under Tim's knees for comfort. A funny thing to think of, he supposes, considering what he's planning to do.]
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Date: 2025-08-24 05:39 am (UTC)Yes, sir.
[ Tim plucks open the button, unzips his short jean shorts, and pulls them down, asking as he steps out: ]
What am I being disciplined for?
[ Part of the game for him, something to focus on, an improvement to strive for so that he can relax enough to take it. Tim's transgressions are rarely so serious as they were in June, but there has to be something, no matter how small. ]
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Date: 2025-08-24 06:19 am (UTC)Harry tests the weight of the cane against his hand. For a moment his mind is blank and he nearly responds that Tim never does anything wrong.]
Tell me, Tim... have you had carnal thoughts about other men in the camp?
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Date: 2025-08-24 05:01 pm (UTC)[ Shanks emerging from the water, sun shining on glistening, wet muscles, shorts clinging and leaving very little to the imagination. And, well...Koby's told him some things... ]
I have. Passing thoughts, nothing happened.
[ His face burns with shame, regardless, as he crawls over to the sleeping bag, arching his back and pressing his face down against the cushioned bag. ]
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Date: 2025-08-24 07:00 pm (UTC)Harry isn't particularly upset - he'd be the worst hypocrite if he were - but he knows that Tim will feel guilty about it. And that's what they need here. He lets Tim crawl into position with real pleasure.]
Who was it?
[Partly the need to humiliate, but mostly genuine curiosity.
Harry moves behind Tim and again tests the heft of the cane, lining himself up so he can gently tap it over the swell of Tim's buttocks.]
Who, Tim?
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Date: 2025-08-25 02:33 am (UTC)Shanks. We work together at Dead Men. I would never-- he's a terrible judge of character.
[ He shivers at the cool touch of wood against his ass. Pleasure, anticipation, the smallest bite of fear. Tim made the thing, he thinks he should know what to expect, but he hadn’t tested it. No one ought to be using it but the man carved into the handle. Hopefully it's sturdy enough, and the marks it leaves are raw and pink enough, to overcome whatever disappointment his confession provokes. ]
But he was swimming around shirtless, and he's got a connection with Koby, so I know some things, so I wondered what it would be like. Just for a minute.
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Date: 2025-08-25 05:36 am (UTC)[Masculine. Something Harry finds lacking in himself.
Lightly, testing, he whacks Tim across the flesh at the bottom of his ass.]
What things do you know, Tim? Details of his cockstand? How he fucks? Don't be shy now.
[Another strike; this one proper. And oh, the rod is near perfect, he thinks. An extension of his own arm, crafted with love.]
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Date: 2025-08-25 02:37 pm (UTC)He’s a good sport about it. Stoic, for now. ]
Koby said...and, um, I could see with his shorts clinging to him. He's a large man, and it’s...proportional. [ He’s 6’6” and broad, what do you expect? ] He’s got the same kind of feeling-magic stuff as Koby, but a lot more powerful. So...
[ Shame burns in him anew. Thinking about it was bad enough, now he’s sharing with Harry? Best friends whispering and giggling about their lovers is one thing, but telling one lover that a man you’ve no intention of ever touching is probably a great lay? It feels wrong. ]
They use that. Koby really likes it.
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Date: 2025-08-25 04:10 pm (UTC)[Said with that dry, polite sounding amusement that Harry is capable of when he's comfortable.]
I think that you would enjoy it as well. Someone who could read your every desire, your every emotion. He'd know what to do with you instinctively.
You feel badly about wanting that, don't you?
[Three strikes, each with a pause in between. They land in a line, one above the other. Harry pays close attention to the skin - the tool is new to him and he doesn't want to accidentally cut Tim's ass up.]
Tell me why.
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Date: 2025-08-25 05:15 pm (UTC)[ He waits for the break between the strikes, focus tuning into the fire in his swatted cheek, three pink lines like tally marks, counting every sinful thought. Harry sounds curious more than stern, but the way he puts it makes Tim feel awfully guilty, as if a handful of stray, unserious thoughts were somehow indicative of something lacking in Harry. Maybe he’s not as muscular, and he doesn’t have any superhuman enhancements – that doesn’t matter. He’ll always fuck him better because he loves him, because Tim wouldn’t always be wondering if he wouldn’t condone playing games with everyone’s lives, too. ]
I already have that. [ Gripping the sleeping bag tightly in his fists, breathing forced even. ] You and Hawk don’t need magic to know me like that. So it’s just...greed, to want it somewhere else. Even if I only thought about it for a minute. I’m sorry.
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Date: 2025-08-25 07:53 pm (UTC)Yes, you are a greedy one. But I'll tell you a secret, Tim: I like that about you.
[He puts the cane carefully, almost reverently, aside. Then he moves to fetch lubricant from inside the little box serving as their nightstand. He pours some into his hand and warms it, spreading it over his fingers before he kneels behind Tim and sets to working him open.
Harry's voice is soft, almost conspiratorial.]
I enjoy that you can't ever seen to get enough love. Enough... sexual congress. You're a beautiful creature and you need attention to thrive. I should like to give it to you.
Say that you want me, Tim.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-26 01:16 am (UTC)Needy and shameless, he rocks himself back onto Harry's fingers with a low moan that would alert the next tent over, if they weren't so close to the lake. Or maybe they can hear. After the death carnival and the mirrorverse sex tape, does he even care? ]
I want you to fuck me. Please, Harry.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-26 01:42 am (UTC)[Tim is all his right now, the stripes on his ass as good as a brand. It fills Harry with a sense of fierce possessiveness that adds to his arousal. He pulls away and takes himself in hand, slicking his cock up and then just stroking a bit because it feels good. (And maybe to make Tim wait just a little.)
He turns back to Tim and lines himself up, one hand on Tim's lower back. With a low groan he pushes himself in slowly until he's fully seated.
He rocks his hips, gentle to start.]
no subject
Date: 2025-08-28 05:03 am (UTC)When it finally happens, Tim sings, a melody of gasps and grunts from the first push to the hilt, the red stripes on his ass pressing against Harry's body. It's his favorite part, the second round of punishment mixed with his pleasure. ]
I need you. Please.
[ Pushing back on him, impatiently. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-08-28 04:21 pm (UTC)[Harry has the urge to just fuck Tim hard from the start, but that desperate push back decides him: he'll draw it out a little.
So Harry rolls his hips slowly, drawing back as far as he can without slipping out, then pushing forward again.]
You may touch yourself.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-28 06:06 pm (UTC)Tim closes his eyes, focusing on the delicious friction of Harry's cock pushing slowly in and out of him, the luxurious drag against the most sensitive parts of him thst make his spine tingle and his cock twitch and dribble, a familiar mess in their cozy little tent.
As if on cue, he invites Tim to touch himself, and he does, as he only ever does on demand, taking himself in hand and stroking slow, in tune to Harry's thrusts. ]
Thank you, Daddy.
no subject
Date: 2025-08-28 08:02 pm (UTC)Harry keeps giving Tim slowly but the force with which he drives himself forward increases. He can feel the slap of Tim's ass against him, can imagine the little sting the must accompany it every time.
That more than anything is what gets him to speed up.]
no subject
Date: 2025-08-29 03:37 am (UTC)Pride and pain. The sharp sting of the raw stripes on his ass scratching against the hair on Harry's thighs, the heat swirling in his gut with every thrust. Breathy moans spill from his mouth each time his cockhead brushes his prostate, and gasps every time he pulls away. Tim's body tenses, winding tighter and tighter until he stops jerking himself in time with the harder, faster thrusts, and squeezes around the base of his cock instead, trying to last a little longer. ]
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Date: 2025-08-29 04:14 am (UTC)He can feel himself skating close to the edge of orgasm. He slaps Tim's ass sharply with one hand.]
Spend, Tim. I need to feel you around me.
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Date: 2025-08-29 02:27 pm (UTC)Harry.
[ High and airy, the last thing out of his mouth before he comes, white hot onto the squeaky nylon of the sleeping bag. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-08-29 05:40 pm (UTC)[It's exquisite. The hot clench around his cock, his name on Tim's tongue. Harry abandons any thought at all, then, gripping Tim's hips and fixing into him as hard and as fast as he can manage.
When he comes he gasps shallowly and folds over, hips jerking and stuttering. When he can think again he presses kisses to Tim's back.]
no subject
Date: 2025-08-29 06:32 pm (UTC)He keens, squirming and whining on each overstimulating thrust, until the final shuddering gasp, the mess filling him that feels warm and satisfying. Romantic, in a way. If he were a woman he'd elevate his hips in hopes that it would take, and he'd have the joy of something of Harry's growing inside him - but this is perfectly satisfying, these slow, lingering kisses on his back, the pleasant ache in his muscles. Tim grins, looking behind him with sweat slicked over his forehead, soft and warm and quite pleased with himself. ]
Did you like it? The cane, I mean.
[ The rest, he's confident about. ]
no subject
Date: 2025-08-29 09:36 pm (UTC)[A sigh and a grunt as he pulls out and nearly falls over. Chuckling, he sits and looks at Tim adoringly.]
And I love it, yes. I feel like... like a particularly stern headmaster.
It handles fantastically. Did you test it?
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