goodfellow | for Thomas

Robin immediately got up onto his hands and knees, wincing as he did so. "Are you going to fuck me?" he asked breathlessly.

"I haven't decided yet," Thomas answered, slipping the crop beneath Robin to rub the leather pad at the end of it along Robin's cock. Then he moved it down and swung it sharply upward, the fiberglass handle striking him just below the head. Thomas sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, eyes silver and hungry once again. "Maybe I should chain you up and make you wait until morning to come."

Robin let out an awful howl of pain that time, and was panting afterwards. "No less than I deserve," he rasped out. "You could... keep feeding from me all night. I'd let you."

"If that's what I want, you'd have a difficult time stopping me," Thomas murmured. He rubbed the crop over each and every welt he'd left, just enough to make them all itch and burn, to make them all felt.

"But it's not what I want." He reached beneath Robin, pinching one nipple, then the other, letting his nails dig into the flesh a little. He nudged the flogger with the crop, shifting it inside him. "Not this time."

Robin squirmed. And moaned, entirely unclear whether it was pleasure or pain or both.

He was caught somewhere between forgetting the guilt and feeling it more with each stab of pain.

Thomas considered for a moment, then started applying the crop to Robin's back and ass, bringing it down on unmarked skin as much as possible, working around the flogger's welts. He shifted closer, pressing up against the bed so he could reach his hand beneath Robin and tease his cock with light scratches of his fingernails, gentle slaps, the occasional light squeeze. He stifled a moan as the contact allowed him to feed in little nibbles.

Robin felt like his whole body was on fire, and it was condensing down to a pinpoint of very painful pleasure roiling in his belly, spreading up from his cock.

"Please," he moaned. "Please, please..."

Thomas let the crop fall from his hand, then reached over and slowly pulled the makeshift plug from Robin's ass, tossing it aside as well. He leaned down and murmured, "Please what?" in Robin's ear, rubbing his palm over Robin's ass, feeling the warmth from the beating he'd just administered soaking into his skin.

Robin let out a whining, keening sound when Thomas pulled out the handle. He tried to push back against Thomas' hand despite the pain of the welts. "Fuck me."

Thomas bit back a moan and picked up the lube. "I plan to," he purred, slicking up his cock and climbing onto the bed, between Robin's legs. He pressed inside quickly, voicing the moan he'd stifled before as he gripped Robin's hips and started pumping, letting his feeding deepen a little--but still careful, still restrained. Still in charge of his demon.

Robin groaned loudly and thrust shamelessly back against him. He felt a bead of sweat run down his neck. Everything hurt.

Thomas kept moving, thrusts forceful and measured, one hand moving up to rub over Robin's back, over the sore and abraded skin as he pushed himself closer. He wouldn't touch Robin yet, wouldn't let him come. Not until Thomas was almost there himself.

"Please, Thomas!" Robin cried out, pushing back hard against him, and not even able to articulate what he was begging for.

If Thomas cared what the pleas were for he gave no sign of it, though after a minute more his hand circled Robin's waist, fingers curling around Robin's cock and stroking firmly, in time with his thrusts, his breathing growing heavy and erratic as it all pushed him close to the edge.

Robin came almost the second Thomas touched him. The orgasm wracked through his body, his cry loud and sharp - it sounded like Thomas might have been killing him rather than fucking him.

Thomas' grip tightened on Robin's hip, on his cock, and with a few more thrusts he found his release a second time, shuddering as he came and then carefully pulling out, panting as he watched Robin with a concerned expression. He'd done what Robin had asked, but part of him wished he hadn't, and hated himself for enjoying it.

It had been pretty hot, though. In other circumstances...yeah. Very hot. Just not right then.

It was, in a way, cathartic for Robin. Though not as much as he might have hoped. When it was over, it was over, and suddenly he could feel again.

Collapsed down onto the mattress now, he curled up into himself and let out a small sound that sounded almost like a choked sob.

Thomas didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions or draw attention to the sob. He just laid down next to Robin and wrapped an arm around him carefully, drawing his own body closer, curling around him protectively. The questions would come in a minute, but for now he would offer comfort, nothing more.

Robin felt the arm around him and found himself thinking vaguely that he didn't deserve comfort. He hated feeling like this - hated it. He was a puck, he didn't do guilt. But the one thing in how many thousands of years that he truly regretted had come and smacked him in the face tonight, and it made him want to scream and cry and bleed.

He pressed his face hard against the pillow, not wanting Thomas to see him. So tight that he couldn't even tell if he was crying. He was shaking a little, but it could have just been from the pain.

Thomas moved his hand up, stroking Robin's hair gently, then kissed his shoulder and murmured, "I'll be right back." He wasn't sure if Robin would rather have him there or would prefer to have a moment to himself, but if the former, all the puck had to do was say the word and he'd stay.

Robin didn't say a word. But he did grab Thomas' wrist and grip it hard.

And then, in a display that he would never, ever admit to happening, he shifted his body so that he was curled up against Thomas instead, face buried in his chest, still holding onto his wrist like a life grip.

Thomas relaxed against Robin again. The cream for Robin's welts and lacerations could wait. He moved the hand not being clung to around Robin, petting his hair. "I'm here," he promised softly.

"It wasn't my fault, what she said," Robin said, the words barely audible, so muffled by the slur to his speech and by Thomas' chest. "Not that. It was a coincidence, after I left them."

Thomas considered those words for a moment, then asked quietly, "Then what? What did you do?" Because the punishment he'd just inflicted had to have been for something to upset Robin like this.

It was a long moment before Robin said anything at all. And when he finally did, it was again nearly inaudible.

"Of course they wanted to please their god," he murmured. "It was their duty. Their privilege. The virgins would come to me, I didn't even have to ask. And her... she was beautiful, and sweet, and obedient, and she thought it was her duty to pleasure her god. And then when she went home her husband beat her to death."

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