Courfeyrac is not a cruel man. On the contrary, he is a giver of charity, a good listener, a friend of humanity, and typically a sensitive and compassionate lover. And yet, there are some delights of sadism he cannot resist. This indulgence only occurs in this one special case, toward one pretty little thing that brings out the monster in him, and Courfeyrac isn't entirely sure what causes it. Perhaps it's those full red lips, which look even more beautiful swollen and bleeding. Perhaps it's that pale freckled skin, begging to covered with purple finger-shaped bruises.
Or perhaps, yes perhaps it's those big, sad, puppy-like eyes, filling with tears the boy cannot hold back; the sobs that wrack his entire body, completely uncontrollable and smoothly fading into how Courfeyrac's thrusts shake him all over.
"Courf -- Courf please I -- I -- please oh -- oh -- ah," Marius gasps, barely capable of speech and certainly not of coherent sentences. Courfeyrac fucks him slowly but not kindly, having used his hole enough to be sore and red, before slowing down just to torture him. Marius holds his hands above his head, not in any way bound but acting like he is, wrists shifting against one another in a struggle against some imaginary rope. Meanwhile his legs spread further, hopelessly needy, begging Courfeyrac to push in deeper -- a request which he, for now, denies. Marius loves it, he really does, no matter how much he will blush and try and deny it later. He needs Courfeyrac to hurt him, use him, make him into a mewling whore. Courfeyrac thinks someone has a little bit of a complex, but opts not to make something of it. "P-please Courf, plea- please f- please fuck me -- h-har--"
"Why should I?" he asks with a wicked smirk. "Is there any reason?"
Marius sobs, and Courfeyrac hisses in pleasure. "B-because I want you to?"
Courfeyrac laughs brightly, slowing down his thrusts even further. "Oh, Marius," he says, caressing the boy's cheek gently, wiping away a tear that threatens to fall (and the shame of not seeing it drip down Marius's face is more than made up for by the helpless whimper he gives when Courfeyrac does so). "I know you do. I know what you want, better than you do yourself I'd grant. You want me to fuck you, past the point you can handle, where your muscles seize up and your voice cracks and you won't be able to sit for a week. You want me to degrade and humiliate you; to make you scream, make you cry, make you beg for it; make you tell me you're my whore and you'll do anything I ask as long as I keep fucking you. You want me to leave you broken and defiled and absolutely dripping with my come, and still wanting more, still spreading your legs for my fingers, my cock, anything. You want all of that, you pathetic slut."
Marius whines and whimpers some more, canting his hips as Courfeyrac goes almost entirely still. "Yes, yes, please," he chants under his breath. Courfeyrac choses to ignore him.
"But I'm not so sure I should give it to you," he says. Marius looks up at him with an expression of pure pain, and Courfeyrac licks away a tear from his face. "After all, how could I bring myself to do that to someone I profess to care for? Someone who has trusted me with his body, his heart? Someone who has made himself completely and utterly vulnerable to me? No, I could never be so cruel."
Marius sobs wretchedly, still pushing his legs apart as if it will help. "You're -- you're being cruel now," he whispers, barely daring to say it. "You're being cruel by not..."
"Oh is that what you think?" asks Courfeyrac, tapping his fingers on Marius's chin. "I see. You don't just want to be fucked, you think you deserve it. You believe you're entitled. 'He has to fuck me as hard as I want, because what is Courfeyrac for but giving me everything I want?' You've always played the blushing virgin, but you and I know better. And you play at sweetness and generosity, but really you're a spoiled, selfish brat."
Marius arches of the bed and moans, a thick drop of precome leaking from his cock. "I-I know," he says, looking down, ashamed. "I'm sorry. But -- please--"
"...Alright. Because you're cute when you beg."
"Thank you," Marius croaks. That's all he manages before Courfeyrac grabs both his thighs roughly, pushing them up, and gives him one hard thrust that makes him yelp. "Ah!"
Marius asked to be fucked hard and that's what he receives. Courfeyrac is merciless, pounding into him as fast as he can possibly manage, holding his knees somewhere up near his chest to give himself better access. That tight heat feels incredible, and the tears coursing down his cheeks look incredible; oh, he's beautiful, he thinks. "You look absolutely filthy," he says, which means the exact same thing.
Marius gasps, the tense muscles in his thighs spasming in Courfeyrac's hands. His head thrashes wildly from side to side, little droplets of water being flung onto the pillow. "Oh -- oh -- oh," he moans, biting his lips when they're not quivering in that way Courfeyrac's learnt happens when he sings, or when his mouth is being fucked. His wrists finally come apart as he starts grabbing the bedcovers, desperate for some form of stability even as he bucks up into Courfeyrac's thrusts.
Courfeyrac fucks him until he no longer forms words, not even proper sounds, just breathless cries that don't come to anything. His eyes fall shut but the tears don't stop coming, running down his neck and pooling in his collarbone. His sobs are the loudest noise he can make. Courfeyrac fucks him until his hole clenches, until precome spurts violently from his cock, until he screams, more tears falling into his open mouth.
Then Courfeyrac pulls out.
Marius gives the most helpless whine at his sudden emptiness. The cold air hits Courfeyrac all of a sudden and it's hard to resist the urge to simply push back in and take what he wants. But the sight of Marius hopelessly thrusting his hips into the air in an obscene parody of what Courfeyrac was just doing to him does a lot to convince him. "Courf," he moans, cock throbbing and chest heaving, "what are you doing?"
"What? You asked me to fuck you and I have. What else do you want?"
Another pathetic whining noise and Marius falls back against the bed, exhausted. "Please don't leave me like this," he begs, though his voice suggests he doesn't expect much mercy.
"What is it you ask of me?" Courfeyrac queries, smiling curiously. Marius sobs once more. "Oh, do you want to come? You didn't say that before. Honestly Marius, haven't we spoken about being specific?"
No words, just more wretched sobbing. Courfeyrac grins. "Tell me, Marius, do you think you deserve to come? Do you think you've earned that?" A pause. "Answer me."
It takes Marius a moment to get his breath back before he can. "I don't -- I don't know?" he admits, looking away bashfully, taking gasping breaths of air. "How do I earn that?"
Courfeyrac can't help but be moved. "Oh, you sweet little thing," he says, the kindness simply slipping out of him. He knows he can't fight it and so chooses not to. "I tell you what, I'll give you a hint. Show me how badly you want it."
Marius takes a moment to comprehend, but then he gulps and nods decisively. Courfeyrac pulls himself back to give him room. Marius is fearless, pushing three fingers inside himself without hesitation, crying out at the sensation of being full again. Courfeyrac can see him better now, how red and wet his entrance is, how lubrication and precome drips onto his digits. Marius's tears continue, though not as hard, as he fucks himself. Gasping, his other hand snakes down his stomach, coming to rest just above his cock. Cautiously, he glances at Courfeyrac.
Courfeyrac finds himself unable to stop indulging Marius once he's begun, and so smiles and nods.
Marius moans gratefully as he wraps his hand around the base, more precome dripping from him. He strokes himself shakily, irregularly, barely keeping time with the thrusts of his fingers. The muscles in his thighs strain obviously as he tears his thighs further apart, and Courfeyrac rubs there gently, not wanting his boy to injure himself. Marius's hips still arch off the bed as he tries to push his digits in further, spreading them wider, gasping and biting his lips. His tears are starting to dry up though, and Courfeyrac can't help but be a little disappointed. He grabs Marius by the wrist.
"Harder," he says, shoving Marius's fingers in roughly. "Fuck yourself harder."
He grabs Marius's thighs and pulls them apart even further, and Marius shudders. He obeys, trembling fingers pushing into himself harder and faster, crooking in ways Courfeyrac knows means he's seeking outright pleasure -- "Cheat," he says, and Marius looks ashamed, but does not stop the greedy twisting of his fingers to find that one spot. "I won't even be able to fuck you again, will I? You can't last that long. No, you're going to come like this, from your own touch, sobbing your eyes out with me watching you."
"Oh god!" Marius cries, face red and flushed from his child-like sobs. "Courfeyrac, Courfeyrac," he whines incoherently, quivering palm squeezing tight around his cock, giving a pained moan. "Ah!" His questing with his fingers seems to pay off and he pushes them in frantically, messily, without a hint of dignity, desperately seeking his climax.
"It's alright darling, it's alright," Courfeyrac can't help but tell him. Marius doesn't seem to hear him; the tears fall violently down his face, dripping off his nose, catching at the corners of his gaping mouth. He screams again, jaw quivering, and release finally hits him. He bucks into his own fist helplessly like a youth who just discovered the orgasm. His come lands on his stomach, his legs, his arms; some of it drips onto Courfeyrac. Marius, in his haze, doesn't seem to notice.
Marius comes down a little, sinking exhaustedly into the mattress. He does not remove his hands. He whimpers through the aftershocks, fingers still spasming inside and around him. His breaths are hitched, small things, more like hiccups than anything, and water still falls freely down his face. His desperation has been satisfied, but he's still a complete and utter mess.
Courfeyrac groans at the sight of him, waiting until Marius opens his eyes once more. His own throbbing cock commands his attention. He locks eyes with Marius, before he crawls forward and pushes Marius's arms back above his head. He kneels with one knee either side of Marius's heaving chest. Gently, he wipes away one tear with his thumb, before letting it rest on Marius lower lip. Marius groans and closes his eyes again, and gently kisses it. "Please?"
It's doubtful Marius himself knows exactly what he wants, but Courfeyrac hypothesises. He wraps a hand around his own base, and starts stroking smoothly, firmly, not like Marius's frantic squeezing. Marius seems to know what he is doing and starts sobbing again, mouth hanging open, neck bared. Courfeyrac did not touch himself at all while he was watching Marius, and that abstinence greatly decreases his stamina; heat rushes through him and he feels himself splatter, not as elegantly as he would like, onto Marius's red flushed cheeks. Come mingles with those dripping tears, leaving trails across Marius's beautiful skin, and Courfeyrac groans. He strokes himself a few more times, embracing his own aftershocks, wanting to pour himself onto Marius as much as possible. He gets a little lost in his desire and loses focus; one stream of come splashes across Marius's closed eyelid. Marius shudders and whimpers. Courfeyrac feels a little guilty, but it makes the tears flow harder again, so truthfully he is conflicted.
Once he finishes he sighs, tension evaporating from his body. He lets himself lay down above Marius, but is careful not to put his weight on him. "Shh, shh darling," he says, kissing Marius's neck as the boy's body still quakes. "You did so well darling. So beautiful. I'm proud of you."
He moves up to kiss Marius's forehead, and then the eyelid he left marked with his come. He wipes it away with his tongue, then a finger as best he can, before Marius does something foolish like open his eyes (for if anyone would end up with come in their eyes after sex, it is Marius Pontmercy). He listens to Marius whimper, and moves his kisses, wiping away the tears and semen that covers his face. It's not the most pleasant tasting thing -- far more salt than his doctor would recommend. But he knows Marius needs it, and he is nothing if not indulgent, cleaning Marius up and reassuring him at the same time. Finally, he presses a long, slow kiss to Marius's mouth, delving his tongue deep inside while stroking his chest softly. Marius's arms wrap tight around his waist, clinging to him as would a small child a soft toy.
Slowly he breaks the kiss, cupping Marius's chin and keeping his face hovering just a few centimetres above Marius's, to assure him he's not going anywhere. Gently, Marius's eyes flicker open. His lips part as if to say something. "Aaahn," is what comes out.
Courfeyrac frowns. "Sweetheart? Are you alright?" Marius's breath is still shaky, but his tears have dried up. Courfeyrac may think he's absolutely gorgeous when he cries, but he would never want him to do so out of genuine pain. "Was it too much?"
Marius gulps and shakes his head. "No... No, it's fine, I just..." he moans slightly, and squeezes Courfeyrac's waist tighter. "Stay with me?"
"Of course." He moves to the side and pulls Marius fully into his embrace, easing shut his wide spread legs. One of those legs winds up wrapped around Courfeyrac's thigh, while Marius's arms still press hard at his lower back, Courfeyrac uses his own arms to soothe and knead Marius's shoulders. He starts kissing his face again, on his cheeks, his temples, the corners of his mouth, and he feels Marius relax and sink further into his arms. He moves one hand to rub not at Marius's shoulder but the backs of his thighs, still dripping with come. Marius shivers and looks slightly embarrassed. Courfeyrac pulls back to catch his eye and smile at him. "You're incredible, you know."
Marius groans. "My entire body hurts," he says, sounding much more composed. "God, look at me. You're a monster, Courfeyrac. You're a monster and I hate you."
Courfeyrac laughs. "I'd say your premise is true, but not your conclusion," he says, and Marius chuckles weakly. "Nonetheless: is there anything I can do that would redeem me in your eyes? Some service I can perform in penance for my sins?"
"Mmm... At some point I'm going to need a bath." Yes, Courfeyrac rather expected that. Pretty as a debauched Marius covered in sweat and come is, it's hardly an everyday look. "But not quite yet? I think... I think I just need you to hold me."
Courfeyrac pulls him in closer and kisses his hair. "Whatever you ask, my sweet little thing."