Work Text:
Scarab turned the package over, eyes flicking over the features of the camera. The green package contrasted with his pale skin, the brand well known for having reliable equipment, and he frowned. Why was he wasting time doing this? He sighed internally, putting the camera into the handbasket, and began looking at microphones.
Scarab wasn’t moving up in his job, and inflation had only risen. His 401k contributions were plateauing, his mortgage rate rising, and worst of all, the only BDSM dungeon in the area had closed down when the owner couldn’t afford the increased rent. A lack of outlets for his frustrations and desires came to a head that night, particularly rough with his bedmate.
All of this wretched debauchery planning from one drunken declaration. His partner of the night had been pleasing to throw around, the thick, blond-haired man bending his knee easily when Scarab so much as pointed to the ground. The raw, hoarse voice echoed in his head. “Dude… you could make thousands if you spoke to people like that online. People will pay so much money if you’re mean to them.” The man had promptly been silenced with Scarab’s strap-on cock, but the memory lingered.
The microphone bounced in the handbasket, throwing it in before he lost his nerve to continue, then powerwalked to the accessories section. If he did it fast enough, he might outrun the part of him that said he was going to enjoy the attention too much.
The price at the register made him wince, but he paid regardless. If Finn told the truth at all, he might at least recoup what he spent. If not, at least he could have professional equipment for any remote work days. The ignition in his ten year car whined when he turned the key, complaining yet again about being tired. Scarab gave into his emotions and hit the steering wheel once, then took a deep breath to center himself.
This was humiliating. How would he insult someone when he couldn’t even see what dug under their skin and made them pant? Words on a screen gave him nothing in comparison to the slack-jawed stare of true subspace, the manacles on their wrists the only thing that kept them from dropping to the floor.
Oh, but what if it worked? There were many more desperate bottoms on the internet than tops, more people who wanted a collar than to hold the leash. It wasn’t like Scarab was self-conscious about his body, he was quite comfortable with how he looked. He worked out three times a week for one hour, he was toned but neither overly muscular nor terribly thin; a runner’s body, not a strongman’s, and yet even the strongest of men had dropped when the whip hit their skin. He couldn’t create physical sensation, wouldn’t be able to see the red lashes or the blue bruises he so loved to inflict, but perhaps watching the typing ability dissolve would be good enough.
Setting up was the easiest part, at least. The guides for streaming, though aimed at more traditional, non sex-related work, were many, and he had purposely spent a great deal of time on research before actually going to the electronics store. The setting up of the actual recording space, however, was much harder. The second room he had turned into a guest room (where no guests ever stayed) was repurposed. He kept it simple to start with, merely redecorating with darker colors and lower lights, a few of his items hung up on the wall.
He rested his chin in his hand, tilting the crop slightly. An angle would make it stand out a bit more, he thought, compared to the clean and neat lines of the multiple paddles and strap-ons. He debated setting his violet wand into the closet out of sight and next to his sounding rods, mostly because he wasn’t exactly going to use them on himself, but left them out as displays of his interests. A brief thought of asking Finn to join as a demonstration went through his head, but he dismissed it. No. This would be for him and him alone.
But now, how to start? He couldn’t start without a vision, it would ruin the build up, but if nobody was there, who would he speak to? He could advertise with images first, make an account with a few videos to set up at least a couple of followers. Yes, that seemed the most efficient way of gathering subscriptions with the added bonus that he would not immediately “jump into the deep end,” as it were.
The picture posing was basic enough and he kept his face out of the photos. He went for simple images to begin with, selfie-like leaning into the camera with a few buttons undone, his pants loosening and revealing his boxer briefs, the packer bulge tasteful and almost hidden with a thigh. He kept the lighting low but stark to make the images and contrast pop, then edited some on his computer to enhance them until even he would find it appealing. He stared at them for some time once he was done, debating if he was really going to press the button, then posted it impulsively to prevent himself from changing his mind. He turned the computer off and rested his head in his palms. Not really any way of coming back from that.
———
Prismo leaned back in his chair, feet resting on the desk, and sipped at a fountain soda from the gas station. The straw was convenient so he didn’t have to look, flicking through the site in search of something new. Another bottom whose thirst felt desperate, one who tried to go for the femboy aesthetic, one who went hard into the pup play scene. He paused on a leather daddy thoughtfully, then kept scrolling until he hit the top of the feed. He sighed, biting at the straw. One more refresh, just one more and he might find something interesting.
The first one to pop up was posted mere seconds before. Rather than crude sexuality, the creator went for something tasteful, coquettish almost, but the juxtaposition of the sex toys in back, now that was something that Prismo was eager for. He set the soda on his desk next to the previous two he had yet to throw away. He wasn’t at work, he could be as messy as he wanted and Scrabby wouldn’t be able to verbally throttle him over it here.
The toys weren’t purely display items, he realized, zooming into the remarkably high resolution photos for a new profile. They generally tended to be grainy in quality for newbies, but here, everything was crisp. There was a faint shine to the paddles where oil had been worked into the material to keep it supple, and a roundness to the edges that spoke to actual use. The whip was loosely circled instead of stiff; it had been cracked many, many times if it was that limp. The strap-ons too were intriguing, some of fantastical shapes. He did spy one single dildo at the edge of a photo, one that was a little too perfectly staged to be “accidentally” left in frame. Hmmmmm, interesting.
The captions were fairly understated but not boring. They were clearly meant to arouse interest, not to immediately arouse, considering the profile made it clear that he was going to start streaming soon. Prismo got the subtext that he wanted to make sure that someone would be there first instead of playing with something like a toy until someone came in. It would hardly make for a good introduction if the poor guy had to talk to himself. These kinds of things required two people, after all. Well. At minimum. Prismo was never the kind of guy to be picky on numbers.
Prismo subscribed, noting that he was the first, picked up his soda again, and made a reminder in his calendar to check the next day after filming. The cup made an obnoxious noise when he sucked on the straw, the last of the soda mere drops between the ice cube, and wrinkled his nose at the terrible sound. Ugh. He should go get more. Or, he debated, looking over his desk, clean.
…That could be done tomorrow. Maybe. Or for something that was a little more truthful, mostly some other day that was not today. Either way, he had some time before he needed to head to bed. It was only coming up to midnight and he didn’t have a photoshoot until ten in the morning, so he was fine. The worst he might endure would be Scrabby trying to crawl up his ass about being late, but come on. Everyone accounted for it, so when they told him eight, what they really meant was nine, and he never missed the real time, so it wouldn’t be too much of an issue if he spent a little late night time right here.
Prismo flicked back to the picture of the guy on his back, the camera set above him and looking down. A leg was brought up, the sleek slacks really emphasizing the bulge there (packer? He wondered absently, remembering that the guy wrote that he was trans), a hand “hiding” it but actually cupping it to draw attention. Prismo squinted at the screen to read the user name as he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down; StarAuditor. Not the sexiest, but it fit the tight-laced dom theme well enough.
Prismo's hand was slow and casual, stroking himself with a patience most thought beyond him. StarAuditor seemed to try to be a top, but Prismo couldn't avoid thinking of that thin body beneath him, the delicate hands scratching his back as Prismo dragged him toward orgasm before stopping at that edge, wanting to hear the man beg.
He wondered what StarAuditor would sound like. Would he be the type he’d have to force sounds out of? Maybe he was noisy. Prismo hoped the former. He couldn't help himself, he was a dombreaker in the way that the ocean ate at the beach; slowly, bit by bit until he got past all the protection and really eroded away that thin mask of dominance. He’d let StarAuditor top him once or twice if they ever met, get the idea of what the man was into before turning the tides. It was always so delicious to see a smug face fade into desperate, needy sobbing.
Would be extra nice if he had a face to imagine, but the pictures were enough and he eased himself towards a comfortable, warm orgasm, catching the cum in a tissue and tossing it into a trash can nearby. And now, to actually go to bed.
———
Scarab pinched at the bridge of his nose. Why did he work for this man? The money was fine enough even though the amount didn’t rise, but it wasn’t exactly satisfying. It had long since stopped being “auditing an influencer’s cash flow” and had now become “wrangling the influencer into doing his damn job.” He shoved down the reminder that he was also, far more simply, the man's friend and didn’t want to see him fail. The clipboard in his hands flexed, the thin board not strong enough to resist his turmoil. When the paper shifted and creased, he knew he needed to calm down. One deep breath— alright. He was fine.
“Prismo,” Scarab said, hoping his voice was at least neutral.
Prismo looked over his shoulder, adjusting his fluffy jacket’s hood so he could better see Scarab. “Hm?” He tilted his head, expression casual.
“You realize that we are losing money with this new venture, correct?” Scarab asked. He flipped the board around for Prismo to investigate. Prismo leaned down a little, eyes scanning the neatly written rows of numbers, then shrugged.
“We’re The Wishmaster, find me another person to collab with. People pay for that.” Scarab’s fingers dug into his palm, hiding it by holding his arm behind his back neatly.
“We can not rely on an outside force, your view numbers have been dropping and so has your revenue. If the deal is for a single video, we will simply be in the same precarious position—”
“So get more, Scrabby.” Prismo smiled, taking a sip of his energy drink. “You’re good at that. We can do a lube sponsor for every video or something.”
Scarab desperately wanted to throttle Prismo. “Eventually, we will run out. You cannot grant every wish in the world,” he spat, mocking Prismo’s tagline.
“Nah,” Prismo agreed, his cheer dropping a little for a moment, but he perked back up. “But we can try! What if we do a livestream?”
Scarab’s fingers on the clipboard twitched, jerking it back towards himself with a grumble and tugging out a pen from his jacket pocket. “If we must continue our doomed, useless path, then we may as well diversify our offerings. Live giveaways of toys will boost us at least for a short time.”
Prismo’s smile grew. “See? This is why I hired you, you can do the smart things.”
Scarab scowled. “My resume is more than adequate to get another position for a better media producer.”
“Yeah, but you won’t. You like me, Scrabby, come on, admit it.” Prismo elbowed Scarab playfully. “Besides, you still haven’t given me what you want. Everyone else at ground zero told me their wish, asked me to moan a certain word or use a special toy. Let me grant yours already. It’ll be free too, it doesn't need to be anything special.”
Scarab slapped Prismo’s hand away from himself, the action sharp enough to sting but not enough to hurt. Prismo chuckled but removed himself from Scarab’s personal space. It was mostly playful anyway, loving that way Scarab flustered under any flirting he gave. “You have nothing I want, apart from a much higher raise.”
“That’s boring though, and besides… you said we couldn’t afford it.” Scarab’s scowl deepened, nearly a snarl.
“I did, didn’t I.” It wasn’t a question so much as Scarab being angry with himself for revealing it before the mostly-faux negotiation. “Prismo. We cannot keep doing what we are doing. Your joke giveaway for the lubricant drum went well, but there were no returns on our investment when it alone cost over two thousand dollars.”
“Eh.” Prismo shrugged. Scarab had never wanted to kill Prismo more in his entire life.
“What do you mean ‘eh’?! This is not eh information!” Scarab grabbed Prismo’s shoulder tightly. “Look at me!” Their size difference had never felt so stark; Scarab had to reach upwards to grab Prismo’s shoulder. It was ridiculous and wouldn’t work on anyone else, but Prismo respected him enough that he accepted it as the rebuke it was.
Prismo’s lazy gaze sharpened regardless, meeting Scarab’s. The intensity of his gaze made Scarab hesitate for a split second before he pushed through it. “I have been trying to keep you above water! We fired a coordinator, we lost our brand deal with the dildo company because you broke one on stream, Prismo, do you understand what kind of position we are in right now?”
Prismo’s hand rose to cover Scarab’s gently, then pulled it off. His hand felt massive and Scarab realized that Prismo was— Prismo was far too large to be talking down to like that, not anymore. They had been friends for so long that he had continued to do it over and over but now, it wasn’t working. Prismo let go of Scarab’s hand and it fell to Scarab’s side.
“Ya know, Scrabby, you’ve been real irritable lately.” Prismo’s hand was placed on Scarab’s shoulder this time, the warm weight locking him in place. “You should go get laid. Might help you feel better.”
Scarab’s words were acidic. “Do not think that I am in your little fandom of charmed fools. I am beyond your attempts and I will not be manhandled!” Prismo pulled his hand away, holding both up in a position of surrender.
“Sure, sure, sorry. You have a real mean stare, dude. I hate to see it.”
“Then don’t be the cause.”
“Hey, I’m doing my best here,” Prismo said defensively. “I made the company, didn’t I? I was gonna do something else—”
“And you promptly would have been homeless,” Scarab snipped. “I have kept you in the black for so long—”
“Then stop.” Prismo’s lips tightened. He wasn’t scowling, but it was fairly close. “Do your own thing. I’m not keeping you locked up or something. We’re friends, or at least I hope so.”
Scarab bristled, trying to refute it but couldn’t force himself to actually do so when it was true. “I need to beat someone already,” he grumbled under his breath. Prismo’s eyebrows rose but he didn’t comment, pretending he hadn’t heard. This was valuable information he was going to keep for later. “Be it as it may, Prismo, we must actually work to make money. I am tired of chasing after your failures.”
“Sure, dude, whatever you say.” Scarab swallowed his immediate response, looking to the clipboard.
“Today we need to follow up on…”
———
Scarab all but threw the door open, the knob slamming into the wall behind. He heard the buckling of drywall but didn’t care. Prismo was so— so infuriating! How the absolute fuck could the man go through life with so little planning? How could he not know what was happening tomorrow and still be so calm? Life needed plans! Organization! Without having details for the next day, it may as well not exist!
Scarab screamed into his hands for a moment, glad that his home was far enough away from others that he could without anyone thinking anything of it. This was a perfect time for him to do a stream. He was furious, angry, and he couldn’t get Prismo's stupid face out of his head saying that Scarab needed to have sex, and the worst part was that Prismo was right. When was the last time he had someone kneel before him? Someone plead for his touch?
Scarab shut the door to his recording room and sat at the computer, huffy. He made sure everything was lined up right, chest down only with no face visible, then checked his subscribers. Only a couple of people, but one did message and said he would be there for the first show. Scarab’s eyes narrowed, seeing if the man had anything on his profile. Only his username (ProhibitedWish) and a history of particularly large donations, almost exclusively to lithe bottoms. Who did he think he was, assuming that Scarab could possibly offer him such content?
Scarab loosened his tie, making sure that nothing personally incriminating was visible, then turned the camera on. The beginning was boring, waiting for some people to arrive, but after a few minutes he was wet, fingers rubbing along his packer and snarling to shove down moans. He didn’t expect to feel this aroused— did he like when people watched that much? He didn’t even realize it until now. Of course he liked it when people watched him at the dungeon, but he assumed it would be different. It apparently was not.
“First 100 dollars gets their username mocked,” Scarab hissed. “I’ll break you like the bitch you are until you ache for something as little as my voice.”
ProhibitedWish didn’t hesitate and an immediate donation came in. Scarab sniffed dismissively. “ProhibitedWish. Pathetic to think you could wish for something like me. You’ve even prohibited yourself. I’ll make you kneel before me, beg for the way my boot tastes against your tongue and maybe, maybe, I’ll let you speak to make a wish.”
ProhibitedWish began typing, then took a moment before posting his message. damn dude, a real hardass
“You’re paying for it, aren’t you?” Scarab tapped his desk. “If you wanted someone to coddle you, go pay some of the bottoms. I’m sure they’d enjoy petting you until you fall asleep, waiting for someone to take charge and fuck you til you gape.”
ooh spicy, someones fiery. ill pay for you to keep talking for me like that.
“Good,” Scarab purred, leaning forward and spreading his thighs. “Then pay.” Another hundred came in. Scarab smirked. Oh, this was going to be too easy…
Scarab sat on the dildo, thighs trembling and balanced on his toes on the ground. His strap on was situated right over his clit, the vibration turned on and he was struggling. “I’m going to ride you til you can’t even fucking speak—”
A familiar face haunted him, one he pretended not to know even as the name reminded him so much of— His eyes were closed as he bounced, jerking the strap on off faster with heady bounces of his hand to keep pulling the vibrator away to prevent himself from cumming too quickly. The donor was practically sweet talking him, purring about watching his legs shake (im so much bigger than that toy you have) and how much he’d love to kneel in front of Scarab, sucking him off until he came over Scarab’s feet. It was a heady mix that Scarab was confused about, but the orgasm at the end had him muffling his voice against his hand with a full body shudder.
He sank down on the dildo a little more, the tension ebbing away in waves. He winced slightly, then rose to watch the strings of slick drip out.
babe if i ever meet you, ill suck the soul out of you
“We’ll see,” Scarab said, pretending to entertain the idea. “But you’d need to donate far, far more than that. Maybe one day I’ll let you choose the toy that I ride.” With his goodbyes given and a promise to stream again in a few days, he turned off the camera.
He refused to think about anything that just happened, cleaning up silently. His legs shook and he leaned against the table, but he was fine. He was fine, dammit.
———
The streams went well, both Prismo’s and Scarab’s. Prismo began to gain followers after another deal with the fantasy dildo company, promising this time he wouldn’t be as rough with the bottom he collaborated with. It worked, thankfully, and the money rolled in far better than he expected.
Scarab as well began to make small waves, but his top donor was still ProhibitedWish. ProhibitedWish continued to donate on a regular basis and while he tried to test the edges of Scarab’s dominance, he was quick to fold if Scarab got a little too irritated at the attempts.
Scarab finally felt like things were going well.
He scowled at a comment, the same one that had been posted multiple times. You should collab with Wishmaster! He absolutely would not. That was Prismo and he was hardly interested in another dominant. Prismo only topped, bottoming only if someone donated an absolutely eye watering sum, and Scarab was in no way interested in Prismo that way anyway.
Prismo wrapped an arm around Scarab’s shoulder, the smaller man huffing when he had to try and balance himself with the new weight. “Let go.”
“Awh, Scrabby, but you gotta see, people are posting that I should collab with some new dude.” Prismo’s nose wrinkled. He didn’t keep up with the thousands of comments, having long given up on trying to parse the information without driving himself insane.
“Name?” Scarab asked, pulling his phone out and ready to search.
“StarAuditor.”
“NO!” Scarab blurted, unable to stop himself. Prismo blinked a few times, tilting his head. There was something in Prismo’s eyes that Scarab hadn’t seen in a long time. It was something that he only vaguely remembered and couldn’t immediately name, frustrated with himself at the failure of his memory.
“Why not?” Prismo leaned closer to Scarab’s phone to see if he was hiding something. Scarab didn’t have anything incriminating on his screen, but he turned it over and slid it into his pocket anyway.
“There’s nothing to collaborate over,” Scarab said. “He's dominant, you two would clash.”
Prismo pursed his lips doubtfully, half rolling his eyes as he took a sip of his energy drink. “Iunno, I’ve seen some of his streams, he seems a lil bit of a switch.”
“I am not—” Scarab snapped his teeth together. Prismo’s hand froze mid air, the can at an angle and looking at Scarab from the corner of his eye. For once, Scarab was avoiding looking at Prismo, head turned away.
Prismo pulled Scarab closer, using the strength that Scarab underestimated constantly, and forced them face to face. “Scrabby, you know you can tell me anythi—”
“There’s nothing to say! You’re dominant, he’s dom—”
“You’re dominant, you mean,” Prismo corrected him. “Mostly.”
“Only! But it doesn’t matter because you will not be collaborating with him—”
“Scrabby, I’m not stupid,” Prismo sighed. “You know I’m not. I knew it was you from the beginning, I was waiting for you to fess up or mess up.”
“What do you mean you ‘knew from the beginning’?” Scarab’s voice was a whisper, almost fearful. How did Prismo find out? Prismo had always stated he never bothered looking at other cammers once he got large enough, that he had plenty of people coming to his DMs that he didn’t need to. It wasn’t like he was chaste, either, he had plenty of partners both on and off camera. So why and HOW did he find— Scarab’s blood ran cold.
“You’re ProhibitedWish,” Scarab said softly. “That was you all along.”
Prismo did finger guns. “Guilty as charged. I thought you were gonna know immediately.”
“Why do you have an account?” Scarab asked, getting his voice back.
“Cause it’s nice to be on the other side of the camera. Almost called you Scrabby a few times, that would have been embarrassing.” Prismo laughed casually, finishing the drink he had paused in. “What do you say, hm? It’ll be fun.”
“What makes you think I’m possibly interested in y—”
“Heard you half say my name and covered it up by reading someone’s name in chat,” Prismo cut him off, the act of which was almost more offensive than the fact that Prismo paid such close attention. “They didn’t donate much so it was weird. You aren’t the kind of guy to give people attention for no reason.”
Scarab went to slink out of Prismo’s grasp but Prismo kept a hold on him. “Scrabby, please, just once. I’ll let you top and everything. I saw the new boots in the background, I’ll rut against them and let you say all those mean things that get you off.” His voice was wheedling, trying to make a deal when Scarab didn’t care to look at the brochure.
“Once.”
Prismo pulled back and held his drink up in a cheer, playing up his excitement. “Now, your stream, or mine?”
“Mine. I will not show my face.” Prismo frowned but knew better than to push. This was already a lot.
“You know, you don’t have to, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or something.”
Scarab struggled to tell the truth, a pink flush over his face as he looked away. “I’m aware.”
“We can always have a private—”
“Audience.”
“What?” Prismo blinked.
“I want the audience to see you fall to your knees.” Prismo’s smile widened slowly.
“Awh, Scrabby, if you wanted to do a video before, all you had to do was ask!” Scarab booped Prismo’s nose with the clipboard hard enough to silence him, powerwalking away. Prismo didn’t fight, giggling to himself. What a prickly guy. Good thing Prismo never took it personally.
———
Prismo knelt in front of Scarab, his hoodie slinking off of his body but not yet removed. Apparently the audience loved to see it drop off naturally when he really got into his dominance and wanted to show off the muscles in his arms and shoulders, and he figured keeping it on might keep people in the right kind of mood.
Scarab sat on his chair, the camera angled down to keep Prismo primarily in focus with Scarab’s lower half visible but nothing more. The new boots he wore were tall, reaching to his mid thigh, and the mesh thigh highs peeked above, kept in place with a waist garter, but otherwise wore nothing but a small choker meant to hold his microphone. Scarab held a crop under Prismo’s chin, mostly as a power play rather than to actually strike. Prismo could handle impacts and pain fine, but never got much from it.
“Such a slut,” Scarab purred, legs crossed neatly. “To fall before such a small streamer. How pathetic to need me so badly that you slid into my messages in hopes that I would wreck you.”
Prismo struggled not to smile, keeping his gaze sultry as he inched his hands up the leather boot. “Mm, what can I say? I like it when they can make me whine.” His fingers brushed over Scarab’s hips, tracing the curve of the bone. Scarab slapped his fingers with the crop and Prismo winced, pulling away.
“I didn’t give you permission. Apologize.”
The chat was quick to laugh, fueling Scarab’s energy. Prismo was so large, so intimidatingly tall and here he was, on his knees like a proper bitch. The power went to Scarab’s head, giddy at the sight of Prismo’s cock stretching his jeans up into a fierce tent.
“Sorry, doll,” Prismo said, knowing damn well Scarab would be insulted. He had to feed the energy, after all.
Scarab straightened, affronted at the word. “Perhaps I won’t let you touch me at all, then.”
Prismo knew his role, answering dutifully. “Awh, Star, come on now, please? Those boots look like my cum would make ‘em really pretty.”
“Hmph! Don’t get ahead of yourself.” Scarab separated his thighs, spreading himself. He turned to face the camera, flingers spreading his slit wide. “Do you think he deserves it?” he asked the viewers.
A chorus of yes and no both fought with each other, a few donations trying to sway the tide in their favor. Scarab smirked. “I suppose that you may rut against my shoe if you are so needy that you don’t even need me to touch you.”
Prismo nodded quickly. “Thank you, sir, I’ll be so good for you!” Scarab activated the second camera, the perspective switching perpendicular to the pair to better see Prismo fumble with his pants and yank out his cock. He jerked at it quickly, pleased when Scarab took the bait and struck him with the crop sharply enough that the microphone picked it up.
“How dare you?” Scarab’s foot pressed into Prismo’s chest, shoving him back until he arched nicely, dick silhouetted in the video feed as his hoodie fell off to pool over his feet. He dragged the point down until the flat of his toes were on the fat cock, rubbing once. “Apologize, again.” Scarab was wary; ProhibitedWish had always pushed the boundaries and he was sure that Prismo was now as well. He knew that if he truly got mad, Prismo would be able to tell and would back off, but they were also on camera and it would be awkward.
Prismo disobeyed, leaning forward to kiss at Scarab’s inner thigh, and nipped once as he rut upwards against the shoe over his dick. “Star, please, let me touch you, I’m sorry for touching myself!”
Prismo’s eyes flicked up to meet Scarab’s. The raw sexuality in them was turned to him now, the sharp stare of a man who took what he wanted, something he’d never seen before aimed at him. It pinned him down and he swallowed heavily. Prismo’s smile turned into a smirk, fingers inching towards Scarab’s cunt. Scarab saw the motion however, freed from his momentary lockup.
Scarab shoved his foot down and Prismo groaned in both pain and pleasure, pulling back. Prismo kept his eyes on Scarab though, testing him. “Lemme at least eat you out to apologize, please, sir? I’m really thirsty and you are looking delicious.”
Scarab turned his head, eyes closing and granted him the concession. “Prove that your tongue is worth something, then.” Prismo was patient, always had been, and though he was a working professional, his on-screen partners were generally fairly well pleased by the end, if only that Prismo was respectful of boundaries. He made Scarab wait, as if he were the one running the show, and dropped his pants but left his shirt on, knowing that Scarab would huff but not say anything. Having Prismo naked would happen sooner or later, may as well happen now.
Prismo’s first lick was kitten-like, a little lap against Scarab’s lips to watch them plump with arousal. The camera was turned quickly with a remote to zoom in a little more to Prismo’s mouth. His tongue traced the lines of Scarab’s labia before rubbing against the head of his clit. Scarab covered his mouth, unable to stop his thigh from twitching when Prismo kissed the taut length.
“Thanks for the meal, baby,” he crooned, then dove with no further mercy. Scarab gasped loudly, thigh raising to squeeze Prismo’s head, but Prismo forced his legs down and open so they’d stay in frame.
“A-ah— oh—” Scarab couldn’t hide his sounds entirely, arching into Prismo’s experienced tongue. He nearly dropped the crop but caught it at the last second. “W-Wish—”
Prismo swallowed Scarab’s clit entirely, humming around it and knowing precisely how much it would wreck Scarab, glad to hear Scarab’s voice crack on a rising moan. He didn’t know because he knew Scarab’s desires personally, but because he had watched Scarab rub at himself with just his fingers and cum on camera, let alone the vibrator usually on the lowest setting. Scarab was sensitive.
Prismo shifted to let Scarab’s foot fall between his thighs, rutting against it shamelessly. The sleek material was pleasant and he had no qualms about cumming over the leather if Scarab came first, something he fully planned on doing. Scarab’s eyes cracked open to see the chat, the messages going on about letting Prismo dom him, then narrowed his eyes more determinedly. He grabbed Prismo’s hair, pulling him closer, then away with a clear indication that Prismo should move in a blowjob like motion.
Prismo rolled his eyes, knowing that Scarab wouldn’t see, considering his head was thrown back, but the chat would, and gave Scarab control. Scarab arched into Prismo’s mouth, thrusting his small length in and out of the tight, wet heat with increasingly high sounds. It was embarrassingly short before he began to tremble, too lost in the feelings to really register that he was supposed to focus on making a show of it. Right before he crossed that last line, Prismo’s hand grabbed Scarab’s arm, forcing Scarab to let go, and pulled back.
He panted through his open mouth, purposely letting some slick dribble onto the chair for the chat to see. “Not yet,” he growled. “Not yet.”
Scarab fell back into his chair, wet enough that he felt it drip between his cheeks. “A-arrogant, thing, aren’t you?” He said through quick breaths, remembering now that he wasn’t here for Prismo to suck him off (though a not insignificant part of him wanted to yank Prismo back down to finish the job). “I’m in charge here.”
“Are you sure about that?” Prismo said, then shoved Scarab’s thighs wider effortlessly, hands right above his knees to showcase his strength in comparison to Scarab’s. Scarab’s eyes went wide.
“Of course I’m sure,” he snapped, “and you best remember your pla—ace…” Prismo stood to loom over Scarab, a hand on the back of the chair to catch him in Prismo’s shadow and emphasize how large he was (in all ways). Scarab lost his voice suddenly, blinking stupidly at Prismo. Prismo’s smirk became more pronounced and he leaned down to nip at Scarab’s neck, careful not to pull him too far down lest his face be seen, and adjusted the mic on his shirt in a practiced motion so it wouldn’t be muffled when he spoke.
“I’m gonna fuck you raw on camera so you can see all those pathetic fucks that you like to mock pray for a scrap of your attention.” Scarab whined when Prismo used the words that Scarab loved to say, tilting his head away and giving Prismo more room to bite. “I know you like to watch them talk, make them beg for you because you’re so far above them, aren’t you, Star?” The way the word star rolled off of his tongue felt obscene, a gift marking Scarab as the center of attention.
Scarab’s fingers clawed into Prismo’s back, nails scratching long red lines across the expanse that were unfortunately hidden by the shirt Prismo wore. “Make them— make them donate to earn it—”
“Oh, I will,” Prismo promised. He turned to cover the camera’s view and pulled Scarab out of the chair. The smaller man yelped in surprise, squirreling and annoyed that Prismo was manhandling him so easily, but for all of his (half) fight, he ended up where Prismo moved him anyway. Prismo sat down and tugged Scarab over his lap facing away and rested his hand over Scarab’s shoulder. He pushed Scarab’s knees on the outside of his own to keep them spread, keeping an eye on the camera to make sure Scarab was only seen from neck down.
He trailed his hands down Scarab’s chest, his touch soft as he kept talking. “You feel so good on me, Star, you’re so light and you taste so good.” He punctuated the last with a bite and Scarab’s vision swam. “You’re soaking, I can feel you dribble over me.”
Scarab looked down. Prismo’s cock was large, rutting along the length of his lips and clit. Scarab was dizzy; he’d seen Prismo’s cock so many times, why did it suddenly look so large? Prismo never stopped talking in his ear, his voice sweet even as he said the filthiest things. “Such a pretty hole begging for cum, isn’t it, chat?”
The screen in front of them positively exploded with messages. Scarab went to complain but Prismo slipped in two fingers and Scarab’s mind went blank. “Look at them, Star! They really wanna see you beg, won’t you be nice to them?”
Scarab shuddered, rolling down onto Prismo’s fingers and biting his lip to avoid moaning. He shook his head jerkily, his chest heaving breaths, and grabbed Prismo’s hand to remove it from his hole. Prismo tutted, his other hand moving to Scarab’s jaw and gently pulling his lip free before pushing in the fingers on his other hand now that Scarab wasn’t trying to wriggle out of his grip. Prismo tasted salty, some of sweat and some of his own precum on his fingers that Scarab lapped at, pursing his lips and sucking. It was a move that Scarab had used on his subs time and time again, and yet turning it on him somehow felt right.
“How pretty,” Prismo said, voice amused when Scarab already started to fold. “This is how we get our special doms to break.” Scarab slapped Prismo's thigh in rebuke, but Prismo twisted his fingers in his cunt and Scarab arched for more. “This right here, this is the best moment, I think. He still thinks he’s in control, any second now he’s gonna—” Scarab smacked him with the crop hard, the sound loud, and left a long red mark, hissing through his teeth but undeterred. “See? You and I both know the truth, chat, and here’s a cute little secret I found that’ll make him fall apart…”
Prismo slid his fingers along Scarab’s cunt then cupped it as if it were larger in a motion that he was clearly versed in doing. His thumb rubbed over the top in a long drag from root to tip, firm against the throbbing flesh. Scarab’s breath was nowhere to be found and it was useless to try, too focused on the heat surrounding his length. “Jerk him off like this and he melts like butter. I bet I can even cum in him if he’s distracted like this, fill him up until he’s nice and fat with my seed.”
Scarab dropped the crop, unable to keep ahold of it, his other hand on Prismo’s arm and trying to push away, to separate out and regain control, but it was long gone. He simply didn’t know it yet. Prismo bit Scarab’s shoulder, jerking Scarab’s clit like a cock, and smiled when Scarab’s hand switched from pushing to clinging to keep it in place. “Won’t that be nice? Let me get all my cum in you, shove it deep inside and keep you all for myself. Chat doesn’t deserve you. I do. I was your top donor.”
The chat was filled with question marks before realizations followed, lots of messages about totally knowing that ProhibitedWish was the Wishmaster himself that nobody believed. Prismo chuckled quietly. The chat asked plenty of questions about how Prismo knew this “secret” but he didn’t say, patiently working Scarab’s fight down with the simple motions and the firm pin against Prismo’s chest to force him to remain still. It didn’t take long before Scarab was drooling, head lolled back on Prismo’s shoulder.
“There we go, just like that,” Prismo said against Scarab’s neck like he was telling someone a secret, Scarab whining but still fighting enough that Prismo felt that he wasn’t nearly done. “Get rid of all of that overthinking in there, you don’t need it, just how my hand feels around your cock and good it feels to be on top of me.” He was ignoring the chat at this point, more focused on watching every ounce of Scarab’s resistance melt away. His eyes glanced over when there was a donation, but nothing large had come in that warranted Scarab’s.
“If you guys donate enough, maybe I can get him on my cock all soft and begging. D’you think we could get five thousand together? If you do, I’ll bounce him on my dick until he cries.” Donations flowed like water and Prismo kept an eye on the numbers as he slipped his fingers back inside of Scarab and crooked them upwards to rub at Scarab’s g-spot.
Scarab tried to ride onto it, a hand flying up to cover his mouth to cover the whimper that nearly escaped, but Prismo caught it and pushed it behind Scarab’s back to pin it to his chest. “No no no, Star, no can do. Let the people hear you, you love the attention, don’t you?”
Scarab couldn’t even deny it because he did love the attention. People wanted him, not Prismo the Wishmaster, the perfect streamer that everyone wanted to fuck. Sure, he was here and it was important, but the money ultimately went into Scarab’s pocket, the people were paying to watch Scarab get fucked, not for Prismo to fuck him, and there was a subtle, but important, difference between the two statements.
Scarab nodded and Prismo laughed. “No, gotta use your voice, Star, they can’t see your face all blissed out.”
“Let— let them see,” Scarab slurred. “Make them beg.”
“Awh, how special!” Prismo turned his dazzling smile to the camera. “He’s being so good for me. You’re gonna see that soft, small hole of his get pounded until he gapes, and he still wants to give you something even more special! So generous.” Prismo felt Scarab begin to tense around his fingers and tremble like a leaf in a storm, so he increased the speed to better abuse Scarab’s g-spot with cruel thrusts. The moment that Scarab began to rise too high, the second that he was about to cum, Prismo yanked his fingers out, watching through the screen how Scarab’s hole pulsed.
Scarab wasn’t even verbal at this point, nails digging into Prismo’s hand and trying to shove those wonderful fingers back inside with pathetic whines. “Hold on, babe, I gotta turn the camera to show them your face.” Prismo held ahold of Scarab as he leaned forward, pushing the camera back and returning to his previous position.
Scarab saw himself on the monitor set to keep track of what the stream saw, visible only through dripping tears. He looked like a mess. His hair was everywhere, the tamed cowlick going however it wanted, his face red from exertion, tear tracks down his cheeks, and a good few bite marks on his shoulders that he didn’t remember receiving. His cunt was plump and his clit harder than he’d seen in a very, very long time, standing proudly as if begging for attention.
The messages were fast, full of praise and excited to see the face reveal. A few put together that it was Scarab, Prismo’s rarely seen assistant, and were sharing the information with glee.
omg that’s the dude that looks like he has a stick up his ass all the time
Scarab or w/e isn’t it?
So it was the Wishmaster’s assistant? I bet they’ve been fucking all along
i wanna see that hole recked idc how much itll take
Fuck him like a whore, you’re paying ihm anyway Wish
Scarab hiccuped. They wanted him. None of the messages were for Prismo, they were for him, wanting to see him spread and watch his cunt drip with cum. Prismo was merely a convenient vessel to create these needs.
“Pri—”
Prismo silenced the moan of his name with a bite to Scarab’s shoulder. Scarab didn’t know why but didn’t argue, leaning his head to the side to make it easier. Prismo didn’t care that people knew his name, he cared that the first time he heard Scarab moan his name would be on camera. He fully planned on making this happen again with his name dripping from Scarab’s lips like water. It would hardly make sense to have the first time be on camera when he wanted it to be special.
Prismo lifted Scarab up to rub his cockhead against Scarab’s hole, the tip flirting with the very thin barrier between teasing and filling. Scarab had never felt so tiny. He wasn’t miniscule, but with Prismo’s thick build and muscles, he might as well have been a toy. “Beg for me, won’t you? Go on, cheer him on, chat. We’re so close to that 5k we need to fill him up.”
Scarab watched the chat scroll encouragements, some as filthy as his own insults to the audience, some sweet and encouraging, and a few blunt and to the point. Prismo nipped at Scarab’s ear, his breath causing goosebumps over his skin. “They think you’re so pretty, wanna see you on my cock. Look, the donation bar is all filled up and now it’s your turn! Relax for me, Star.”
“Nnngh?” Scarab tried his best and Prismo lowered him slowly, his cock inside Scarab like nothing else had ever been. Sure, some toys had been larger and some other men had been thicker, but the sheer inevitability, the unceasing heartbeat in the man behind him made it into an experience like anything else. He nearly came when their hips were flush together, stopped only by Prismo’s refusal to move and give him that last stimulation he needed.
“There we go,” Prismo praised Scarab, a warmth blossoming in Scarab’s chest and contrasting with his lacking breath. “That’s it, you’re doing so well, you’re so popular with the chat! Now, let’s go a little faster.”
Scarab was unceremoniously lifted, his own hands flying out to rest on the arms of the chair for balance, then fell on Prismo’s cock like a dead weight. The compression startled a loud sound from him that echoed in their mics, but the chat didn’t seem to care. A few even joked about the audio being 3D. Prismo turned his attention mostly away, preferring to feel Scarab fall apart around him, though he kept an eye out for the large box alert for any major donations.
He kissed Scarab’s ear softly. “I’m gonna turn you into the prettiest little cocksleeve.” The words were punctuated with sharp breaths as he bounced Scarab on him like the man weighed nothing. “You’re gonna crave this fat cock until you can’t even think about anything else, just about how good it’ll feel to be in front of me, your lips wrapped around it like the beautiful slut you are. You’re gonna forget that cute ‘dom’ label you have, you don’t need it. You need the label I give you, don’t you? Because you’re all for me.”
“Mnngh?” Scarab’s questioning sound was vague, most of the words heard as if underwater.
“I’m gonna keep you all for myself, fuck you loose. Nobody else can compare to me, we all know the truth. Their cocks aren't nearly as big as mine, I'll be the only one who can make you feel full once you're all broken open. Those men behind the screen, the pathetic little cucks, as you said once, they can look and know that they’ll never get it. They’ll never have your tight cunt squeezing on them like this. They’ll get only the sight of a Wishmaster mocking them until they cum all over that expensive keyboard. They can clean it up with their shame, but we both know that they’ll be back tomorrow with their wallets open.”
The sharp trill of a major donation cut off Prismo’s babbling, tilting his head to look at it. Scarab’s sounds, however, only increased, furious that Prismo dared to stop when he was getting close again. “Huh. Well, look at that.” Prismo grabbed Scarab’s face gently but firmly, the motion casual but forcing Scarab’s attention to the screen.
“There’s a 10k donation, Star, why don’t you read out their name for them? And their message to you? It’s only right.” Scarab barely understood the words, eyes following the shapes of the letters blankly.
“Th-thanks, D… De…” There were too many words, the letters swimming through tears.
Prismo laughed. “It’s alright, I know you can do it, I can wait as long as you need.” That was even crueler, forcing Scarab to figure out how to make his tongue move again.
“Thank you, D-Desk… Knocker 55?” Scarab managed finally, his words a question. Prismo grinned, accepting that Scarab couldn’t read the actual message, and relief flooded Scarab, the desert of his desire soothed with a flood of praise.
“Good job!” Prismo slammed Scarab down and relished in the scream that followed. His next and following were as rough if not more, the slapping of their skin a testament to Prismo’s strength. His cock shone with slick, his own precum mixed with Scarab’s liberal dripping, and the motions were smooth and easy with wet schlaps echoing on the mics. Prismo’s breath was used to continue whispering lewd words about Scarab, affectionate and caring while also reminding him that Prismo was the one in control now.
“So fuckin’ pretty for me,” Prismo growled. “Gonna keep you here like fleshlight and fuck you til you drip, maybe even use that paddle over there on your ass until you shake and can’t handle any more. I’ll wreck every single one of your holes until all you’re good for is holding your legs open and begging for a new load, cum in you again and again—”
Scarab’s sounds began to get higher pitched, rising bit by bit and speeding up into whimpering gasps, trying his best to rock down and meet Prismo’s motions to keep him in the right spot. Prismo gritted his teeth, struggling with Scarab’s wriggliness, but did his best to keep the angle consistent. Scarab’s chest was filled with fire, the ember of his orgasm flaring bright and burning him from the inside out, his cunt aching and yet altogether perfect, the pain of rough use twisted into a pleasure that made him crave more and he felt drool drip down his cheek, everything moving so fast, the screen mere changing colors and Prismo grunting harshly in his ear—
Scarab came with a wordless wail, squirting over Prismo’s lap with a wet gush, visible on camera like cum shooting from a cock, the schlick of every movement even louder as Prismo kept fucking more out of him. Prismo growled into Scarab’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused entirely on how tight Scarab was, how beautiful he looked when he let Prismo take control. It took only three more thrusts before he jammed Scarab down as hard as he could, spraying his seed into every possible millimeter of space. Even then, it wasn’t enough and his cum escaped with the pulses of Scarab’s hole. Prismo panted against Scarab, giving them a few moments to return to earth before lifting Scarab up gently.
Scarab was goo, easy to move and unable to really think, and cum poured from his slightly gaping hole, very obviously not as tight as he was in the beginning. Prismo fucked him so far beyond dombroken and into such deep subspace that Prismo knew he was going to be sticking around for the night to make sure the man came back together in a healthy way. Prismo kissed Scarab’s shoulder affectionately.
“Well guys,” he said, addressing the chat with a winning smile. “Nice to see you, but I have a little star that needs water and a nice cuddle, so we’ll have to say hi again tomorrow. Make sure to leave a comment and let us know what you liked best, you might get to see it again!” He turned the stream off, making sure it was definitely no longer active, then picked Scarab back up again.
He was careful, setting Scarab into a cloth that he pulled out from the sex toy chest, glad that Scarab was the type to over prepare. He hummed to himself as he cleaned Scarab up, patient and slow to avoid overstimulating him. Scarab shivered anyway so Prismo did his best. Surprisingly, after he wrangled Scarab into eating some crackers and drinking some water, Scarab clung to him like a spider monkey, mumbling something about being tired. Prismo tried to argue, but Scarab whined when he pulled away, and the sound broke his heart. He didn’t want to sleep in Scarab’s bed, not sure if it was a boundary. He didn’t expect Scarab to fall apart quite so much or he’d have gone far more in depth over what was allowed before the cameras started rolling.
Prismo sighed, shaking his head. “Alright then, but you can’t blame me when I take the blanket.”
“Mnngh,” was the only reply, close enough to “fine” that Prismo accepted it. He got Scarab dressed in some pajamas, hoisting him up and trudging to Scarab’s actual bedroom, then tucked Scarab in and crawled in after. Scarab immediately turned and buried his face into Prismo’s chest. Prismo nuzzled into Scarab’s head.
“Night night, Scrabby.”
“Mhn mngh.” Eh, same rhythm. It counted. Prismo cuddled Scarab tightly, enjoying this new, softer Scarab. If this was what it took to make the man lose his stress for a while, then he didn’t mind doing it again. Maybe a lot again, actually. He smiled to himself at the thought, closing his eyes. He pet Scarab’s side, noting that he was already asleep. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea too.