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Minute was a name that resonated through the shadows like the echo of a gunshot in a deserted alley. Known for his unparalleled skill and unyielding dominance, he was a force to be reckoned with, feared by friend and foe alike. Yet, there was something about him that remained a mystery, a hidden that even those who knew him best could not begin to comprehend.
Mapic, on the other hand, was a stark contrast to Minute's stoic demeanor. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, a perpetual smirk playing on his lips as if he held the world's most delicious secret. He was the kind of person who could charm a snake out of its venom, and often did. His talents lay not in brute strength, but in the art of persuasion and the subtle dance of power that played out between the sheets. It was a dance that had earned him a reputation almost as notorious as Minute's, albeit for entirely different reasons.
The two had crossed paths on numerous occasions, their rivalry a silent, unspoken thing that hung in the air like a tension-filled fog. Yet, Mapic had discovered a side to Minute that no one else had seen, a vulnerability that made the assassin's hardened exterior crack like a brittle eggshell. It was in these moments that Minute, the feared and the powerful, became a submissive plaything in Mapic's capable hands.
One evening, as the sun had already set, Minute found himself in Mapic's 'secret' hideout. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with a heady mix of desire and anticipation. The scent of candles waxed and waned, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls. In the center of the room, Minute knelt before Mapic, his expression a curious blend of excitement and guilt. The younger male held a gun, a silent question in his eyes as he searched for the answer in the depths of Minute's gaze.
Mapic's hand trembled slightly, the weight of the weapon feeling alien in his grip. He had never been one for such... extreme measures in the bedroom. Yet, the desire to please Minute was a siren's call that he couldn't resist. He watched as the assassin leaned forward, his cheek brushing against the cold metal tip of the gun. The contact sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through Mapic's body, his heart racing wild. He could feel the heat radiating from Minute's skin, the tension in his body a silent plea for more.
Swallowing hard, Mapic lowered the gun, his eyes never leaving Minute's. He stepped closer, the gap between them closing like the jaws of a vice. The air grew thick with lust and the promise of something darker, something that neither of them could fully understand or explain. He traced the line of Minute's jaw with the barrel of the gun, feeling the shiver that ran through the older man's body. A smirk played on his lips as he whispered, "Is this what you want, Minute? To be at my mercy?"
Minute's eyes fluttered shut, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He nodded, the leather of his collar creaking softly with the movement. The tip of the gun traveled lower, tracing the column of his throat and down to the hollow of his collarbone. His body was a canvas of scars, each one telling a story of battles won and lost. But here, now, in this moment, he was nothing but putty in Mapic's hands.
Mapic's hand stilled for a moment, his mind racing with the gravity of what was happening. He knew that this was a line that once crossed, couldn't be uncrossed. But the need to give Minute what he craved was stronger than any reservation he might have had. With a gentle touch, he placed the gun aside and reached for Minute's bound wrists. The ropes fell away like discarded shackles, revealing the pale, unblemished skin beneath.
The assassin's eyes snapped open, meeting Mapic's with a hunger so fierce it could've swallowed them both whole. Without a word, Mapic stepped back, allowing Minute to rise to his feet. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and claimed Mapic's mouth in a bruising kiss. Their tongues clashed, a silent war of dominance that Mapic willingly lost. He could feel Minute's hands roaming his body, exploring every inch of him, claiming him as his own. And in that moment, Mapic knew that he was in over his head, but he didn't care. He was exactly where he wanted to be.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Minute murmured against his lips, his voice a low, gruff whisper that sent shivers down Mapic's spine. He stepped back, his eyes raking over the younger male's form with a hunger that was palpable. "But you're also so fucking pathetic, aren't you?"
Mapic's smirk never wavered, even as Minute's words stung like a thousand bees. "What makes you say that?" he replied, his voice a challenge and a purr all at once.
"Because you're letting me do this to you," Minute said, his voice a dark caress. "You're letting me treat you like the whore you are." He stepped closer, his hand wrapping around Mapic's throat. "Beg for it."
Mapic's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and arousal. "Beg for what, exactly?" he asked, his voice a taunt.
Minute's grip tightened, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh beneath Mapic's jaw. "Beg for me to use you like the worthless piece of shit you are," he growled, his other hand reaching down to palm the younger male's hard length.
Mapic's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes never leaving Minute's. "Please," he said, the word a gasp that seemed torn from his very soul. "Please, use me. Take what you want from me. I'm nothing but your bitch."
The room was a field of desire, the air thick with the scent of sweat and lust. Minute's touch was a brand, leaving a trail of fire across Mapic's skin that made him arch into the grip. He knew that outside these walls, he was more than capable tp rival Minute. But here, in this moment, he was Minute's to command. And the thrill of it was intoxicating.
Minute's eyes narrowed, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "That's it," he murmured, his voice a dark symphony of desire. "Beg for it."
Mapic's knees buckled, his body trembling with need. "Please," he whispered again, his voice barely audible. "Please, I'll do anything."
The gun was back in Minute's hand, the cold steel pressing into the soft flesh of Mapic's cheek. "And what will you do, little slut?"
Mapic's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping his lips. "Anything," he breathed. "Anything you want."
With a final squeeze, Minute released Mapic's throat and stepped back. He pointed the gun at the floor, the tension in the room shattering like glass. "Good boy," he said, the words a mockery and a praise all at once. "Now, get on your hands and knees."
The younger male obeyed without question, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel Minute's eyes on him, raking over his form with an intensity that made him squirm. He was exposed, vulnerable, and he had never felt more alive. He waited, his breath coming in shallow gasps, for the next command.
Minute took his time, the smirk never leaving his face as he watched Mapic's naked body quiver in anticipation. He knew that he had the younger male right where he wanted him, and the power was a heady aphrodisiac that went straight to his cock. He stepped closer, the gun still in his hand, and pressed the cold, hard metal against Mapic's swollen lips. "Open up," he said, his voice low and demanding.
Mapic did as he was told, his mouth parting to accept the weapon. He could taste the oil and metal, the very essence of Minute's dominance. He took the gun into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his eyes never leaving Minute's. The assassin's hand on the back of his head guided him, pushing the gun deeper until he gagged. The sound was music to Minute's ears, a symphony of submission that had him growing even harder.
"Look at you," Minute said, his voice filled with dark amusement. "So desperate to please me you'll suck on anything." He watched as Mapic's cheeks hollowed out, his eyes watering slightly as he worked the gun, his own arousal painting a stark contrast against the stark reality of the situation. It was a sight that would've made any sane person recoil, but for Minute, it was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.
With a final, decisive thrust, he pulled the gun from Mapic's mouth and stepped back. The younger male's chest heaved with the effort, his eyes wide and glazed with need. "On the bed," Minute ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Mapic scurried to the bed, his body a whirlwind of need and adrenaline. He lay down, his legs spread wide, his cock standing at attention. He watched as Minute approached, the gun now pointed at his chest. "You're mine," Minute said, his voice a dark promise.
The assassin straddled Mapic, the barrel of the gun pressing into the younger male's sternum. He leaned down, their faces mere inches apart, and whispered, "And if you ever forget that, I'll make sure you remember."
Mapic's eyes flashed with a mix of fear and excitement. "I won't," he promised, his voice hoarse. "I'll never forget."
Minute smirked and leaned in, pressing the gun to Mapic's neck before moving it down to trace the contours of his chest, his stomach, and finally, his cock. He could feel the younger male's heart racing beneath the tip of the weapon, could see the pulse hammering in his throat. "Good," he murmured. "Because if you do, I'll just have to remind you."
With that, he leaned down and took Mapic into his mouth, the gun still in hand. The contrast of cold steel and warm, wet heat was almost too much for Mapic to handle, his body arching off the bed as Minute's skilled tongue worked him over. The gun was a constant presence, a reminder of who was in control.
The tension in the room was palpable, the air electric with the promise of release. Minute knew that he had Mapic right where he wanted him, and as he felt the younger male's body begin to tremble, he knew that the climax was close. He increased his pace, his mouth working in tandem with the gun, until Mapic was nothing but a trembling mess beneath him, begging for more.
And as Mapic's orgasm ripped through him, Minute pulled back, the gun now resting against the other's forehead. "You're mine," he said again, his voice a command.
Mapic could only nod, his body boneless and his eyes glazed with pleasure. He was Minute's, completely and utterly. And as he watched the assassin stand and walk away, the gun now forgotten, he knew that this was just the beginning of their twisted dance of power and submission.