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Volt likes to be put together.
He wakes up extra early on nights when there's a show, carefully going through the motions of his routine so he can sparkle in the spotlight. Meticulously styling his hair so it looks kempt even in its naturally wild state, using various creams and cleansers to give his skin its signature shine, cinching his vest just right to accentuate his waist and tie his outfit together.
Just as much as he loves being put together, Volt also loves seeing people reduced to nothing but a mess. He's a bit sadistic in that regard.
Which is why he quite enjoys seeing you now, on all fours next to him. Naked, quivering, and trying your hardest to balance the wine glass he placed between your shoulder blades.
As you have been for the past fifteen minutes, every passing second agony on your flushed skin. Yet, Volt does not soothe it for you. Instead, he lounges on his chaise next to you, flipping languidly through one of his novels and ignoring your whines with a slight smirk on his face that lets you know just how much he's enjoying this.
Sadistic.
The position is brutal on your knees and neck after so long, and your body keeps shaking as you try to hold it together, to be his good little spark.
You all but freeze when you feel a single drop of wine hit your back.
You stop breathing altogether, willing your limbs to be still and praying that Volt doesn't notice the deep red liquid running down your body, dripping onto the floor below you just as your sweat does.
It's for nothing, though, since it's Volt, and Volt always notices.
You didn't even hear his book shut, too caught up in trying to make yourself as small as possible. If you did hear it, maybe you would've been prepared for Volt to trace his fingers down the trail of wine, maybe you would've been able to stop your body from flinching, and just maybe you wouldn't of spilt even more wine from the glass.
Maybe has no place with Volt, and you should know this by now.
As even more droplets of the wine drip to your back, Volt tuts, retracting his hand as you begin trembling again.
"You can't even do the one task I asked of you. You really are pathetic," he says in his saccharine tone, and it shoots straight to your cunt, throbbing as pathetic rings in your head again, and again.
He slides himself onto the floor next to you, gently caressing your skin. From the small of your back, to your waist, hips, thighs—finally soothing against the plump of your ass. It takes every ounce of self-control not to jump once more at his touch.
You lose that self-control when his thumbs hook themselves in between your folds, spreading and exposing your most intimate parts to him. Your thighs quiver as he traces languid lines up and down your sex, stopping to circle your dripping hole. That's what causes you to jump, and the wine glass comes crashing down. The sound of the handle of the glass snapping off rings in your ear just as Volt's sigh does. Remnants of the wine start to drip from your hair and down your face, just as your tears do now.
"I'm sorry—" you try to choke out, to appease the man you just failed, but you're cut off with a sharp smack to your ass that pushes you forward. Your arms give out from under you, making you go crashing into the carpet as Volt's hands leave you, standing once again.
"Honestly, I expected better from you." His voice is still sultry, filled to the brim with charisma as he circles to your front. It just makes his insults sting that much more. "You go around insisting to everyone that you can help, but the one task I give you, you failed at. How... disappointing." He kneels in front of you, fingers threading themselves in your hair, tugging you up from the carpet you just wanted to burrow into. Your eyes find him, filled with tears as they meet his heated gaze. In the hand not gripping your hair, he holds the bottle of wine, full of his favorite Merlot.
He begins again, "It was so simple, too. Can you really not do the easiest of tasks? Are you that useless to me?"
You want to respond, to plead and beg and ask for his forgiveness, to say that I can be good, I can be useful, please, please—but before you can even think of how to articulate your thoughts, he pulls your hair even tighter, bringing your head to be tipped to the ceiling as you moan at his grip. Your pitiful sounds just encourage him more.
"You broke my glass, darling. The least you can do now is remedy that. Open."
You quickly obey, hanging your mouth open just as he instructed. You know what would happen if you were to refuse, and while the thought of being punished by Volt's practiced hands only adds to your arousal, you're more than willing to let him have his way with you. So, you keep your jaw open as he tips the bottle above your mouth, letting the liquid pool over your tongue.
When he's satisfied, he places the bottle onto the floor next to you, bringing his now free hand to cup your neck, posing you until he can capture your lips in a heated kiss. By now, you have been pulled to your knees, and he uses the angle to deepen the kiss. His hand, still tangled in your hair, tugs you closer, and that's when his tongue finally slips past your lips. Licking into your mouth to steal the wine, your spit, and all the breath from your lungs.
When he does eventually pull back, you're panting. You swallow the rest of the wine he didn’t steal from you, trying to maintain eye contact with Volt so he can see just exactly how he's made a mess of you, but you find Volt's eyes do not meet yours. Instead, he stares at the way the wine that escaped your mouths during your brazen kiss trails down your chest. His gaze on you is hot, scrutinizing, electrifying. You shiver under it.
"Absolutely wrecked. You'd let me do anything to you in this state, wouldn't you?" He smirks at the way you nod, mouth curling into the sharp lines of what would look like a smile to anyone else, but you know it for what it is. A warning.
He reaches for the wine bottle once more. "Slut," is all he spits out before tipping it over you, letting the red drink cascade down your body. He surges forward to trail his lips over your skin, tonguing and sucking at a languid pace. When he captures one of your nipples between his teeth, you moan, hips rolling forward. That's when his grip finally leaves your hair, the breath leaving your lungs as he roughly pins you to the floor. "Don't misunderstand, I'm not doing this for your pleasure. I'm doing it for mine. Do you think you deserve it after disappointing me?" That sharp smile once again as you shake your head no. "Then don't you dare move again."
His lips find your skin once more, trailing down until he's face to face with your cunt. He brings the bottle up once more and pours it over your folds. The wine only fuels the flames of your desire, like gasoline to a fire. It's not long before Volt's tongue is chasing the taste of your slick mixed with the Merlot.
He feasts on you, only pulling back to groan out, "You pair so well with the wine, darling," before his mouth is engulfing you once more, wet sounds echoing throughout the room.
You're trembling again, mind thoroughly consumed by his expert mouth. He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it just so over your sensitive clit and dripping hole, drinking up the sweet taste of you. Yet, it's not enough. Too interested in the places where the wine has trailed over, Volt is consuming you purely out of his self-interest. When he finds just the right spot that causes you to gasp out, he's quick to move once more, chasing after the cherry and plum notes that have mixed into your slick. A frustrated whine gurgled out of your mouth the third time that happened, and his hand was quick to meet your thigh in another sharp smack that echoed around the room. If Eddie were here, he surely would have heard it.
Mouth leaving your cunt, Volt brings his thumb to the corner of his mouth, wiping away a stray droplet of your slick and the wine before licking his lips, obviously savoring your taste. He brings the same thumb to your own mouth, where he's quick to bully it between the plump of your lips.
Volt appreciates a good wine, savoring it and taking in all that comprises it. He's shared that love with you, too. Most nights, he would pour you a glass from a random bottle and ask if you could tell the difference between the various ingredients and tastes present in the blend. You think he would appreciate how you could pick up the faint bay leaf and cedar in this one. That is, if he wasn't pressing viciously against your tongue, causing you to gag and cough around him, spit trailing out of the corners of your mouth as tears prickle at your eyes.
"Oh, for amps' sake," Volt grits out, "are you crying again? Just from a simple finger?" Your eyes shut tightly as you hear his disappointed sigh, refusing to look at the wrinkle of his eyebrows that you know are furrowed together at your incompetence.
A sharp gasp leaves you once he draws out his thumb, your spit forming a thin line between your lips and his hand. You finally will yourself to open your eyes, and if the corners of his smirk were sharp, his scowl is piercing, stabbing through your heart with ease. He must notice the way your face falls, because he lets out a soft sigh before extending an olive branch to you.
"One last chance to prove yourself to me, little spark. On your hands and knees again." He rises off your body, sitting once more on his chaise. You're quick to scramble to the position he asked, already knowing to duck your head to form as flat a surface as you could with the natural curve of your spine.
A sense of pride beams through you when you don't even flinch at the coldness of the bottle as he settles it over the dip of your shoulder blades.
That sense quickly leaves you when you feel Volt's hand tug on your hair once more. The force of him pulling at your locks causes the bottle to shake slightly, but it settles into place quickly.
"Careful there. You'll find my patience for you is running thin." He wraps your hair around his palm, creating a delicious pressure against your scalp. Amp, how you love his hands. Love how they know exactly which parts of you to tug and claw at to leave you a shaking mess at the end of the night—and when the other hand caresses over the curve of your ass? Pure, blissful agony.
"I have a challenge for you, little wire," he drawls. "If you can reach your orgasm from my fingers alone and manage to not spill my wine, I'll give you exactly what I know you want. Think you can do that for me?"
The proposition excites you. All you want is to prove your worth to him, to earn yourself a bit of praise tonight. With a newfound resolve, you respond, "Yes."
He pulls your hair tauter, "Yes, what?"
You bite your lip as you groan. "Yes, sir."
He hums lowly, pleased by your response, and the hand that was on your ass leaves you once more. You strain your ears, trying to discern what trick he could possibly be pulling out of his sleeve now, so when you hear the familiar click of a bottle opening, you're able to brace yourself for when the cool globs of lube meet your skin. They trail through your folds, Volt guiding them back to your hole as he finally pushes two fingers inside. You moan, teeth finding your lip as your eyes flutter. Yet, still, you do not move. The bottle resting between your shoulder blades stands ever tall as Volt tries his best to get you to drop it—and, oh, isn't his best just electrifying.
Volt's fingers are long and thick, filling you just right. His pace is brutal, the squelch ringing in your ears from the way he sinks into you so deeply, finding the most delicious angle to keep driving into.
"Amp, you're so loose. You let anyone use you, don't you?" His already rapid pace increases, the strings of your climax tightening.
"No!" you gasp out. "No, just you. Just—"
"So you're saying it's my fault?" He tuts, pulling your hair even more taut, and it's all you can do to keep your back straight instead of arching it like a cat in heat. "Careful where you place your blame, little spark."
The way he drawls out his words leaves you feeling breathless, eyes rolling back as he works you open. You want to melt into the orgasm he's leading you towards, to let your entire body come apart at the seams from his talented hands—but you remain still, perfectly balancing the bottle even as he slides his fingers at that impossible pace. When he finally slides in a third, that is what breaks you, what causes your walls to quiver and gush around him. Volt works you through your orgasm, and when he pulls his fingers from your sopping wet cunt you hear him make a pleased noise.
"You didn’t drop the bottle. Glad to know you're not entirely useless." Of course, he finds a way to insult you even while giving you praise. This kind of backhanded compliment only makes your clit throb even more, his words adding to your desperation.
"Do... Do I get my reward now?" you ask tentatively, carefully looking over your shoulder at him, his hold on your hair be damned.
Volt smiles at you, grabs the bottle, and brings it to his lips, taking a slow swig. It's the least elegant thing you've seen him do, so it shocks you, but what shocks you even more is when he tips the bottle over your body once again, spilling the rest of its contents all over you. Volt's tongue is quick to trace over your skin, maneuvering his body so he's folded over you, his hard-on pressed against you as he kisses and licks across your back. He groans against your skin, nipping at you.
"I think I should throw out all my glasses. You'd like to be my personal wine glass, wouldn't you, live wire?"
You would, but he'd have to degrade you a bit more for you to admit it out loud.
His hand snakes between where you meet, undoing his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers with the decorum of a man just as desperate for it as you are. When he slips in, mouth sucking a mark into your shoulder, you moan. Every delicious inch slowly sinking in causes a whimper, a groan, a small gasp—until he's as deep as he can be, skin pressed flushed with yours.
Volt finally rises from being pressed against you, leaning back to admire the gorgeous picture you make. Skin flushed, stained with wine, and marked by his mouth. As the seconds tick on, you realize he's doing more than admiring.
"Volt—" you try to say, but he cuts you off.
"What? Is this not what you want?"
"Yes, but..." the words refuse to leave you. "I... I want you to..." you trail off, feeling utterly embarrassed.
"Spit it out," he urges, "I don't have all night."
You will yourself to take a deep breath and finally find your words. "I want you to move."
The low chuckle at your begging makes you clamp tightly around him. "Why would I do that?"
"You... you said you'd give me a reward if I—"
"Ah, ah, ah. I never said that, little wire, only that I'd give you what you want. Is this not what you want? Me, inside of you?"
Damn this man. "Yes, but—"
"If you want to be ruined, then by all means, start moving."
Of course. Of course it wouldn't be that easy. Your suffering just has to continue for the night, brought upon by the very man you love. His cruel touch and even crueler words have left you a soaked, whining mess—but, still, it is not enough for him. No, he just wants to see you break even more around him, to be reduced to a shivering, fucked-out mess.
You're more than willing to play your part in making that happen. So, you take a deep breath, rocking back onto his cock and forcing him even deeper. You moan as you pull away, looking back to find his eyes. He just bores into you, hands splayed over your hips. They don't guide you, don't force you to take him at the brutal pace he loves. They're just there, a soothing pressure on your flushed skin.
You find a rhythm, pathetically grinding against him. Your head falls to hang between your outstretched arms, and your knees are positively burning now from so long spent kneeling—but that doesn’t stop you from slowly speeding up, chasing after that peak.
When you start to move too fast, too quickly, the gentle pressure of Volt's hands becomes a tight grip, forcing you to stop when he's at his deepest inside you.
"Are you really so desperate that you can't savor this moment with me? Don't just chase after a quick orgasm, darling. Why don't you tell me how it feels?" He punctuated his words with a grind of his hips, forcing a stifled moan from your lips. You breathe deeply a few times before finally speaking.
"It... It feels so, so good. You're so big, Volt. The biggest I've ever taken. It feels like you're going to split me in half when you have me like this, pushed up against you. I think to myself, is it even worth it? To break myself over you again and again? But then I pull back," you drag your walls up his length, until only the tip remains, "and all I want is to sink back down, to feel you in the deepest parts of me."
You go on with that languid pace, savoring and describing it just as you would with the wine he would make you try. "And you're so hot, Volt. Not just in the way you're thinking, you run hot. Sometimes it feels like you're going to burn me from the inside out, like my skin is being set on fire by you."
You found a rhythm again, fucking yourself on him slowly, just as he asked. But, just like how electricity is always changing, Volt is quick to change his mind as well, evident as he roughly grabs your hips again to force you to go faster, meeting you with rough thrusts of his own.
You're breathless from his brutal onslaught, your arms finally giving out from under you.
"Look at you, positively wrecked," Volt says in between his thrusts. "You're so spoiled, making me do all the work just so you can get off. I should just leave you, watch as you stumble into the bar with your clothes skewed and hair tangled just to look for someone desperate enough to spend the night with you."
He reaches forward, grasping your hair again, tugging your head up from the carpet. "I don't want anyone else," you gasp out, knowing that's exactly what he wanted to hear from you.
"What a desperate, needy little thing you are. So cockdrunk on me, you don't even realize how pathetic you sound, how pathetic you look. I have half the mind to take a picture." You clench around him at that, and he laughs at you. "Oh? Would you like that? Perhaps I can get it framed, hang it in the bar for everyone to see what a slut you become for me."
His words, his touch, the fire he lights inside you, have you cumming with a strangled cry. He's quick to follow, pulling out and painting your wine-stained back with his release.
Your burning knees finally give out from under you without Volt's hands holding you up. Next time, you'll be sure to ask for a pillow.
You now sit in a relaxing bath, with Volt outside the tub and lathering you in attention. He shows extra care for your sore legs, still slightly trembling from the events of the night.
"I didn't go too hard on you, did I, darling?" He looks almost bashful as he asks, and you can't help but giggle.
"Not at all. It was everything I wished for."
A small smile appears on his face, but he still can't shake the air of embarrassment from himself. "Are you sure? I wasn't too mean, was I?"
You steal your leg back from where he was massaging you, lifting from your lounged position in the tub to come face to face with him. "Honestly, you could've been meaner."
He laughs at your confession, cupping your face in his palm. "And what, curse you out?"
"You're hot when you curse, though."
"When have you ever heard me swear?"
You nod. "Okay, okay, fair point. You are theoretically hot when you swear."
He captures your lips in a kiss, slightly awkward from the fact that you both can't stop smiling and giggling. He pulls away only to place soft kisses across your face, ending at your temple to whisper in your ear.
"Next time, I'll give you all you fucking want."
Oh.
You weren't wrong about it being hot.