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"Keep your hips still, Vincent."
Such a simple instruction, yet he wonders how well Alastor thinks Vincent is at following them. Sometimes it feels like Alastor expects too much of him. He's weak, pathetically so, something as simple as Alastor with a few buttons popped and a loose tie gets his dick stirring faster than what may be healthy.
Now, Alastor finally chooses to give him attention, what he's been pleading for every living moment around the other, and he's made to only take what he's given. He's a greedy man, there's no lie in that, and it's something Alastor loves taking advantage of when he has him like this. Knelt on the floor, legs spread open, desperate and so very greedy.
"Al', just- at least do it harder.. this- this isn't enough for me." Vincent has never heard himself sound this way, he's never been one to beg.
Alastor foot swishes left to right over Vincent's erection, clad by one too many garments and numbing the friction he so clearly needs. "Have you forgotten your manners? Don't tell me I'm wasting my time teaching you."
Right- shit, right. "No, no you're not wasting your time, I'm- please I didn't mean to-" Even if the pressure is dull, it's still enough to have the kneeling man trip over his words. "I'm not worthless- please." He mutters, hands forming into fist on the floor. "Please, Alastor. Give me a little more, please. That's all I want."
Alastor looks down at him with what seems to be pity, and a hint of consideration, letting his foot rest where it is. Vincent thinks Alastor might actually listen to him, sends a prayer out to whomever made Alastor stop and look at him.
He curses that person the same second he feels Alastor’s foot lift off his crotch, an honest to God whimper leaving him when it settles flat on the floor between his legs.
"You're the closest thing I've had to a mutt, so you'll act accordingly."
He's.. WHAT?!
"Excuse me?" Vincent scoffs, pushing off his hands and making a move to stand.
"Ah, ah, ah~" Alastor lilts, wagging a finger. The outer soul of his shoe presses onto Vincent's face, the heel right against his lips. "Sit."
Vincent sits.
"Lick."
He tenses. Alastor can't be serious. Lick his shoe? Okay.. now that he's presented with the option it doesn't sound all that bad.
"Lick it,” Alastor speaks up again, “and you'll be rewarded."
A reward? Vincent does not have to be told twice.
His tongue slips out from between his lips, pressing it flat against the heel of Alastor's shoe and licking it. It's not that dirty, Alastor has a specific set of shoes he wears indoors, and Vincent is lucky that's the shoe Alastor has on right now. His tongue works at cleaning the shoe, keeping his hands down and balled into fist since he's still not allowed to touch Alastor. No worries, Alastor simply moves his foot so the tip of his shoe rests against Vincent's tongue. It makes his dick twitch, straining a little more in its confines.
Damnit, Alastor.
Vincent pants when the foot gets pulled away, stopping himself halfway through chasing after it because… what the actual fuck? How was he genuinely enjoying that?
"Good boy."
Oh- that's why. He nearly comes on the spot from the praise alone, but he holds strong, the reminder of a reward being the only thing to do so.
"I only told you to lick it, but I'm not complaining." Alastor checks over his saliva sickened shoe, resting it on the floor once more. There's a moment where he doesn't move to do anything, watching Vincent, maybe analyzing him like he always does, but something about the look is different.
"Now, for your reward.”
Vincent's attention goes right back to the situation at hand, keeping the level of excitement he's feeling to a simple raise of his eyebrows in acknowledgement.
“Come a little closer. Don't get off your knees." Alastor instructs, a sweet coo to his tone. Bullshit.
Vincent doesn't question him, shifting forward on his knees until Alastor stops him. His dick is barely a centimeter away from Alastor's leg and he's hardly able to contain himself. This is more that he was expecting, much more than he could possibly dream of.
"I'm allowing you to do this, but only for a minute, nothing more. Do you understand me?"
Vincent nods, albeit a bit too eager, but with bliss right behind that figurative door in front of him, he give one fuck less about it.
"I'll be counting the seconds. Are you ready?"
“Yes.” Vincent sputters, though it's less of an affirmation and more of a rhetorical question, as if Alastor just asked him if the sky is blue. Alastor raises a brow at him, like he's expecting something else. "God damnit- Yes, Alastor. I'm fucking ready. Would you hurry it-"
"Sixty," Alastor starts counting.
"Shit-"
Vincent doesn't waste a second more, grinding his crotch against Alastor's leg. He can't even take some time to enjoy this and soak it all in, because he knows Alastor, knows the bastard won't be doing anything for him if he can't come from this alone.
He struggles with finding the right position. Can't be blamed for it, Alastor's leg is pretty, but also narrow. This doesn't deter him in the slightest. He leans back, elongated his torso and pressing his crotch a bit more onto Alastors leg before lifting his hips up-
"Fuck." Vincent whines, his pelvis stuttering at the top as white hot pleasure crawls way up his spine and makes his back bow. He slides back down, and it's just as good as it was going up. His hips don't stop, rutting up and down in a fluid rhythm that he finds himself scared of breaking. It's so good, too good. Alastor knows exactly how to rile Vincent up and it pisses him off in the best way every time.
He doesn't even realize that his eyes are closed, so lost in the sensation he nearly forgot whose leg he was humping. Looking up, he catches Alastor gaze, who is biting the knuckle of his index finger and looking down at him with a.. a.. is that a fucking smile?
Vincent is definitely losing it.
Hallucination or not, the sight only serves to make Vincent's core feel that much hotter. And he realizes now he can't come this way. Not in this very position anyway.
Vincent can't find it in himself to slow down, but he needs to ask for this before time runs out.
"Please, Alastor, please let me touch you.” He knows it's a long shot, but something is telling him it's still worth shooting at. “I just- I need to- your leg, can I- fuck- can I hold it, please?" Begging seems to be working in his favor, Vincent wouldn't put it past Alastor to be into it.
"You're already rutting against it like a damn dog,” Alastor mutters, moving the finger from his lips to speak more clearly. “I don't see how holding it would make a difference."
Vincent's brows furrow at this. "But- but you said-"
"Go on,” Alastor cuts him off. “You have fifteen seconds left." He motions with the flick of his wrist.
Vincent pushes off the floor using his hands, wrapping his arms around Alastor legs and pressing his entire front against it. His hips keep rutting, going faster, unable to think of anything more than chasing that sweet, sweet pressure he's finally being allowed to take.
This feels even better than whatever he was doing earlier, and for a moment he considers that Alastor may have a tactic with this. Not giving Vincent what he wants, making him earn the things he craves from Alastor. His eyes roll back, if that's the case then earning this shit feels ten times better than getting it. Maybe that's why, maybe this is just another lesson planned out for him. He likes this lesson, he likes it a lot.
Fuck, there's no way his penis won't feel sore after this.
"Ten, nine.."
Shit, why is he counting now? He wasn't before. A fleeting thought as it feels like his stomach is tying into knots.
"Eight, seven..."
His grip tightens on Alastor's pant leg, pressing his forehead against the man's legs as his hips buck up.
"Six, five..."
Is he counting faster? He would, of course he would. All of this just another way to mess with Vincent. Fuck, this isn't the time to be getting in head about things, he's running out of time.
"Four, three..."
Vincent whimpers. He's so close, right on the edge. If only he could get a little more-
Alastor's legs shift even so slightly, readjusting the position his leg is in. It rips a choked sob out of Vincent, knees lifting him higher.
"Two..."
Vincent's entire body locks up. He can feel his finger nails digging into his palm even through Alastor's pants, the ringing in his ears, the way his mind goes blank-
"One."
There's a damp feeling between his legs, legs that are trembling so much he has to sit back on his haunches. Alastor pulls his leg away, making Vincent slump forward, his hands catching him before his head connects with the floor.
He's shaking, fucking shaking and it feels like he can't seem to catch his breath.
"Vincent."
It stops.
"What do you say when someone gives you something nice?”
It takes everything in Vincent to push himself up, just enough to look Alastor in t
he eyes. The man is still standing, still smiling, still everything Vincent can't do. All because of him.
"Thank you, Alastor.”