Exchanging Control
Erotic short. Cicero Penllwynog’s bite is better than his bark.
800 words, rated E, M/M. Cicero Penllwynog tries something new with Coshel Fenwick — biting him. Teasing, biting, D/s dynamics, both of them jabbing at one another. Small warning for a reference to racism/colourism.
“Would it kill you to let me have a bit of control one of these days, darling?” asked Cicero, and Fenwick raised a pair of thick eyebrows at him, his eyes cool in a way that made Cicero shiver most delectably.
“Could be that it would,” said Fenwick in his gloriously unpleasant, cynical way, and decided to add in an additional jab: “Given the way you are.”
“The way I am,” said Cicero, clucking his tongue as he dropped his belt aside, shimmying out of his outer robe, hanging it up. Fenwick was sitting back in bed, a book in his lap — it was half-past seven, very nearly the old bastard’s bed time, and Cicero was maddened by it even as he smiled, because it wasn’t yet completely dark outside. “And what am I, Mr Fenwick? Beautiful, glorious, erudite?”
“Arrogant, self-centred, a slag,” retorted Fenwick.
“Powerful,” said Cicero.
The look in Fenwick’s eyes was a delightful one — there was absolutely no fear in his eyes, no nervousness or uncertainty…
