The essence of desire
Preface:
The characters below are actually from a Book I am currently writing, and so any references used which do not sound lexical will be from from the context of the book. Such things are minor, anyway. This was jotted pretty much strait down from fantasy, so there isn't a scene to establish as such... it just begins. It's not Yiff in the traditional sence I know, but give it a chance, if you would be so kind :)
Kikoté and Oats are two different species (Usuqui and HiTo, respectively), although sapient and the only outstanding physical features are their wings. I'd explain in more detail about that but it's not really that important.
Anyway!
Kikoté struggled, beating his wings desperately to escape Oats' titanic grip. He put every ounce of energy at this disposal, but for Oats there was no struggle. His superior strength mastered Kikoté's protest with no sign of difficulty. Calmly he retained his captive, whose chest swelled deeply as he realised his situation. Turning Kikoté to face away from him he consolidated his hold. Kikoté's breath shuddered. Schoud had locked his wings immobile, and Oats was holding his arms in a grip which threatened to crush them if he resisted further. Kikoté fell still. He could feel Oats' breath hot and rapid against the back of his neck. This struck him as odd since HiTo rarely became so fatigued from such meagre activity. Oats pressed him back more firmly against him. Kikoté's mind surged and suddenly he realised why Oats was breathing so fast.
"Oh... n... oh God."
Oats leant closer.
"So you know." His voice was soft, authoritative, strong. It was also thick with passion, or, perhaps, lust. "Yes... the pleasure I will wring from you. Breathe as fast as you like, you won't be any better for it." He wrenched Kikoté round until they were facing. He looked deeply into Kikoté's face, and when Kikoté failed to return it grabbed his face and forced him to. Their eyes met, and suddenly Kikoté was trapped in Oats' gaze. So piercing was it that Kikoté felt as if his whole life and body were lain bare for Oats to indulge at his leisure. He stared back unblinkingly, and in his captors eyes he saw the true nature of what was to come. His own widened. Oats smiled.
"Ha ha... you're little more than a frightened child lost in a game he has scant regard of." His eyes moved in an instant observation over Kikoté's body, an enquiry of his catch. He exhaled a heavy breath. "You tempt me. Your attractiveness and your adversary combine to create an irresistible hybrid." His hands released Kikoté, his limbs now capable of restrained movement. Schoud still bound his body to the immediate spot. Oats moved a freed over Kikoté's chest, assessing it. Kikoté's breath again shuddered.
"But why... why me? I'm a boy. We're both boys! You cannot-"
"I cannot what? Take advantage of someone in my control? I can... I will. I am well aware-" his hand idly ripped Kikoté's shirt from his body, "-of your gender. I know it. And I want it. I- well... what is this?"
His eyes had fallen to Kikoté's midriff. Kikoté followed the direction and realised, with a sinking feeling, that Oats had noticed his thong. He cursed in his head that he had pulled the waistband higher than usual onto his hips, so that it protruded above his trousers at the sides. He looked at Oats... helpless.
"Huh," marked Oats with the growing smile of someone experiencing a second, compounding pleasure. "I never thought... a thong! And why might you have one of those?"
Kikoté was silent, his left hand gripping just above the opposite arm's elbow in fear and humiliation. He stared at the floor. Things were worse now. He tried to remain fixed on this moment, hoping it might impede progress to the next. Oats pressed. "Answer me, boy!" Kikoté's brow ridged.
"Hnnnn don't call me boy, I must only be a couple years behind you!"
Without warning his face snapped round 45 degrees as a swift blow bore it there. Kikoté groaned gently, his cheek burning. Oats' face pressed closer. He grabbed the exposed thong band and tugged it.
"Why...?"
"I-"
"Yes?"
It was so hard to think with such close proximity. Oats' looming face seemed to shut out his thoughts, warping his thought patterns with its singular presence.
"I, I like the feel and, and the airiness of it... It makes me feel- uh-" he said no more, already aware of what he had irretrievably started. Oats immediately dawned on it.
"Sexy? Is that what you were proposing?" Kikoté's eyes again widened, and he resumed his observation of the floor.
Oats pursued the subject. "You like the feel of having a piece of cotton running tightly down your crack don't you? It makes you feel... sexually powerful." His eyes flashed. "How... interesting. Well, Kikoté... do you feel powerful now? Answer me." Kikoté shook his head meekly, like an accosted student.
"No... but I do. I dominate. At first you were just a cute little diversion from battle, but now... now you will bring me so much more." He brought Kikoté to his knees. "You will be tamed." He growled. In one smooth action he ripped his trousers off and gripped kikoté's bowed head firmly. He lifted it to witness. Kikoté whimpered. Barely inches from his face Oats' dick was hard and long.
Again he tried to free himself, and again he was contained. Oats tutted gently.
"Oh Kikoté, have you no sense? You could not hope to free yourself from me." His grip increased on Kikoté's head, painfully. His captive's hands gripped his arms in reflex to the pain. "I could crush your head with the merest impulse. But since I find it so beautiful I will use it instead. Yes..."
Kikoté was suddenly aware that he could smell something.
It smelt warm and moist and sweet, but also something else. He breathed a little deeper to attempt to identify it. It made him feel something, but it was too indistinct to pinpoint.
Oats gave a single note of laughter. "Breathe deeper... it may make the process less emotionally damaging. You will do it."
Kikoté saw no point in resisting. He breathed a long breath in through his nose, and his head swam. He gasped gently, his eyes bulging. He took another breath, and another, again and again, unable to stop himself inhaling this intoxicating aroma.
Suddenly it occurred to him that it was emanating from Oats, but that no longer mattered. He could hardly think, held in the grasp of Oats' scent. He forgot even the need to resist, in body or mind. He simply stared forward, captivated, controlled.
"Do you see, Kikoté? Your body is weak, ruled by your sexual chemistry. Do you like the smell of a real male?"
Kikoté said nothing, but inside could feel himself beginning to comply, even as he fought it. He did not want to reveal it, but something beyond his control, something within himself, was gradually forcing the answer from him. All he could do was delay it's inevitable announcement. It was the only way of protesting this sensation; it could not be overcome. He kept silent for a long time, but soon Oat's pheromones did their work on him.
"Yes." He answered in a flat, emotionless, almost subconscious voice. Oats' smell had awakened a different part of his mind, one which submitted to this dominant male before him. His repressed independence became disgusted at his submittance, though it was what he craved. It was what the scent had forced him to crave. But his resistance was holding him, barely, from acting purely as he now desired. Oats' dick was immediately before him, a symbol of his inflicted servitude. His eyes became fixed on it.
Oats' smile became darker. "Yes... you cannot resist it. Your desires are now controlled by me. You will pleasure me. I hope it tastes as good as it smells to you."
The grip on Kikoté's head lessoned, enough for full freedom of movement. Oats was testing him, to ascertain how strong a hold on Kikoté he had. The struggle in Kikoté's head rolled on for another moment or two, his eyes becoming larger and more glassy all the while. Oats watched in delight, loving the control he was exerting over his prey. Kikoté's thoughts were almost nonexistent. The reasons for resisting were becoming less clear, the reasons for fully submitting more so. His eyes fluttered once. Soon only one thought filled his head: Obey. Obey his master Oats and the desire to please him. To submit.
He moaned longingly, felt his head move forward, his mouth open, push down. His mouth was suddenly full of hard cock. Oats' triumphant laughter filled his ears. Hands against the back of his head pushed down until Oats' end pressed against the back of his throat. His nose was so close to Oats' neat little crop of pubic hair, and as he breathed from necessity through his nose, such a wave of desire rushed through him that before he knew it he was sucking hard on the thick shaft, driving it deeper and deeper as his head plunged up and down. He was producing so much saliva, wetting the cock so that it tensed and twitched as his tongue passionately licked over it. Little drops of it were running down the unenveloped shaft and dripping from the hard balls which jiggled as Oats thrust back against Kikoté's lunges. Oats held Kikoté's head firmly, pushed hard downwards, driving his dick into Kikoté hard and satisfyingly, and moaning luxuriously as it thrust into ecstasy. He had wished to hold off slightly at the verge of orgasm to enjoy a more lasting sensation, but so lost was he in the moment that his pushes and thrusts became harder as his dick began to pump thick streams of jism down Kikoté's throat. Kikoté gurgled unobtrusively, gulping desperately to swallow it all. Oats' moans of primal pleasure rose to a climax of screaming and grunting, his hips pushing the last few seconds of pleasure from his dick, wet with saliva and cum. He pulled it out and left Kikoté to fall, choking and gagging, to the floor. For a few seconds more he continued to moan in high-pitched, satisfied manner. Beneath him his victim gasped for breath, his mouth in agony. No respite, he was dragged back to his feat, no longer in the grip of desire. A dribble of unchecked cum ran down his chin. His eyes were watering, and he whimpered quietly, as if not daring to display his true pain. They were at eye level now, the master and the victim. Kikoté felt the still-hard dick which had so tormented him press into his own through his khakis. Oats surrounded him, dominating. He had felt so strong amongst his own kind, both physically and sexually, but now... his entire index of power was dwarfed and overshadowed by this man, this male. His belly was warm and full, and the thought that he had drank so much of it made him feel sick... dizzy almost. It hurt to swallow. Oats smiled sickly to him.
"You are better than I imagined. You surrendered so easily to me and yet... your resistance was also strong. What does that tell you, Kikoté? That you latently enjoy living under the commanding scent of another male? That, although your cognitive mind rejects the possibility of you accepting it, your subconscious impulses desire it? Crave it?"
Kikoté stared blankly at him. His mind was again sluggish, but not as before from intoxication but from shock. This had not, could not, have happened to him... He had certainly not expected a life of plush luxury from his part in the war, but never had such an event as this occurred to him prior.
Why him? Why?
He gave a bucking sniff, a prelude to tears, and again was forced to stare into those interrogating eyes. Even before he met them he knew what was to follow. Oats wanted more. His personal disgust was more pronounced now that he was back in full possession of his senses, not only at what he had been forced to do but the fact that he had, for that brief moment, desired it. He felt as if he were suddenly a different person for the experience. Oats, having assessed his reactions, was talking again, but his voice seemed rather remote.
"I believe you do enjoy such things Kikoté, even if your everyday mind does not." It was Kikoté's turn to have his trousers torn from him. His body was now almost naked save the scant arrangements of his thong. Oats, unopposed, turned him round to face away. Kikoté began to whimper, pleading, knowing the intention of the move. Gently, Oats calmed him. His body was pressed back and his wings flattened either sides of him, so that he could feel his master. Oats had since disposed of his shirt, and the feeling of his warm, powerful chest against his back silenced any lingering rebelliousness in Kikoté. The hands had slid down until they reached his hips, where they remained.
"I will expose this desire for you." Whispered Oats delicately into his ear. "you will thank me for this." Kikoté's thong fell to his ankles.
Kikoté screamed as what felt like a rod of steel penetrated him. Oats' cock, schoud-assisted, thrust inside effortlessly and perfectly on-target, but the sudden expansion made Kikoté buck and writhe, his eyes screwed shut. He was restrained. His breathing was punctuated by little gasps and yelps which served to heighten Oats' desire. After a few seconds the pain subsided slightly as Kikoté involuntarily relaxed to allow more of Oats into him. Both were panting hard now, Kikoté with pain and Oats with pent-up desire. He was so enjoying the tight sensation of Kikoté's virginity that he almost did not wish to begin thrusting. But once he did oh, he could not stop. His hands gripped Kikoté's hips more tightly and pulled him downwards. Kikoté's eyes opened and bulged suddenly. There still was the pain but now a new sensation was emerging. As Oats' thrusts reached their zeniths he found himself emitting deep, guttural groans that held something other than pain.
He tried to resist it... the feel of the shaft as it slid in and out was strange, almost... pleasant.
No!
Suddenly panic gripped him as he realised his desires were overpowering him again. He did not want this, wished it would stop...
...and yet... the urge was growing inside him to grab his rapist's hips and pull, pull him further inside him, deeper, harder, faster. He screwed up his fists, tried to resist, but it was a losing struggle. The pain had meantime ceased to be a problem. He could feel himself becoming hard and, as it did, his resistance slipping away.
Oats' breathing and moaning was loud in his ear as his pulled him close. His breath felt so warming, his intrusion so wanted. So desired. Kikoté wanted him.
His hands reached back and took hold of his rapist's hips, to add emphasis to his own thrusts rearwards to meet Oats'. His moans began to mingle with Oats' as well. All of a sudden Kikoté's ass and legs were dripping, slippery, with come, and he was being gripped by Oats in a way which he hadn't expected at all; tenderly. Oats rubbed his face against the side of Kikoté's, still breathing hard. Kikoté rubbed back. His disgust was gone.
"Kikoté... oh..." said his former rapist, so satisfied. "Embrace me... embrace your desire!"