Laziness

"Are you ready for this yet? Answer." He stroked the Elf's entrance gently, pressing against it a little.

Over the past few rounds, he had been touching the man there, stroking him and pressing against him.

He had yet to penetrate since the vibrator, but he hoped by the end of the Session, the man would at least let him finger him without flinching or tensing.

The Elf was exhausted, beyond that, he had been exhausted two rounds ago but he pressed on, taking everything that Zakhar had thrown at him.

His body was as relaxed as it was going to get, he could hardly muster the energy needed to tense up properly.

"Yes, Mast-er."
He muttered, barely able to get the words out, his throat was raw from all the moaning and crying out.

They had been down here for hours, he was thirsty and hungry and above all tired and sore.

He was as ready as he was ever going to be, his mind was too clouded to be scared and his body too tired to resist.

That breathless, husky murmur sent a shiver down his spine.

His voice was hoarse through crying out and moaning because he had been pleasuring him. He had done this to the Elf. No one else. Just him.

"Good boy," he purred.

Zakhar pressed himself to the man's entrance. "Are you ready?"

A moment later, the Lycan pushed into his lover slowly with a load groan.

Tyrael made a small noise in discomfort as the Lycan pushed into him, his fingers twitching the slightest amount as his sides in a feeble attempt to clench into fists or cling to the table.

He groaned, louder than he had in the last few round as he stretched around the Lycan, his body putting up no resistance.

There was no clenching or tensing, the man did not even squirm beneath the Lycan.

He couldn't even if he wanted to, instead he just lay there, forcing his eyes to stay open, he knew that if he let them shut he would pass out and he would not be waking for some time.

Zakhar groaned softly as he began thrusting into the older man.

He had yet to let himself come in the Session and he was aroused to the point of it being painful.

With the session three quarters of the way through, he'd allow himself the luxury of being able to come.

His hand searched out Tyrael's member to begin pumping it once more.

Tyrael gazed down at the Lycan's him thrusting, the man was inside of him he could see that clear enough but his body barely registered the pain anymore.

However as the his member was grasped and pumped he grit his teeth and hissed softly, he had become far too sensitive and even the softest touch made him ache.

He groaned and tilted his head back, panting as he tried to push through it, the pain would fade soon enough and he would be able to come once more.

"You still have two more rounds to go after this. How are you going to cope?" Zakhar asked with a soft, husky chuckle.

With the way he was going, Zakhar wouldn't be surprised if Tyrael passed out after this round.

If that happened, the Lycan wouldn't be angry or try to wake him and carry on.

The Lycan was very impressed with the Elf. Ten times was a fair amount. Even he struggled with that sometimes.

If Tyrael passed out, Zakhar would clean him up and return him to his room for some much needed rest.

He forced his eyes to gaze up at the Lycan, glaring at him.
The Elf would make it to twelve even if it pained him to do it, the Lycan had set the challenge and he would not quit when he was so close.

His mouth opened, as if to say something despite the fact the Lycan had told him not to and he barely had a voice.

Instead his tongue slid out and ran across his lips, dampening the parched skin as he smirked up at the Lycan. He'd cope.

Zakhar's lips curled up into a smirk in return.

He bent his head to kiss the man with a purr, tongue running over his lower lip as his hips and hand continued to move.

Tyrael was very much like him when it came to challenges, it seemed. Once one was set in his way and he accepted it, he'd get it done come rain or shine.

He kissed him back as best he could, even managing to bring one of his hands up and stroke the Lycan's neck softly before falling back to his side.

Tyrael panted heavily as he gazed up at Zakhar as his body was raked by a shudder as his member once again got hard in the Lycan's grasp.

This was only his second session with the Lycan and already his body responded to his touch, even when it was in pain.

"So little and you're already hard," Zakhar chuckled softly, lips trailing down the Elf's neck, tongue lapping out and teeth grazing over his skin.

"I haven't even begun with proper training and you're already doing so well. Just imagine how well you'll react when I do start training you."

The thrusting of his hips and hand sped up a little as his breathing started to pick up.

The Elf whined softly as his body made the smallest attempts to writhe.

Having his member touched again after so many rounds had him stuck in a place where pain and pleasure were so close that they could not be distinguished.

Every stroke had him moaning and gritting his teeth at the same time.

His tongue laved over the man's throat before sucking a patch into his skin.

He sucked a bit at it until he was sure he had left a dark patch.

Zakhar liked leaving as many marks as he could during a Session. It proved he had been there and conquered. Seeing as he and Tyrael were becoming rather frequent fuck buddied, he was quite happy to leave as many marks as often as he could on the Elf's skin.

He let his eyes flutter shut before forcing them back open, a soft purr rumbling in his throat as his neck was mark again.

He locked eyes with the Lycan and was determined to keep them on his until this round was finished, it would keep sleep as bay for a little while longer.

His hips moved with Zakhar's as he thrust into him, the man was not being as harsh with him as he had the last two times, it may have been a delusion due to exhaustion but he could almost feel how this could be considered pleasurable.

Zakhar's silver eye stared down at Tyrael's electric blue as he continued thrusting into him.

His movements were a lot more gentle than they had been in the past. He wasn't tearing into the man with rough, forced sex or shoving a toy into him. His hips were moving slowly, hand following the same rhythm.

The Lycan gave a soft moan, head tilting back a little.

After so many times watching Tyrael come, he could finally feel the smouldering heat in the pit of his stomach igniting.

Tyrael gave a soft moan, his lips parting again as he panted for air.

The Elf's body trembled in protest as it tried to stop him from coming again, he didn't have much left the offer but he would force out three more, just three, such a small number now.

He kept his eyes on Zakhar, watching the man to keep himself conscious.

It took very little to get him to climax now, hit hurt like hell but the touch required was minimal due to how sensitive he had become.

"I'm going..."
He groaned the words breathlessly, Zakhar knew what he was trying to say, he said it nine times already.

"Me too," the Lycan breathed out.

His hips continued thrusting into the Elf, the rhythm becoming erratic with each thrust as his breathing came in sharp pants.

After a few moments, he gave a loud moan and came, stilling inside the man.

He gave a strong shudder as he felt the man release inside of him, the Lycan's heat spilled into him and he could feel him throbbing in him.

He gave a pained moan as he came again, his body throbbed and he spilled into the Lycan's hand only the smallest amount, he had so little to offer him at his point.

Tyrael continued to look up at him, panting heavily, his body pinned to the table by his own weight as his body continuously trembled with soft shivers.

Zakhar braced himself, one hand either side of the man's head.

He panted softly as he looked down at the man, hair sliding from his shoulders to frame his face.

"You're absolutely spent," he murmured softly.

They had reached ten - that was a feat to be proud of. He was considering just leaving it here. Tyrael had come ten times, him once. He was quite happy with how much they had achieved in this Session.

He continued to gaze up at the Lycan, the fire in his deep blue eyes quickly fading as his body was overcome with exhaustion but still he shook his head at the Lycan.

Tyrael didn't want to give up and where most Slaves would be begging for a rest he fought to keep his eyes open, he was an Elf, stubborn by all rights.

Beads of sweat collected on his face and chest, streaking down his body.

He continued to pant heavily it would take a fair while for his breath to calm down this time.

"Fighting until the bitter end," Zakhar chuckled, pulling out of the man with a soft moan.

"Your pride will kill you one day."

He stroked down the Eelf's legs gently, releasing the restraints around his ankles.

"That's enough for today." Even times between them was a good Session in the Russian's mind.

He grunted softly as the Lycan pulled out of him, he felt oddly empty, not something he was accustomed to.

Zakhar had ended the session, he was allowed to leave.
He tried to push himself up into a seated position but he was utterly spent and exhausted.

His arms trembled and buckled beneath him, forcing him to lay back down on the table.

He wanted to go up to his room and shower then stumble into bed and sleep for a few days but he couldn't even manage that at the moment.

Zakhar pulled his slacks back on and stretched as he watched Tyrael struggle to keep himself in a sitting position.

He had pushed him quite a lot.

The Lycan strolled over to the Elf's jeans and picked them up, holding them out to the Elf as he walked back over.

"Do you want my help or are you just going to struggle through it yourself?"

He lay there and looked at the jeans the Lycan held in his hand, he reached up to taken them but as soon as his arm hovered off the table it began to tremble as he struggled to stay conscious.

Tyrael put his arm back on the table, there was no point trying to move yet, he couldn't do it.

"Help, please."
He muttered softly, swallowing his pride, there was no point in struggling to try and dress when he couldn't even sit up at the moment.

"At least you can swallow your pride when you need to."

Zakhar crouched, sliding the denim over the man's feet then pulling the fabric up his legs as he stood.

"Are you going to stand and use me as a crutch or am I going to carry you?"

At the moment he didn't know which one Tyrael would choose. He had swallowed his pride, but would that extend to being carried through the halls?