Page 29 of First Snow
Arttu rests his head on Jareth’s shoulder, and Jareth realizes with fondness that his sub has the perfect height for this position. Exhaling, Arttu relaxes even more. Jareth just wishes he knew what has him so on edge. Arttu is hiding it well most of the time, but there’s always a tension underneath the surface, as if he’s constantly waiting for an attack, always ready to fight. It’s only when they’re physically close that Arttu unwinds, his breathing evening out and his muscles unclenching. Jareth hopes the spanking will help him let go.
“There’re a lot of people out there,” Arttu says against Jareth’s shoulder.
Jareth presses a soft kiss to the top of Arttu’s head. “I can blindfold you if it helps you relax.”
Arttu chews on his bottom lip and tries to catch a glimpse through the curtain again. “Yeah, maybe.” He doesn’t sound convinced. Jareth pulls him in again and rubs soothing patterns over his back.
“We can still call this off,” Jareth whispers. “You realize that you have all the power in this, don’t you? You only lend it to me to manage it, but it’s you who’s calling the shots.” He clasps Arttu’s jaw with one hand and tilts it so that Arttu meets his gaze. “I don’t care what people out there think, or what they expect. I’m your servant tonight, if you will, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you enjoy our session.”
Arttu’s breath catches. He visibly has trouble maintaining eye contact.
“This includes stopping the session anytime you want,” Jareth continues. “You remember the traffic light system?”
Arttu’s gentle expression turns into a teasing grin. “Of course, sir. Red means go ahead and green means stop, right?”
For a second Jareth only gapes at him. Then he grabs Arttu by the throat and pulls him up on his toes. It’s a playful gesture. Satisfyingly, Arttu yelps in surprise. He isn’t choking, but still his hands come up to rest on Jareth’s wrist.
“I’m serious, Arttu,” Jareth growls, but the grin that slips across his face betrays his amusement.
“What kind of idiot do you take me for?” Arttu splutters, eyes glazing over with desire. “Of course I rememberhow the traffic light system works.”
“Still. It can be challenging to put a stop to things if they get too intense.”
“We’ve been over this. I can handle the scene. You said it isn’t even a proper demonstration, more like a show act.” Despite his position, Arttu runs soothing hands up and down Jareth’s arms. The gesture has a warm feeling spreading through Jareth’s chest. He never had a sub treating him like this. Everyone else just has too much respect for his status to defy him, tease him, and comfort him like Arttu does.
“Don’t take this lightly,” Jareth grumbles. Letting go of Arttu again, he picks up the black bull whip he uses for his demonstrations, a device he enchanted himself to enhance pleasure instead of pain. As he touches it, a residue of magical energy flows in blue-green sparks over the whip. Arttu’s eyes widen.
“What was that?”
“A light effect,” Jareth lies without missing a beat. Normally, the knowledge of deceiving the whole world about his true nature feels exhilarating, but now he wishes he could be honest with Arttu.
The whip is pried out of Jareth’s hands, and Arttu, curious creature that he is, takes a closer look. Jareth lets him, even though it’s a risky move. He can’t have Arttu finding out his secret by accident. A more hedonistic part of Jareth revels in the danger of this game. Arttu is clever, hemayfind out and Jareth is curious what will happen then. What would Arttu have to say about a half-Fae who delivers his own kind of private justice to magical offenders? Jareth knows that his parents wouldn’t appreciate his carelessness, but they’re also always pestering him about forming honest emotional connections, so this is kind of what they want, right?
Arttu shudders as his hands glide over the smooth leather, eliciting soft sparks.
“Oh,” Arttu all but moans at the sensation. “This feels really nice.”
Jareth watches Arttu’s eyes glaze over. He can feel Arttu’s arousal growing, and all of this only because of a little leftover magical energy. Arttu is so very responsive.
The red marks left on Arttu’s ass and thighs by Jareth’s hands and the paddle form a beautiful pattern on his pale skin. The watching crowd and the instructions Jareth gave at the beginning of the session have faded to the back of his mind, and his sole focus is on the gorgeous, naked man writhing in his lap. It’s a sublime feeling to sit on a throne-like chair in front of an audience that follows his every move and hangs on his lips like loyal subjects as he makes a proud man like Arttu come undone under his touch. Jareth understands perfectly well why his Fae kin has a taste for power.
He delivers another blow to Arttu’s inner thigh, eliciting a soft yelp followed by a delicious moan. Jareth can feel the hardness of Arttu’s cock where it’s trapped against his thigh, the fabric of Jareth’s suit pants already soaked with Arttu’s precome. He drags his fingers over the reddened skin of Arttu’s pretty backside, not scratching but not caressing either. Arttu whines as Jareth tugs at the plug, pulling it out a bit before pushing it all the way backin.
“Color?” Jareth asks. Arttu seems relaxed enough, but Jareth wants to make absolutely sure he’s okay. Besides, he loves how Arttu scrunches up his nose in distaste, how he spits out the word ‘green’ as if it personally offends him to admit that he’s enjoying this.
“Green,” Arttu predictably grits out between labored breaths. He cranes his neck and sends Jareth as much of a dirty look as he can muster while sprawled across his lap.
Chuckling, Jareth rains down a series of fast blows on Arttu’s backside. He has foregone the paddle again after playing with it for a while, wanting to feel Arttu’s skin under his hands.
Arttu starts to fidget as the blows increase in intensity. His yelps are disrupted by increasingly desperate moans as he brushes his cock against Jareth’s thigh. His squirming and moaning alone has Jareth uncomfortably hard. He’s pretty sure he could not only get Arttu off like this, but that he could come too just by watching Arttu struggle. Jareth’s initial plan was to make Arttu come when the actual whipping starts, but seeing him wrecked like this makes Jareth crave more. Why not coax two orgasms from his magnificent sub?
“Okay, sweetheart, you’re allowed to come,” Jareth says, leaning forward a little as if speaking only for Arttu’s ears. Jareth’s voice echoes through the room nonetheless.
Arttu answers him with a moan and arches his back in a desperate attempt to get more. Jareth’s grin widens. Arttu is such a wanton thing once he gets out of his head.
Finding a steady rhythm, Jareth makes sure to aim for the plug every now and then to push it in deeper. A light sheen of sweat starts to coat Arttu’s shoulders and the small of his back, and his breath comes out in strained little gasps.
“Come for me now,” Jareth orders, and fills the next blow with a hint of the same pleasurable magic he pours into the whip.