Untouchable | fdom x ghost x konig

✰ | eight ;

"Be good and take it, okay, Simon?" I coo before grabbing onto his belt buckle. He lets out a soft noise of surprise as I unbuckle, sliding it out of the loops in the band of his pants in one fluid move. His hips rise as I pull and I push him down again, weaving the rough black leather around his neck. He stares up at me, almost as if he were trying to draw mercy out of me. 

I wonder if he trusts what I'm about to do. 

I take a moment and gaze down at him. Inspecting him in the dimness of the room. A soft cotton t-shirt gripped his torso and military-style cargo pants now sagged slightly against his waist. His skull face, which I now understand to be two pieces, the skull itself and the balaclava. At any point, he could pull the fabric down at his chin and reveal his lips. Soft, romantic lips, from what I remember. 

I slide the end through the buckle only. Ghost watches me like a puppy. I don't warn him, pulling it taunt against his throat. Simon's instincts take over, his hand grabbing onto the belt, his brows furrowing. "What are you—" Irritation spikes through me. I yank harder and he chokes, his abs straining to lift him up as I kept it strict around his neck. I dare him to oppose me.

Simon knows exactly what I'm doing. I'm testing him, to see if he wanted to go through with it. His hand slips off the belt. He grabs at the bed sheets, condemning himself to asphyxiation. His lips move under his balaclava, almost as if he were trying to tell me something... I wonder if I care enough to let him speak his mind.

He writhes beneath me, not directly fighting against me, but shifting and rubbing against me. I look down at him, ignoring his reddening face. Grinding, actually, lifting his body against my own. It was hard to ignore how turned on he was, even though he was literally suffocating by my hand. "Wow, really? You're hard?" There's no playful teasing in my voice and he seems to grow tenser as I speak. 

I loosen my hold and he gasps in a saliva-filled breath, his chest heaving. A soft whimper leaves him and his eyes are slightly vulnerable. "C-Canary—agh—" I choke him again, this time wrapping the belt around my wrist twice and planting my hand onto the bed. I wonder just how far I could go with him. 

A killing machine, capable of each and everything that I can think of. Unbreakable, right? He falls back, his breath cut off audibly and his eyes widen, tears already forming. I don't count the seconds, instead, I let my anger tally off reactions. 

His throat straining, veins appearing against his chest, and his pupils dilating. 

Was that a natural reaction or was I going too hard on him? His throat is a dark shade of purple, the belt digging in deep. He doesn't fight it. He's momentarily mute, only the sounds of his teeth clicking together coming through as he chokes. "Take it, Simon. How does it feel to be powerless?" He raises his left arm and I slam his wrist against the bed, leaning down. He eyes me through the corner of his eyes, his head already tilting back. Even though the balaclava was covering his face, I knew that his face was probably a color similar to a sunset. I could kill him. I was pushing the limits and I knew I could kill him. I could end his life, keep going, keep choking him. Show them what happens when they don't trust me, when they test me, interrogate me, pick me as their personal plaything--It was reckless and harsh and cruel, but I was all those things and more.

His eyelids droop and I let go, his first breath accompanied by a high-pitched noise. Like a short whistle noise ripping him back into consciousness, Ghost nearly throws me off of him as he dry heaves--gagging at the pain in his throat. "H-Hah, sh--it, fuck," He coughs, his free hand latching onto the belt and fitting two fingers through it. My arm is snapped from its position beside me, his strength completely overpowering my own. I put a hand on his chest and I can feel how fast his heart was beating, oxygen kicking him awake as he gasped.