His cock is so hard--I look at it, wanting to suck it again.
"Not yet," Ares cautions. "I want him desperate for me. You can hold back, can't you, Caesar? This isn't too much for you, is it?" What a bastard. I'm not sure whose suffering he's enjoying more--mine or Iphicles'. How can I not identify with the king? I know what it's like to be alone in hell, knowing your lover will leave you, and the only sound you'll hear for an eternity is your own heartbeat. Your skin will cool without the sun, without another's touch, and you'll slowly go mad.
Do I like torturing Iphicles? Yes. Because my torture brings him pleasure, if only for now. Because he loves what I'm doing as much as he hates it. I understand him. And I want him. I want him so much that I would die all over again just to have him. So I lick his balls, laving the finely-textured skin while he sits up to stroke my hair. To watch me.
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