Wherein definition is given to the term "nerdgasm". There will be wonking. Warnings for slash, solo masturbation, D/s themes, superhero kink, knives.
Sollux could still hear Eridan's laughter as he leaned against the door. Only when he heard Eridan's door shut did he let himself exhale, pulling himself from the door and walking to his bed, mind still hazy with booze and flirtation.
Sollux kicked his sandals off under his bed and fell onto it, immediately beginning to rub himself through his jeans, he thrust his hips up with a soft breath, feeling himself harden further. Dammit, Eridan really did this to him? Fuck, he was annoying, but he was actually kind of fun to hang out with, but he was an asshole, but he was hot, BUT HE WAS STILL AN ASSHOLE. Sollux undid his jeans and pulled them off, rubbing himself through his underwear as he threw his head back. What if they really were rivals? He imagined himself breaking into Eridan's hideout, poised and eyes dark.
No, he couldn't be thinking about Eridan that would be too damn weird. What was that name he used? Dualscar? Sure, good enough. That'd work just fine. After enough teasing and rubbing through the fabric, Sollux spread his legs further and brought a second hand down into his underwear; gripping and squeezing as he momentarily choked on his breath. He then just shut out his logical sense and allowed a scene to play out behind his eyes…
Dualscar waited in his lair, yet another maniacal plan in the works, a marvel of planning and cunning, with more than a fair share of masterful manipulation. He would have his greatest victory to date, to the downfall of his nemesis.
The doors of the room flew open, and the Psionic burst forth, "Dualscar, I have you just where I want you!" The Psionic was clad in his latex black and yellow jumpsuit with a white labcoat over it, one red glove and one blue to match the goggles over his eyes. He stood before Dualscar with a menacing glare.
"I been waitin' for you," Dualscar sneered, looking down from a raised platform, lounging upon a throne. He stood, drawing himself up to his full height, the harsh overhead lighting playing on his long purple coat and tall boots, doffing his plumed hat and bowing in false reverence. "Welcome to my lair, Psionic. We have business, you an' I. A score to settle, if you will."
"I can see through your nefarious ways, you cunning snake. Tonight is the night I will bring you to justice!" The Psionic stepped forward cautiously, defenses high as though anticipating an attack from his nemesis. His goggles were still firmly set over his eyes, boots quiet as he stalked closer, never taking his eyes off Dualscar.
"So you say, Psionic, though I fear our merry rivalry will indeed be comin' to an end, this night. I've drawn you to my lair for one reason, to resolve this little...dispute a ours." He perched his hat atop a carven skull that decorated his throne, sliding off his jacket, revealing no shirt but an ornate jerkin and trousers, and thick belt. He tossed the knife from his belt down to the floor before the Psionic "You an' I, we will settle this as men."
"You better believe it. By my honor and pride, I will end this tonight for the good of all. Even if I should fall." The Psionic slid off his labcoat and let it pool around him, stepping closer and retrieving the knife from the floor, flicking it open. His jumpsuit had sleeves that came halfway down his bicep, otherwise covering every inch of his body down to his black combat boots.
Dualscar flicked open a second knife, before jumping down from the platform, lunging at the Psionic, eyes crazed with the thrill of a challenge.
The Psionic ducked back and parried, arm stretched out further in an effort to not be stabbed in the chest. He stung Dualscar's cheek with a red electric spark as a distraction.
Dualscar flinched, but recovered, and he dropped down, sweeping his legs to knock down the Psionic from underneath.
The Psionic fell to the ground, reaching for his knife, but it was just out of reach. He tried to crawl after it with a quick jump from his knees.
Dualscar was fast, and lightning-quick he was on his feet, kicking the knife away, laughing. "What now, Psionic?" he jeered, delivering a quick kick to the ribs.
From his position on the floor, as he struggled to get up, he burned Dualscar's cheek and shoulder with his lightning.
Dualscar winced, and delivered another kick, before reaching down and grabbing the Psionic by the hair, yanking his head up. "You've lost, mate. No knife, an' nothin' but your sparks to save you. I could cut your throat an' watch you bleed to death, with no more consequence than havin' to wipe the blood from my floor. What do you say to that?"
The Psionic twisted and writhed in Dualscar's grasp, refusing to surrender to such a reprehensible man, choosing to spit in his face instead. His vision was still meshed blue and red behind his goggles.
Dualscar's grip tightened as he wiped his face with his forearm. He pulled the Psionic's head up further, leaving the hero on his knees, whimpering in pain. He leaned down, to growl in the Psionic's ear, "What's this? A li'l rain to go with your piss-poor lightnin'? I'm not impressed. I expected more challenge out a you. I expected some fuckin' fight. Where's the fire in you? Or is that all you got?"
The Psionic gasped as he felt that voice up against his ear, causing a wicked jolt of energy to pass through his body, across his already overheated skin. He was slick with sweat from his exhausting night, from finding and fighting his way through Dualscar's lair, he had no strength to fight without his resources. He didn't want to beg for mercy, he couldn't, he wouldn't!
The Psionic prayed this night would not be his last.
Dualscar laughed, running his thumb along the blade he held. "Always gettin' in my way, ain't you? No more, I say, no more. Ah, but you are too fun to simply murder an' be done with!" He pushed the Psionic to the ground, kneeling down, one knee in the center of the Psionic's back. "An' you've presented trouble in enough a my plans where I got a mind to take some special payment out a you."
The Psionic glared over his shoulder, tensing and twisting to the best of his abilities in that position, uneven teeth bared in a grimace, "You're insane, Dualscar! You think you can properly punish me for my pursuit of justice? Well go ahead!"
"Justice? HAHAHAHAHAH! Justice don't exist, fool! A concept a fairness that ain't ever been achieved in reality! A sweet ideal that ain't ever possible! No, Psionic, if you believed in bein' right an' fair, you wouldn' keep gettin' in my way when I try pinchin' a few measly priceless gemstones from a bunch a greedy bastards what bought 'em with stolen money an' received bribes. You'd a brought them to justice already yourself. No, no, Psionic. I'm not punishin' you for tryin' to pursue justice or fairness or the tooth fairy." He pressed harder with his knee, leaning down to grasp the Psionic's head with his hand. "If anythin', I'm punishin' you for bein' a fuckin' fool."
The Psionic wilted under that grasp, another whimper of pain coming from that throat. He only barely moved his head, his voice a low whisper, as he tried to push himself up, "Nnnng please, let me go..."
"Beggin' me for mercy, eh? Maybe you ain't such a fool as I figured. Maybe I will be merciful, maybe I won't." He traced the point of the blade along the Psionic's shoulder. "I can't well have you foilin' my plans again, but...heh. Maybe I could be persuaded not to kill you, either."
The Psionic tensed as he felt that point travel across his back, his breath quaked and his body shook as he was left in the goodwill of DUALSCAR of all monsters. He ground his teeth, gloved hands in fists pounding on the floor.
"That's enough a that." Dualscar held down one of the Psionic's arms and slipped the knife point up one of the Psionic's thin sleeves, twisted the knife, and pulled gently up, splitting the fabric. He slid the blade along, slicing the fabric with surgical precision, a faint scratch being drawn across the Psionic's arm, shoulder, and the side of his neck. "Let's see the man under the costume, shall we?"
"You wouldn't..." The Psionic gave another quick gasp, leading to the faint scratch carved into his skin out of sheer surprise. Under his hands, Dualscar could feel the hero seemingly shrink into himself, showing more and more vulnerability than he had ever seen from him before. The Psionic was not about to cry or panic or anything so pathetic, but his nerves were certainly being tested better than any other trial Dualscar had put him through before. If the villain heard close enough, he could hear and feel the breath catch in his body as he sliced through.
"Wouldn't I?" he said, simply, drawing the blade down the hero's side, slicing though the cloth over his shoulders, his ribs, his belly, finally his hip, leaving behind a thin red legacy of the knife's path. "I won, Psionic. I won, with no tricks. Even you can understand that. The prize is now mine to do with as I see fit."
The Psionic remained silent, the skin Dualscar could see at that point was flushed pink and slightly moist from his sweat. He seemed to hiss through his teeth as the salt literally was pushing into his wounds. He refused to look at Dualscar again, his eyes squeezed shut, "You depraved monster..."
"There are two ways a respondin' to allegations like that, Psionic," Dualscar sneered, neatly slicing down to the Psionic's knee, before coming back up to start afresh on the Psionic's other side, starting with the sleeve. "Either I could protest an' try convincin' you otherwise, or I could prove you absolutely fuckin' right. One a these sounds more fun than the other." He paused his blade mid-hip, leaning down to growl, his breath hot against the Psionic's neck. "Guess which one I'm gonna do."
The Psionic tried to pull away from the source of Dualscar's low voice, the touch of that blade still serving as a stinging reminder that he was defeated, he was through, and unless he played his cards right, he would be killed. He gave no answer aside from a tiny hiss of pain and a gasp of breath, allowing Dualscar to continue as he saw fit.
"Now I could kill you. You come into my lair, my home, an' you challenge me to a fight you lost fair an' square, so I figure, I got the right to kill you quick if I want. Your life is mine. You got nobody to save you, an' no hope 'cept for my mercy. What will you do?" Dualscar shut his knife and, with a good strong yank, ripped the fabric the rest of the way. The Psionic would keep his gloves and boots, but if he were allowed to stand, the rest of his clothing would fall away. "What are you gonna do, hero?"
Those words were doing strange, strange, illicit things to the Psionic's mind; almost as though Dualscar had his own set of psychic controls. That was impossible, only he had the Gemini gift; the source of his psychic powers. In any case, he tensed and ducked his head down, "Take my body. Do what you will with me, just let me live..."
Dualscar threw back his head and laughed, reveling in his victory. He combed his hand through the Psionic's hair, gripping tightly and pulling up as he rose to his feet. "Up, Psionic. You're goin' to be my new pet." He withdrew a remote control from his pocket, and flicked a button. The raised platform with his throne descended, and as it neared ground level, the Psionic could see that Dualscar's throne had been fitted with a new addition: A wide leather collar lay on the floor, bound to the throne by a thick chain of rubber-coated links. "Your sparks will have no effect on this, my lad, Hahaha!"
Completely naked, flushed down to his chest, the Psionic tried to do what he could to cover his nudity, but failed utterly. He peeked for a moment at the addition and realized in a horrified manner, "You were planning this all along, weren't you, you fiend? It was always your objective to make me your slave?"
"Slave? No, that implies I got some work for you. No, Psi, you're goin' to be my plaything. I dislike mixin' business an' pleasure," Dualscar shoved the Psionic forward, "Now put this on."
Much to his humiliation, his body was reacting to this treatment in a less than dignified manner, his flesh burning with sensitivity and his cock beginning to harden. Without hesitation he dropped to his knees, strictly to hide his erection, but also to obey his first order.
He had secretly hoped, had secretly had some horrible dark desire within him to be given this objective. After so many fights and mental duels, he was aware of the flaws and faults and failures of the man. The final stop was a cruel one, a disgusting one, one that his sidekick Miss Mist would never have understood should he have had the chance.
"Good," nodded Dualscar, sitting in his throne. "You've earned another day a life. Do my biddin' an' you'll be treated well, or as well as I see fit to treat you. Disobey me, an', well, you can probably guess the consequences. I hope you won't give me cause to kill you, Psi, as I would a been much more entertained by your antics had they not crossed my plans. Now, you're free to entertain me while still stayin' properly out a the way, hahahahaha!"
The Psionic stared plantively up at Dualscar while biting his lip; letting it slip between his teeth before requesting softly, "Kiss me."
Dualscar grinned, beckoning the Psionic with his fingers. "Sit in my lap, an' I will."
The Psionic crawled forward and did as he was told without a single complaint. He sat across Dualscar's lap, nude aside from his gloves, boots, and goggles. His slender, toned thighs were pressed together against the outside of Dualscar's right leg while his pert, fine ass was seated on his left thigh. His arms wound around Dualscar's neck, lips parted and moist.
Dualscar slipped one arm around the Psionic's waist, pulling him closer into his lap, his other hand fingering the chain that bound the former hero. He lightly bit the Psionic's lower lip, before kissing him.
The Psionic gave a little squeak in his throat before kissing back, his hands cupping the back of Dualscar's head, sliding his tongue out to try and taste his new master.
Dualscar was pleased by how eager his plaything was, and he parted his lips, letting his new acquisition taste him and explore as he wished. He let his tongue meet his, flicking it lightly, before retreating back into his mouth.
The Psionic chased his master's tongue, straddling him his throne and pushing his tongue in his mouth. He tilted his head to the side and kissed him deeply, their chests pressing together as the Psionic's hard cock rubbed against Dualscar's stomach. He whimpered softly in pleasure, lips parted against his master's.
Dualscar let his hand drop down, squeezing one ass-cheek, letting his nails dig in a little. As his nemesis's tongue probed his mouth, he trapped it with his tongue, sucking on it.
The Psionic purred and thrust his hips, lifting his arms just enough to work both of his gloves off slowly and dropping them at the sides of the throne. When his hands were bare, he slid them around Dualscar's neck, rubbing lightly as he continued to moan in pleasure.
He released the Psionic's tongue, tugging on his chain. "Good boy, you'll be a fine toy indeed. Show me what you can do."
The Psionic tugged his goggles up, letting them rest on the top of his head while he licked his swollen lips with a grin, "Tell me what you wish of me, sir."
The eyes staring back at Dualscar were light brown and a dirty blue, hazy with desire.
"You're just achin' to please me, ain't you?" he smirked, tugging again at his chain. "Stroke yourself, let me see that face when you're doin' yourself."
"Yes sir just PLEASE don't stop talking!" The Psionic used one hand to grip the arm of the throne while the other circled the base of his cock with a firm grip, beginning to jerk and stroke at his erection with a pleasured keen; his head leaning back and his eyes shut.
A harsh tug at the chain, "You don't get to tell me what to do, you got that? I am your god damned MASTER. I am makin' that fuckin' clear right now, you got that?" he barked, and the Psionic bit his lip, eyes wide and demeanor meek.
Dualscar eyed him with approval, as he leaned back and grinned, "Though out a my own benevolence, I see fit to comply with your request, simply because it pleases me to do so. So you keep strokin' yourself, you quixotic piece of fuckin' trash, an' make noise only loud enough where you can still hear your new fuckin' god."
The Psionic was soothed by the backhanded approval from Dualscar. His expression relaxed somewhat as his hand returned to teasing his cock, his fingers teasing and pinching the head. He simply breathed, not making any sound louder for fear of displeasing his new master, this was so fucking perfect. It was so degrading but he wanted it, he was his, with his awful disposition and that smirk on those lips, the way he pulled him out of himself and wanted him to be his, he must've known what he was doing to him he wanted it, he wanted more, oh fuck. Fuck, he already felt his orgasm approach as the name came out of him, "Shit, oh fucking god...I-I can't oh god Eridan please fuck!"
Sollux came explosively in his hands, riding out the pulse of his orgasm with a long moan, his neck and back arching. He couldn't help but feel complete, but so dirty at the same time, it was pure euphoria. The textbook definition, right there in his hands. As he came down, he panted, eyes wide open as he realized that, fuck…he had just jerked off thinking about Eridan.
He cleaned his hands off on his shirt, took it off and threw it in the hamper. He walked over to the bathroom, opened the door and looked in the mirror. Good god what the hell was wrong with him?