[ there's another sharp breath, and he shudders, curling over Ticky's back and using his grip on his hips to hold him still. he's not entirely sure the extent of the pleasure he can get from this (tho he won't deny, seeing Ticky so eager for pain is a turn-on in itself) but it probably doesn't matter if he comes, anyway.

it'd suck, but really, he's just using him. pouring out his frustrations into him, in the way he rocks into his body -- slowly, steady, forcing himself a bit deeper each time even though it feels like he's fucking the skin off his dick -- the way he scrapes his nails over his stomach, sliding under his shirt to dig into the scar tissue over his chest. even when there's pain, there's pleasure, and it's easy enough for him to latch onto that. ]

How long has it been--- exactly---