Mmph. The Doctor shoves him hard down into the pillows, and he was expecting a reaction but he wasn't expecting that. The muscles of his shoulderblades tighten reflexively and his fingers curl into the sheets of the Doctor's bed, preparing to push his body up.
He catches himself before he moves on the reaction, and breathes. He can still breath. The Doctor isn't pushing him down to smother him, to demonstrate to him that he no longer possesses a respiratory bypass system. He's fine. Breathe.
And then the Doctor jerks his head up by the hair, and the quick run of sensations that follow—the release of the grip, the hand on his back and buttocks, the pressure at his anus, the smack and sting of the Doctor's hand against his skin, brings him back to himself. He pushes up and back against the Doctor, a violent ruck of hips that rubs his own erection against the bed under him and presses his anus harder against the Doctor's finger.
He's forgotten, in his reaction to that moment of surprise and airlessness, that he's chosen to submit.
no subject
He catches himself before he moves on the reaction, and breathes. He can still breath. The Doctor isn't pushing him down to smother him, to demonstrate to him that he no longer possesses a respiratory bypass system. He's fine. Breathe.
And then the Doctor jerks his head up by the hair, and the quick run of sensations that follow—the release of the grip, the hand on his back and buttocks, the pressure at his anus, the smack and sting of the Doctor's hand against his skin, brings him back to himself. He pushes up and back against the Doctor, a violent ruck of hips that rubs his own erection against the bed under him and presses his anus harder against the Doctor's finger.
He's forgotten, in his reaction to that moment of surprise and airlessness, that he's chosen to submit.