Netherworld 11 Title: Netherworld Fandom: Galactik Football Characters: Rocket, Sinedd, Tia, D'Jok, Warren Rating: R Summary: Sinedd makes an offer Rocket just can’t refuse. Or can he? Wheels within wheels and Sinedd’s not ready to surrender. Non-con, psychological deterioration, slash, Rocket x Sinedd, Rocket x Tia. Happy Birthday, FemaleSpock! Got this chapter up just for you.
Netherworld: Strategy Shift
'What?' Rocket tried to say. His mouth was open. His breath drifted over his tongue, hot on his own wounded lips. No sound came out. He looked down at Sinedd, at the pale thin lips, and felt a jolt of arousal strike him. It had as much to do with the image of Sinedd's mouth wrapped around his dick as it did with the idea of such subservience coming from Sinedd. He pressed his free hand to his crotch, feeling the hard outline of his cock, and forced himself to speak, "What?"
" I said," And Sinedd smiled slowly, "I want. To. Suck. Your. Cock." Each word was emphasized, and Sinedd dropped his gaze down meaningfully to where Rocket's hand hid the proof o h is desire. Sinedd's smile was vicious, far too mocking for someone who was trapped on his back and nude from the waist up. The power had shifted to him, and Rocket didn't know why, but Rocket wanted it back.
"Why?" Rocket couldn't take the power back yet. He needed to know why Sinedd was offering. He had to get at the plan behind the shift in Sinedd's tactics.
"Why not?" Low-voiced, lower than usual, Sinedd clearly controlling his tone to make it sexier. "Come on. You've got me on my back. Helpless. Alone. You're going to fuck me whether I want it or not." A shrug, or as much of a shrug that he could manage while he was still trapped against the best, "Might as well give in and enjoy it."
Rocket's stomach turned, though he couldn't tell with disbelief or disgust. Or something less predictable. "You like -- doing that?"
"Yeah. I like it a lot. What's the matter, Rocket -- Tia doesn't do it for you?" The glitter in Sinedd's eyes, the arch of his shoulders and display of his body -- it made Rocket think of a parody of bad porn, right down to the low, seductive voice that was just not Sinedd. Rocket couldn't answer Sinedd's question. He knew that he had told Sinedd not to talk about Tia, and he knew that he should punish Sinedd for disobeying him, but most of all, he knew that this wasn't going the way he wanted it to go. It wasn't going right.
Sinedd kept talking, "Guess not. Daughter of the Ambassadors can't get her mouth dirty like that, but see, I'm different. I don't have to like you to want to suck your cock. All I have to do is think that it's been too long since I've been laid." Sharp eyes, and sharper words, and what Sinedd was saying was so wrong that Rocket couldn't even find the resolve to hit him and shut him up. He felt frozen, as if their roles had been reversed and he was the one trapped now. "You're nothing special, Rocket. You're just another guy on my loooong list."
Another lick to his lips and Sinedd continued, improvising desperately, blending lies with truth to hone his sentences for the maximum damage, "Do you want me to list off everyone I've been with? Tell you how much practice I've had to get good at it? Do you want to think about them and their faces when you come in my mouth? I'm not Tia. I don't like you. I'm not some blushing virgin who's terrified of you and your cock. You're just another set of body parts, no different from Artegor or Nilla or Stevens or Aarch--"
It was hearing his uncle's name that snapped Rocket out of it. He brought his hand down over Sinedd's mouth and leaned in until they were forehead to forehead, as close as they could get without kissing, "You're lying, Sinedd. And I don't want your lying mouth anywhere near my cock." The edge of triumph was gone from Rocket's mouth now, to be replaced by grimness. "You're probably just trying to get a chance to bite it anyway."
The momentary flash of frustration in Sinedd’s eyes let Rocket know that he’d been on the right track with his suspicions. He laughed, and felt himself start to recover the ground that he’d lost as he deliberately rocked his hips downwards against Sinedd’s thighs. “That was it? Your master plan? Your coach can’t come up with a good game plan to save his life, and neither can you.”
As revenge, Sinedd bit the inside of Rocket’s hand, giving up on even the façade of cooperation. Rocket had been expecting that move from Sinedd and wasn’t discouraged, even as Sinedd’s glare returned, the anger now dark in his eyes again. Rocket shook his head, and undid the snaps at Sinedd’s waist. He dragged the top off the other boy, and wrapped it around his wrists, coiling it as securely as he would if he were tying a bouquet before he looped it through the bedframe and knotted it. The uniform was sweat-resistant, flexible, and made of highly durable material. Sinedd wouldn’t be able to escape it and judging from his sullen glower and pointed tenseness, he wasn’t going to even try fighting physically anymore.
Good.
Sinedd felt Rocket’s hands skim down his sides and start to slide down his shorts, as well as the briefs he wore under them. Disgust chilled his skin wherever Rocket touched him, and Sinedd closed his eyes, searching for another way to save himself.