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Kiki has him by the shoulders, pinning him to the back of the chair. She’s strong - stupid strong, fuck, entirely unyielding. Obi can’t help the way his eyes haze out, vision unspooling with the simmer of heat sparking across his skin, in his veins, twisting up his belly at her restraining touch.
“Is this –” he tries, panting, as Shirayuki’s shaking fingers reach for the ties of his trousers. “Is this really necessary? I won’t –” His hips twist, belying his unfinished promise.
“I’ll make you stay,” Kiki tells him, cool, sharp and clean like the edge of a well-honed blade. “Don’t worry, Obi. There’s nowhere to run, now.”
Ah, fuck.
Kneeling at his feet, Shirayuki looks up at him from beneath thick lashes; a smear of hot green, pupils wide; messy fringe and flushed face, making her freckles stark. “Is this okay?” she asks, but –
Her hand is on his dick now, and she licks her lips like she’s hungry for it, and oh, oh, this is all that he wanted and more than he can stand.
His head falls back, and he arches his body as much as he can which isn’t much, but that just makes the groan that tears its way through him all the hungrier. Kiki bends her head, hair a silken whisper against the hot skin of his cheek.
“The lady asked you a question.”
“Yes,” he hisses, because he has no room to maneuver, none, and the place it leaves him at is this: bound and undone, revealed and honest, and just, really fucking grateful for it. “Yes, yes, please, you –”
Shirayuki dimples, shyly. Then her lashes flutter and Obi makes a hurt noise, a little choked off whimper at her fingers sliding along his heated length, sensitive. Kiki’s arm is a reassuring band across his chest, holding him still, steady, and he grips desperately at her forearm to keep him from fucking shattering because that is –
Shirayuki’s tongue flickering at the head, tentative.
Fuck, fuck that’s obscene.
“Put your mouth on him,” Kiki murmurs, and Obi catches the hitch in Shirayuki’s breathing at the order - watches her open that mouth wide and take him in, wet and hot and tight. “Good,” Kiki says, a dark purr, “A little more. But slowly, Shirayuki. Make him wait for it.”
“Kiki,” Obi gasps, unable to look away as Shirayuki inches down his dick, brow furrowed in concentration. It takes all his effort not to come, not to move, to just sit back and take it.
“Good boy,” Kiki smirks, brushing a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Just like that. Let’s see exactly how long it takes to make you scream, hm?”