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Valius looks good when he cries.
He has a gentle face, cherubic and soft, and it softens further when he's pressed into the warmth of bliss. Lust makes his brows knit. His eyes- so bright and expressive- fill with tears, and he looks up at his brothers with open desire dusting his cheeks a gentle pink.
He looks even better when he's on his knees. They have him collared, the five of them. They've sat him down on the hard floor of their private quarters, surrounded him with familiar bodies, put a leash about his neck and a gag between his teeth and brought him to tears with nothing but their denial. They don't touch him, not in the way he wants. Instead they pet over soft skin and short-shorn hair, whispering praise and appreciation.
'Good boy,' they call him, when he leans into their touch, and the words are enough to make him shudder.
'Sweet pet,' they say, when they see the way he grinds on the toy inside him. 'Does that feel good?'
And he nods, teary eyes squeezed shut and a muffled moan forced around his gag. He wants them so desperately; their approval, their praise, their touch. Two out of three is enough to make him weep, but he's a good pet; he knows he isn't supposed to present until they tell him to.
So he rests his cheek on a brother's thigh and breathes through his need, letting them pet his head and tell him how pretty he looks when he wants it so desperately. He lets them pass his leash around, giving each member of the circle a turn staring at his tear-streaked face and running gentle fingers over the scars that mar his scalp.
More than one of them tests him, pressing their cock against his cheek as he flicks his pretty, pleading eyes up at them and silently begs to be able to have it.
They don't indulge him. Denial is within their right; pets don't need to have their desires met, but he wants so terribly to be good for them and knows they must want it too. He has a mouth as soft as the rest of him and a tongue with a talent for teasing- he wants to put it to use, but he wants even more for one of them to pull the toy out of him and fill him with something real.
He whines when a tug at his leash directs his gaze up again, then shuts his eyes and lets a shudder pass over him when another of them presses lips to his spine and mouths good pet against sweat-slick skin.
Fingers trail low, teasing the rim of the toy that keeps him plugged. He turns his head into the hand that cups his cheek and uses it to further muffle the whine that spills from his lips when the toy is pressed in deeper.
'Needy,' someone coos, and he whines at the truth of it.
His head is tipped back. Lips press gently over his, kissing around the gag that turns intimacy awkward and leaves him drooling down his chin in thin, messy strings. He makes another needy sound and hears the rumble of laughter.
'Well behaved,' another brother says. 'Maybe we should reward that. Present for me, puppy?'
Wet eyes widen. They shine, eagerness and tears making them gleam in the dim candlelight of the room.
Bodies press in close. This space was barely made to fit one man and now it fits five and their plaything. Still he finds room to arch his back, to make a show of himself now that he'd been given permission.
The ache within him builds as the toy that had filled him is pulled out. It stretches his rim wide around it, forced to test him if he were to have any hope of taking some of his brothers. A hand pushes at the dip of his spine, guiding him into an exaggerated curve that puts his hole on display for all but the brother whose kiss he drools into. They hold him fast, swallowing his little moans, and then his gasp when the toy is finally tugged free.
He feels so empty without it, a pet whose purpose isn't being fulfilled. He has five brothers here who he can scent the arousal on. It's his duty to serve them, but they deny him his service easily and with pleasure.
Bound hands take a chance and place themselves invitingly on one of the thighs in front of him. Perhaps the risk was worth the attempt because his brother rumbles their approval- but they don't stop kissing him and they don't loosen his gag so he can take them into his mouth. Instead they keep his lips occupied as someone goes to their knees behind him.
'What a pretty pet,' they murmur. He feels the head of a cock press against the rim of his hole and relief- so sweet he nearly chokes on it- makes another sob push free around his gag.
Please, he tries to say, pushing his hips back against them. Let me be good for you.
He squeezes his eyes shut again, trying to hide from the force of his want. Another tear rolls down his cheek and a tongue is quick to lick it away before pulling him back into a messy, open mouthed kiss.
Please, he thinks again, and feels desire bloom between his legs when his begging is rewarded with pressure. There are hands on his hips, squeezing tight. They pull him back onto the cock that teases his hole, a slow drag of bodies that begins to fill the aching need within him.
They hilt in him with a sigh, hips pressed flush against his ass. He sobs at the heat, at the fullness, at the touch and the service and the closeness of his brothers-
It's bliss when they begin to move, and when his gag is removed he weeps his thanks until a cock pushes between his lips and reminds him that good pets ought to be silent.
It feels so good to let go. To let them have him and use him.
Thought dims as base, physical desires are met.
He's a good pet. He serves well.