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Wind up

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The ticking had stopped.

"Sorry sir." The words were sly in Sim's mouth, and James didn't need to look over to see the way the corners of his mouth had turned up. "It's wound down."

This whole game was supposedly predicated on Sim as James' mechanic, his obedient servant, but of course neither of them could let it go as that, not entirely. No, Sim had to tease, and James had to shudder and ache and struggle to give the sort of orders he was supposed to be giving.

"Well, wind it up again, boy," he managed. "You'd better work harder than that if you want to keep your position." The word 'position' came out a little bit breathless, but he thought no one could blame him, bent over, hands braced against the bench in his workshop with Sim's beautiful, expertly-made dildo stretching him open.

"Yes sir, right away, sir."

There was the sound of gears, metal on metal, a spring tightening. James shivered, letting anticipation roll through him, his arse clenching involuntarily around the now-heated metal of the dildo. It had been cold at first, alarmingly solid, but he'd adjusted to it now and all he wanted was more. The sound of the gears stopped. Sim didn't say anything – waiting obediently, James supposed he'd say, but really just teasing again. James forced himself to wait a little longer, then said, "Release."

A beat, and then the machine whirred into life, the dildo sliding back and then pushing into him with aching precision. Tick. Tick. Tick. James bit down on his bottom lip, trying to stifle his groan, but he didn't succeed. His cock dripped precome, hot and sticky down over his thighs onto the concrete floor.

"Is that all right, sir?"

Christ, Sim's innocent voice did ridiculous things to James' insides. "Acceptable," he said. He leaned forwards, adjusting his angle slightly so that the dildo pressed right up against his prostate. "Fuck."

"I never thought to hear that from you, sir." Sim almost managed to sound genuinely scandalized.

"Does the word alarm you?" James said. He was breathless, rocking backwards against each thrust. Tick. Tick. "Does it frighten you to think of fucking?" He made the word sound as filthy as he could.

"No sir, not me," said Sim. "I'm not the sort that gets scared off by something like that."

James grinned, since he knew Sim couldn't see his face. "Perhaps you'd like to learn a bit more about it," he said. "Perhaps you'd like a little taste."

It was Sim's turn to groan helplessly. "Y-yes, sir," he said, and then he was there on his knees, sliding under James' outstretched arm to look up at him worshipfully. They hadn't bothered with any sort of period clothing so all he wore was a pair of ragged jeans, stained with oil and with the lube he'd used to open James up.

"Sim." It came out without conscious thought, but he covered the break in character with a return to haughtiness. "Yes, boy, you thought I didn't know your name? What sort of a master would I be if I didn't know everything about you? If I didn't know your name and your skills and all the things you'd beg to do for me?" Tick. Tick.

"Please," Sim said, taking the fairly unsubtle hint that James had given. There was sweat all dappled down his neck and his hair was tousled wild. "Oh, please sir, let me have a taste." James's cock absolutely ached and his legs were trembling from the mechanical pressure of the dildo. Everything fed into itself – Sim's machine, strong and forceful, utterly relentless inside him, but then Sim himself, pliant and sweet and ready to receive him.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

James braced himself with one hand and took the other off the edge of the workbench, reaching down to fist it in Sim's hair. "Taste," he commanded, and Sim moaned and bent his head to obey.