The last sensor is a flat, bendable crescent, trailing cords. Azwel carefully places that around Vash's cock, and it stickily adheres to the hair and skin, covering that area but leaving the balls untouched. Those versed in the esoteric arts (or who are simply observant) might notice the placement of the electrodes echoes the meridian lines that'd been cut into Azwel's skin so long ago. If the irony is noticed by him, he gives no indication.
Even without that detail, the sheer amount of sensors stuck to Vash is probably frightening, to say the least.
Azwel slides off the table and pulls his partially-unbuttoned shirt over his head, dropping it. He unfastens his trousers and steps out of them, also dropping them. He, himself, is nearly erect. His eyes are glassy and his skin flushed, and he almost looks the way he usually does when aroused, if not for the blankness of his gaze.
For a moment, he pauses, looking at the machines. "Cycling... one hundred nanos per second...." he mumbles. He continues mumbling a string of numbers and, somehow, the machinery reacts, some of the array moving. He picks up an object that looks for all the world like a sheath catheter and fits it onto his cock. The tubing at its end is long and terminates somewhere Vahs can't see. After a beat he picks up a bottle.
He climbs back onto the table, straddling Vash's hips. It's almost poignant--such a familiar position, but somehow that isn't Azwel in there. Whatever that blinking device is, it pushes his thoughts and actions in a single direction of someone else's choosing. His head tilts to the side again.
Then he leans forward again, his lips near Vash's ear. "They let the others go," he whispers. "They'll let you go, too...." He gasps, sitting bolt upright, his spine shivering. His face turns red and it's easy to see why after a moment as small drops form in the tubing and heated, almost plaintive moans escape him. He drops forward onto his hands, shivering with the effort of keeping his hips still.
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rosecarmine
(no subject)
Date: 2019-05-24 02:26 pm (UTC)Even without that detail, the sheer amount of sensors stuck to Vash is probably frightening, to say the least.
Azwel slides off the table and pulls his partially-unbuttoned shirt over his head, dropping it. He unfastens his trousers and steps out of them, also dropping them. He, himself, is nearly erect. His eyes are glassy and his skin flushed, and he almost looks the way he usually does when aroused, if not for the blankness of his gaze.
For a moment, he pauses, looking at the machines. "Cycling... one hundred nanos per second...." he mumbles. He continues mumbling a string of numbers and, somehow, the machinery reacts, some of the array moving. He picks up an object that looks for all the world like a sheath catheter and fits it onto his cock. The tubing at its end is long and terminates somewhere Vahs can't see. After a beat he picks up a bottle.
He climbs back onto the table, straddling Vash's hips. It's almost poignant--such a familiar position, but somehow that isn't Azwel in there. Whatever that blinking device is, it pushes his thoughts and actions in a single direction of someone else's choosing. His head tilts to the side again.
Then he leans forward again, his lips near Vash's ear. "They let the others go," he whispers. "They'll let you go, too...." He gasps, sitting bolt upright, his spine shivering. His face turns red and it's easy to see why after a moment as small drops form in the tubing and heated, almost plaintive moans escape him. He drops forward onto his hands, shivering with the effort of keeping his hips still.