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A harbinger losing? Unheard of, especially if it's the Tsaritsa's youngest, her Vanguard. Quite a scandalous rumor that's spread across Liyue—more importantly the Fatui Agents. None of them would believe it. None of them would believe how he, Tartaglia, now sits on a bed—bound by a rope created by his own element, shaking his head as the woman in front of him approaches with a knowing smirk.
The young harbinger is currently in only his boxers, no more no less. He had lost a gamble with the one and only Yelan. On the outside, the woman seems mean—her words blunt and her intent clear; same goes for how she is in bed, walking around with her heels clicking as she observed the fatui struggle against her binds. "I have a... an acquaintance from Inazuma and they asked me for a favor. Unfortunately, before I could decline their request—they had already sent me a few items to test"
Tartaglia gulps.
"Don't be so scared! You're being overly dramatic for a warrior such as yourself. Your scars do suit you and I quite like a toned body myself" she approaches him on the bed—shedding her clothing piece by piece as they land on the floor without much delicacy as her movements. "I also like a reactive one" she swipes her finger across the broad expanse of his chest, teasingly circling around his nipples but never touching them.
Tartaglia grows frustrated with every little moment that erupts, his body suppressing the urge to flinch, shake and let out an unwanted gasp. Yelan notices this. Cute.
But, enough dilly-dallying. Yelan finally takes her box out and shows its contents to the harbinger. He goes pale.
There were numerous—no, all off them were vulgar toys. Some he's seen only through pictures and books while some he's never even seen. Some looked outright terrifying and he worries for his condition. If he could only lower his pride and break out of these binds, he would have left earlier but no. Yelan knew her way with her words—taunting him to do what she wants, and therefore ending up in the bed.
"First, I want you to lie down"
Tartaglia looks at her, stares at her in silence.
"Do I really have to do everything?"
With an exasperated groan, Yelan pushes the boy back, twirling her fingers to make another set of strings to bind his legs apart, tying them at the knees so that his legs were spread and Tartaglia is vulnerable for her eyes.
A breeze blows against Tartaglia's abdomen and he shivers—watching as Yelan takes out one of the toys from the box and begins lubing it up, spilling a generous amount on her hands before rubbing it. Tartaglia watched the motions, swallowing a mound of saliva as Yelan kept eye contact with him. The way her fingers moved, it was almost as if she was seducing him, getting him hard over the motions.
And it works.
Subconsciously, Tartaglia starts bucking his hips like a needy little boy, a tent forming in his boxers, the tip of his cock already peeking past his waistband.
"Didn't know you were pent up, Harbinger"
Tartaglia scoffs. "No, I'm not pent up. You were just making me impatient" that's a lie but not too far. It's just that his work has been bombarding him that he hasn't found time to destress himself. Usually he looks for hilichurl camps to clear out, coming back to his office in red and gore but other than that—no sexual practices as of late.
"It looks like you are but then again... Who am I to say... Let's start mhm?"
Yelan places a hand on his boxers—focusing on it before blue particles lifted off, shining and his boxers are gone in mere seconds. "Party trick?"
"Usually"
Her fingers carefully circle the rim of his ass—moving apart his cheeks as she teased it. Carefully, she inserts one finger, observing how the harbinger's chest rise and fall with every new sensation. She could see how hard he did his best to prevent his face from contorting but with a brush of her nimble fingers inside him, apparently accidentally pressing against his prostate, Tartaglia's eyes flutter—rolling back as he sighs.
She pressed again and Tartaglia bites his lips, humming.
"Getting shy, are we?"
"N—no. Just—this isn't enough for me"
Yelan smiles, taking this as a challenge before she pops her finger out to slowly prod the toy into him. Tartaglia gasps—struggling in his binds, unable to control the way his chest heaved. "Big—"
"I'll give you time to adjust later, baby"
"Hm—ng—AH—" Tartaglia struggles to breathe, tears brimming his eyes as he heavily inhales and exhales—suddenly feeling full as the toy is pushed inside, his rim burning as it stretches out.
Tartaglia whimpers, his cock now standing in all its glory as his ass clenches tightly around the rubber feeling. It was big, it filled him up—a perfect plug, nestled deep against his prostate. But, even with Yelan watching him, she isn't content. She needed more of him. She wanted to see him tremble and cry—screaming her name like a prayer to the gods above, something akin to the devoted worshippers of Rex Lapis. Let even the heavens hear his cry, his plea—his inner greed and lust escape his lips with no return.
"While that's buried in your ass, let's do something about your nipples, mhm?"
Tartaglia looked down, his eyes glossy as he watched the woman take out two pin-like things connected with a chain. He studies it, unsure of what it's for. He hasn't seen one in his life and Yelan noticed his curious look. "New to you?"
"Yeah"
"Honest. I like that in a man"
Tartaglia swallows, the smile on her lips never fading away as she leans over and brushes one clip? Clamp? Over his nipples. Then it strikes him.
"These are nipple clamps, my dear"
The harbinger could feel a surge of panic arise within his belly as she carefully opens one clamp and places it on one nipple. His pain tolerance is high but this was something else. The other clamped the other nipple, both perking out, but it barely felt like anything. "What are these for, pervert?"
"Funny how you call me that when you're the one leaking nonstop on your little junior here"
Tartaglia blushes, averting his gaze.
"Don't worry about the clamps, they're for later. Right now we need to worry about your little junior... And I have just the thing"
She buried her hand into the box once more and out she took a simple rod—silver and sleek. Long and quite thin. Yelan presses it against the tip of his leaking cock, twitching when he feels the coldness against his skin.
"Harbinger, you may want to breathe in for this"
Tartaglia's eyes widen, further struggling for the umpteenth time in his binds as Yelan holds onto his dick and carefully prodding the rod against the crown—slowly moving it and allowing his urethra to split apart for the rod to sink. Tartaglia chokes on his breath, whining and whimpering when he finally feels the rod successfully arrive at the base. Yelan gives his cock a few strokes and Tartaglia cries out—moaning sweetly but his cock merely leaked little.
"Perfect! Now for the last one"
Her hand rummages through the box once more, taking out a vibrator. Then, with her element yet again, she ties the vibrator around the crown of where the rod's base poked out.
She looked at him, offered him a smile and turns it on.
Tartaglia's back arched, screaming as his cock is stimulated but he can barely give himself any such friction nor relief. Yelan moves between his legs, offering a small kiss in his thighs before flicking another switch on the toy buried in his ass and it vibrates harshly against his prostate at the highest setting.
Tartaglia cries, begging as he heaves and pants, saliva escaping his lips and Yelan merely watches in glee—offering small kisses on the man's cheeks, neck, chest then abdomen. "I'll be back. I have to deal with a couple of people reporting"
"H—huh? Wait—what do you mean—"
And, the door shuts close.
Tartaglia is left with the vibrators on full setting, pressing against his prostate as he leaked hard—his cock stimulated as he's starting to feel his nipples itch, wanting for friction. His lips ran dry as he cried and sobbed, moving to the side—for nothing. He tries reach out for his vision but to no avail.
His head is spinning and his body is overwhelmed. It hasn't even been an hour and all he's feeling is making him want to cum but he can't. That darned rod is in his way. He tries to shake but with every little movement, the dildo shifts around and presses more against his prostate, his cock further leaking and aching as he sobs out.
There are several tingling sensations on every end of his finger tips, his toes curling and his back arching. His hair gets ruffled as some stick to his face, heat consuming him as his tongue lolls out, unable to stay still. Sweat starts to trickle down—thoroughly staining the sheets beneath him. He tries and tries to get out but the binds are too strong and his focus is wearing out...
Literally thirty minutes later, Yelan comes back to an already debauched harbinger, flinching at the sound of the door slamming. Tartaglia looked in attention, unable to keep his voice down anymore as his orgasm never comes.
Yelan pouts, showing a false-caring look to him. "Aw, do you need help mommy's help?" She chuckles but the answer she gets isn't something she expected.
"M—mommy please I can't—I want to cum—please—"
Something within her seems to suddenly get riled up as she quickly mounts the bed, the mattress shifting as she carefully turns off all the vibrators—removing the one on his cock, gently caressing it and watching how the harbinger quickly reacts with a small whine. She then takes the dildo out—observing how the long length leaves his hole, covered in slick and leaving his rim gaping and aching to be filled once again. Yelan makes her way to his nipples—removing the clamps one by one and placing them to the side. Then, her hand goes to his cock.
She looks at him and those deep blue eyes look back, almost on the verge of crying despite his already tear-stained cheeks. But, Yelan decides to be mean.
She ignores his silent request as she hastily buckles the strap on that came with the box onto herself—placing the belts on a comfortable angle before slotting herself between Tartaglia's legs. She releases the hydro binds on his knees—his legs falling limp on either of her sides as she aligns herself with his hole.
Yelan carefully prods and Tartaglia grinds onto her, obviously eager as she scoffs, applying lube on the dildo before prodding it gently against his rim.
At this point, she decides to take the rod on his cock off—tossing the metal rod to some other place but instead of rubbing his cock, she leaves it. "No touching, no grinding your cock"
Tartaglia whines, nodding as he feels the intrusion move in and out of him. His insides clench as his heat surrounds the silicone toy. Yelan brings one of her hands to the harbinger's nipples, all red and sore—sensitive and aching to be touched.
Tartaglia's back arches once more, feeling his cock twitch at the way she twists one of his nubs, thumbing the tip and tugging on it. She offers a light laugh—slamming the dildo into him, perfectly rubbing against his prostate again and again.
His cock continues to leak uncontrollably, his hips meeting her every thrust and all he could do was whine and gasp with every new sensation. He could feel it all, the way her hands grip on his waist—her tongue lick his nipples, nibbling and biting on it while his insides get filled up.
Yelan increases her pace, the hydro binds on his arms soon fading away as she focuses on the way she moves her hips against Tartaglia.
The harbinger cries. It was a pathetic display, begging and whining—wanting more just so he could finish up—all his pent up frustrations boiling in the pit of his stomach. Everything becomes a hazy mess as his hips suddenly buck and he feels himself cumming nonstop, staining both of them in the process.
Yelan embraces the harbinger—burying the dildo into him as Tartaglia's arms wrap around her, their chests against each other as the harbinger climaxes.
.
They settle in their silence for awhile, unable to speak as Tartaglia's eyes barely flutter, cringing at the feeling of the dildo moving out of his body, now his hole feeling empty.
Yelan looked over, taking in the sight of a fully wrecked harbinger, one who she first saw, had a deadly glint in his eyes, is now tired and worn on her bed. "You did well, harbinger. You may sleep and I'll clean you up"
Tartaglia hums quietly, letting himself sink into the feeling of comfort while Yelan does exactly what she says; clean him up.
She removes the strap-on and discards it on the side of the bed, clattering on the floor with the rest of the used items before taking a damp cloth from the bathroom. Yelan rubs the cloth with care against his body, watching how he still twitches when it brushes past some specific areas.
She wipes away her sweat and the stains on his stomach, discarding the used cloth before tucking him in bed. Yelan cards his hair to the back prior to closing the light and shutting the door for the harbinger to rest.