Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1948938.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Mummy_Series, The_Mummy_Returns_(2001)
  Relationship:
      Alex_O'Connell/Imhotep
  Character:
      Alex_O'Connell, Imhotep_(The_Mummy)
  Additional Tags:
      Mounted_Dildos, Bondage, Restraints, Collars, slight_praise_kink,
      Choking, Ephebophilia, Prostate_Milking, Marking, PWP, Sex_Toys
  Series:
      Part 4 of Child_of_the_Enemy
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-13 Words: 2127
****** Held Fast by your Will ******
by Pakeha
Summary
     Imhotep forces another feat of pleasure on Alex, this time with the
     help of a carved marble monstrosity.
Notes
     In Laid Low by Your Hands I mentioned that Imhotep made Alex ride a
     stone cock until it wrecked him. Someone expressed an interest in
     actually reading that so here it is.
     As always im writing with an aged-up Alex in mind. Pedophelia isn't
     my thing, but age differeneces and power differentials are.
     Also I know that's not really how prostate milking works but just
     board the suspension-of-disbelief train as best you can folks.
“Easy.” Imhotep’s deep voice rasps over Alex’s ears like the desert sands, hot
and persistent and the boy whines around the two fingers the man has shoved
into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue.
He hasn’t bitten down, not today, and Imhotep is pleased enough to sooth him,
give him encouragement and steady instruction as he wraps his other hand around
the boy’s waist and keeps pace, forcing him to descend at an even clip. The boy
goes between sagging and unresisting to a squirming heap of trembling muscles,
fighting him as best he can despite the fatigue which has settled deep in his
muscles.
It is night time, a moonless evening, and the stars are spread thick across the
sky, the milky stretch of the galaxy smeared overhead.
It’s cold, like only a desert night can be, and the little pink peaks of Alex’s
nipples are pert and tight against the chill, his skin sweaty from exertion and
goose-fleshed from cold.
It has a lovely texture to it under Imhotep’s fingers and he spreads his hand
wide, encompassing the space beneath Alex’s left ribs and his hip bone, smiling
against the boy’s temple when the youth obliges him with a choking keen,
arching into the warmth even as Imhotep continues to push him down onto that
thing that he’d had several servants bring to them hours ago now. He’d had it
set down in front of the boy for him to contemplate while he finished his
evening meal.
Alex had eaten very little indeed, his eyes round as saucers as he sized up the
instrument.
“You’re bloody joking.” Alex had manage to work the words out but his throat
was dry enough to click when he swallowed. Imhotep had said nothing, eating
casually next to youngest O’Connell, so close that the boy had felt the
incredible heat which radiated off of him, even through his shirt, and what few
morsels he’d managed to put in his mouth felt like ash on his tongue and he
swallowed them without tasting.
“No.” He’d grunted, pushing the plate aside, turning on his knees to face his
captor more fully. The collar and chain around his neck glittered in the light
of the small fire which sat in front of their tent. Imhotep tugged lightly on
the end of the chain which was wrapped around his fist -not enough to unseat
Alex but enough to serve as a reminder - and had continued eating as if the boy
had never spoken.
“Fuck. No. I am not.”
But he did. Of course he did.
He’d made it as difficult as possible for the priest when he set aside his own
empty bowl and began the process of undressing his prize, but in the end it had
all been for naught. For all his twisting and thrashing his clothes had come
off with little enough effort, and Imhotep had positioned him in the sand with
his face towards the carved stone phallus he would be riding that night and
slipped well oiled fingers into him efficiently, stretching him wide. The boy
had braced himself on his hands and knees and scowled, anxiety and frustration
warring within him while the priest made quick work of the task, not aiming for
pleasure, just preparation.
The pleasure came later.
Imhotep’s smirk gains teeth as the boy begins to unconsciously pump his hips in
quick jerking spasms, unsure as whether to pull away from the thing which was
slowly, coldly, unforgivingly piercing him, or to embrace it. Either way the
choice is not his to make, and Imhotep drives him ever more steadily down.
“A beautiful instrument, is it not?” Imhotep murmurs sweetly against the boy’s
ear. “No need for fear boy, in my hands, you will be made to endure such sweat
agony.”
The tongue against Imhotep's fingers works at a response, lips flexing, but the
only sound that is made is a gurgle. Saliva slides down the boy’s chin and the
priest’s palm but Imhotep does not mind. He ducks his head and licks at the
boy’s neck while he shifts his other arm to gain a slightly better grip on the
boy as he reaches the end of his descent.
When his ass meets the large base of cold marble, Alex jerks, and jerks again
against the unforgiving stone phallus buried so deep inside him, radiating cold
up into his body. The thing rubs against his prostate, too big to avoid it, and
Alex twitches, violently, his arms half trapped at the elbow by Imhotep’s grip
but forearms, wrists, hands free and shaking,tears spreading along his lashes
because there is no reprieve, no end-
“Ride.” Imhotep commands, stroking the teenager’s tongue with his finger tips
before shifting his hand deeper, just a hair short of gagging Alex. “Take it
deep, bury it inside you. Let it leach the warmth of your body until it scalds
you, until it should re-forge you as it’s sheath, so you may know no other life
than to sit on this cock and squirm as it relentlessly fills you. You cannot
rest, you cannot flee, you must ride.”
Imhotep releases the boy’s waist and reaches down towards the golden cuffs
attached to the device’s large stone base. He gives the bands a gentle caress
before clamping them snugly around Alex’s calves, just beneath his sharply bent
knees. They limit his range of motion to an up and down grind of his hips: If
he could stand the pressing angle of the cock as it slid out, he could perhaps
draw the phallus from his body by rising all the way up on his knees, but it
would be challenge.
Restraints secured, Imhotep’s arm wraps around Alex’s waist again, steadying.
The teenager is still twitching like he can’t help himself, too much inside him
to keep still, too much, too much-
Imhotep slides his hand down to the boy’s hip and with a pleased sigh he starts
to pull the boy back towards him.
Alex tosses his head back and gargle out a wail.
Hands grip onto Imhotep’s forearm viciously, shaking as the entire length of
the thing presses against his internal walls, stretching his already
overwhelmed passage to even more impressive measure.
Imhotep relaxes the pull and lets Alex sob and quake for a moment before he
wraps his hand under one of the teenager’s thighs and, in an impressive display
of strength, hefts the boy up a few inches on the stone, unrelenting even as
the boy shudders, babbling nonsense against his fingers, digging his hands into
Imhotep’s arms-
Then he releases him, and Alex drops with a yelp, sliding down the thick stone,
clenching tight around it in an unconscious effort at control, drops of the
copious oil Imhotep had pressed into him slipping from his entrance to pool
around the base of monolith. Tears leak unbidden from the corners of his eyes
and Imhotep hums softly, the thumb of the hand holding the boy’s mouth hostage
massaging rhythmically at his pulse point, just enough for the young man to
feel it in each gasping breath.
“I told you to ride, child.” He rumbles hotly and Alex whimpers, but haltingly,
shakingly, begins to obey.
“You will find your pleasure on this cock many times tonight.”
Gibberish drips from Alex’s lips as his thighs shake, working his weight a few
inches up the stone and then sliding back down in as controlled a fashion as he
can muster. Every few passes though he tires, dropping faster than he means to
with a yelp as the prick pushes harder against his insides than he anticipated,
his prostate being thoroughly massaged. He sits for a moment half to regain
some strength it seems and half to roll his hips in short, sharp jabs, circling
without really meaning to, seeking greater stimulation, desperate to feel good,
to feel filled up and held fast.
Imhotep rumbles at his back, his own cock hard and aching and dripping pre-come
against his abdomen, the dampness smearing on Alex’s back as the boy writhes
and presses against him.
“Like that, you do well-” He murmurs his praise quietly in the boy’s ear and
Alex lets out a sob and begins to ride harder, pushes his limits, gets more
adventurous as he pulls himself up a little higher, crying out at the
unforgiving angle of the smooth rod inside him, before he slides down and lets
it slam into him again, the stone owning him, uncompromising in its intensity.
“Fuck yourself. Serve the stone as you would serve me, my prize.”
And Alex does. Damn him, but he does. He fucks himself harder and harder until
his thighs burn and his chest aches and his cock is angry and drooling steady
spurts of pre-come against his quivering belly and between his spread thighs.
Imhotep laughs low and keeps one hand in Alex’s mouth but releases him with the
other so he can begin to stroke himself at Alex’s back, lifting his fingers wet
with fluid every so often to trail them over the boy’s spine.
Alex’s vision begins to silver out at the edges as he pants for more and more
oxygen, his body burning as his prostate is aggressively stroked and jabbed and
pressed, orgasm riding up on him fast and the priest’s fingers are so far in
his mouth he feels like he’s almost swallowed them, like if he closed his eyes
he could almost be servicing two men at once and a bolt of desire rips through
him unexpectedly at the thought.
He keens as he comes so close to the edge, bouncing desperate and needy on the
stone, unable to ride evenly as his pleasure swells. With a chuckle at his ear
Imhotep wraps his arm around his hips again and Alex isn’t prepared for it when
the man begins to guide him. Like a filly that needs to be broken to the saddle
he commands his movements, pushes and pulls and makes Alex stay on the spots
which feel like too much until they are too much and the boy is too breathless
to cry out as his orgasm begins to boil out of him like it burns.
It’s not the bright singing thing he felt when Imhotep first drove into him and
made him take a cock for his pleasure, it’s a long and pulsing thing that comes
in waves and thick rushes of come pooling out of him and for the first time in
the night Imhotep reaches up and takes a hold of his prick and it’s too much, a
bolt of intense pleasure blazes through him, making every muscle tense and
strain, leaving his hips and thighs tingling, his vision whiting, his hoarse,
choked throat straining to cry as he jerks helplessly into Imhotep’s hand. All
the while the man murmurs his quiet approval into the boy’s ear.
“Well done. You’ve produced so much, how sweet a thing.”
Alex sobs and sags even as his hips continue to twitch helplessly in the
aftershocks. The priest lets the boy’s waist go and returns to seeking his own
completion, fisting his cock rapidly at Alex’s back, eager to paint the pale
flesh with his seed. Shivers wrack the boy’s frame and his head is a dead
weight against Imhotep’s hand, like if he pulled his fingers out the teenager’s
skull would slump forward and never pick itself up again. The priest presses
down on the boy’s tongue fondly, and works his hand more rapidly, squeezing
harder until with a sigh he finds his pleasure.
There’s a shudder from Alex when the man’s scalding come splatters over his
spine, but he doesn’t try to move away. His hips stay still save for the little
twitching jabs he can’t seem to help, knowing well that he is held fast until
his master says otherwise.
Breathing deep to steady himself Imhotep feels a swell of proud pleasure rise
in his breast. He moves forward to plaster himself more fully along O’Connell’s
damp skin, one hand pressed over the boy’s heart as he finally finally finally
pulls his fingers from Alex’s mouth.
The boy chokes as they pull away, coughing and trying to swallow the rush of
saliva which follows. Imhotep pets his throat once to soothe him, before he
moves his spit slick hand down the boy’s body to fist his limp cock.
Alex jerks at the sensation and lets out a grunt, eyes squeezed shut against
the onslaught of sensation.
“No more-” He manages choke the word out with his newly freed tongue but
Imhotep just turns his lips to the boy’s shoulder and grants him a kiss.
“Yes, more. So much more.”
And without hesitation, Imhotep begins again.
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