[ The hand in his pants is exactly the right move; Carmy was just about to slip off to some elsewhere place where her words wouldn't hurt him anymore, more dissociation than subspace, and then suddenly there's a woman's fingers sliding over his sweaty, vulnerable skin. His dick is so fucking hard, trembles and weeps under her touch.
Not Carmy, though, whose tears are tightly turned off despite the absolute crushing inevitability of his failure. There's a brief flicker of his ego attempting to protect him before he just gives in and believes her completely, hungry for the devouring, for having all his worst fears about himself validated. He's nothing. He's useless. ]
I'm sorry.
[ As immediate as the way he'd raced down here. Still trying so painfully hard to please: it's real, though, he's breathless and strained with how humiliatingly real it is. Enough that he doesn't need a call and response of correction to say it properly. ]
I'm sorry for being a bad kisser with a- small dick.
[ Voice cracking on that second bit, pitching close to misery, even as the small dick in question pulses hard on the very same words. This hard, fat in her hand, it's more obviously only slightly below average, but like his height he's got a bit of a complex about it, grew up around too many rowdy guys. He has to close his eyes for a moment, flushed and ecstatic, his hands dropped useless at his sides as he stands in the public club and tries not to come too fast. ]
I...
[ Is he allowed speak anymore? He isn't sure, so he stutters like he's nine again, has to swallow it. ]
I can make it up to you.
[ He doesn't know how, but he can try. Maybe he'll earn her mercy - he doesn't otherwise expect it. ]
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Not Carmy, though, whose tears are tightly turned off despite the absolute crushing inevitability of his failure. There's a brief flicker of his ego attempting to protect him before he just gives in and believes her completely, hungry for the devouring, for having all his worst fears about himself validated. He's nothing. He's useless. ]
I'm sorry.
[ As immediate as the way he'd raced down here. Still trying so painfully hard to please: it's real, though, he's breathless and strained with how humiliatingly real it is. Enough that he doesn't need a call and response of correction to say it properly. ]
I'm sorry for being a bad kisser with a- small dick.
[ Voice cracking on that second bit, pitching close to misery, even as the small dick in question pulses hard on the very same words. This hard, fat in her hand, it's more obviously only slightly below average, but like his height he's got a bit of a complex about it, grew up around too many rowdy guys. He has to close his eyes for a moment, flushed and ecstatic, his hands dropped useless at his sides as he stands in the public club and tries not to come too fast. ]
I...
[ Is he allowed speak anymore? He isn't sure, so he stutters like he's nine again, has to swallow it. ]
I can make it up to you.
[ He doesn't know how, but he can try. Maybe he'll earn her mercy - he doesn't otherwise expect it. ]