“I suppose if you say they’re b-grade, it must be so,” he muttered thoughtfully, shivering lightly at his own brash self-pleasuring. It was pleasant enough, though he felt a bit of discomfort in the cramping and bruising of his dislocated fingers. It wasn’t unbearable though, and so he continued without hesitation as the beautiful creature hovering above him looked on with what Robyn assumed was an approving gaze. He listened quietly to all that Drayn had to say, only allowing his gaze to lift and flutter across his captors visage for moments at a time so as not to disrespect his authority in the given situation.<br/><br/>“I’m afraid I don’t remember my father’s name, Sir … He left us so long ago; he was one of my first redemptions, in fact.” Robyn sighed heavily, continuing to stroke and penetrate himself at the Drayn’s whim. His breath hitched in his throat as the man squatted down close to him once again, his cigarette dangling dangerously close to Robyn’s flushed cheek. He questioned his manner of speaking and the blush on his cheeks migrated over his nose. He averted his eyes again and bit down onto his lower lip at the suggestion that his speech patterns were strange. He’d never paused to consider the way he differed from most, especially when it came to something as trivial as his speech.<br/><br/>“I’m not sure, Sir … I was just taught to speak this way. It’s how those closest to me speak, and so I picked up similar patterns I suppose,” he murmured, glancing briefly back up at Drayn. Robyn shivered as the cigarette that was held delicate between the man’s fingers was shaken out over his back, warm ash tumbling down his frail form and offering bits of ticklish sensation. He closed his eyes and focused on the ash, or at least he did until Drayn reached down between them and gripped his hand. He grunted, his face screwing up from the pain in his digits as they were crushed beneath his new companion’s grip. Due to the crushing grip, he barely even felt the burning in his shoulder when the cigarette was put out on his pale flesh, but it did produce a soft whine from his lips. The pleasure mixed in so languidly with the pain by their slowly moving hands and fingers was an intoxicating mixture, and it edged him closer and closer to orgasm.<br/><br/>He didn’t manage to offer up any sort of vocal cue to preface his orgasm, but Robyn was a very expressive young man. His brow knitted together, his eyes screwed shut and his lips parted as the peak of his pleasure approached. His break quickened and a series of low whines and moans escaped him. He shouldn’t have been surprised by the swift kick he received just moments before he managed to ejaculate, but he genuinely was. The breath was knocked right out of him as he toppled back onto the floor, his hands pulling away from his genitalia. Despite the agonizing pain that struck him to his very core, Robyn still cried out sharply as he orgasmed, the throbbing within him only urging his body on to ejaculation. The little bird was a sexual deviant as well as a moral one, it would seem, not that he had any complaints about it, the orgasm certainly distracted him from the pain for at least a moment. In no time, though, the man was rolling on the floor, cupping himself and groaning softly as he attempted to catch his breath.<br/><br/>Robyn forced his eyes to open as Drayn questioned after his clothes. Without protest the man slowly rolled over, grunting softly as he stumbled up to his feet, briefly leaning up against a wall to steady himself as the world spun around him for a spell. It didn’t take him long to fully right himself, and he scrambled to get back to the bedroom where Adrien’s body was laid out on the bed. Robyn glanced at the jagged, unfinished cut across the man’s throat and he twitched ever so slightly. It irked him, that unfinished task, but he’d have to let it go for now and move on to the job at hand: surviving in this new set of conditions he was being plunged into head first. He tore his gaze from Adrien’s body and glanced over at Drayn as he carefully pulled on his boxers, and thena pair of well worn jeans. If he could adapt to the streets, he was sure he could adapt to this.