warnings: consensual D/s control play, blindfold, restraints, spanking, a small bit of breath play. yeah this one's got some uh, stuff, so please don't read if any of the mentioned warnings isn't your cup of tea. written in response to an old confession on tumblr.
Ahiru knows she's in for it when Fakir gets home early and she still hasn't cleaned up the titanic mess in the kitchen that actually managed to spread through the dining room and the sitting room. At the end of the day she's still lacking one birthday dinner for Pique, but there's spread spices and chocolates all over the counters in tiny handprints from the amount of times she slipped on the cream on the floor. She had been planning on cleaning up before he got home, but… well clearly that's not to be today.
His jaw drop and recoil from the sight that greets him tells her that the view is much, much worse than she thought. "What the hell?!"
"Um, hi, Fakir!" She giggles lightly, scratching her cheek—and leaving a spot of jam in its wake. "I was just making some sweets for Pique's birthday for Monday…"
"Were you expecting her to eat off the ground?" he fires, maneuvering around to make sure he doesn't step in places that were stained.
"Well… no." Ahiru's shoulders deflate as she sighs. "I was gonna clean up, you know."
Fakir makes a noise in the back of his throat, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt as he drops his coat on a spare chair that was left unafflicted. "Making a mess in the first place wasn't necessary."
"It's not like I made a mess on purpose…" Ahiru mumbles through pursed lips. Crossing her arms, she huffs. "I said I'd clean, so there's no problem!"
"Problem?" Fakir grabs a pair of rubber gloves and washcloth, soaking the latter under a stream of sink water. "I see a problem everywhere at the moment. The entire kitchen is having a problem that'll take hours to fix."
"And a little bit in the dining room and living room, too…"
Fakir throws his hands in the air. "What the hell were you doing in there while cooking!?"
Hands balling into fists, Ahiru stands her ground, her face growing red.
"You don't have to talk so loudly! I said I was gonna clean up so I dunno why you're so angry!"
"Are you telling me what to do? If you're going to insist on talking like a child then I may as well treat you like one." Fakir snaps without thinking as he works on scrubbing the counter, and it causes Ahiru to recoil a little as her eyes widen marginally.
It was in a different setting, but he always used language like that when they were… well, doing that. When they were experimenting with doing that. Then doing other things.
… Did he mean to say it like that?
Shifting from foot to foot, Ahiru swallows as she slowly wipes down one of the cabinet doors, falling silent as she watches Fakir cleaning out of the corner of her eye. The thought of Fakir releasing whatever frustrations he had through a way other than cleaning and getting into an argument was much more preferable than this tense air.
So she takes the chance, licking her lips.
"What?" Fakir blinks before glancing back at her, his hand pausing in its work.
Green means you may proceed.
He knows that from their many discussions, but why would she say that out of nowhere?
Then his own words finally click in his mind, when he spouted off treating her like a child without a single thought. 'Then I will give you a punishment,' he had told her one time, the tension almost palpable in the air.
Though it wasn't much of a punishment when she had enjoyed it.
Even so, they both understood the nature of their safe-words. Green was permission to go, permission to own her and hold power over her in ways they did not allow outside of the bedroom. Yellow was lighten up on the intensity. Red meant stop altogether. They had reviewed it so many times Fakir sometimes found himself stilling in his place just hearing the words in other contexts.
When he remains silent, Ahiru slowly repeats herself. "Green."
There's no mistake she's giving him permission, which is odd considering they were in the midst of brewing an argument. And while normally Fakir would express even more confusion and tell her to get back to helping him clean, something else clicked in that he realized just as much as she did that he wasn't in the mood for real fighting. And what better way to release that strain than to pretend instead?
So he receives her permission, replying back automatically as he stands up straight and begins his instructions.
"Then first, go to our room. Don't clean yourself, don't get anything out. Just sit on the bed."
It feels good to give orders and to know she's going to obey them. It's something he was ashamed of before they both acknowledged it. He's a changed person; he's not supposed to like telling people what to do and issue a punishment if they didn't see it through. That just made him exactly like the boy he used to be when he controlled Mytho.
But Ahiru had understood there was a difference. Inside and outside of the bedroom was the barrier that made things okay when it was just between them. And if Fakir felt shame for the things he found he liked during sex, then she should have felt shame too, because she liked being under him and obeying his every instruction and letting him own her. But to like that also betrayed everything she was, for she actively fought against being controlled back when the town was inside of a story. She would never say she belonged to someone if a person asked her about it on the street. So why was that suddenly different when it came to sex?
Maybe it didn't matter, and maybe they didn't need to fret over it, especially once they confined their secret fantasies to each other one night as they lied awake together in bed. So maybe they liked control play in the bedroom. Maybe they liked things that betrayed their personality in the daytime. As long as they were okay with it and only with each other… what did it matter?
Though to be honest, when Ahiru gave the go ahead to Fakir she hadn't expected him to just tell her to go to the bedroom and sit.
In fact she tilts her head, raising one eyebrow. "Don't you want help cleaning up?"
By this time Fakir's mind is already in the zone of their pretend, playing the role without effort. He leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. "Are you talking back to me?"
It's practically an automatic response as Ahiru submissively bows her head. "… Mm. No." And she places the washcloth in the sink before turning around and leaving the kitchen, making her way up the stairs before Fakir hears the opening and shutting of their bedroom door.
It's not that he doesn't want her help cleaning, to be perfectly honest. In fact, it's probably going to take half an hour longer to do this all by himself. But it's that the thought of Ahiru sitting still for that long because he ordered her to do so turned him on. The tension would be worth it.
So he cleans all he can, and about an hour later Fakir arrives upstairs to their bedroom and is greeted with the sight of Ahiru sitting cross-legged on the sheets of their bed, still smeared in chocolate sauce and jam all over her skin and clothes. Just as he commanded, she sat perfectly still and did nothing, all to please him. His heart purrs in response.
"Still green?" he asks, closing the door behind him.
Ahiru rocks back and forth in her place, a small smile spreading across her face. "Still green," she repeats.
"Then first, I'd like for you to get a few things for me. Don't think you've escaped punishment just yet," he chides, strolling over to the edge of the bed and sitting down. When Ahiru sits up straight in attention, he continues. "Go to the drawer. Take out two of the scarves, and bring them to me." Black silk. Very strong and durable when tied in a knot.
Ahiru does just as she's told, her little feet padding on the carpet as she makes her way over to the other side of the room and draws out the two very special pieces of cloth. When she hands them to him, Fakir idly draws his thumb over the silky texture, mulling over what to do next.
"Close your eyes."
The blue color of her irises disappear immediately as she shuts them quickly, sucking in a small breath when she feels him tying one of the scarves around her head and covering her eyes.
"Can you see anything?"
She blinks underneath the cloth, and then shakes her head. "No."
"Good." He stands from the bed before her and leans down, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Then first, I'll clean you off."
From there he begins issuing small licks here and there over her face, wiping off the chocolate that stained her skin. When she giggles, Fakir arches a brow. "Do you think this is funny?"
"It tickles," she says, biting her lip. Fakir feels his own quipping into a light smirk as he leans down and nips the very lip she's biting, pulling it away to hear her gasp.
"You're being punished. There's nothing to laugh about in this situation," he says in a low playful voice, picking her up and pushing her down to the mattress of the bed with an abruptness that leaves her squeaking in surprise. From there he continues 'cleaning' her, licking down her bare arms and nipping small teeth marks into her skin, flicking his tongue at her neck, kissing her clothed breasts, then taking one of her fingers and sucking on it. Ahiru holds back from giggling, but only barely as the wide grin on her face betrays the noises she manages to swallow down. When he drags his tongue across her palm, she releases a low moaning sound, her fingers twitching slightly.
"Give me a number." Fakir pops her fingers back into his mouth and suckles, playfully licking at her from within the hot and wet cavern.
"U-um," Ahiru stammers as she wracks her mind for an answer, any answer, before abruptly blurting out: "Six!"
"All right," he hums, letting her fingers slip out, covered in his saliva. "We'll go with six strikes."
"… O-oh." Ahiru's face flushes across in a deep red with the realization, her body wriggling just slightly in anticipation.
She can't see him, but she feels his weight shifting the bed as he grabs her and turns her over on her stomach. She also can't see him take her wrists and pull them behind, but she feels him tying them together with the second black silk scarf from his arsenal. Once she's restrained to his liking, Fakir lets his hands trail along her back, sliding over the clothing until he reaches her backside. And he takes the hem of her shorts and tugs them down, revealing the creamy skin, dotted with a few special freckles only he knows about. He presses a finger into each blemished spot and then cups a cheek, squeezing his digits into the flesh.
"What is this?"
"Yours," Ahiru answers automatically.
In response Fakir lifts his hand and brings it down in an almighty smack against her rear, causing her to jerk forward on a shriek.
"Too much?" he asks when she convulses and rubs her bare thighs together, the mark of his hand showing up in an angry red sign on the side of her ass.
"N-no!" she pants, shaking her head as her fingers flex in and out behind her back. "Not at all…"
"Then I'll continue."
And so he does, giving her strike after strike until she's all but writhing on the bed. She squeaks out with the smacks, but by the fourth one she's moaning into the pillow, arching her hips out to just keeptaking it.
"Five… and six." For the last time Fakir brings his hand down on her rear in an audible smack, jostling her forward into the sheets.
By that time he's already hard in his pants, and he reaches down to unzip himself with a small noise in the back of his throat. She hears him behind her, shifting his weight and holding himself up on all fours to hover over her. For a moment she can't feel his contact at all, until he shifts his hips and suddenly he's there, hard and pulsating between the cheeks of her backside.
"… Why are you here," he breathes down her neck, his nose brushing the skin.
Ahiru wriggles in her spot, though she smiles against the pillow with a sudden swell of affection.
"Because I'm yours."
"Say it again."
"I belong to you."
Words she never would say outside of the bedroom. But Fakir treasures it all the same, holds those sacred words tight against his heart, because he too knows for a fact that she would never say it anywhere else—but the fact that she would indulge his dark desires like this means the world to him, everything to him. And he knows she's just as into it as he is with every shift of her hips, every breathing pant of his name, every flex of her fingers. They are in this scene with every inch of their body.
And he loves her, by god he loves her.
Reaching down to take himself in his hand, Fakir positions himself behind her and rocks his hips forward, slipping inside as they both suck in a breath. He can feel her hands quivering against his stomach as he leans out and then pushes back in again, a small dip in the water before jumping in the pool. Then he abruptly shoves himself into her on a harsh note, practically feeling her body jolt forward as she gasps with a high pitch. Clutching her hips, Fakir begins his pace—steady, even, controlled. Ahiru makes little muffled noises into the pillow on a rhythm in tune with his movements, clenching around him tighter and tighter as time moves on.
When he tucks a hand beneath her and moves up from her stomach and over her breasts, his hips begin to thrust on a less controlled level. Now he's fucking her. There are wet sounds below as the sweat on their skin smack against each other, and when his hand wraps around her thin little neck Ahiru positively moans into the open air.
Three seconds, light pressure only. That is what they agreed on when it came to breath play. And so Fakir clenches his hand around her neck, only marginally so, just enough for Ahiru's vision to cloud out for a few moments as her eyes roll back and she can feel her heartbeat ringing in her ears. And it's so good. When he lets go she takes in a large breath, her chest rising and falling frantically.
Fakir keeps his hand in place even after he stops issuing the pressure as a symbol of his dominance. It only makes Ahiru that much wetter as she rolls her hips back against him, letting him take her and use her and do things no one can even imagine to her. And she loves every moment of it, because only he has permission to have her like this.
Sometimes it's almost scary to think of the scandalous reaction her friends would have if they ever found out the things Ahiru said and did during sex. Perhaps an even bigger scandal than if they found out what Fakir did.
But it doesn't matter, because they have no plans of letting anyone know about their sex life.
It's after that when Fakir loses all semblance of control, wrapping his arms about her body and all but pounding her into the bed until he comes and spills inside of her, feeling her tighten up a few seconds later.
Once he unties her and removes the blindfold they lie in bed together several minutes later, her resting against his chest while he idly brushes his fingers through her hair, sighing in content.
Nuzzling into his skin, Ahiru smiles lazily. " 'M still sorry for the mess, y'know…"
"Never mind that," Fakir sighs, shrugging. "I've lost the energy."
Ahiru had been right to initiate the scene between them. It was much more satisfying to use their pent up energy to play with their roles instead of arguing.
He'd have to remember that for the future.