Passionate Desires

[500 Themes: 393]


Barnaby wakes, and he's bound.

The idea initially terrifies him. He twists and gasps into the air, only to find that a struggle as well with a cloth gag effectively stifling his hisses and shrieks to little more than muffled protests. But he's still in bed – his bed, their bed, his arms strung up above his head, rope tightly knotting his wrists, and so he wonders what, exactly is going on.

And then he sees him.

Kotetsu, perched so calmly at his side, smirking like a cat that's caught the canary. An apt comparison, and something Barnaby can see so clearly, even with his glasses gone and vision thus decidedly blurry.

The smirk unnerves him, though, and so he curls in on himself, trying not to think about how he is also nude for some reason, which was definitely not the way he had brought himself to bed in the first place.

He needs to stop being such a sound sleeper around this man.

"You look so worried, Bunny." One of those broad, strong hands smoothes over his cheek and up through his hair, and Barnaby wishes he could bite him out of spite, brow furrowing in irritation. Kotetsu seems entirely unconcerned as his fingers trail against the curve of his jaw, thumb brushing over a plump lower lip. "Relax. You know I'll take good care of you."

Barnaby tries not to think about what that means. So he struggles – jerking against the ropes that bind him, attempting to squirm away when Kotetsu simply catches hold of one long, lean leg and uses it to twist him back into place.

"None of that, now." And he leans closer, face so deceptively kind. "Don't you want to look pretty for me?"

Barnaby chokes on a groan.

He doesn't see what Kotetsu reaches for, but it's something soft and silky and black as it drags over his skin, one foot caught shortly after and the material eased up and over it as if Kotetsu is so very practiced in the art. The elastic of it snaps into place against his thigh and Barnaby shudders in spite of himself, head turned aside and into one arm as he flushes hot, trying so very hard not to focus on the fact Kotetsu is pulling a stockig up his other leg next, delicately and carefully like he's dressing some doll.

Those same hands are dragging from thigh to ankle then, shoving his legs back, no matter how Barnaby struggles and shifts and tries to resist. It's futile, with how his arms are bound and how his limbs are shaking, eager when he certainly isn't trying to be.

Even still – he's already hard by the time oil is dripping between his thighs, staining the sheets beneath them as Kotetsu's fingers are just as slick and probing and a pair of them are twisting in side of him. Fast, fast, very fast, all of this is too fast, and he's left dizzy and tense, panting around the gag as a pair of digits slide into him, slick and insistent with how they are spreading and wriggling, making his hips jerk and his face heat and his entire body tighten with how he tries, so very hard, not to shove himself down against Kotetsu's hand and ride him that way.

Kotetsu enjoys torturing him this way, Barnaby knows it. Enjoys watching him writhe within his grasp, and he doesn't even try to hide it, what with how he is pulling his own cock free, a hand stroking languidly at the sight of Barnaby curled up against the headboard, sobbing and panting and whining as his fingers stroke just right, thigh highs dark and bunching over pale skin, one haphazardly making its way down to his knee as he wriggles all the more.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

A vehement shake of his head, and Kotetsu's face remains impassive, even as he grabs hold of Barnaby by the hips, holds him in place, and cruelly strokes directly over his prostate. Barnaby is crying – body twitching from the overstimulation, his thighs falling open wide and willing no matter how he wishes he wasn't acting like some harlot, ready for the taking.

"I'll ask again – "

Kotetsu doesn't have to finish. Barnaby just nods, flushed and teary-eyed and feeling every sensation that much stronger then – the burn of rope around his wrists, the gnash of his teeth against the gag, the curl of his toes into the bed as Kotetsu's fingers drag away and his cock is nudging against him instead, hands on his hips to drag him down onto it.

If Barnaby could form words, he'd probably be cursing – panting out mindless little obscenities of encouragement, no matter how that doesn't play into their game. Kotetsu drags him down, pulling against the restraints, stretching his arms taut to the point that it hurts, hurts enough to make his eyes tear further, especially when combined with every slick, hot inch of Kotetsu's cock driving up into him, stretching him wide and filling him to the hilt.

He wants to just sag into the bed. Kotetsu doesn't give him the chance to do so willfully as the next thrust shoves him down, the other man's hands swept beneath his knees to bend his legs back, leaving him entirely, uselessly bent and trapped and caught between Kotetsu and ropes and the mattress and every long, hard thrust deep into his body. Barnaby strangles another whimper, nigh delirious as Kotetsu's nails rake over his thighs, blunt but still more than capable of tearing runs into the stockings so carefully afforded there prior – mindless, carnal, possessive.

Like this, he's simply used – held down and fucked until his vision is some even more useless blur, his head rolled back into the pillows and his breath escaping as erratic pants. When Kotetsu comes, it isn't inside of him – no, he takes the time to pull out, to make sure Barnaby is watching him when he strokes himself and groaning, spills himself over the blond's stomach, leaving Barnaby to twitch and shudder beneath him all the more, entirely unfulfilled and yet feeling incredibly sated in his own right.

He doesn't expect it, but Kotetsu's hand wraps around him, then – still-slick from lube and sweat and Barnaby jerks, snapping his hips up into Kotetsu's grasp unthinkingly.

"Do you want me to let you come?"

Barnaby's response is something between a mewl and a moan, and Kotetsu just grins, dragging his thumb over the head of Barnaby's erection, making him jump and sob heavily into his gag.

"Look at me when you do it."

And so Barnaby does – or tries to, no matter how blurry and sightless his vision is when he finally spills himself into Kotetsu's hold, panting for a full breath that is far from coming. Only then does he sag back into the bed himself, shivering and quivering all over, every muscle singing in at least a dozen different tunes, aching and hurting pleasantly.

"Good boy," is the low whisper against his ear, and Barnaby gulps in a full, tremulous breath finally as Kotetsu's fingers fumble to untie his gag. "Good. Did you like that, Bunny?"

And that concern finally slides through Kotetsu's voice, leaving Barnaby decidedly relieved. Game of his own making or not, it is still simply good to know that Kotetsu has his own apprehensions.

"Mm," he agrees on a sigh. So easy to agree, because Kotetsu is the only person he wants with this kind of power over him. "Perfect."

"So what do you think?"

Barnaby's gaze is locked upon Kotetsu's face, desperately attempting to read him even when the man simply looks confused.

He knows the request is a stretch. Consensual might as well be Kotetsu's middle name, but – well. There's something to be said about having this man throw him over something without asking for once.

"… Uh. Well. I mean – I don't really see the point, and I don't want to hurt you because I'm not like that – "

"It's like a game, Kotetsu."

And the man's brow furrows. "A game?"

"Yes. Just think of it as a game." Barnaby leans in a bit closer. "It doesn't reflect how I think you are actually. We're just… acting out roles."

Kotetsu seems to give in a bit, at that. "Well – I guess if it's something you really want…"

"Yes." Too eager, maybe? Barnaby doesn't care. "Yes. And if you don't like it, we don't have to do it ever again. There are even things called 'safe words' – "

"Oh, I've heard about those!"

And Barnaby's surprise is palpable.

"Yours should be 'Super Banana'!"

And Barnaby kicks him.