by Brit M.
She nodded, testing the knot with a yank of her arm. It was soft enough to not hurt, but the tight knot didn't give a centimeter. If anything, it tightened further. A second tie bound her other wrist and then Paul stepped around the front of the chair. She had a moment to appreciate them, standing next to each other with their eyes on her—the way their bodies differed, the lithe slimness of Adrian next to the sculpted, toned musculature of Paul. Then they shifted, eyes drifting to each other, and the desire there was everything she'd glimpsed between them while they shared her.
Paul moved first, lifting his hands not to Adrian but to unbutton his own shirt. Marissa watched as each button slipped open, baring more of his dark, honey-toned skin. She wondered briefly where his family was from—Middle East? Mediterranean? She didn't care. All that mattered was Paul; gorgeous, kind, and earnest Paul. Adrian's attention was fixed on him just as firmly as he stripped, the shirt fluttering down around his elbows before dropping to the floor.
Next came the belt buckle, undone with both hands and a quick jerk that seemed directly tied to things low in her body. She shivered, thighs clenching together, and nearly groaned as he snaked the belt out of the loops of his pants and wound it around his hand. He surely didn't mean to use it on her, tied down as she was, but she saw Adrian's eyebrows raise a fraction, then lower, an easy smile spreading across his kiss-reddened lips.
“So I top her, you top me?” he asked, husky.
“You've gotten to have all the control, babe,” Paul said, tossing out the endearment as easy as breathing. Marissa licked her lips at the casual intimacy. It was as if tying her had allowed them to slip back to their normal, solitary pleasures as a couple. She didn't feel left out or extraneous, but at the same time, she couldn't distract them with a well-placed hand. It was all up to them, every move of this dance. “I think it's my turn, don't you? Aren't you stressed from today, a little worried? Don't you want to let go?”
Adrian swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. He tilted his chin in a tiny nod. Marissa noticed that he didn't give in as easily as she did. Her body just seemed to melt, to go loose and happy into their dominant touch. Adrian needed coaxing to let go. She wondered, did he enjoy it the same way, or was it different for everyone?
“Good,” Paul said. He laid the coiled belt on the bed and Adrian's eyes tracked to it, then to her for one brief, smoldering moment before returning. “You want to make it all better for Marissa, and so do I. It's hard to see such a gorgeous woman so hurt and unsure, isn't it?”
“You know it is,” Adrian muttered with a nod. He glanced at her.
“Well, this is how you do it,” he replied. “You show her how you let go, and how much you like it, so it's okay for her to like it too.”
Her breath caught as Paul grabbed Adrian by the belt and yanked him in close. Adrian blinked, mouth open a bit, some of the tension bleeding from his frame. He moaned a moment later, resting his head on Paul's shoulder. The other man stroked his hair for a moment, cradling him in his arms, then pushed him back.
“Clothes off,” he said.
Marissa felt like she couldn't breathe. Adrian lowered his eyes, demure for once, and began to undress. He made no show of it, just efficiently stripped himself until he stood nude and obviously aroused in front of his partner. The clothes were in a haphazard pile, but Paul said nothing of it, just gestured him forward with a crook of his finger.
“There's nothing wrong with this,” Paul whispered.
It was for her, even if he didn't look at her. She let a small sigh slip out. Adrian stood with hands at his sides, barely an inch separating his body from Paul's, yet he made no move to touch. Her fingers ached to do it for him, run along that wonderful chest, tweak those small nipples.
“Adrian likes to be treated like a doll, don't you?” Paul said. He didn't wait for a response before continuing. “You like manhandling, Marissa. He does, too, but he likes to make no decisions once he gives it up. Everything is up to me.”
She thought about that, didn't know if she had the control to do it. She was already dying to get up and wriggle in between their bodies, touch and lick and suck. Adrian was smiling, she could see, the faintest quirk of lips. His hands were open and relaxed and his posture soft.
Paul tilted his chin up with one large hand spanning his jaw and kissed him soundly, drawing a ragged groan from him and a tremble. Their mouths slid together, Adrian leaning up on his toes as Paul pulled him higher, tongue sliding between his lips. Marissa gasped, eyes tracking down to watch the bounce of the blond man's cock as he stood on tiptoe, wobbling a bit to keep his balance and still breathe through the powerful, owning kiss.
He fell back when Paul pushed him gently, collapsing onto the bed in a sprawl of limbs. Marissa yearned forward in her bonds, toes digging into the plush carpet. She wanted so badly to slide her mouth down the red-flushed length of his cock, fill her mouth with him and then climb up to straddle his waist, guide him inside—
The sight of Paul undoing his pants and stepping out of them distracted her from that. He, too, was fully hard. He wrapped his fingers around himself and stroked once, then let go to climb up onto the bed. She still had a fine view as he reclined against the headboard, legs spread slightly. Adrian watched him through half-lidded eyes, still lax and waiting.
“Suck me,” he ordered.
Adrian rolled onto all fours with a hungry growl, running his hands up Paul's legs from his ankles to his hips. Then, aware of his audience, he adjusted his position and tilted his head so that nothing obscured the sight of him opening his mouth and guiding his partner's dick inside. His lips slid down, slowly, inch by inch. He paused three quarters of the way, bobbed once to take a deep breath, and kept going. Marissa shifted, thighs pressed together, her own mouth watering as Adrian swallowed down to the root of Paul's cock.
Paul hissed, a hand on the back of his neck, then moaned. Adrian flexed his hand on the other man's thigh and held, lips pressed to his body, eyes squeezed tightly shut.
“Oh, fuck,” Paul whispered. “Breathe, darling.”
Adrian pulled off with a gasp, lips glistening wetly and chin also damp. He blinked hard. Marissa groaned and they both looked at her, Paul grinning and Adrian licking his lips. Her body throbbed at their attention, need flickering like fire up her spine. She clamped her lips together, though, refusing to beg—not yet, though she knew she would give in soon. It was deliciously bad to play their game, make them work for it the way they were going to do to her.
The men seemed to grasp her challenging posture and also her trembling desire. Adrian stretched out on the bed, lowering his mouth again to lap at Paul's cock without taking him inside, teasing, then inching down to suck each testicle separately, slowly. The other man groaned his appreciation. He tangled his fingers in Adrian's hair and lifted him up.
“You're having too much fun,” he said. “Don't think I don't see you humping the bed like a teenager. Up, hold the headboard.”
Adrian was uncharacteristically silent—no joking, no flirting. Marissa guessed it was his way of submitting, of being pliable, to not work his verbal magic and to let Paul lead. He knelt up and grasped the headboard, stretched out on his knees with his head hanging and his cock at stiff attention. It was nearly flat against his stomach, even kneeling.
“I'll give you five with my hand, five with the belt,” Paul said, stroking his thighs. His wide palms and fingers seemed to span the tight muscle of Adrian's flanks; Marissa ached to see them dig in a little, squeeze—it was what she would want if she were in Adrian's place. “Not because you've been bad, darling. You've been good. But you want it, don't you?”
Adrian nodded his assent and Marissa watched with wide eyes. She knew now she liked to be bitten, stretched out, tossed around, but would she like this? Didn't it hurt? The tiny pulse of something not quite jealousy pinched at her. Paul knew Adrian to his core, and this made it very clear. He knew exactly what to do and when. Would anybody ever know that about her?
>
The tension in the room as Paul lifted his hand, his fingers cupped every so slightly, was enough to cut with a knife. Marissa held her breath, Adrian's fingers were white-knuckled on the headboard and his body trembled, Paul's eyes glittered with fierce emotion. The smack of his palm landing on the other man's upturned butt was like a thunderclap, shockingly loud, and Marissa gasped in surprise before she could stop herself. A pink handprint stayed behind when he lifted his hand again, his attention all for his lover, who was shaking more pronouncedly now, especially through his outstretched arms.
The second slap landed just below the first, on the lower curve of his ass, spreading the pink further. Adrian made no sound but heavy breathing, though his elbows buckled and he lowered himself further, leaning his forearms against the headboard as well. Paul was fixed on his task, shifting to deliver an equal smack to the opposite cheek. Marissa imagined the heat it might bring, the sting, and could not quite grasp the sensation for herself. The fourth spank did draw a small grunt from Adrian, who was clinging to the headboard now. His cock was still stiff as a rod, so Marissa knew he was enjoying it.
Paul reached between his legs then, stroking a hand along his balls and giving a firm caress to his hard-on. Adrian let out a groan that was nearly a cry, shivering suddenly, as if the pleasure had shocked him out of whatever headspace he'd sunken into. The other man smirked, eyes narrowing, and Marissa swallowed hard, again, aching in every part of her body to crawl onto that bed with them. She'd be good. She wouldn't even ask to touch, she just wanted to be close enough to feel their heat. She could practically smell their sweat, the chair was so close to their play, but it wasn't close enough to satisfy her craving.
Paul pinched the back of his thigh a moment later, drawing out a squeak and leaving a tiny red mark. Adrian tossed his hair back and glared over his shoulder, pouting, but his shift in position let Marissa see the way his jaw dropped and his eyes closed when Paul slapped his ass again, hard. He bit his own lip, even, so taken by the feeling. She squirmed with more intent, her pussy wet and her pulse pounding in her veins.
“Patience,” Paul murmured, and she couldn't be sure who he was talking to, because Adrian returned to his previous submissive posture, head down between his arms. “Say stop if this is too much.”
He picked up the supple leather belt, wrapping the dangerous parts—buckle, latches—in his fist so there'd be no chance of hurting Adrian by accident. Marissa noticed now that it wasn't sewn the way most belts were. It was a softer leather without ridged edges, just a single seam along the far sides that blended in. Adrian moved to draw his thighs together, pressing them in one strong line. There were some things he obviously wanted to protect from the errant snap of the belt, she thought with a sympathetic wince.
Paul paused to look at her. “You seem to enjoy roughhousing, but you might not like this. Adrian enjoys a sharper edge on his submission than most people.”
“I'll—” she tried to say, her voice rasping. It caught in her throat, need smothering her. “I—”
“Hush,” he said easily.
She did. She had wanted to say I'll try it, but couldn't quite manage. Paul went as a side angle with the first strike of leather, snapping harsh and bright red across Adrian's pale thighs. He yelped, jerking with what she thought must be pain and not pleasure, but he relaxed again after barely a moment, still presenting himself for more, and said nothing. Paul's free hand stroked along the raised red mark, tender. Adrian groaned low in his throat and arched into the touch.
His noises of appreciation tapered off when Paul edged back again, switched his angle, and laid an equal stripe across the other thigh, overlapping the first slightly. The crack of leather against skin made her jump. She was so slick now even her thighs were damp with her desire. Adrian let out a low wail, pent-up pleasure and pain equal in the sexually charged sound, and Paul flipped the next strike over his handprint-layered ass. His pale skin took to the marks immediately, red and angry.
Marissa caught herself shifting rhythmically against the towel, clit stiff and throbbing, but she couldn't get enough pressure. This was so hot. Watching them switch their roles, watching in-control Adrian give it up, the way they knew how to please each other. Paul's intense concentration to detail, his desire to cause no harm while giving just the right amount of hurt, was as erotic as the sight of the other man coming undone.
The next two lashes came in quick succession, and she twitched with the sounds of Adrian's cries and the leather hitting flesh. How did it feel? The way Adrian collapsed onto his side, eyes fluttering and mouth open on a sigh, seemed so—ecstatic. Paul gathered him close, rolling him onto his back, which prompted a gasp and his eyes flew open. The other man pressed him down against the bed, let him writhe and rub his marked skin against the sheets, and then bent to kiss the curve of his hip.
Adrian stilled, panting hard, wetness on his face—maybe tears, maybe not. She wasn't sure. His hands fumbled to grasp as Paul's shoulders as he lowered his mouth to Adrian's still-hard dick. He took him in, sucking, his cheeks hollowing out with the intensity of it. Adrian moaned, his voice wrecked and hoarse. Two swift pumps of his hips and he was trembling, gasping, coming. Paul swallowed everything, palming his thighs and rubbing the tension from them.
Marissa had managed to keep her mouth closed, her pleas safely inside, for the entire scene. Now, her voice shaking, she managed, “Please—”
Adrian turned his head toward her placidly, a small smile on his mouth. His body was loose-limbed and sated. Paul was still resting between his legs, head pillowed on Adrian's stomach.
“Hmm,” he purred out. “Darling, I'm exhausted. Fucked-out. But Paul isn't done yet. Beg him.”
“Oh, Paul,” she gasped, leaning forward. Her breasts felt heavy, her hair swung into her face. “Paul, please, let me up, please.”
His smirk was anything but conciliatory. “Spread your legs.”
She did, shifting her hips to show them how wet she was, to prove how much she needed them. Adrian might have been physically done, but the edge that lingered in his voice let her know that he was still interested in playing this game with her. He still wanted to string her pleasure out, tease her until she couldn't take it any more. She was feverishly aware that their theory was spot-on: she was so aroused that she gave no thought to baring her cunt to them, so aroused that no part of her was ashamed of what she was doing, no part of her wanted to stop. She wanted this.
It was a desire that she thought, with practice, she could fully own for herself.
Paul slid off of the bed in a sinuous movement, his dick standing out from his body at full hardness. She fought to keep from pressing her legs back together, not out of modesty but out of need for even the slightest pressure on her aching clit. He walked over to her with a sway to his gait, laid his hands over hers. That brief, burning-hot touch made her shudder and her eyes close. She had to have more.
“If we were home,” he said. “I'd tie you to the bed and test which toys you liked best, until you were screaming for me. I think the suede flogger would be just right to start. It's soft, but it still feels strong when it slaps your skin.”
He patted her inner thigh, barely a smack, and she clenched her jaw to hold in a groan. The second tap of his fingers was harder, sharper, more like a spank. On the tender skin of her inner thigh it stung, but hotly, a warmth that spread up to her pussy. She heard herself panting.
“We could move up to something stronger if you liked it,” he murmured. His voice was heavenly, low and dark with want. “Maybe you're like Adrian, you like to hurt once you're revved up.”
She wasn't prepared for the full-on slap that landed next. It startled a shriek out of her, a jump in her bonds, but the flare of pain was like nothing she'd ever felt before. She's been spanked as a kid—who hadn't?—but it had never been like this, oh, never. This was unbelievably good.
“Hm,” Paul said. He stroked the spot on her leg that was aching now, burning.
“Untie
her,” Adrian said. She blinked her eyes open to see him propped up on his elbows, watching. Her vision seemed blurry, out of focus. She glanced down at the red mark on her thigh and up at Paul's serious, but still very aroused expression. “Bring her over here and I'll hold her while you play.”
The silk slid from her wrists and she tried to stand, but her legs wouldn't support her, shaking as they were with adrenaline and arousal. Paul picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other at her back. He wasn't gentle about it; his fingers dug in and she writhed, helplessly, loving the pressure against her body, the feeling of being crushed against him, held there.
He dumped her on the bed and she bounced, gasping, scrambling to find her balance. She didn't. Adrian grabbed her first, flipping her onto her stomach and grabbing her wrists in his hands. She thought of him as slender but that was only next to Paul's musculature—he was strong. He held her as easily as he would a trembling leaf, stretched out on the bed and dizzy with the manhandling that also made her whole body tense with desire.
Fingers plunged inside her a moment later, three, thick and wide. She screamed for Paul as he fucked her with his fingers, swift and unrelenting, her cunt grasping tightly as him as she shuddered and clenched. The sudden fulfillment after waiting was too much, too soon, and she was left shaking and moaning but unable to climax, waves of raw pleasure crashing over her but not enough to come.
“Slow down,” Adrian murmured to Paul over her twisting, shivering body. “Don't let this end so quickly.”
She cried out at the loss of his fingers when he pulled away, leaving her unsteady and bereft. The waiting, then the burst of sensation, then emptiness in such quick succession left her nearly sobbing. Adrian shifted her wrists to one of his hands and stroked her hair back from her face, thumb brushing her cheek.
“You're crying, sweetheart,” he said. He sounded a bit concerned, but she shook her head, and he seemed to understand. “It's all right. It gets intense, doesn't it? You let go. Just let it all go, and we'll take you high as you've ever been.”
