Good in Rope

“You look good in rope,” Nicholas all but purred as he admired his handiwork.

“Is that some kind of colonizing bullshit?” Mayank teased, the sly slant of his dark eyes and his wide grin giving him away. “White man power tripping over my brown skin in ropes?”

Nicholas raised his brows at Mayank and put his head on to one side.

“Don’t think I hadn’t considered it before,” Nicholas replied in measured tones. “I do try to avoid fetishizing people, but I think we’re safe in any case. You came to me, after all, and you asked me to tie you up.” He leaned close, his breath tickling at Mayank’s ear. “I could untie you if you like. A few little pulls and that harness will be so unraveled it wouldn’t hold a kitten.”

“No, no!” Mayank replied hastily, rolling one narrow shoulder beneath the webbing of soft violet rope. “It’s.. ah. It’s nice.”

“Nice,” Nicholas repeated in a tone that sent Mayank’s thoughts scrabbling after something more appropriate to say.

“Yes. Sort of.. comfortable? I didn’t think it would be comfortable.”

“Oh, it doesn’t have to be comfortable,” Nicholas replied, and this time he was the one grinning. “It can be Very Uncomfortable.”

The words were delivered with a pinch through the webbing of rope stretched over Mayank’s ribs, and he was left hissing in excitement for it. His cock gave another nagging twitch, reminding him all over again that his blood was running hot and he needed to find an appropriate hole for some relief! He licked at his lips and looked up at the pale brunette crowding his space. His face. Mayank had only to stretch against the ropes and he might bite the smirk hovering so near. It really was a lovely smirk, mole under the right corner and all.

“I like that it’s comfortable,” Mayank managed to reply, feeling somewhat cowed by the steadiness of Nicholas’ stare.

“What was that?” Nicholas asked, his head tipping to one side.

Nicholas as so close, but not touching. Not touching, when Mayank wanted nothing more than to reach his bound hands up and cup at his jaw. Wanted to bite and to kiss and--

“Mayank.”

Nicholas said his name sharply, not quite hitting the inflections between the syllables right, but it called Mayank’s attention nonetheless. He cleared his throat and focused his eyes.

“I like that it’s comfortable, sir.”

“Good,” Nicholas praised, and bestowed upon the bound man the most fleeting of kisses.

Mayank’s sigh was one of blessed delight. The touch had not lasted long, but the graze of soft, smooth lips across his own had been as water to a man dying of thirst. It didn’t matter that Nicholas had given Mayank a long, intense kiss at the door upon his arrival. It didn’t matter that Nicholas had kissed Myank’s skin time and time again as rope was wound, twisted, and knotted around torso and limbs. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

“Ready?” Nicholas asked, his face so close that it was impossible to focus upon.

“Yes, sir,” Mayank answered promptly. Ready. His tongue darted over his lips.

Nicholas smiled again. It was a small smile, and it threatened to turn to a smirk without actually crossing over. He moved away, taking his smile with him, and turned for the dangle of rope near the wall opposite the platform where Mayank was kneeling. Saying nothing, Nicholas grabbed hold of the rope and hauled. The wheels in the pulleys above, well oiled as they were, whispered as rope hissed.

Mayank gasped as the ground lurched away beneath him. He was aloft, rope straining, though not digging or pinching. Aloft and swaying slightly. A pause, and he went up higher. Higher in turns, though not too high above the padded dias. This was fine. Dangling. Swaying. He craned his neck to stare at Nicholas, and watched as the man tied the end of the rope off on a pair of posts jutting from the wall near the lightswitch. Nicholas pulled the crop from the little rack of toys on the wall, and Mayank felt his cock twitch again. The so-slight swaying was already slowing, but still present, and he wasn’t at all certain how he felt about it. But the crop? He knew he liked that. He definitely liked the rope. He stared a moment more, then shut his eyes and let his head drop with a sigh. Think of it as a sort of swing.

The air hissed, then popped! A burst of heat flared to light on the side of Mayank’s thigh. His eyes snapped open, and he stared at the scuff marks on the floor beneath him as he struggled to catch his breath. The next sting of the folded leather caught him at the outside of his calf before he could do so, but Mayank cried out nonetheless.

He squirmed, and squirming made the ropes creak and sway.. and there was nothing to push against. There was no purchase to be found. No leverage. Just a slow swaying as sweat beaded in the folds where his calves and thighs were crushed together in the hold of the rope. Another hiss of the air. Another sting and pop! It was followed by a grit of a cry, and Mayank cursed under his breath for it.

The crop with its leather thong and flexible rod stung terribly where it struck, and the stinging was making Mayank’s eyes sting in turn. He growled, and thrashed, and this time the damned crop struck the bottom of his heel! He meant to object, to protest, but the crop came again before he could get the objection out past his lips.

It was biting him faster now. Unpredictably. One moment it was at Mayank’s side, the next along his leg. It stung his foot, and even the palm of his hand when he tried to hold his breath to get past the little blisters of heat that were welling up and merging all over his body. His cock strained and his balls ached and he was soon panting, groaning, unable to tally them all as the crop continued on. Mayank swayed, and dangled, and might have spun in circles if not for the way that Nicholas peppered his blows from side to side.

And then it stopped. Mayank heard the chest to his left open and shut, but he was too busy breathing and being to look. His body was fire, and every breath seemed to fan it and ease it at the same time. Pulsing, and want, and he could feel his very spirit dancing. It was divine, and—fuck that was burning in a different way!

Mayank’s back arched, and he hissed through exposed teeth as his head lifted. He strained, struggling against the ropes for the first time since Nicholas had made him test their hold. His eyes snapped open, lashes weighted with the tears that had scattered largely to the floor.

“Ice.”

Nicholas’ voice over Mayank. Behind him. Mayank eased somewhat, feeling the water seep as the ice melted. He grunted, sighed.. and then tensed again as the braided cover along the crop’s shaft was pressed to rest within the crack of his ass, the texture teasing at the bundle of nerves in a nearly painful way as Nicholas twisted and rocked it against him.

“Mmmnuh,” Mayank burbled inarticulately.

“Really, Mayank. If you’re not going to say something nice, you shouldn’t say anything at all,” Nicholas teased.

Nicholas slithered to position himself upon the padded surface beneath Mayank, the crop abandoned to its hold. Mayank stared at him. Brown hair. Dark eyes—what was a white boy doing with such dark eyes?

Then he was swaying again, this time under the guidance of Nicholas’ hands. Hands that pressed, and pulled, so that Mayank was left staring at the back of Nicholas’ head as soft lips and warm tongue introduced a different sort of heat to the mix. Mayank groaned, his belly tensing as he tried to rock into the slick heat of Nicholas’ gifted mouth, but still Mayank was without purchase. Even in this, he could only hang his head and submit to Nicholas’ skill.

What harm was there, really, in surrendering himself to the moment? The water from the ice mixed with sweat and rope in a way that wasn’t exactly pleasant, but wasn’t horrible either. What did it matter, really, with a tongue teasing at his foreskin? It didn’t matter a bit, Mayank told himself. Really, it didn’t.

There was heat, and moisture, and suction. Oh, glorious suction. Mayank gasped as the slow tip and shift of Nicholas head turned instead to his own body being forced to sway where it dangled. Forward and back to meet Nicholas’ craned movements. Fingers teased at Mayank’s balls, grasping and rolling, pinching at the taut skin every so often. Mayank struggled to move, to kick out his legs, to tip his hips and flex and thrust and buck. But there was just swaying, and tension, and the hot wet mouth pulling audibly along his cock, the feel of relatively rough tissue giving every so often to a softer squeeze and ripple.

It went longer than it should have, in Mayank’s opinion, for how frustrated he was with the dangling, and how fucking Nicholas kept changing the fucking pace! Every time he could feel the pressure build, every time he got close, the momentum would ease, or Nicholas would draw nearly off.. Until finally, finally even through that awful teasing it became too much to bear.

“Fuck! Please let me cum, sir!” Mayank groaned. “My legs are starting to cramp and my ass is starting to cramp and I think you’ve covered me in welts and if I don’t cum soon my balls are going to fall off!”

Nicholas drew back, rather than oblige! He drew back to laugh and kiss at Mayank’s belly through a gap in the ropes.

“Please!” Mayank implored again, staring at the pale shell of an ear where it curved against unruly dark waves of hair.

“Mmm… I suppose,” Nicholas allowed.

And his mouth was back, and sucking hard, and Mayank gasped for how deep he went! Deep and rippling, squeezing. The hand that had been clutched at Mayank’s balls released them, slid up behind him instead to drag and slide the crop where it had settled between the cheeks of his ass. Sliding and burning and flaring his nerves to fire again as Nicholas’ throat worked its own sweet magic.

Mayank’s cry rolled off of the damask wall paper, crashing back at him as his cock jerked and spasmed within Nicholas’ mouth. The cry itself split and broke, and Mayank flexed and tensed against the air, against the crop, against the sweet purchase of those lips as he came in swells of sensation that left him reeling in the residual light of gold and red bursts against the backs of his eyes. On and on they came, seeming to last forever, fading slower into dimmer pulses as the ringing of his ears finally began to dwindle. Mayank hung limp, spent and panting, and shuddered as Nicholas’ mouth drew back and away.

“Mmmh, good boy,” Nicholas praised.

Mayank could taste himself upon the other man’s lips, head forced up a bit for another kiss. This one lasted longer, probed gently, and then eased again as Nicholas hummed with satisfaction.

“I believe that’s our time for today,” Nicholas lamented beneath Mayank. “You really must book longer next week.”

Fingers through his hair. Mayank loved the fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly as he dangled, bound and warm. “But you can’t leave marks on me anymore after this, remember?”

“I remember,” Nicholas answered, his tone light and easy as he withdrew for where the rope had been secured to the posts. “Fret not, my friend. Your bride shan’t suspect a thing. When is the wedding again?”

“Three weeks,” Mayank answered as he was lowered gently to the platform, and less gently back into reality. “It will be a week long, and then we are traveling for a month to visit all of our family who cannot come, and then we will be back.”

“And finally living together,” Nicholas continued with a smile as he unhooked Mayank and began loosening the ropes. “It will be good, Mayank,” he encouraged. “She will give you what you want, and I will give you what you need. There are plenty of ways to hurt you the way you like without leaving a trace.”

Mayank shivered as the ropes fell away. He could still feel them in a way, but he felt their absence more, and the way the heat was shifting under his skin left him chilled. “Yeah, sure. Kiss me again? For luck?”

“I’ll kiss you again for the sheer pleasure of doing so,” Nicholas cooed dotingly.

And then he did.