"As you've probably guessed from the ropes, we’re going to try something new tonight." Quentin's voice was soft as he walked around Augustus, his hands touching him everywhere. A pinch here, a scratch there, a slap on his ass, a twist of his nipple. All his nerves were fired up, sensitive, and eagerly awaiting what came next.
"Since you'll be tied up for a while, we’re going to do this in the bedroom so you're comfortable."
Augustus nodded, even though Quentin didn't need his permission. It was new, so maybe a little extra confirmation that he was all in for this wasn't a bad idea.
"I can see you're already excited," Quentin said, shooting a pointed look at Augustus’s leaking cock.
Augustus shrugged. There was little sense in trying to hide his arousal, let alone deny it. He was excited. Why lie about that?
Then Quentin wrapped his slim hand around his cock and pulled, and Augustus winced as the pressure increased, until he had to take a step forward, then another one, and then he got the hint. Quentin led him to the bedroom by his cock, and fuck if that wasn't arousing in and of itself.
Quentin had prepared the bedroom, the comforter and pillows removed from the bed but extra sheets put on, which hopefully meant he intended to make a mess of the best kind. God, Augustus had never run as many loads of laundry as he had the last few weeks. They went through almost a fresh set of sheets daily. He'd even ordered two extra sets on Amazon.
Quentin gestured to the bed, and Augustus climbed onto it, checking with a look whether Quentin wanted him on his back or on his stomach. Stomach it was, and he lay down, spread-eagled, his body relaxing.
Quentin stood beside the bed, uncoiling the ropes, and Augustus turned his head so he could watch him. Quentin's tongue peeped out between his lips as he slowly created a knot that tied Augustus's hands to the bedposts. Quentin tested it, pulling firmly a few times, then nodding as to assure himself he'd done it correctly.
A quick slap on his ass, which for some reason never failed to attract Quentin's attention, and then he switched his preparations to Augustus's ankles. Augustus couldn't see him, too restricted by his tied hands to move around. The rope looped around his right ankle, then again. There was tension on the rope as Quentin tied it to the bedposts, at least, that was what Augustus assumed he was doing. It took long, though, much longer than with his wrists.
"Shit, hold on a second," Quentin said, sounding frustrated. He hurried past Augustus to the night table where he picked up his phone. A few swipes and he studied something with furrowed brows. "Did I do it wrong?" Quentin mumbled, but Augustus was pretty sure it wasn't meant for him.
Quentin stalked back to the end of the bed, phone in hand. The ropes were removed from his ankle, then wrapped around it again. "I had it this morning. This goes over here, and then that one goes under there. So why is it not holding?"
Augustus held still, not wanting to make it even more difficult for Quentin, who clearly had trouble with the knots. He muttered something, then untied Augustus's ankle again, only to start all over. Finally, he seemed satisfied and moved on to Augustus's other leg.
"There, that should do the job," Quentin said, his voice thick with satisfaction. He dropped his phone back on the nightstand, then appraised Augustus with burning eyes. "You look positively edible, baby. Too bad I'm not in the mood to eat you. Yet."
Augustus’s stomach rolled. Funny, he hadn't even thought beyond the part of getting tied up. What was Quentin going to do to him now that he had him restrained?
20
Quentin had to make an effort to keep his breathing even. He had done it. Adrenaline fired through his system as he watched Augustus spread out for him on the bed. The sight of that powerful body immobilized by the ropes was not just arousing. It was powerful, exhilarating, and also scary as hell.
The last two days, after the ropes had arrived, he'd practiced making the knots, but it wasn't as easy as it had looked on the websites. Even with the step-by-step instructions, he had still struggled, frustrated by a lifelong lack of spatial awareness. It had been his nemesis all through high school math as well. He just couldn't read drawings, diagrams, graphics of any kind. Give him words, and he was fine, but any kind of pictures fucked him up. Noel had spent hours explaining that shit to him, and he’d still only scraped by on those exams.
But he'd managed it, right? He did the last check, making sure that enough space remained between Augustus’s skin and the rope so he wouldn't cut off his circulation. Once he had assured himself he'd really done a good job, Quentin blew out a slow breath. Now came the next part.
He had planned this. Meticulously, in fact. He didn't like to leave things to chance anyway, but in this case even less because Augustus depended on him not only for his pleasure but for his safety as well. Quentin had to be worthy of the trust this man had put in him.
"Remind me of your safe signals,” he said, his voice cracking a little. “What’s the signal for green?”
Augustus snapped his fingers once.
“Yellow?”
He slapped them on the bed twice. Maybe that was easier than snapping? And faster, probably.
“Red?”
He did the same, but three times.
How could Augustus seem so calm and composed? This was all new to him as well, and moreover, it wasn't just the D/s part that was new to him but the whole gay part as well. Though Quentin had to admit Augustus had taken to both like he'd done it all his life. His surrender came so easily, so naturally, and it made Quentin even more aware of the weight of his responsibility.
His hand trembled, but he extended it anyway, pausing only for a second before he let it land on Augustus. Augustus jerked from the unexpected contact, then grew still again. Should he talk to him? The advice he'd read on the blogs had been contradictory. Some people—and it had been both Doms and subs who had argued this—said that if you were both new to the lifestyle, talking was important. It helped establish an open communication, and Quentin could see the truth of that.
But others had claimed that was nonsense and that explaining everything you were about to do diminished the impact of the scene. That sounded pretty reasonable as well, so which should he believe? Which advice should he follow? In the end, according to most Doms, it came down to following your gut, and that was not as easy as it sounded.
He trailed his hand down Augustus’s back, reveling in the sheer strength of the muscles he caressed. If he wanted to—and if he hadn’t been tied down—Augustus could knock him out with one strike. Not that he would ever get violent with him; that, Quentin was sure of. But he could, and it made his submission all the sweeter.
The man's ass was a work of art. Compared to the rest of his body, it was just a tad rounder, had a bit more meat to it. It was still strong and muscled, honed by years of physical labor, but it held just that little extra jiggle. And god, the way he felt inside, the tight grip his ass created on Quentin's cock when he fucked him… Quentin swallowed at the thought.
But no, he couldn't skip steps. This mattered, and he had to get it right. He continued his gentle exploration of Augustus’s body, touching him everywhere, tickling him a little when he saw that got a reaction out of him, and of course, carefully avoiding any intimate areas. Oh, he could see them, since Augustus was beautifully spread wide, his crack, hole, and balls on full display.