His love is a cruel, cruel master, Joe thinks as he follows Nicky to the next destination, feeling the wetness between his cheeks with every step.
When they arrive at a (very nice) hotel, where Nicky kisses him breathless in the elevator, he revises that opinion—only to reconsider when he sees what’s on the hotel bed.
Nicky helps him undress. “On your back,” he says, giving Joe’s ass a squeeze.
It feels a bit like walking the plank. Once he’s down, Nicky begins tying his wrists to the headboard. Did he pick rope just to draw out the entire process and test the limits of Joe’s depleted patience? Most likely.
Nicky catches sight of the look on his face and laughs a little. “Oh, you look so despondent.”
“I am,” Joe says. “I have given my heart to a wicked, merciless man.”
“That’s me.” Nicky kisses him sweetly on the lips and checks the ropes for give.
As he sits back to admire his work, there’s a knock on the door. Joe expects him to tell whoever it is to fuck off, but instead he goes to answer it.
Nicky opens the door all the way. The room isn’t large, and Joe can see the hotel staffer from his bound position on the bed. Which means the poor staffer can also probably see him, or at least his naked legs.
She hands Nicky something thanks her and closes the door before sauntering back to Joe.
“Fucking hell, Nicky—”
“What?” Nicky says innocently. He’s holding a bottle of champagne. Joe fixates on Nicky’s hands as he pops the cork.
He takes a sip directly from the bottle. “Mm. Very nice. Care for some?”
“Depends. What year is it?”
Nicky pinches his thigh.
“All right, go on then,” Joe says, and Nicky tips some champagne into his mouth. It is, in fact, very nice.
Then he drizzles it in Joe’s clavicle, pours it over his chest, spills it over his cock. Nicky follows the trail of liquid with his mouth, slurping it off and licking Joe clean.
“Fuck, Nicky, your tongue—”
“Mm, Joe, it tastes even better like this.” Nicky licks a long stripe up his cock.
“Nico, please, please—”
Nicky looks up at him, amused. “Do you even know what you’re begging for, anymore?”
“Your hand,” Joe says quickly. “Please.”
Nicky cuts off his pleading with a kiss full of tongue. He tastes like champagne.
Then he lifts one of Joe’s legs over his shoulder and pushes the other to sprawl open. There’s another (larger) tube of lubricant on the nightstand. Nicky pours a generous amount over his hand and presses a single finger in.
“Ah, fuck, Nicky, come on, I’m already open enough for more—”
Nicky stills the movement his finger. “I am deciding what you are ready for. And if you keep insisting you know what is best, I will decide that you are not ready for my hand tonight, after all.”
That shuts Joe up, mostly because Nicky’s commanding tone and harsh words have aroused p to a point beyond speech. He lets his head flop down to the pillows and screws his eyes shut while Nicky works.
When he finally gets around to adding a fourth finger, Joe’s writhed so much his wrists have rope burn.
“I won’t even need to touch your cock, will I?” Nicky muses.
“No, Nico, fuck, I’m going to—I’m going to come on your hand, fuck—”
Nicky pulls out to squeeze another gush of lube over Joe’s stretched hole and his own hand, all five fingertips joined together at a point.
He works his hand in steadily, the pressure going from barely noticeable—Nicky’s preparation, as always, had been very thorough—to intense as Nicky’s knuckles nudge against his rim.
Joe puts all his effort into relaxing his muscles, even as his arms are straining so hard against his bonds he thinks they may snap off. Finally, Nicky’s knuckles push through, and from there it’s easy—his entire hand is in Joe.
Nicky flexes a finger and a knuckle rubs at Joe’s prostate. He sobs.
“Nico, fuck, I feel all of you, everything—”
Nicky mouths at his chest. “You’re so hot around me, so tight.” Another minute twist of his hand. Joe howls.
“So close, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes,” he pants.
“Come for me,” Nicky says, and the brush of a single knuckle is Joe’s undoing. He comes all over his chest, and Nicky chases the the trail of it with his tongue.
“Ah, shit,” he hisses, tying to squirm away from Nicky’s tongue. “Sensitive.”
Taking pity on him,Nicky moves off the bed and heads into the ensuite, returning with a glass of water.
“Here.” Joe drinks obediently.
“I notice you’re not untying me.”
“Very astute.” Nicky’s eyes glint dangerously. “I am going to keep you here until you are ready again, then I am going to ride you until you pop like the champagne cork,” he purrs.
Joe’s spent cock twitches and his mouth is dry. “Fuck.”
Nicky brings the glass back to this lips. “Drink up.”
Re: FILL: Joe/Nicky, the sub earns a reward, 3/3
When they arrive at a (very nice) hotel, where Nicky kisses him breathless in the elevator, he revises that opinion—only to reconsider when he sees what’s on the hotel bed.
Nicky helps him undress. “On your back,” he says, giving Joe’s ass a squeeze.
It feels a bit like walking the plank. Once he’s down, Nicky begins tying his wrists to the headboard. Did he pick rope just to draw out the entire process and test the limits of Joe’s depleted patience? Most likely.
Nicky catches sight of the look on his face and laughs a little. “Oh, you look so despondent.”
“I am,” Joe says. “I have given my heart to a wicked, merciless man.”
“That’s me.” Nicky kisses him sweetly on the lips and checks the ropes for give.
As he sits back to admire his work, there’s a knock on the door. Joe expects him to tell whoever it is to fuck off, but instead he goes to answer it.
Nicky opens the door all the way. The room isn’t large, and Joe can see the hotel staffer from his bound position on the bed. Which means the poor staffer can also probably see him, or at least his naked legs.
She hands Nicky something thanks her and closes the door before sauntering back to Joe.
“Fucking hell, Nicky—”
“What?” Nicky says innocently. He’s holding a bottle of champagne. Joe fixates on Nicky’s hands as he pops the cork.
He takes a sip directly from the bottle. “Mm. Very nice. Care for some?”
“Depends. What year is it?”
Nicky pinches his thigh.
“All right, go on then,” Joe says, and Nicky tips some champagne into his mouth. It is, in fact, very nice.
Then he drizzles it in Joe’s clavicle, pours it over his chest, spills it over his cock. Nicky follows the trail of liquid with his mouth, slurping it off and licking Joe clean.
“Fuck, Nicky, your tongue—”
“Mm, Joe, it tastes even better like this.” Nicky licks a long stripe up his cock.
“Nico, please, please—”
Nicky looks up at him, amused. “Do you even know what you’re begging for, anymore?”
“Your hand,” Joe says quickly. “Please.”
Nicky cuts off his pleading with a kiss full of tongue. He tastes like champagne.
Then he lifts one of Joe’s legs over his shoulder and pushes the other to sprawl open. There’s another (larger) tube of lubricant on the nightstand. Nicky pours a generous amount over his hand and presses a single finger in.
“Ah, fuck, Nicky, come on, I’m already open enough for more—”
Nicky stills the movement his finger. “I am deciding what you are ready for. And if you keep insisting you know what is best, I will decide that you are not ready for my hand tonight, after all.”
That shuts Joe up, mostly because Nicky’s commanding tone and harsh words have aroused p to a point beyond speech. He lets his head flop down to the pillows and screws his eyes shut while Nicky works.
When he finally gets around to adding a fourth finger, Joe’s writhed so much his wrists have rope burn.
“I won’t even need to touch your cock, will I?” Nicky muses.
“No, Nico, fuck, I’m going to—I’m going to come on your hand, fuck—”
Nicky pulls out to squeeze another gush of lube over Joe’s stretched hole and his own hand, all five fingertips joined together at a point.
He works his hand in steadily, the pressure going from barely noticeable—Nicky’s preparation, as always, had been very thorough—to intense as Nicky’s knuckles nudge against his rim.
Joe puts all his effort into relaxing his muscles, even as his arms are straining so hard against his bonds he thinks they may snap off. Finally, Nicky’s knuckles push through, and from there it’s easy—his entire hand is in Joe.
Nicky flexes a finger and a knuckle rubs at Joe’s prostate. He sobs.
“Nico, fuck, I feel all of you, everything—”
Nicky mouths at his chest. “You’re so hot around me, so tight.” Another minute twist of his hand. Joe howls.
“So close, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes,” he pants.
“Come for me,” Nicky says, and the brush of a single knuckle is Joe’s undoing. He comes all over his chest, and Nicky chases the the trail of it with his tongue.
“Ah, shit,” he hisses, tying to squirm away from Nicky’s tongue. “Sensitive.”
Taking pity on him,Nicky moves off the bed and heads into the ensuite, returning with a glass of water.
“Here.” Joe drinks obediently.
“I notice you’re not untying me.”
“Very astute.” Nicky’s eyes glint dangerously. “I am going to keep you here until you are ready again, then I am going to ride you until you pop like the champagne cork,” he purrs.
Joe’s spent cock twitches and his mouth is dry. “Fuck.”
Nicky brings the glass back to this lips. “Drink up.”