Take a Bow

==> Be Diamonds Droog

You have a feeling tonight will go splendidly. A few vague plans have already been made, and you have already laid out your method of attack, and you have a feeling Spades is going to like what he sees. All you have to do now is perform. He’s waiting.

And lying in wait he is as you open the door, naked and on his stomach on your bed. He smirks a little as you walk towards him, your shoes casting a hard click and faint echo across the room as you walk across the wooden floor. Spades squirms, but keeps the facade.

You know what that alone does to him. You don’t quite know why exactly this drives him crazy, but you’ve seen it time and time again, preparing for a night on the town, in the energy and adrenaline of a heist, the hard sole of your shoe and the glint of them in streetlight and the moonlight, and the way he hides himself sometimes. He watches you intensely, unable to look away, and when you give him sign you notice, he pretends nothing was going on at all.

You know better than that though, and you take your time. He shifts and smiles cockily up at you, and you look down on his prone form, and the way the little light coming from the window on the other side of the room played on his skin. You smile that knowing smile, that expression he’s always called “arrogant” and “shifty”, the same expression that always comes across your face when you know you’re right about something. He loves it and hates it at the same time, knowing you see through him like glass – and you love what you see.

So you take your time. You slide out of your jacket and hang it up on the closet door, straightening it out neatly. Spades is watching you the whole time, and when you’re through and return to the bedside, your expression remains as you stand and gaze down on him, as you begin to slowly unfasten your red silk tie.

“Heh, takin’ your time there, Diamonds…” Slick smirks at you, though his voice low, seemingly almost ashamed to have said it. He very well should be. “Mighty cheeky tonight, are we?” You laugh a bit, cocky and self assured as you slip your tie from the underside of your shirt’s collar. Spades is likely expecting the usual even as he swallows hard; expecting you to fold the tie up neatly and evenly and hang it in its own spot.

He probably expected a lot of things before you took him in hand.

He doesn’t struggle much as you bend slightly over his bare self and fold his arms against his back, or as you bind them securely with the tie. But he shifts, curses and fights himself mightily as you secure the knot on his wrists, taking his time to feel the texture and strength of his binding as you take your time to brush your fingers down the heated skin of his back and his deceptively soft skin. You can tell he’s very eager to see the show go on, even if he’d never admit it plainly. He needs this as much as you do; you can tell.

You sit down at the foot of the bed and grasp Slick’s ankles and firmly tug him towards you over your lap. You lift him and restrain his movement a bit as he folds over your lap, his round, pert little ass in the air as he struggles to find a dignified place to rest his short legs, which are, to your own personal delight, a great number of inches from the ground. You begin smacking his bottom slowly with a moderate amount of force, and he bends his knees slightly and his bare feet and clenched toes rise slowly.

The force of your hand isn’t much, but it is enough to make the little bit of fat he manages to store in his ass jiggle slightly, which you’re finding you enjoy almost as much as his muffled grunts, the growing reddening on his skin and the way the mark left by your hand covers his seat completely and the feel of his erection digging into your leg. Pained grunts eventually become breathy whimpers as he struggles weakly in the tie hold, and it doesn’t take all so long to get to that point. Not that it matters so much. You’re in no rush, and you’re in complete control here. You don’t mind reminding him of that with another sound, hard smack which makes Slick flinch and whimper a last time.

Cheeks cherry red, you lift him slowly at the front of his shoulders until his legs relax and his feet hit the floor, and he stands barefoot, aroused, ashamed, bare and bound, his face red and teeth slightly clenched. He doesn’t utter a word. You could swear you see wetness on his face in the dim light. You rise and wipe at his cheeks with your thumbs; you find you’re right. You swallow and place your lips on his and he eagerly returns the short kiss as you place your hands on his shoulders and lower him on the bed.

He falls back without much grace and, before he could grasp what was coming next, you kneel down beside the bed on one knee, and lift apart his knees, sliding your hands up his thighs. Slick tries to jerk his knees up, and you know what he’s thinking, but it isn’t time for that just yet. You restrain him, and raise a single eyebrow up at him as you lightly trace the head of his cock with your tongue.

The sensation nearly drives him mad alone, and he jerks against his restraint, gasping slightly as you tease him with the pressure of your lips and the tip of your tongue. You see it surprises him a bit as you lower your head down far enough for your lips to touch the base of him, pressing the tip of your tongue along the underside as you slowly rise, sucking a bit as you reach the head again. He grunts, you let your teeth brush against the sensitive flesh.

He’d howl if he wasn’t trying so hard to restrain himself from doing so, as you brace his shaft in one hand and press your lips around him once again, eliciting another grunt from him. After a few moments, he grunts again through his breaths and hisses that he feels close, you let go and stand up, resting your hands on his knees, which have risen with you. “Not yet, love.” you whisper. He hisses again, and begs for release, pained.

You unzip your pants, watching Spades squirm around just below. You haven’t been able to quite ignore your own pressure, but you suppose you’ve had plenty of practice with this. You leave momentarily to retrieve the small tube of lubrication from the drawer of your nightstand, and squeeze some onto your fingers. Slick is watching you, breathing tense through biting his lip when you free yourself from your trousers. Once again, you are taking your time through his impatient urging he dares not speak.

And you take your time again, gently preparing him with your greased fingers, his bare feet resting on your waist of your trousers. You feel his toes curl and his toenails press through your pants as you slide your fingers in and out of him slowly. A calm inquiry, and a husky sigh and nod of waiting anticipation later, you place a bit of lubrication on your cock, and you sigh slowly at the momentary stimulation. You are nearly as eager as Spades at this point.

You lift his ass up a bit by his knees and fold them back towards his stomach, and his silk-bound wrists press into the bed as you move to get closer, the scuff of your shoes make him bite his lip. You smile a bit at this, and carefully nudge the head of your cock against Slick, pressing against the wet tightness of his ass and pause momentarily, watching his face. It’s not that this is the first time you’ve ever fucked Slick; he’s always a little tense. It’s in his nature. Your size differential also makes things a little more… interesting, as that goes. And always wonderful, so his his face as you slowly ease yourself into his tense heat, by increments, torturously slow as his tight muscles grip around you, and his bound hands balled into fists. You shiver a bit.

Spades lets go of a sound halfway between a moan and a grunt as your bodies connect entirely, his ass still red and warm pressed against the front of your hips and your thighs through the fabric of your pants. The heat against you, and the heat inside of him ignites you, and you suppress the urge to thrust against him violently. Not yet. You move one hand from the back of his knee to hook one arm around his thigh, and slide your fingers and palm around his cock. The sensation of everything seems to overwhelm Spades a bit, and he presses his free leg into you. He’s not very muscular, and you forget every so often just how strong his legs are. You still bend forward slightly as he adjusts around you, and he looks at you, squinting.

Despite your own urges, you set an easy rhythm, slow small thrusts, barely moving your hand on him. You feel him buck up against you slightly, and moves his arms a little against himself. He makes a small pained sound hidden in a semi-angry grunt. If you had a free hand, you’d have smacked his ass again for that.

All just a part of the show.

You nearly remove yourself from him, only thrust into him rapidly again, and he gasps. You pick up the pace a little, sliding your hand around the shaft and head of his cock, curling a finger around the tip slightly. Spades is getting close, sticky wetness collects on your finger. You love how he feels in your hands all over, but especially here and now, showing you just how much he needed this.

You stifle your own grunting, breathing heavily through restraint and sigh out as you grip him a little firmer, deepening yourself into him and come, hearing Slick curse. The rush of your own heat inside of him pushes him over the edge, and you feel his feet and legs tense up as he returns the notion, spilling onto your hand and his belly.

You both shudder and sigh together, and you gaze down at Slick’s face.

The show isn’t over yet.

 

==> Be Spades Slick.

You’re lying on the bed with your wrists tied behind your back naked in front of a man that just fucked you fully clothed, and you’re more relaxed than you’ve been in weeks.

You don’t give up control easy, and neither does Diamonds. All the planning, the questions, the fears you expressed and the ones there was no way you’d ever say… it wasn’t that much different from laying out a god-damned heist. You don’t like to admit it, but you know that Diamonds is the reason these plans happen and fall as well as they do – the reason you own the town is in this beautiful man.
You watch him, he’s licking your juices off his hand, and then moves down and licks the remainder off your belly. You shiver again. He knows you and exactly how to push every single one of your buttons at every turn, you swear; it never stops surprising you, or driving you crazy. In the good way.

It ain’t long from that point, he’s taken his tie off your wrists, and you’re lightly straddling his lap, sitting in his bedroom reading chair, facing him in the aftermath of that. This same beautiful man reaches his hand up again, and with the same motion before, wipes your face off with his thumbs. You weren’t even paying attention to your face, just how fuckin’ good you felt.

He sits back as you both relax, he’s got his hands on your back and shoulders and asks if you’re alright. He suppresses his worry. You can tell. He hides a cringe everytime he sees the marks on your wrist from his tie. You don’t know how to tell him how much you love those marks. Ain’t that a part of your own show, too?

He’s afraid of hurting you. And that’s a part of the show, cool, calm and collected. In control. And he does a damn good job of it. You still feel vulnerable, he’s still fully clothed. You don’t feel all too afraid to be vulnerable, not with Droog. You don’t have to hide that from him. You laugh a little quietly, asking him if he got worried about his pants getting dirty. He doesn’t care, and he means that. He tiredly smiles at you, still a confident, cool expression on his face, masking a thousand emotions. And somehow, you see ’em.

Aww, fuck.

You snap, and lean in and kiss him. Not just one place either. You start on his cheek, and very slowly move to his neck as you wrap your arms around him carefully. You’re a little shaky. And you suddenly find yourself squeezed closely to him, Diamonds gripping you like he just bailed you out of prison. Both of you show emotion sparsely in your own ways, but sometimes it just comes out and the show’s over, and the men behind the actors show bare glimpses of themselves. Both of you eventually have to see the lights come on and approach the center stage, and take a fuckin’ bow.

In the embrace, your lips leave Droog’s neck, where his jawline meets his neck. You taste his cologne, you love how he smells. You love how he smells all over, with or without it. You sit back up, and your lips find one another’s for a short moment. You share tired smiles. You whisper at him, still smiling tiredly, “Best fuckin’ show I’ve ever seen, Diamonds. You always do one hell of a job.”

You see him smile a little harder, shake as he laughs a little, says he always aims to please. Acts a little proud. You love that. You love him. And boy does he love you back. Sometimes you don’t even know why, but he fuckin’ loves you back.

And as you both finally head to bed, slip under the covers, the sound of rain just starting to fall outside patters on the window as Droog is actually, finally, getting undressed, doing his folding ritual and slipping under the covers and sighing contently, laying his head on your belly. You stroke his hair, still feeling like you’re on top of the world, and you might as well be.

You laugh a little and ask him one last question before you both succumb to sleep, and to which his answer is a certain sort of enthusiastic yes; “Think we can have an encore sometime?”

 

 

 

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