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He sits at your feet, knees pressed into the carpet and hands bound behind him. Though you know plenty well that he is comfortable in the position, you can’t help but touch his shoulder for the third time in the last twenty minutes, your eyes meeting his for a moment in a silent assurance that he is plenty comfortable, and then you finally wrap the dark cloth around his eyes.
“You don’t have to treat me like a glass vase,” he murmurs, unconsciously pressing against your hands as they briefly smooth over his cheeks. “I’m not that fragile.”
You don’t answer him, and instead step around behind the man to inspect his wrists. They’re tied together with silken red ribbon, tight enough that he can’t pull free, but loose enough that it didn’t bite into the skin, even if Julian did complain a little bit that he would have liked it that way.
Nevertheless, you are careful about the pain you give him--it’s measured, organized, but most importantly: it’s controlled.
Whether you yourself get off on the pain you inflict on him or not, the measure of control you have over his pleasure is almost intoxicating. But tonight is simple, nothing flashy to distract the goal of leaving the man before you as a whimpering mess of pleasure and need. You want to see him shiver, hear him plead, feel him come awash in warm euphoria from your command and control.
The couple seconds of silence seem to leave Julian a little unsure. He shifts on his knees a little bit, leaning back to take some of the pressure as you merely watch the way his naked form moves. The way his lean muscles shift beneath his skin.
He’s already hard.
The mere preparation was more than enough to arouse him, if only from the rough but measured treatment to strip him, move him into the position you wanted, and to bind him properly. He sits there, aching, waiting for you do do or say something as the slight chill of the room itself gently caresses his bare skin.
You step forward and finally, gently, and reach your hand into the back of his hair, letting your fingers wind into his soft locks. You can feel him stiffen for a moment as his attention focuses on the touch.
“Relax,” you murmur. “It’s okay.”
Whether it’s the words or the general sound of your voice, Julian begins to loosen up again. You wind your fingers deeper into his hair, a now-firm grip that keeps his head from moving. You can feel him shiver when you experimentally pull his head back, just an inch or two, but it’s enough to get an idea of what he really, really wants right now.
Slowly, almost sly, you push one of your feet forward, just enough so that the front of your shin presses against the hot, throbbing shaft of his erection. You feel Julian shiver again, harder this time.
“Is there something you want?” Your voice purrs into the air.
Julian takes in a little gasp as you grind your foot forward just a little more, gently rubbing the length of your lower leg against him. He doesn’t reply fast enough, so you quickly pull your leg back. You take a moment of pleasure in how his hips thrust forward to seek the warmth and pressure that you offered him before you firmly yank his head back.
“I asked you a question, Julian.”
The sound of your voice commanding. It offers no wiggle, but the warmth leaves it gentle, at least in the sense that it would instill no fear even if Julian wasn’t as familiar with you as he is.
He stops moving, mouth falling in a soft-set frown. You can practically feel the way he tries to strain his eyes through the blindfold, trying to find your face as he just barely tips his chin up.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He sounds genuine, his voice dipping into the realm of subspace already, and he tries to move not his hips forward, but his face. He presses it against your lower belly, a gentle nuzzle of apology preceding his half-muffled answer to the question you asked minutes before. “I want to feel you.”
You allow him a moment of reprieve before smiling, rubbing your fingertips into his scalp enough to sooth the ache that game from your grip a moment ago.
“I think there is more you want than that.”
You don’t move, letting Julian mull over the mild riddle of your statement as he practically leans his face into your body.
“Iwanttomakeyoucome,” Julian finally murmurs, his face pressed hard enough against your belly that it’s hard to make out his words.
You still understand him enough. A smile rolls over your face as you gently urge his head back, so you can see the flush that has formed over his cheeks. It’s such a beautiful color, especially over his pale face, a touch of a well-needed, rosy hue to counter the dark circles that seem a constant presence under his eyes.
“That’s much better, Julian,” You whisper. The praise between your words don’t need to be spoken for the man to feel them. It takes you less than a minute to strip, feeling the cool nip of the air against your bare skin as clothes fall to the ground. The mere sound of it, your shedding of clothes, seem only to excite Julian further. You practically feel his body quiver when you move toward him once more, your shin pressing against his aching dick.
When your fingers wind back into his hair, it doesn’t take the man more than a breath to understand what you want him to do. He gasps as he grinds against your leg and leans forward, pressing his cheek against one of your hips and waiting for you to guide him forward, to direct him to pleasure you exactly as you want.
“An eager man you are, Julian,” you whisper, using one hand to spread yourself open and the other to pull his face closer to you. He gasps as he moves, whines as he wraps his lips around your clit and suckles gently.
Pleasure flows through your body as he works, needing barely any help as he works his tongue against what he can reach of your core. Experience and desperation mingled together in a perfect blend of emotions, leaving the man pressed against you and eagerly trying to make you fall apart.
You’re not sure what he’s more eager in doing--pleasuring himself against your leg or lapping against your heat. Regardless, he does it with an almost insatiable energy, filling the room with whines and moans muffled from his mouth’s connection on you. If anything, that only makes it more arousing, feeling the vibrations of his vocalization only furthering your own pleasure.
It creeps along the bottom of your stomach, tightening everything until the final crescendo of need floods your core. You gasp, losing your bearings for but a moment as you hold tight to Julian’s hair and firmly keep him against you, feeling him eagerly encourage your orgasm through your body until you are spent.
You gasp for breath as you come back to your thoughts, gazing down between Julian’s thighs to see him finished as well, a pearly splattering across his belly and your bare shin. Somewhere in the frenzy of heat, the two of you met your end together.
He gasps for breath as you gently begin to untie him, lastly removing the blindfold so that your gazes could meet. He looks tired, but his smile genuine and the flush beautiful across his cheeks.
“Thank you,” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around you so the two of you could enjoy the warmth of your bare skin pressed together in the lovely afterglow. “Thank you, beloved.”