The Pressure of Fame
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Summary
‘Green.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
Steve grits his teeth, drops his head.
His hands are bound at the front, the rope of his wrists running down between his closed knees, around his cock, against his balls and under still, all the way to his ankles. Any movement of the hands drags friction. Clever design, but then Eddie always was the fucking Picasso of pain.
Steve tells himself he’d have said no to the drink.
It’s such a fucking lie.
Just like the green.
Series
- Part 4 of Gift Fics