Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time he sees Abigail, she’s sitting perched on a bright red vinyl booth seat dressed in cut-off shorts that are so short he can see the curve of her ass cheeks and wearing a cropped pink tee that proudly proclaims SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A COWBOY.

She’s smiling, a bright open grin that lights up the room as she accepts a beer from a blushing waiter that John is immediately and overwhelmingly jealous of.

Sean, the bastard that’s dragged him along that evening, skips past him to sit in the booth behind her.

“Abi! My love, I brought you a present!” He makes to grab at her over the top of the vinyl divider and she stops him with just a single finger against his forehead, pushing him back to sit with the lightest of touches.

It’s amazing to watch because John’s gotten familiar with Sean’s handsyness these past few months and the man is like a barnacle and just about as easy to pry away from yourself. He really wants to know how she’s managed it.

Before he can be more impressed with the maneuver though, the woman in question has turned to face him and he’s pinned by sharp blue eyes and one delicately arched brow. She looks him over slowly, eyes tracing him from head to toe before settling back on his face where he can feel an intense blush forming.

Her lips are painted a bright pink that matches her shirt and they quirk up, seeing him flustered.

“Oh, you are precious, aren’t you?” Her voice is a low seductive purr and she crooks her finger at him, motioning him forward. His feet stumble towards her before his brain can catch up with them.

“I knew you’d like him.” Sean crows behind her, and John spares him a look of mild panic because he has no idea what to do here. Sean meets his gaze and waggles his eyebrows lewdly, which doesn’t help at all.

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” She asks, when he stops a foot or so away from her, propping her hand in her chin to look up at him through long dark lashes.

“Uh… John?” It comes out kind of high, like a question, and John really wants to crawl into a hole somewhere and die. He’s never been any good at talking to women but he’s not usually this awkward.

“John…” Her lips form around his name in a way that’s somehow entirely sexual and he can’t drag his eyes from them as they wrap around the tip of her beer bottle. He watches as she takes a sip, tongue swirling against the rim as she pulls it back away from her mouth.

John makes a tiny sound that is definitely not a whimper and Sean cackles in the background.

“So, John,” She shifts her whole body on the seat to face him. The vinyl creaking as it pulls at the smooth skin of her legs. She stands slowly, intentionally, and he’s shocked to find she barely reaches his shoulders. One of her hands comes up to trace up his arm, and then along his collar bone, toying with the collar of his shirt. “Would you like to play with me, tonight?”

“Uh… play?” He didn’t think he could get more flustered, but he’s pretty sure his face is the reddest it’s ever been and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest like he’s just run a mile.

She looks at him for a long moment and then something seems to shift, her eyes narrowing.

“Sean MacGuire!” She barks, turning away from him to glare at Sean who shrinks back from the look. “Tell me you did not bring this poor boy here with no idea of what you were walking him into!”

“Uh… I mean.” Sean backpedals as far as he can into the booth, looking mildly terrified. “I thought it’d be funny?”

“Did you.” Her voice is flat and unimpressed.

“My mistake?”

“Oh, you bet it is. Get out of that booth.” She points to the floor in front of her. “Now!”

It’s clearly an order and Sean scrambles to obey, looking cowed.

“I’m sorry!”

“Not yet you’re not.” She pokes a finger into his chest. “But you’re going to be because you’re going to march your sorry ass over to the bar right now and tell Karen exactly what you did.”

“Oh come on! Abi… I didn’t mean nothing by it.” He pleads.

“Bar! Now!” She orders and he raises his hands in surrender and slinks away. “And don’t even think about lying to her, mister! I’ll be checking up that you told her everything later and it will be a thousand times worse for you if I have to be the one to let her know what you did!”

They’ve drawn less attention at that outburst than he would have expected. The club is only about half full this early in the evening but there’s still enough people milling around that all that yelling should have half the floor staring at them. Instead, there are a few curious glances that turn away as soon as Sean disappears around a corner.

Abigail sighs and shakes her head.

“I’d apologize for that idiot, but I expect if you’re his friend you have some idea of what a jackass he can be.”

“Uh… yeah. I guess?” John had no idea what’s going on here and now the only person he knows in the place has wandered off somewhere… or been sent away somewhere anyway and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Come on, have a seat. I’ll buy you a beer and explain.” Abigail seems to sense his confused discomfort because she slides back into her seat and motions for him to join her.

All the intensity of a moment before has dropped away and she seems less intimidating suddenly. Hesitantly he sits.

“So, what did Sean tell you he was inviting you along to tonight?” She asks, waving her beer at a passing waiter to indicate she would like another for John.

John flushes again at that and ducks his gaze.

“Uh… he said this club was…” John pauses because Sean had implied a lot but hadn’t actually told him that much at all. “He kinda suggested it was a little… wild? Like… kind of a sex thing?”

Abigail sighs. Accepts a beer from the waiter again and pops the cap before handing it over to him. John takes it, grateful to have something to do with his hands.

“Well, that’s something at least.” She says, playing with the bottle cap. “You know what kink is, John? BDSM?”

“Like… that fifty shades thing?” He wonders. He knows he’s heard those words used to talk about it. He’d tried to sneak a peek at Mrs. Grimshaw’s copy when it came out but had only managed to skim a few confusing pages before the woman had caught him and given him a long chewing out about going through other people’s things.

“Ugh. Kind of?” Abigail looks a bit like she’s bit into a lemon. “That book’s terrible though.”

“I never actually read it.” He admits. “Just… remember people talking about it a lot.”

“Kink is like… a thing you enjoy sexually. Something specific and maybe unusual. Like maybe you really get worked up over someone playing with your feet or having a partner that’s dressed in a latex catsuit.”

John can feel his blush starting back up full force again.

Also, he’s now picturing Abigail in a skintight black shiny catsuit.

“You really are precious.” She muses sounding sort of charmed by his awkwardness, which is a better reaction than most women have to John. “Anyway, BDSM is like a specific kink… or a grouping of them I guess. It stands for Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, and Sadism and Masochism.”

“Like… tying people up?” He asks, because there’s a picture of a woman tied up in ropes on Sean’s wall. It’s black and white, artsy as hell, not quite showing anything but very risque and John’s always assumed the man has it because he likes to make people uncomfortable. Not because he actually wanted to tie someone up. Or be tied up by someone.

And now he’s thinking of Sean tied up naked and that’s way less appealing than Abigail in a catsuit.

“That’s part of it, yes. The bondage – tying someone up so they can’t move freely and have to depend on another person. Discipline is punishment – that can be physical like spanking someone, or more emotional, like not allowing them something they want. Dominance and Submission is where you have one partner that has control over the other, psychologically or sexually, and Sadomasochism is pain. A sadist enjoys giving pain and a masochist enjoys receiving it.”

She’s watching him intently as she speaks and he finds he can’t quite meet her gaze.

“Oh.” He clears his throat and gulps down some beer to have something to do. “And. That’s what you… uh... do? Here?”

“Sometimes.” She smiles, looking friendly and gentle which is such a contrast to the predatory edge from before he doesn’t know what to make of it. “Valhalla’s just a regular club most of the time, but you’re here on a specifically kink-themed night.”

“Oh.” He says again, and it sounds even stupider to his ears the second time. “It… doesn’t seem that different than a normal club?”

It’s true. If anything, the club so far feels more like a diner than any of the nightclubs he’s been to in the past. There’s a big open area in the center of the room with a few people milling around but the music is relatively low – a kind of hypnotic electropop that drifts easily into the background, providing a bit of cover for conversations but not much else. There’s not much dancing at the moment, most people sat in small groups in one of the ring of booths around the room.

“Well, all the really exciting things happen in the back rooms.” She nods towards where Sean slunk off to earlier. There’s an innocuous door there. “This is a no-play zone. Like a meeting space, I guess. Though I think the lights get turned down and the music up on regular nights.”

“You… uh said that before.” He hesitates. “…Play?”

“Play means acting out something featuring one of those kinks.” She tells him, a teasing smile on her lips.

“And… you wanted to… do that?” He asks slowly. “With me?”

There’s a touch of that predatory intensity from before to the smile she gives him at that.

“Oh yes.” He swallows, trying to imagine what that would be like. Would she want him to tie her up? Would she want to tie him up? “But I don’t take on partners that don’t know what they’re getting into.” She says, before he can try and figure out how to respond.

Yes, please? That sounds hot?

“What if… I wanted to learn more?” He hates that everything he says seems to come out as a question.

“Do you?” She asks, sounding curious. “Want to know more?”

He licks his lips, picks at the label on his beer and tries to think. John’s total sexual experiences are limited to one high school girlfriend and a few not very inspired one-night stands. He hasn’t exactly had the chance to be adventurous and isn’t sure he’d even know where to start thinking about that. His own sexual knowledge is pretty much of the put peg A into slot B type and he finds porn kind of… boring. All fake moans and big boobs and dudes that are a little too waxed and oily.

“I think so?”

“Hmm..” She leans back, looking him over again. It’s another inspection, though this time she looks less like she wants to eat him and more like she’s considering his honesty. “Well, Sean seemed to think there was something here you’d like or he wouldn’t have brought you. He might be an idiot and a jerk but he has good instincts like that.”

“I wasn’t actually planning to play tonight anyway, so if you’d like I can be a sort of… tour guide for the night.” She offers. “You’ll have to follow some ground rules though.”

“Of course!” He agrees, probably a bit too fast.

“Good boy.” There’s a hint of that intensity in the toothy smile he receives at that answer. “There are some rules for the playrooms that everyone has to follow – there’s no touching without being invited, and tonight I’d recommend you abstain even if someone were to invite you to participate. That also means you aren’t allowed to interfere, even if you think something seems wrong, a lot of role-playing goes on and it’s usually not what it seems, understand? There’s a lot of experienced players here and a couple of dungeon masters watching out for everyone, if something really is bad going on one of them will stop it.”

He nods, though the idea that she’s worried he might see something he would mistake for… what? Rape or abuse maybe? is curbing his enthusiasm a bit. Maybe he won’t like this after all.

“I get the feeling you don’t know enough to know what your limits are yet so I want you to stay with me the whole time. If you see something that you don’t like just tell me and we’ll move on, okay?”

“Sure.”

She pauses, considering him for a long moment.

“I do have to ask… do you have any problems with same-sex couples?”

“That would be pretty hypocritical of me.” He admits.

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow and he realizes she thinks he means that he’s gay.

“Oh! Not me… I mean… I haven’t really thought about guys... that way…“ That blush is burning his face again and he wonders if he’s doomed to trip over his own tongue every five minutes for the rest of the night. “I like girls.” He blurts out.

“You don’t say.” She looks like she wants to laugh at him, but is very kindly refraining.

“I just meant… my Dads are.” He shrugs. “Well obviously since there’s two of them they’re gay. Uh…”

“You really are a treat.” She tells him, and he has no idea what to say to that so he decides to keep his mouth shut. It’s harder to stuff his foot in it that way. “You want to finish that beer before we head back?” She asks, nodding to the drink he’s had at most two sips of.

“Is it… okay if I don’t?” He asks. Alcohol when he’s nervous never seems to be a good combination.

“Of course.” She takes a last drink of her own and stands, offering him a hand. He takes it, hoping his palms aren’t too sweaty.

Her skin is soft and her hand feels tiny in his own.

“Come along then, Johnny.”

The unassuming door leads to a small corridor. There’s bathrooms along the right wall but Abigail bypasses them and leads him to the end where another door opens into a second part of the club.

Back here the friendly casual atmosphere is replaced with an all-black decor. He can hear the sounds of someone moaning nearby and in the distance is what sounds like the crack of a whip that makes him jump.

There’s no music and the lighting is low, making it hard to tell where the room starts and stops. Once his eyes start to adjust he realizes there are cubical-like partitions set up around the room, splitting what must usually be a dancefloor into several different areas.

He thinks he can see a couple fucking between a break in the dividers, just the hint of naked skin moving in a very familiar rhythm.

Abigail squeezes his hand and leads him forward, navigating the dividers with familiarity.

There is indeed a couple fucking as they round the first makeshift corner but it’s nothing like he expected. The woman is completely naked and tied face down to a strange padded narrow bench, her arms and legs tied to it with a intricate series of interlacing ropes. She’s blindfolded and there is some kind of round gag in her mouth that she’s moaning around.

The man fucking her is fully-clothed, his cock the only thing exposed while he takes her from behind. He watches as the man leans over to grab her hair, whispering something John can’t hear into her ear. It must be good because she groans loudly and then screams, thrashing in her bindings.

“He has a vibrator in her. He just turned it up.” Abigail whispers to him and if he looks closer John can see that the man is actually fucking into her ass with some purple device seated in her pussy, arching out from there to press against her clit.

The woman is gasping and sobbing, coming he realizes, and John stuffs a hand in his jeans pocket to try and discreetly adjust himself.

His pants are suddenly extremely uncomfortable.

“Hot isn’t it?” Abigail releases his hand to run her arm through his, leaning against him in a way that’s wholly distracting, her breast pushing into his side. “Doms with female Subs are so lucky – she’ll be able to come again almost immediately. I once saw a woman that had twenty orgasms before her Master was done with her.”

John makes a little strangled sound at that and Abigail chuckles at his side, drawing him away from the couple. The next few people they come across are tamer, a pair of women making out at a man’s feet, and then a small grouping listening to a man talk about knots.

He’s confused when they stop there but doesn’t want to argue. He doesn’t understand much of what’s said – something about the different kinds of material and texture and a preferred brand of scissors for cutting them apart – but then another man appears, dressed only in boxer briefs and the first man sets to wrapping him in the rope.

It’s like the picture on Sean’s wall with intricate knots binding the man’s arms to his sides. The man tying the ropes is explaining something about knots and tension and checking for circulation but John isn’t really hearing him.

Instead, he’s focused on man being tied. He’s breathing deeply, muscles flexing occasionally as if to test the strength of the ropes. The bulge of his cock in his briefs has swollen, not quite hard but definitely interested. He moves easily, letting the other man guide him into a kneeling position, leaning just slightly towards the other when he steps away to retrieve more rope.

It’s sensual. The rope lines accent the man’s body, indenting his flesh in places and molding him into a shape that highlights his taunt stomach and strong pecs. The man tying him is surprisingly gentle, petting over the kneeling man’s skin before tying the ropes into place, running his hands through the man’s hair or along his shoulders whenever he has to step away.

“Rope isn’t really my specialty.” Abigail tells him quietly from his side. “But it’s lovely to look at.”

“Yeah.” He agrees.

They watch until the man is completely immobilized and then Abigail is tugging him away again.

A few dividers down, that whip cracks again, and John can feel his heart jump into his throat at the sound.

When they round the temporary wall, there is a man tied to some kind of crossed wooden frame, his arms and legs splayed. He’s bare chested but wearing low-slung pants. A woman dressed head to toe in latex stands behind him, a small whip held in her hand.

The lines of red crossing his back and shoulders suggest that they’ve been at this for a while.

The woman trails the tip of the whip over his bare skin, gently and the man twitches at the touch.

“Such a good boy for me.” She tells him, her voice firm and seductive. Loud enough John can make the words out clearly. “I think you can take more.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The man agrees. His voice sounds raw and thick and John glances over to Abigail, who is watching him more than the display. She cocks an eyebrow and he swallows, turns back to watch.

“Five more and I’ll let you down.” She tells him, stepping back. “Count them for me.”

“One.” The man says and the whip cracks in the air, landing on his right side, painting a bright red welt. The man grunts and sways. “Two.” The whip lands on his left side this time, the mark mirroring the first. “Three.” The man lets out a sound like a sob, immediately followed by “Four!”

There’s a pause as he sags in his bindings, breathing heavily and the woman leans over him, fingers ghosting over the fresh marks, whispering something into his ear. John can’t make out the words but it sounds sweet and the man nods in response, getting his feet under him again.

“Five.”

The whip comes down again and he cries out, sounding as if something has been wrenched out of him. The woman is at his side in a moment, petting his torso and his hair, murmuring praise as she unshackles his arms. He sags into her and she draws him with her to a nearby bench, allowing him to curl up half in her lap. He’s shivering, breathes coming in hard pants but there’s a smile on his face like he’s just been given the best gift in the world.

“Too intense?” Abigail asks quietly and John realizes he’s holding his own breath.

“Yes? No?” He isn’t sure what to make of it. Other than the woman’s attire, there’s nothing overtly sexual about what he just watched but he feels wired and the only thing he can compare it to is that feeling when he’s been unable to enjoy any private time with his dick in too long. Like a general itch of want that isn’t quite full arousal, almost more a memory of it.

“Come on, let’s take a break.” She tugs him away from watching the two cuddle on the bench and that’s how John finds out there’s a bar down here. Sean is sat at one end talking to a busty blond woman and he perks up at their arrival.

“Abi! John! Didn’t I say this would all work out fine in the end?” He elbows the woman who just cuffs him over the head and hands him a stack of napkins. John guesses from the pile next to him he’s been tasked with folding them.

“You’re still an idiot, boy.” She tells him. “I cannot believe you thought bringing some poor newbie here with no warning was a good idea!”

“Hey, I apologized alright!” Sean protests.

“And you’ll keep apologizing until I decide you’re actually sorry.” She says, before turning away from him. “Sorry about him, Abigail.”

John sits beside Sean on one of the bar stools, Abigail taking his other side primly.

“If you need any help teaching him this lesson you let me know.” Abigail tells her, looking at Sean like he’s a bug on her shoe.

“Uh…” Sean blanches at that.

“I ought to let her you jackass.” The woman tells him.

“Karen… please… baby… you know I meant well!” Sean pleads and John looks between the two, wondering just what their relationship is. Karen just shakes her head and walks to the other end of the bar to help someone there. “Abi… Abigail… you wouldn’t really do that to me, yeah? Not poor little Sean? I’m a fragile flower, love!”

“And I’m sure you’d bruise just as pretty as one.” She agrees with a dangerous grin.

“Uh… so you… like… doing that?” John makes a vague gesture towards the couple with the whip from a few moments before.

“Sometimes.” She smiles and leans into his space. “Why? You want a little punishment yourself?”

John makes another of those incoherent noises that seem to be coming out a lot that evening. He’s positively terrified of being in that man’s shoes but he’s also still half hard and Abigail is really, really pretty. He can absolutely picture her in that latex get-up, whip in hand and telling him he’s a good boy and would he please just stand there and let her do very confusing things to him….

He’s lost the thread of this conversation entirely somehow.

“What?” He asks intelligently when she stands.

“I’m running to the lady's room, stay here and I’ll be back for you.” It’s not a question, and John just nods in agreement.

“Oh boy, you are gone.” Sean laughs beside him.

“Shut up!” He argues, swatting at the other man. “You could have told me what to expect!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sean waves him off. “But the look on your face, mate! I thought she was gonna eat you alive when she first laid eyes on ya.”

John had kind of thought that too.

“Anyway, you decided to stick around. Enjoying yourself?” Sean looks eager and John flushes, not at all sure what to tell him.

Sean has zero boundaries – has tried to foist questionable porn on John a few times since they’ve been neighbors and likes to loudly and graphically describe what he thinks about, and about doing to, actresses’ breasts when they watch movies together. Even so, John isn’t sure if he’s totally comfortable talking to him about this.

“I guess?” John tries. He isn’t sure if he’s exactly enjoying himself, seeing as he’s made a complete ass of himself no less than six times already, but he hasn’t been this turned on since he was sixteen and his dick thought walking up a flight of stairs was the hottest thing ever.

“Sure you do.” Sean wiggles his eyebrows in a way that shouldn’t seem lewd but somehow does.

“I hate you a lot right now.” John says, instead of arguing.

“I’m hurt, Johnny! I bring you here, hook you up with the hottest girl in da place and you hate me? What cruelty!”

“MacGuire!” Karen barks at him from across the bar. “Leave the boy alone!”

“Oh fine, spoil all me fun.” He grouses, slumping in his seat.

“You really should consider taking me up on that offer, Karen.” Abigail says, sliding back up next to John and tugging him off his barstool. He goes willingly, lets her maneuver him as she pleases. “Come on, there’s something happening over here I want you to see.”

She leads them into a different area of partitions, bringing him to a stop in front of a group of three, two men and a woman.

One of the men is tied, face up on what looks like a weightlifting bench. His arms are cuffed above his head with thick leather manacles and his legs are tied to either side of the bench with similar bands, his knees bent and legs splayed. He’s completely naked and hard.

The woman is kissing him while the man trails something that looks like a wheel with tiny spikes on it up his side and over his nipples. He twitches and moans with each pass, cock leaking against his stomach. His breath is erratic, panting as he tries to arch away from the wheel.

John can feel his own breathing increasing in tempo with the tied man’s.

The man trailing the wheel over his chest reaches down to give a firm tug at his cock and the man tries to thrust into the grasp but then jerks away just as quickly and John realizes there’s something tied to his balls, connecting them to the bench with a cord, tethering his hips down as surely as if they were actually tied down.

“They’ve been at this a while already.” Abigail’s voice is low and her eyes are tracing over the man that’s tied down with something like want. “I’ve seen them keep him like this for hours.” She says, tearing her eyes away to meet his. “Just on that edge, unable to come.”

John swallows, and he’s so hard suddenly that it almost hurts, cock trapped awkwardly in his pants.

“Would you like that, Johnny?” She whispers to him, fingernails tracing his arm. “If I tied you up and teased you for hours? I’m very good at it.”

John is pretty sure he actually whimpers at the idea, shifting helplessly to try and relieve the pressure on his dick.

The woman has lifted herself away from the tied man’s mouth and has moved to his cock, is licking at the head with the tinniest kitten-like flicks of her tongue while the other man has moved away to retrieve something from a bag. When he returns he moves between the man’s legs and slips something between them that’s dark.

The tied man arches and gasps, a drop of silvery pre-cum slipping from the head of his cock.

“You ever played with your ass, Johnny?” Abigail asks, “There’s so many nerves there.”

John manages to shake his head in the negative. He knows it’s a thing that some guys like but he’s never tried it. Suddenly he really wants to remedy that.

“Some men can come from prostate stimulation alone.” She continues. “I hear it’s especially intense to orgasm that way.”

The man on the bench is whining, abortedly trying to thrust up into the woman’s mouth, feeling the pull on his balls and jerking back, then seeming to forget himself and try it again. He’s begging, incoherent pleas for mercy as tears slip down the sides of his face.

It may be the hottest thing John’s ever seen.

Abruptly the woman pulls away, her hand squeezing the man’s cock tightly as he cries out, shaking and whining but somehow not coming even though his cock twitches violently as if it wants to. A single pearl of white beads up at the head and rolls down the shaft and John thinks he might be in danger of coming in his own pants, completely untouched.

“You can touch yourself if you want to, precious.” Abigail whispers to him and he realizes she is barely watching the threesome now, her eyes intent on his face. “Or maybe you don’t even need to?” Her arm snakes around his waist, massaging at his hip. It’s not really anywhere erotic that she’s touching him, but the movement pulls on the fabric of his jeans, tightening and loosening them over his crotch. “Is this okay, John?”

“Y… yes.” He manages somehow.

“Good boy.” She uses her other hand to turn his face back to the threesome. “Watch them.” It’s definitely an order.

The man has some kind of whip-like thing in his hand now – a handle with dozens of strips of leather tailing off of it. It looks soft but when he swings it, lands the strips across the bound man’s chest and nipples it makes a surprisingly loud smack.

“It’s a flogger.” Abigail tells him, hand still slowly massaging his side. “He’s being very gentle with it – used like this it leaves the skin feeling so sensitive.”

The man works the flogger down the other’s torso, just letting the tips brush the other man’s cock before working back up the other side. Then he leans down to whisper something in his ear and the tied man’s begging starts up in earnest again.

John feels like he’s strung tight as a bow, his own cock twitching in time with the man tied to the bench.

The flogger makes its way down his body again, slowly, and John sees the woman unclipping the tether from his balls as it moves downward… downward…

With one last smack, it lands fully on the man’s cock and he screams, arches, and comes, shooting all over his torso.

Abigail grips his torso, tugging on John’s beltloop hard as it happens, dragging the denim tight over his erection and John gasps, shocked as he feels his own orgasm stutter through him, legs going weak and unsteady.

Abigail is a surprisingly strong support against him, her lips brushing over his collarbone as he sags against her.

“So pretty, Johnny.” She whispers, shocking another twitch from his cock. “You have no idea how good you look like this.”

He’s breathing hard like he’s just run a marathon and he feels stunned.

“I… uh… sorry.” He apologizes and she chuckles, pulls him down into something like a hug.

“Oh, sugar, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Chapter Text

Abigail groans when she finally gets home, tossing her keys into the bowl next to the door and knocking her head back against the cool wood.

She fishes her cellphone from her pocket and taps the first name in her favorites list, opening the messenger app.

CALL ME

That done, she toes off her shoes and drags herself into the house, not bothering to turn on any lights until she reaches the bedroom.

The bed is a welcome nest of fluffy pillows and a rumpled duvet and she flops back onto it and fishes out her earbuds just as her phone rings.

“I am going to murder Sean MacGuire.” She says as the call connects.

“Evening, Abigail.” The warm deep voice on the other end of the line is a balm on her agitation and she relaxes back into the mattress. “I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” He sounds amused.

“Oh shove it, Arthur. If you were here you’d be in the same state I am.” She tells him, groping absently at her own crotch. The denim is damp and uncomfortable, and she thumbs at the buttons of the shorts, ready to be free of them.

“Had a good time at Valhalla tonight, I take it?” He wonders, and she can hear the sound of him shifting in the background, a soft rustle of fabric.

“I had a torturous time at Valhalla tonight.” She manages to shimmy free of the cut-offs without actually getting up and pitches them with her foot somewhere towards the far side of the room. “Sean brought his neighbor, you know the one he keeps talking about? But he didn’t tell him a goddamn thing about what was going on!”

“Ouch.” Arthur’s voice is sympathetic now.

“And it was awful… he was so fucking perfect, Art! Like if someone had carved up my very own wet dream… all long limbs and his waist.. Oh my god.” She groans, remembering the cut of the man. She hadn’t really believed that actual real people outside of porn had dimensions like that. Those so broad shoulders tapering down to that almost feminine waist. “And I couldn’t lay a fucking hand on him because he had no idea what he was walking into!”

“Tell me about him?” Arthur requests and Abigail considers where to even start.

“Are you alone?” She asks instead.

“Yeah, it’s pretty late here.” He tells her. “I’m back in my hotel room for the night.”

“What are you wearing?” She wonders, rubbing absently at her thighs, keeping her hands just away from where she really wants to touch. She can’t remember the last time she was this worked up without even really getting to touch someone.

“The dark jeans you like.” He says, voice dropping low. “And the plain black button-up with the metal buttons.”

“Hmm.” She can imagine it. He’ll have the arms cuffed partway, straining as they always do so nicely around those thick forearms. “Shoes?”

“Nah, I took em off earlier.”

There’s a little shuffle of sound that she thinks must be him sitting down.

“I’m in that pink crop-top you love so much.” She tells him and he laughs.

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” He wonders.

“Cowboys are always the best rides.” She tells him primly, imagining a familiar blush on his cheeks – just the faintest tint that he can’t quite control.

“What else?” He asks.

“I had on my denim cut-offs earlier but they were sticky so I took them off… just a white thong otherwise.” The thong in question is pretty tame – just white cotton, but it’s gone semi-transparent with how much she’s been leaking all night.

There’s a familiar sort of grunt on the other end of the line.

“Are you touching yourself, Arthur?” She teases.

“Really want to.” He says, a request for permission.

“Are you on the bed or a sofa?” She asks.

“Bed.”

“Hmm… unbutton your shirt.” She tells him, listening to the sound of fabric moving, his breathing sounding loud in her ears. If she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine he’s there beside her. She can certainly imagine the picture he must make, splayed out on some bright white hotel bed, his clothes a dark line against the stark sheets.

The dark shirt will frame his torso so nicely, pulling open to reveal that wide chest and the dusting of fur that runs down his belly. He always gets worked up so fast too – she can imagine the bulge already straining those dark jeans, pressing the fabric taut over his hips.

“You can undo the zip on your pants. Take yourself out, but leave them on.”

There’s a sound of a zipper and he groans in relief. No doubt palming himself without permission.

“You touching yourself without asking, Art?” She asks, sneaking a hand down to her own crotch, running a finger over the soft curve of her mound, cupping herself gently. There’s no answer but thick breathing in her ear. “Arthur.” She demands, more firmly.

“Fuck. yes.” He admits and she grins.

“Well… don’t stop on my account.” She tells him. “You can stroke yourself, baby. But since you didn’t ask you can’t stop until I tell you.”

He groans in response, and she dips a finger under her own underwear, gently playing over the moist skin there. She’s so fucking slick, this night has been pure torture.

“If you come before I say you can you will be in so much trouble when you get home.” She promises him, enjoys the strangled gasp at the words.

“Thought… you were gonna tell me about this new boy of yours.” He pants and she smiles, mind tracking back over the evening.

“You’d have loved him, Art. He was the prettiest thing ever – tall. I think he might have been taller than you, baby, with long black hair and these gorgeous steely grey eyes.” She closes her eyes, mentally tracing back over that first look she’d gotten. “He’s trim – borderline skinny really, but with the broadest shoulders you can imagine and the narrowest waist.” She wants to get her hands on that waist, tuck herself along his backside and run fingers down the V of his hips, pet up his sides. “A pert ass you would not believe, Art. Men shouldn’t get to have butts that round, it’s not fair.”

“Damn.” Arthur groans, he’s always been an ass man.

“It’s untouched, baby. He told me himself.” She teases, sliding her thong out of the way so she can pet at her lips. “I bet he’s at home right now playing with it though. We watched the Callahans with their boy and when I explained about the prostate vibrator I’m pretty sure he nearly came right there just thinking about it.”

“Fuck, Abi, I thought you said you didn’t touch him?”

“I gave him a tour.” She explains, swirling fingers around her clit. “He was into it, looked like he was going to vibrate out of his own skin a few times. I was a good girl though, I only wrapped a hand around his waist near the end there.”

Arthur huffs a strangled laugh.

“You are never a ‘good girl’, Abigail.” He tells her.

“I’m a fucking angel, Arthur.” She tells him, arching into her fingers as she slips two inside, wishes he was there so she could have him do this. His hands are so much bigger than hers.

“What did you show him on this tour of yours?”

“Nothing too extreme.” She promises, waylaying the faint censure she can hear in his voice. “There were some regulars but it was pretty tame really – Mary Beth whipping Keiran was about the roughest thing there and we only caught the end of it.”

“What did he think of that?” Arthur wants to know, something a little eager in his tone.

“Oh, down boy.” She tells him, “He’s definitely a receiver and not a giver. He barely looked at Mary-Beth and she was in that whole latex catsuit get-up and everything. You’ll just have to survive without someone new to beat on you.”

“No one does it as well as you anyway, Abi.” He tells her and she laughs.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, baby.” She moans, slipping her fingers out and rolling over to fish around in the bedside table for a toy.

When she turns on the vibrator the buzz is loud enough that Arthur must be able to hear it because he lets out a growl that rockets down her spine.

“The Callahans were at the end.” She tells him, keeping the pressure just a little too light to get anywhere. Wanting to get this story out fully so he can appreciate it with her. “He’d had a real pretty blush on those high-cheekbones of his all night but when we got over there… I would have given a lot to see how far that color went down his chest, Art.”

The sound of skin on skin is faster in her ear as she runs the vibrator over her clit, dancing it away again before it can overwhelm her.

“He was obviously so turned on, baby. I actually caught him give a couple of little helpless thrusts against nothing watching them.” Arthur groans low in her ear. He’s getting close. “I couldn’t help myself, I had to touch, but I kept my hands on his waist all proper, just tugging a bit on his jeans.”

“All proper… my ass.” He gasps at her.

“He’s so responsive, Art. That was all it took – The Calahan’s boy was let go and I just gave a little tug on a beltloop and fuck….” She can’t hold back anymore, the memory of his shivering, stunned and flushed against her, shocked at his own body’s reaction is so delicious and she presses the vibrator hard, turning up the intensity. Arthur’s breathes are ragged in her ear, the second time that night she’s had a man falling apart for her.

“Abi… please…” He groans, so close.

“He came right there, Arthur. Completely untouched. Just fell apart right there in my arms.”

Arthur’s strangled cry is delicious, the little panting ah-ah-ah as he comes as hot as it always is and she lets the sound wash over her, uses it to push herself over the edge as well.

The orgasm is hard, shaking her core and clenching up through her abs, pulsing over and over. Arthur whines in her ear and it’s overlaid with the memory of John’s sweet stunned panting.

Fuck what she would give to have them both at the same time.

When she can’t take anymore she drags the vibrator away, breathing hard. Arthur is gasping still in her ear, little helpless sucking breaths that aren’t quite sobs and she remembers that she told him he wasn’t allowed to stop.

“You make a mess, baby?” She asks.

“Y.. yes...” His voice is wrecked and she loves it.

“You done coming?” She presses.

“Fuck… yes…”

“You sure? Nothing left in there for me?” He lets out a breathless laugh.

“Pretty sure… please… please let me stop.” He requests.

“Oh, alright.” She agrees, fondly. “Even if you were naughty, coming without permission.”

He makes a strangled groan in response to that.

“You’re evil.” He pants.

“Oh I know.” She smiles, snuggling back into the mattress, boneless and satisfied from her orgasm. They lay there together, breathing in time with one another as they both catch their breath.

Eventually, she can hear him rising on the other end of the line, the sound of running water as he cleans himself up. She’s kind of sleepy and relaxed now and his breath has taken on that same slow quality she knows means he’s calmed as well.

“You good, Arthur?” She asks, needing to check before she lets him go for the night.

“Missing you, but yeah. Real good, Abi.” His voice is thick and sleepy.

“Hmm… miss you too.” She agrees. He’s got another few weeks of travel before she’ll have him back and it feels like forever.

“So after you tricked him into falling apart on you, what happened?” Arthur wonders.

“I sent him home with a bunch of info links and my phone number.”

“Abigail!” Arthur laughs at her.

“Oh, shush. You’ll get it when you meet him.” She tells him.

“You sound pretty sure about us meeting.”

“Hmm.” She is. There’s not a guarantee of course, but Abigail could see how John had reacted to watching the play. No one got that taken in that fast by something they didn’t have an inclination towards.

There’s probably some wishful thinking in there as well but she’ll deal with that disappointment if it happens.

“If he asks you for something, you should invite him to the playroom.” Arthur suggests after a long pause. “He might be more comfortable without an audience. Especially at first.”

“What?” She blinks, surprised. “You sure?”

“Course.” He agrees, like it’s not a big deal at all.

“Just… I know you like it to be just your space.”

They’ve had people over before of course, but rarely and only when they’ve both met and liked the person well. And never without the other there as well.

“Our space, Abi.” He corrects her. “And I can count the number of times you’ve called me all wound up about someone on one finger. Kinda want to meet the fella that can do that to you.” He muses, and she isn’t sure what she hears in his voice. It’s not jealousy she doesn’t think, but it’s something.

“You know you’re my number one, yeah?” She asks, not sure if she should be concerned about this. “Say the word and I’ll delete his number.”

“It’s not that.” He tells her. “But I do know there’s things you’d like that I ain’t really there for. I’d like to see you have them.”

She isn’t sure what to say to that. Doesn’t like the idea that he might think he’s not enough for her or something.

“You know I love you?” She asks. They don’t say the words often, but she needs him to hear them now.

“And I love you, too.” He assures her. “I swear it’s not that. I’m mostly just feeling sorry for myself that I’m not there to get to see this right now.”

“I’ll make sure he’s around when you get home.” She decides. Determined suddenly to make it so.

“I know you will,” He says, that soft smile in his voice that she loves. She hadn’t known before Arthur that it was possible to smile with just words. “Invite him to the playroom.”

“Yeah, alright.” She agrees. Doesn’t want to admit that her mind has been imagining John in their room all night. Arthur can probably guess that anyway, the bastard.

“Send me a picture if you can sneak one.” He suggests and she grins, thinking of how pretty John will look naked and bound. “Maybe a clothed one? I can hear you thinking dirty things, Abigail. Don’t traumatize this kid too quickly, please.”

She laughs.

“Oh fine. Spoil my fun.”

“Should probably turn in, I have an early morning.” He yawns over the line.

“Alright. Night, Arthur.” She smacks a kiss into the air and he chuckles.

“Night, Abigail.”

Chapter Text

Abigail is trying to drag a massive box of floggers and other leather goods across the warehouse floor when she gets the text message. She stops when she sees the name pop up on her wrist and actually lets out a little victorious whoop that draws Mary Beth’s attention from where the woman is sorting through a stack of bullet vibes.

“You have got it so bad, honey.” The other woman is definitely laughing at her, but Abigail ignores it in favor of fishing out her phone.

The text from John reads:

I don’t know how to figure out what I like?

Followed quickly by:

Is it okay if I ask you about this?

If it’s not, I’m sorry!

John texts like he talks, and she thinks it's fucking adorable.

You can ask me anything, precious.

Please, she thinks, please, please ask me everything.

Abigail has had way too many fantasies that start this way – with some sweet oblivious boy that has no idea what he’s doing that she can share all her perverted knowledge with. Get to watch his kinky sexual awakening.

It’s a harder itch to scratch than it might seem – especially now with the internet. Most new people to the scene already have some idea of what they want, have a lot of the lingo down even if they aren’t totally comfortable with it yet. Maybe they haven’t tried much yet, but they’ve thought about it – have expectations.

Abigail’s broken in a few new players over the years but like a lot of things, the reality of it isn’t anything like the fantasy. All those expectations tend to lead to performances, and then she has to spend forever explaining that porn is not real life. That just because they watched one girl moaning at having her nipples whipped and got off watching that doesn’t mean they should automatically be trying to moan and push through having it done to themselves if the reality is not actually something they enjoy.

As far as figuring out what you like – you have to experiment a bit. Don’t rely just on porn, it’s easy to think you like or don’t like something because you watched it and then find the opposite is true when you try and put it into practice.

Abigail is probably the poster girl for that. She’d come to the scene convinced that all she wanted was to have someone tie her up and order her around. That had led to six months of mostly disappointing encounters with various male Doms until she’d stumbled on Arthur at a demo night.

Arthur positively oozes Toppy vibes. It’s not just that he’s a big man, his presence is larger than life. When he walks into a room everyone turns to look. She had turned to look.

And she had wanted.

He’d had her following him around all night, practically begging at his heels, and he’d just been quietly amused. There had been a St. Andrew’s Cross set-up for play and she’d been watching him more than the woman being flogged on it. When the couple had finished, he’d turned to her and asked if she’d ever done it before, if she wanted to try.

Abigail would have said yes if he’d asked to whip her, even though pain was something she was pretty apathetic about at that point. And then he’d taken off his shirt to reveal miles of skin that made her mouth positively water, put a flogger in her hand and talked her through how to hit him with it.

The first time she had gotten the force and swing right and he’d let out that surprised little grunt of pain/pleasure everything had clicked and all she wanted was to get that noise from him again and again and again.

She is undoubtedly not the first person to mistake empathy with a Sub for a want to be in their shoes instead of the one drawing those things out of them.

Did you look at the sites I sent you?

Yeah… but it was kind of… clinical?

That’s fair. She’d mostly sent him intro stuff – consent, safety, definitions, and checklists. It was a good place to start and an important foundation, but it wasn’t always that sexy, and google searches could be pretty hit or miss for kink.

Well – what did you like at Valhala?

There’s a really long pause and Abigail tries not to feel too disappointed. It’s the middle of the day, in all likelihood he’s working or busy somehow.

Like she probably should be.

Can I call you?

The message comes just as she’s about to tuck her phone away and force herself to get the floggers checked in and priced.

“Keiran!” She yells into the bowels of the warehouse. “I’m going to be in my office! Do NOT interrupt me for anything short of the apocalypse!”

“Uh… okay?” A hesitant voice calls back from somewhere in the direction of the butt plugs.

She leaves the box of leather goods in the middle of the floor and heads into the office before she texts back.

Please do

It’s just a moment later that the phone rings and she can’t stop the grin at his immediate response.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.” John says in a rush, like he’s been holding it in. She wonders how long he’s been working himself up to messaging her. If he’s sitting at home flushed and flustered. She bites her lip and rubs her legs together at that image.

“Ah, sugar, we all started somewhere.” She assures him, instead of demanding to know where he is or what he’s doing. Or wearing.

“Just… I don’t usually… like I did.” He stutters, and she assumes he means when he came in his pants after watching the Callahans.

“Are you still embarrassed about that?” She asks gently. “I promise it was really hot.” Really, really, really hot. She’s gotten off to that memory every night since.

“Kind of? I don’t know… I don’t really understand why I… liked it so much.”

“Hmm… let me lay out some scenarios for you.” She suggests. “If that’s okay?”

“Yes, it’s really okay.” He pauses and she can hear him shifting around, “Uh… is that a consent thing?”

“Kind of.” She agrees. “We’re not doing anything but talking right now, John. But if you want to do more I am very open to that.”

“Oh.” He breathes. “Even though I don’t know anything?”

“I cannot tell you how much I would really like to teach you.” She says and his breathing hiccups a bit on the other end of the line. “But we’d have to meet and really talk about it first.” She forces herself to back down a bit. “I don’t want to promise that we’d be completely compatible. Most people aren’t and that’s okay but I wouldn’t want you expecting something from me that I couldn’t give anymore than I’d want to push you into something you wouldn’t like. We’re not really playing right now, so I don’t need you to give me a safeword or anything, but if I say something that you don’t like I want you to tell me and I’ll stop, okay? And I won’t be upset.”

“Okay, I can… I can do that.” He agrees.

“Good boy.” She purrs, can hear him swallow.

“I think I like that.” He mumbles.

“When I call you a good boy?” She asks, just to be sure.

“Yeah.” He sounds shy.

Abigail bites her fist to keep from groaning. This boy is going to kill her, seriously.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She says, voice dropping low and possessive without her permission. She really wishes Arthur were here so she could look to someone to tell her if she’s being as ridiculous as she feels. But he’s still on the wrong fucking side of the world so she’s just going to have to deal on her own. “Okay, so I would say you might like praise – that can be a kink in itself. Liking to be told you’ve been good for someone.”

“Yeah… yes.” John says, sounding kind of breathy. She wonders if he’s playing with himself or if it’s like the other night and the idea is enough to send him into that state.

“You seemed to really be interested when I told you about that prostate toy. Have you tried anything? A finger maybe?” She asks.

“Uh… I… yeah… it burned kind of.” He sounds disappointed.

“How much lube did you use?” She asks. There’s a long silence on the other end. “You did use lube didn’t you, John?”

“…no?” He sounds sheepish and Abigail really hates the tragedy that is the American Sexual Education system.

“Right. We’ll come back to that later.” She decides, wondering if she can get away with sending him a butt-play care package or if that would be creepy and forward. “Let’s do a little mental role-play. Go back to that night – do you picture yourself as the man tied to the bench or the man that was working him over?” She’s pretty sure she knows this answer but it’s important to ask.

“The man tied up.” His answer is sure and fast, suggesting he’s been imagining this plenty without her guidance. “And… you… when you asked if I wanted you to tie me up.” He ends with a whisper. She remembers back to teasing him. She’d probably been pushing the limits by then but he was just so fucking tempting.

“What did you want more? To be tied up in general or for me to be the one to do that to you?”

“Both.” It’s more confident of an answer than she expected. “I mean… not one more than the other. But I think if it was you doing it that would be… extra good?”

Abigail is going to die of sexual frustration here. Seriously.

“Okay.” She swallows. “Okay.” She tells him. “We can… talk some more about making that happen if you want. Definitely.”

“Yes, please.”

“Good boy.” She replies automatically and is rewarded with a tiny muffled gasp. “When you were watching the man tied up – did you like that he was being denied? Kept from having an orgasm?”

“Fuck yes.” John’s voice is high and she’s almost sure he’s playing with himself now.

“You being naughty right now, darling?” She asks, unable to help herself. He lets out a little strangled sound.

“Sorry… sorry. I shouldn’t… I don’t mean to…” He stammers.

“It’s okay, sugar. I’ll let this one slide, because you sound real pretty.” He whines in response and she runs a thumb over her lips thoughtfully. “If we play for real though, Johnny, I expect you to ask me for permission to touch yourself.”

“Fuck.” He says again.

“That’s the idea.” She agrees. “You’ll want to try and see how you feel about something in your butt if it’s done right first, but I have to tell you that I really love fucking pretty boys with a strap-on.”

The sound he makes is kind of high and garbled and she knows she’s probably grinning like an idiot at the empty room.

“Still with me there, sugar?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He manages and oh… she does like that. Can’t stop the pleased rumbling hum that bubbles up.

“You can call me that all you want.” She tells him.

“…. Yes, ma’am.” He repeats shyly.

“Hmm…” She needs to get this back on track probably. “So, you liked the denial aspect, and being tied up?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He agrees, rolling into the honorific so easily.

“What about the way his balls were tied?” She wonders. “It would have been giving him a shock of pain every time he tried to thrust. Would you like that? To be punished if you try and take your own pleasure without permission?”

“I... maybe? I’m not sure. About the pain.”

“That’s fair. Some people really love it, and others just want the control aspects. It’s fine if you don’t want that.” She assures him.

“I… don’t want to say no though.” He admits hesitantly. “The guy that got whipped? It looked like it was really painful but afterward… I dunno. Just… I don’t want to say no to it.”

“We’ll put that under maybe then. You can always try things and if you don’t enjoy them you don’t have to keep doing them. That’s how you learn what you do like.”

“Okay… you said… maybe we could meet and talk…? Would you… help me try some things?”

Abigail does not get up and do a victory dance at that request, but it’s a really close thing.

“I would really like that.” She agrees. Although…. “There is one thing I should tell you though first and if it’s a dealbreaker I will totally understand.” She’ll be depressed as fuck, but she will understand. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone hasn’t been up for sharing.

“Okay?” He sounds confused.

“I’m… in a relationship, sugar. It’s not exclusive, we both play with other people pretty regularly. Sometimes even together, if that’s something they’re interested in, but it is serious and long-term. So I just want you to know that going in. I know poly isn’t everyone’s cuppa, even just for play.”

There’s a long silence on the other end as he takes that in and she really hopes this hasn’t blown things. A lot of kinky people are at least open to short-term play without strings, but John’s new to this. If he’s expecting a traditional monogamous dynamic that’s not something she can do.

“Oh.” His voice sounds so small and she wants to kick herself. It would be worse to string him along if this is an issue though. She knows it. She hates it, but she knows it.

“Look, you don’t have to say yes or no right now. I…” She pauses, figures that she’s already possibly lost him anyway, and decides to go for broke. “Even if you decide you don’t want to try with me, can I give you some things? So you can experiment yourself?”

“Uh… like what?” He sounds curious at least, which is better than still sounding kind of wounded.

“Just… some toys maybe. A few things I think you might like. If it’s too much just say so but it would make me happy… for you to have them.” This is definitely getting into creepy territory, she thinks, but no one has ever accused her of having loads of self-restraint.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage or anything…”

“It wouldn’t be that at all.” She assures him. “I’m more worried it’s overstepping or that you’ll feel pressured by it, but I really like the idea of you using some things that I’ve picked out for you.”

“Oh.” He swallows thickly and she hopes it's because he likes that idea. “Okay.”

“Great!” She finds herself smiling again. Maybe hope isn’t lost after all. “Do you know where the intersection is for Riggs and Manzanita? Over near the warehouse district?”

“Sure…” He draws out the word warily.

“There’s a shop there called Stock-aide, it’s… well, we’re a kink-oriented sex shop. There’s a small storefront. I can leave you something at the desk. Just ask whoever is there.”

“Of course you work for a sex shop.” John murmurs and she wonders if she was meant to hear it or not.

“I’m a modern empowered woman, precious.” She decides against explaining that she doesn’t exactly just work there. That’s a conversation for another day.

“Okay. I’ll stop by in a few days?”

“Perfect.”

John debates the wisdom of actually following through on picking up whatever it is that Abigail’s put together for him for almost 3 days.

It’s Sean that finally makes up his mind for him, the younger man all but breaking into his apartment on Wednesday.

“Tell me everything, boyo!” He demands, making himself way too comfortable on John’s ratty old couch. “Have you and Abi…” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“No! Jesus…”

“What? Why the hell not?” Sean squints at him dubiously. “She’s smoking hot mate and I saw da way she was looking at you.”

“She’s also taken, Sean! What the hell.” John doesn’t really want to admit how much it had sucked when she’d told him that. John’s been on the wrong side of that kind of drama before, has the slightly crooked nose to prove it.

“Yeah, so? Arthur’s a good guy. You’d get along with him I bet.”

And of course, Sean not only knows this but knows the guy she’s with.

Because what even is his life right now?

John rubs at his eyes and decides it’s more important to get himself a beer than try and kick Sean back out of his place. It’s like he’s walked into some crazy alternate reality the past week where women like men with no stamina and men apparently don’t have a fucking problem with their girlfriends tieing up and fucking other men.

“Look… I talked to her on Monday and… I dunno. I thought we might meet up but.” He waves a hand vaguely, hesitates at the fridge and grabs a beer for Sean as well. Maybe if they’re both a little drunk this conversation will feel less mortifying.

Sean makes grabby hands at the bottle when he goes back to the living room, deciding to sit on his ratty old rocking chair instead of joining the other man on the couch.

“… but she told ya about her main squeeze and ya freaked right the fuck out.” Sean guesses.

“More or less.” He admits. It’s not even like he was really thinking far enough ahead to the idea of dating or anything, but having that suddenly off the table threw him.

“Aw, Johnny, whatever ya thinking about, it ain’t like that.” Sean tells him.

John must look skeptical at that because the younger man leans forward and pokes him in the chest with the cold bottle in his hand.

“Abi ain’t yer usual lady, John. And neither’s her man, Arthur. Don’t think either of them have a jealous bone in their bodies. There ain’t gonna be no one coming by to slap you around for doin the nasty with their woman.”

“That’s not… the only problem.” He admits hesitantly.

“Oh… Oh! you like her!” Sean looks positively giddy at this revelation and John really wants to punch him. “You do, don’t ya, Johnny?”

“Could you try being a bigger asshole about this?” John growls.

“Oh don’t get yer panties all twisted.” Sean tosses back the rest of his beer and stands to go retrieve another from John’s fridge without asking. “Like I said – whatever you’re thinking about, it ain’t like that. You wanna try dating her? Go for it! I’d be afraid for me life… or my cock at least, personally, but you do you, mate.”

“I’m pretty sure she told me that she wasn’t available for that, Sean.” He grits out.

“Did she say she wasn’t? Or is that just what you just assumed she meant?” He wants to know.

John thinks back to the conversation. If he assumes Sean is telling him the truth… then he honestly isn’t sure.

“She just said… she had to tell me she was already in a serious relationship. And then she offered to put me together like... I dunno a kind of kinky care package or something to.. try stuff on my own I guess. In case I wasn’t comfortable with… whatever.” He has no idea why he’s telling Sean this, beyond the fact that he doesn’t have anyone else to talk to about it.

“Oh my god, Johnny! Abigail has the best toys, what was in it? Is it here? I wanna see what she picked!” Sean is virtually bouncing in his seat in excitement.

“I… haven’t gone to get it yet.” He admits.

“WHAT? Well, come, on then boyo! We can go now! I’ll drive.” Sean makes to get up and John shoves him back into the couch.

“You have had 2 beers in the space of ten minutes. You are not driving anywhere, boyo.”

Sean pouts.

“I’ll… go get it tomorrow, okay?” He says, not wanting to fight with a tipsy Irishman about the wisdom of rushing across town to retrieve whatever the hell is in that package.

“You better! Seriously, Johnny. The best toys.”

Which is how John ends up parked awkwardly in front of an unassuming-looking storefront with frosted glass windows that just says “Stock-aide” in a fancy western-style font. Other than the name there’s basically no indication of what the store is beyond a list of hours for what is apparently a ‘showroom’.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself he opens the door and walks in.

He’d sort of expected black walls and dim lighting like the club, but he walks into a bright white open room. It feels like an expensive boutique, but instead of clothes or jewelry there are a rainbow of dildos and ropes on display. He can see whips and chains towards the back and a lot of very intimidating things he can’t identify on the walls beside them.

“Anything I can help you with?” There’s a woman standing behind the counter, sorting a terrifying array of bottles that he thinks might be different kinds of lube. She seems familiar but it’s only when she smiles and tosses her curls over one shoulder that he realizes where he’s seen her before – dressed all in latex and whipping someone.

“Uh…” His brain stutters. “I… Abigailsentme?”

Her look goes from sweet and friendly to calculating in an instant.

“Oh! You must be John.” Her grin is a bit feral. “You got our girl in a right state.”

John has no idea what to say to that, but he suspects he’s blushing at her scrutiny.

“Here,” She reaches under the counter and brings out a… really large bag. It’s heavy paper, the handles tied closed with a leather cord. John takes it and it’s heavy as well. “Like I said… she really likes you.”

“I… what do I… uh owe for this?” He asks, wondering if he’s going to have to dip into rent to cover it. This doesn’t look like the kind of place that has cheap kinds of anything.

“You are adorable.” The woman says, leaning on her elbows to grin at him. “It’s on the house, sweety, Abigail’s orders. Oh! And I have something extra for you. Don’t tell Abi I gave you this.”

She reaches out for a fancy business card. It’s thick brown paper with the name and website address for the store on it and nothing else. She flips it over and writes something on the back.

“Abigail gets so caught up in not influencing people sometimes, she forgets relationships are a two-way street. If you wanted to see what she’s into…” She hands him the card. There’s a website address on the back along with a username. “It might help you decide if you want to try things out with her.”

“I… thanks.” He takes the card nervously, turns to go before he can say or ask anything stupid.

Like… do you really think she likes me?

He really is pathetic.

“Hey, whatever happens or doesn’t. Don’t be a stranger, yeah?” The woman’s face has changed back to that soft friendly smile and he blinks at the change from intimidating to open. “We don’t bite here. I mean… unless you ask.” She winks and he chuckles at the cheesy inuendo. “Maybe even if you don’t find a play partner you can find some friends, okay?”

“Okay. I…thanks.” He repeats, ducking his chin as he turns to go.

John puts the package on his kitchen table when he gets home, still a bit terrified of it, and takes out the card instead, flips it over in his hands a few times before taking it over to his ancient laptop and punching in the web address.

He has to make an account to view the site, which seems to be some kind of social media platform for fans of kinky stuff, and he thinks he should feel more anxious about that but in for a penny…

The front page is splashed with some weirdly tame amateur porn pictures… mostly busty naked women in varying states of undress, and it takes a moment to figure out how to use the search function.

And then Abigail is grinning wickedly out at him from the screen. She’s in a black latex corset in her profile picture, a flogger in one hand, dark hair spilling over her shoulders and her bright red lipstick the only bit of color in the image. He can feel his heart give a little lurch at her smile, that way it seems to reach out and tease at him personally.

Her profile declares her to be a 28-year-old Domme, and in an open relationship with a TacitusKilgore. That makes her a year younger than him and both older than she looks and younger than she acts, which is an interesting and confusing combination. Her bio informs him she’s one of the owners and lead models for Stock-aide which explains a lot about why he has such a ridiculously oversized bag of probably very expensive sex toys sat on his kitchen table.

There’s a very long list of kinks at the bottom of the page, only about a quarter of which he has any idea about the meaning of.

As much as John’s tempted to look at Abigail’s photo gallery, some masochistic stupidity overtakes him and he clicks on Tacitus’ profile first instead, knowing that this must be the Arthur that Sean mentioned.

If he was hoping to scope out his competition, he’s disappointed though.

Tacitus’ profile is sparse, his profile picture just an image of what looks like a flogger made from chains. He’s marked as a 38-year-old Switch, and his bio is basically empty, just a note to see Abigail’s profile for his photography and something about messaging him about prints and commissions.

Oddly disappointed, he clicks back to Abigail and opens her gallery.

The images that come up are some serious pro-level photography, nothing like the somewhat awkwardly cropped cell phone pics that he’s uses to seeing with amateur porn. They have artistic lighting and posing, only about half of them of Abigail herself and the rest of a variety of men and a couple of women tied up to furniture that looks like more expensive versions of what he saw at the club.

The pictures vary from sensual to more graphic, some of them just close-ups of hands and toys on reddened skin while others are of people bound in various restraints, bodies arched in pleasure or pain. There’s one of Abigail wearing a massive strap-on cock, one hand grasping it playfully as if she’s about to shove it somewhere and he’s reminded of her words in his ear, telling him that she liked fucking pretty boys.

He flips through the images, unable to stop from squirming. They’re all undeniably hot – even the ones that make him a little uncomfortable like a close-up of what can only be Abigail’s hand squeezing tight around a man’s neck, his spine arched back against her and what looks like a drop of blood beading up from one of the dozen or so sharp red lines surrounding his nipples.

There’s one picture, that stands out for him strangely, odd for how tame it is compared to most of the others.

She’s dressed in something that’s almost like a tuxedo but with a corset-like bodice and posed in front of a tall, broad, and very well built man, who is only visible from the neck down, wearing dress slacks and a button-up shirt, the sleeves cuffed in a way that highlights his muscular forearms, the top few buttons are undone to reveal just a hint of a strong furred chest. His tie is loose, and she has a hand wrapped in the silk fabric in a very obviously possessive manner like she might be ready to lead him somewhere by the neck. He has one big hand on her side, the fingers looking like they could span her whole waist, the other holding a riding crop loosely at his side.

Even without seeing the man’s face, they look so perfect together that it kind of hurts and he isn’t sure why, but he thinks this must be Arthur.

Not sure at all what he’s feeling, John closes down his computer and returns to the package. He’s more than a little horny now, pants tight and dragging at his crotch awkwardly as he settles down at the table. He could take them off, but the edge of discomfort is kind of helping him stay focused.

The largest thing in the bag is a shockingly massive bottle of lube. It’s got to be like a pint, seriously, and it even has a pump-top. There’s a little pamphlet rubber-banded to the outside titled “A beginner’s guide to anal play.” Abigail has written in bright red sharpie next to the title “Use A LOT of Lube.”

A LOT is written in all caps and underlined three times.

John isn’t sure if the laugh that bubbles up is more amused or hysterical. He’s pretty sure she’s just teasing him at least.

The next thing in the bag looks like a jewelry box. When he lifts the lid there are two clips attached to one another with a silver chain. He’s seen something similar in Abigail’s photo gallery, the rubber-tipped pinchers fastened over a woman’s nipples. She’s left a note here as well – “A good way to see if you like just a bit of pain. They can hurt as much coming off as going on, so don’t leave them on too long until you know you like it!”

He plays with the chain a bit considering and pinches at his forearm with the clip. It’s a sharp feeling, even on just his arm. Putting them on his nipples…

He considers for a moment and then shrugs off his shirt. The first pinch makes him gasp, sharp and almost too much. The second is just as intense, and he stares at the chain hanging between his nipples, breathing harder than he would have expected at such a small thing.

The pain ebbs as he sits there, trying to decide if he likes it. He feels un-naturally aware of the little bundles of nerves. He wouldn’t say that his chest is especially sensitive most of the time, but right then the clamps are almost all he can focus on, two bright points of feeling that hold all his attention.

He shifts and the chain swings slightly, pulling on the clips and making him gasp. It’s like someone’s run a live wire from the clips to his dick, which gives a violent twitch in response. His hips jerk forward looking for friction, which just moves the chain again and he groans, tries to force himself to be still.

He thinks he can put this firmly in the yes, please more, category.

It takes longer than he wants to admit to settle enough to dig further into the bag. He leaves the clamps in place, moving slow and careful so he doesn’t shift the chain more than he has to. The pain has dulled to a kind of background noise – something he’s aware of but not so overwhelmed by now.

There are a pair of leather manacles next with another note “See how you like them – you can break the chain if you really try – it’s got a failure point if you tie yourself up and have trouble getting loose. Just give a good sharp tug.”

He wraps one around his left wrist, admiring the way it fits. The leather is fine and soft, almost like skin against his own and there’s some kind of padding that makes the grip around his arm feel almost gentle even when he tightens it.

He takes a deep breath, smells fresh leather and feels the clips pull at his chest. Finds that he’s already startlingly turned on even though he hasn’t even touched himself yet.

There’s another box next, that proclaims it contains a “vibrating massaging sleeve with remote control functions”. From what he can tell of the picture it’s designed to be slipped onto a hard cock and then… either fucked into or clamped in place somehow.

There’s a really long instruction booklet.

There is thankfully also a fairly obvious way to turn it on and off manually so he sets the booklet aside and just clicks the power button to see what it feels like. The resulting vibrations are low and rumbly, and he can cycle through several intensities, from very gentle to so intense it rumbles up his arm to vibrate the nipple clamps.

He shuts it back off with a whine, remembers that Abigail had said not to leave them on too long at first and decides they need to come off if he’s getting through the rest of this box.

The rush of sensation when he unhooks them is intense and he finds himself panting against the feeling. It hurts but it feels good too – like scratching at an inch but a thousand times more. He grabs at his crotch, feels almost like he could come just from that feeling alone, but it fades before he can get anywhere.

He runs a hand over his nipples, rocking little shocks of pain/pleasure down his body. He has vastly underestimated how sensitive they are until now.

Half of him wants to leave the rest of the bag and just retreat to the bed or the couch and pull himself off, but the other half wants to know what else is there so he just palms himself through his jeans to try and take the edge off and reaches back into the bag.

The next item is a relatively small box with a weird-looking little plastic thing inside. It’s about the width of his finger with these odd curled arms on the base. The packaging says it’s a prostate massager, but he has no idea how the hell it’s supposed to do anything with how weirdly small it seems.

The second is a larger box that is also apparently something for his butt, but this one is a bit larger and apparently vibrates. Like the sleeve, it appears to have something like ten million functions, and like the sleeve, it thankfully also has an obvious on/off switch.

He’s a bit intimidated by both of those, if not uninterested.

The last thing in the box is a package of black latex gloves and another note – “Gloves help – USE THE LUBE – call me if you want any help! ;D”

John decides to table that idea and everything it entails and instead reaches for the vibrating sleeve. He’s never used a vibrator on himself, has only even used them on women a couple of times so he’s not sure what he expects when he tugs down his pants and slides the thing onto his dick. It pulls a bit at his skin unpleasantly and he glances at the seriously ridiculously huge bottle of lube, tugs it off, and pumps some onto the thing. Hopes he’s doing this right and slides it back on.

The feeling is incredible – not quite like fucking, but closer than he would have guessed. He fumbles for the power button and the first shock of it is so startlingly intense that he yanks it off involuntarily.

He’s breathing hard and twitching. Has been worked up for nearly an hour now and much as he wants to really figure out the finer points of this toy, he’s not going to be able to do that just then.

He slides the toy back down, hips fucking up into it as he pants. The leather manacle is still on his left wrist and he finds his eyes drawn to it as he slides the toy up and down his length, hovering over the head where the vibrations are making him want to shake out of his own skin. He can almost imagine Abigail’s voice in his ear, telling him what a good boy he is, how hot he looks falling apart like this, how much she wants to see him come.

It could be her hand holding this toy in place, holding him at her mercy and demanding he give in.

It’s almost as fast and helpless as it was at the club, just a rush of uncontrollable orgasm that washes up before he really knows it’s happening. He whines, a sound that he can’t believe is coming from him torn helplessly from his throat and comes hard and messy all over his chest.

The toy keeps pulsing, dragging the feeling out until it’s too much and he tears it away, shaking.

The kitchen is slow to come back into focus around him, so strange and foreign seeming against the revelation of his orgasm that he almost doesn’t understand why he’s there.

Eventually, his mind floats back to his body and he looks down at the mess he’s made of himself and laughs helplessly.

There’s a splash of come on the leather covering his wrist, glistening pearly in the fluorescent lighting, and before he can even really think about what he’s doing he picks up his phone and snaps a picture and sends it to Abigail.

Can we meet?

Chapter Text

Arthur is flipping through his photos for the day when Abigail texts him the picture.

Can I give him your number?

The image shows her sitting in the lap of a young man that can only be her new obsession and Arthur has to admit, he can see why she’s into him.

The boy is tall and broad, dressed in a grey Henley that stretches over his shoulders and sets off his dark eyes. The angle of the selfie exaggerates the v of his torso and that narrow waist that Abigail is so in love with. His face straddles an interesting line between pretty and rugged, a square jaw and high sharp cheekbones framed by shoulder length black hair that’s falling just a bit into his eyes. There’s a small scar on his lip and if Arthur looks closely, he can just see two more tracing up his right cheek, just the faintest of lines that cut across his skin. He would love to know the story of where he got them.

The man is also wearing an honest to god Stetson, the worn felt showing that it’s not so much part of a look as it is something he wears day to day and Arthur feels his lips quirk at that. Abigail does have a thing for cowboys.

Sure.

He thinks about asking ‘Why?’ because while it’s not unheard of for one of Abi’s boys to check in with him, it’s not exactly common either. But he supposes he’ll either find out if the man messages him or else it’s just something to do with what they’re negotiating, and he can ask Abigail later.

Thanks! xx

Arthur shakes his head, puts the phone down and starts back to work when it pings again.

He lifts an eyebrow at the unknown number, he had figured if he was going to hear from the other man that it wouldn’t be right away.

You’re really okay with Abigail doing stuff with me?

Last time I had a girl tell me her BF was cool with it I ended up with a broken nose…

Ouch. Well, that explains the reluctance anyway. Abigail had been trying not to mope at him about it for the past few days, but he knew she had been disappointed when it seemed like this John fella had shied away after she told him about them.

I am 100% okay with you and Abi doing pretty much whatever you’re both comfortable with.

He assures.

Arthur’s more than a little annoyed that he’s not around to get to watch because there is nothing like seeing Abigail take someone apart for the first time, but for all he knows the man ain’t into that anyway.

Okay. I just needed to be sure…

Thanks!

And that seems to actually be all the younger man wanted him for.

Arthur huffs a laugh, Abigail is right, he’s kind of adorable.

It’s nearing 1 am when he gets the next message.

He should probably be asleep, but he never quite manages to shift time zones when he travels and since most of what he does happens at odd hours anyway there’s not much incentive to force himself onto the native schedule. He’s watching some kind of strange soap opera-esque drama in his hotel room, trying to guess what’s happening based on the dramatic acting because he doesn’t speak any French when his phone buzzes.

I’m meeting Abigail on Sunday at 3

Just felt like I should tell you that?

Arthur raises an eyebrow at the message, wonders if Abigail has said something to the man to make him think he needs to check in with Arthur or if it’s self-motivated.

You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I won’t say I don’t appreciate it.

It’s kind of nice. Thoughtful. A little bit hot.

He considers leaving it at that, just a polite exchange of information but he has to admit he’s curious about this guy.

You nervous?

yes

The reply is instant, and he chuckles. Wonders if he should re-assure the other man or let him be anxious. Some people like the fear. Hard to know without meeting him which way this one goes.

Can I call you?

Followed immediately by

Is that weird?

Arthur thinks his eyebrows have crawled somewhere up into his hairline in surprise. He’s had a few of Abigail’s subs talk to him, but when they do it’s always like a permission thing, or maybe some kind of cuck-kink.

This doesn’t feel like that.

Before he can overthink, it he clicks off the television and hits dial. It’s picked up on the first ring.

“Is this weird? This is weird right?” Abigail has declined to mention that the man’s voice sounds like smoke and sex. Arthur wonders if it’s always like this or if he’s had something ravaging his throat recently. Probably best not to think about that too closely. “It’s just that the only other person I know that I can talk to about this is Sean MacGuire and I really, really, don’t want to talk to him about this.”

Arthur gives a surprised laugh in response.

“I can understand that. Sean’s a menace.”

“Right? He basically told me we were going to a hook-up club and then threw me to the wolves, and like… I can kind of appreciate it now, but still.” John pauses. “Not that I think Abigail is a wolf or anything, she’s great… uh. I’m really good at putting my foot in it, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Oh don’t sell her short, boy. Abigail will eat you alive if you let her.” Arthur is highly amused by this kid. Abi can certainly pick them.

“That’s… not comforting.” The man says, sounding like he might be on the verge of a mild freak-out.

“Weren’t meant to be.” Arthur tells him mildly. “I expect you have some idea what you’re walking into at this point. I’d be lying if I said she was some sweet angel.” Abigail is pure evil half the time. It’s an enjoyable evil, but all the same. “But I can promise that she won’t do nothing to you that you don’t agree with. You tell her to stop she will.”

“I know.” John sighs. “Or, I think I know? We talked about that a lot. She told me to pick a safe word too but I’m not sure what to use. Can I not just say stop if it’s too much?”

“I mean, you can, and she’ll still stop, but it’s a good idea to have, yeah. Things can be intense. It’s real easy to confuse someone saying ‘Don’t stop.’ and ‘Don’t. Stop.’ When things get going. Best to be able to confirm what’s meant.” Over the years, Arthur’s shut down a few scenes prematurely to be safe for just that reason. Being able to lean over and ask clearly if they’re safe wording is better.

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. Do you have one?”

He does, but it’s odd to have anyone ask. He only really subs for Abigail these days. Usually, he’s the one asking for someone else’s word.

“Sure. It’s Boadicea.”

“Boadicea?”

“It was the name of my first horse.” Arthur clarifies. “Also the name of a Welsh queen that led an uprising against the Romans, but I use it for the first reason. You just want something that’s easy to remember but unlikely to be used in regular conversation.”

“You had a horse?” John sounds surprised. “Do you ride? I mean still?”

“When I can.” He agrees. He misses it sometimes, the smell of hay and leather and the soft sounds of happy animals milling about a stable. In another lifetime he might have been a rancher maybe.

“I have a horse.” John tells him. “Real pretty thoroughbred named Rachel.” The man pauses. “I feel like saying ‘Rachel’ as a safe word would be kind of off-putting though.”

Arthur huffs another laugh at that.

“If you’re worried about Abigail getting weird about you calling out a woman’s name you don’t need to, cowboy. Especially if you explain what it means to you.”

 “Everyone keeps saying that, but I’m still worrying.” He admits and Arthur frowns.

“Look, John. You don’t gotta go ahead with this if you don’t want to. I know it can seem kind of overwhelming and exciting but if it’s not your thing, it’s not your thing and no one’s going to be mad. You know that right?” Arthur’s been around this long enough to see people come and go. Has seen more than one person push themselves too hard sometimes, hurt themselves and others because they want to want it, or maybe want the person that wants it, but don’t actually enjoy it themselves.

“It’s not that…” John rushes. “Really. I am extremely clear that no one wants to pressure me.” He continues, “And I definitely… really definitely want to try this. I don’t know if I’ll like all of it but… fuck, man, I have never been as turned on as I’ve been this last week. Not ever in my life.”

Arthur can feel his eyebrows crawling back upwards, because as shy as Abigail’s described John being, the man causally tossing that out there about his own arousal is pretty surprising. He wonders again exactly what the younger man has been told about him, or thinks he’s guessed about him.

“So I want… something. But I’m also just… nervous, okay? I can’t just shake it off that like a week ago the most exciting sex thing I had ever considered was a girl dressed up in like a sexy maid costume or something.”

“That’s fair. It’s a big paradigm shift.” Arthur agrees, deciding not to comment on the sexy costume bit. He hopes John isn’t expecting to see Abi in anything like that. If anything, he’d put money on her trying to convince the other man to dress up like that for her. Especially with the way she keeps going on about his waist and ass.

“I feel like I shouldn’t say this to you, but I really like Abigail. Like, if I didn’t know about you two I’d want to date her maybe. And I really, really, like the idea of her… tying me up and doing pretty much whatever she wants to me. But like I am also a bit freaked out that I feel that way?” John says it all in a rush. “Shit, I should definitely not be saying this to you, should I?”

Arthur can hear the anxiety in the younger man’s voice, and maybe if he were a different man this would concern him. He knows Abi’s got a real big crush going here and it sounds like it’s mutual. But Arthur isn’t another man and so instead he finds it kind of charming, that this boy is stumbling over himself to tell the significant other of the woman he’s sweet on that he really likes her and maybe wants more than just a play partner.

Arthur thinks he might be asking permission after all. Permission for more than he thinks he can have.

“I’ll be totally honest with you, John. None of Abigail’s boys have ever said as many words to me as you have in the last ten minutes.” He admits. “Most of them have probably been half afraid of me. But I told you before and I meant it – I don’t mind. Abi and I aren’t like that, and I know coming from a pretty vanilla background that seems weird or impossible but it’s how we are. Maybe there is a line somewhere that we ain’t tripped over yet that will be too much, but it’s a long way out from you wanting to fuck her or get fucked by her. Hell, it’s a long way out from if you want to take her out on a date. Lord knows we’d both probably benefit from that. I’m an awful homebody and she likes going out and being seen way more than I do.”

“You really are okay with this, aren’t you?” John’s voice is kind of shocked, but Arthur thinks he finally believes him, which is what’s important. “Why? What do you get out of it?”

“I really am okay with it.” He agrees, repeating the words to try and cement the idea. “Abi and I have a lot of common interests but there’s some things she likes I don’t and some things I enjoy that require more than just her. It’s always worked for us.” He pauses considering. “As for what I get out of it… well I usually get a play-by after and that’s always nice.”

John makes a little surprised noise at that. It’s an appealing sound and Arthur is annoyed all over again that he’s in fucking Paris right then.

“If you ain’t okay with her telling me about it you might want to mention that.” He warns.

“Uh… no. It’s fine? Kind of hot?” He sounds flustered and Arthur grins. “Shit.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of exhibitionism, John.” He assures. “You get real into that idea, let her know she can take pictures. Always like those, even when I ain’t the one getting to take them.”

“Jesus, I am not going to make it to Sunday.” Arthur is pretty sure the other man didn’t mean to say that out loud and he tries not to feel too smug. Abigail is no doubt teasing the poor boy relentlessly already. Arthur doesn’t need to be adding to that. Not until he gets a chance to meet him in person anyway. It’s always easier to see if it’s actually welcome or not face to face.

“I understand you got a bit of a care package to tide you over.” He points out. Mary Beth had even texted him the invoice asking if she should stop Abigail or not. He’d told her to just write it off to the demo account. Abi would have just paid for it herself otherwise and that always gave their accountant hives because she inevitably used a store card anyway.

“Oh god, of course you know about that.” John groans. “Since I’m already mortified, you got any tips on the butt toys? I have no idea what to do with them.”

“Use lots of lube.” He suggests with a grin.

“That’s what Abigail said!" He complains. "It’s not as comprehensive of advice as you two seem to think it is!”

Arthur does laugh then.

“You’re something else, John.” He’s a little charmed by the boy, can definitely see why Abi’s so enamored even without actually meeting him. “Read the manuals. Or if you still ain’t sure, ask Abi to shove one up there for you.”

“She’s gonna kill me, isn’t she?” John asks around a little strangled groan.

“Well, they don’t call it ‘la petite morte’ for nothing, boy.”

“Oh my god.” It’s been a long time since Arthur thought he could hear someone blushing. It’s mighty entertaining. “I’m going to just go and… hide somewhere or something now.”

“Good luck on Sunday, John.” He says around a yawn. The late of the day finally catching up to him.

“Thanks… Arthur.” John says his name like he’s testing the sound of it. It sounds nice in that rough voice. “Maybe… we can go riding sometime. Uh… If that’s not too weird.”

“Sure. I’d like that.” He agrees easily.

This boy really is something. He can’t wait to meet him.

Chapter Text

John follows Siri’s directions for the address that Abigail’s given him on Sunday. He feels wound tight, like the smallest thing will snap him in two. He’s on a weird edge of anticipation and fear but of all the things he’s been worried about, the fact that Abigail (or maybe Arthur? Do they live together? He hadn’t asked…) is apparently loaded isn’t one that’s occurred to him.

The drive up to the house is long though, like… really long. It’s easily half a mile of private road that ends in front of a large one story with a circular drive and three car garage. He really hopes he has the place right, because it’s going to be super awkward if this is some rich family’s home he’s pulled up to expecting kinky sex.

He triple checks the address before dragging himself out of his beat-up old pick-up, grabbing his backpack and heading up to the door.

Abigail’s voice answers his knock and he tries not to fidget as he waits for her.

He half expects her to be wearing some crazy fetish gear to meet him, but she opens the door barefoot, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and leggings. It relaxes him immediately, both that she hasn’t dressed up in a way that feels expectant and that he isn’t under-dressed in his own jeans and tee.

“Hi.” He greets shyly and her grin is sweet and pleased.

“Hey Johnny.” She lifts up on her tip toes to kiss his cheek, lips just grazing the corner of his mouth. “Come on in.”

She takes his hand and leads him into the house. The entry feeds into a wide-open living room with massive windows that look out onto a stunning stretch of land that appears to miraculously be totally un-developed.

“Hell of a view, isn’t it?” She asks, giving his hand a squeeze and leading him over to the large grey sectional that faces towards the windows. “You want anything to drink? I’d rather you didn’t do alcohol before we play but I’ve got Topo, Coke, Lemonade or water and there’s some of Arthur’s fancy beer in the fridge if you want after.”

“Uh… just water I guess?” He isn’t sure he trusts the butterflies in his stomach to stay calm with much else.

“Course.” She disappears around a corner for a moment, returning with glasses for both of them. “You want to tell me what you decided since we talked?” She sits beside him but leaves a foot or so of space between them, gives him the option of shifting towards or away.

This is it then. He takes a deep breath and tries to settle. He remembers Arthur’s friendly wish good luck and finds an odd comfort in it.

“I’d like it if you tied me up. I liked the nipple clamps so I’m open to that and maybe something stronger also but I don’t want anything that might actually bleed. I am still not sure about things in my butt, but if you wanted to try I’d… be into that. I brought those toys you sent.” He gestures to his backpack which contains the toys along with a change of clothes. “I really liked the… extended teasing aspect of the other night, I’m not sure if my stamina is there though. I looked at a bunch of those checklists but honestly I don’t think I know enough about most of them to say if I would enjoy it. I’m open to trying a lot of things but just… not all at once. And no scat or knives or ageplay or anything like that. I feel like I’d be bad at roleplaying in general probably and feet don’t do anything for me.”

He stutters to a stop. Trying to figure out what he’s forgetting.

“Oh… my safeword can be Rachel. I know that sounds weird but she’s my horse. Not like… an old girlfriend or anything. And um. Arthur said I should tell you pictures are okay if I was into that. Which… I think I am.”

Abigail blinks at him.

“You talked to Arthur?” She sounds surprised which throws him. He’d just assumed that Arthur would tell her about their awkward conversation.

“Uh… I wanted to be sure? That he was cool about it. And also… like… to get a second opinion I guess.” That he wasn’t completely out of his mind. Even if it wasn’t a totally unbiased opinion. “Uh… should I not have?”

Her eyes are weirdly intense, and he isn’t sure if it’s a good look or not. She takes back the glass of water, sets it carefully on the coffee table along with her own and scoots towards him.

“I really want you. Right now.” She says, and her voice has dropped into that low demanding register from when he first met her.

He can feel his heartbeat ratchet up at the tone as much as the words and he just nods, not trusting his tongue to form actual words all the sudden. She reaches a hand up, running long fingers through his hair gently before abruptly fisting them in the locks and yanking his head back. She slings a leg over his hips to straddle him and he can only stare up at her as her eyes trace over his face intently.

“If you aren’t good with kissing you better say so right now.” She tells him.

“I am totally good with that.” He manages and then her mouth is on his.

It’s nothing like he’s ever been kissed before, her lips work against his, forcing them apart so her teeth can nip sharply at him before her tongue licks gently back over the small hurts. He tries to respond, to press back, but her hand just tightens in his hair painfully and he subsides, lets her suck and pull and demand at his lips.

It feels like forever when she finally pulls back, looks down at his mouth with a pleased smile, rubs a finger of her free hand over the bottom one which feels sensitive and swollen from all the attention.

“Come on then, pretty boy.” She climbs off of him and draws him to his feet, picking up his bag for him as she leads him out of the living room and towards a door at the far end of the hall.

The room where she takes him probably would have been a master suite for anyone else, but there’s no bedroom furniture inside.

Instead, its filled with the strange fixtures that he recognizes from her pictures – a large heavy wooden cross is center stage, leather manacles clipped to it’s corners. On the wall nearest it hang a dozen different clearly pain-focused implements that vary from a relatively harmless looking flogger to what appears to be a cattle prod.

There is a metal frame hanging from the ceiling that seems like it can be raised or lowered and two different bench-like pieces – one that is rounded and soft and the other that reminds him a bit of the weight bench from Valhala, except it has a solid metal base with various rings welded to the sides and corners.

Before John can fully take in how completely in over his head he feels, Abigail leads him to that second bench and pushes him down to sit, straddles and kisses him again.

Her hands are on his shoulders, kneading with surprising strength and he hesitantly brings his arms up to hold her in place, half expecting her to slap them away.

She allows it until one creeps around to brush her ass and then her hand is in his hair again and wrenching him back.

“Naughty. I didn’t give you permission to touch me did I, Johnny?” She demands.

“No, ma’am.” He swallows, watches the tiny twitch of her lips that says that was right answer.

“Stay.” She orders, climbing off his lap and wandering off to a built-in cabinet he hadn’t noticed before. He shifts, trying to decide if staying allows for him to adjust himself at all. His pants have his cock caught uncomfortably against his thigh and he really wants to reach down and flip it up.

“Stay means no wiggling!” Abigail calls, as if she can read his mind. He swallows hard and tries to sit still.

It’s only a few moments before she comes back but it feels like eons. He’s hyper-aware of his own skin, of the drag of his cotton shirt over his chest, of the gentle throb of his abused lips, of the pinch of his cock in his jeans. When she returns, she has two sets of leather manacles in hand and a slip of black fabric draped over the back of her neck.

“Up.” She orders and he rushes to stand. “Good boy. Now strip.”

John shivers at the command, takes a last second to hesitate before he shakes it out of his head and pulls his shirt off. Abigail hums appreciatively, eyes tracing over his torso and it gives him the encouragement he needs to shuck his shoes, socks and pants as well.

“Oh, you are a naughty one, aren’t you?” She says, when she realizes he isn’t wearing underwear and he can feel a flush starting up high on his cheeks. “Were you thinking about my reaction when you dressed, John? Or are you always so naughty under those jeans?”

“I was… thinking about you.” He admits.

She makes a pleased noise at that, steps forward and runs a hand down his chest, dragging a nail across one nipple and then down his belly, skirting just around where his cock is already full and heavy, just a breath or two away from completely hard. She steps into his space, reaching up to pull him down for another kiss and pressing herself full against him.

There’s something maddening about having her still fully dressed while he’s stood there completely naked and vulnerable. He wants to touch, wants to see what the soft breasts pressing against him through that cotton look and feel like in his hands. Wants to peel away those leggings and feel her ass for real, wants to pull her down into his lap fuck up into her and let her ride him to completion.

Perhaps sensing his temptation, she shoves him away half a second before he gives in and tries to grab her, sending him stumbling back to sit on the bench.

“Lie back, Johnny.” She orders and he does, feeling his cock flip up to drop against his stomach as he does, settling into the v of his hip. He can’t quite stop the little thrust up, wanting the faint friction of it dragging against his own skin.

“What did I say about wiggling?” She pinches his side hard in retaliation and he twitches away with a surprised gasp. “Legs spread, arms down at your side.” She orders and he shuffles his limbs into the desired position. The bench is just barely wide enough for him to lay his arms alongside his torso.

She kneels at his feet, clamps the larger set of manacles around his ankles and secures them to the corners of the bench. He flexes as she rises, testing the range of motion they leave him with. It’s more than he expected, honestly.

“If you can’t stay still, I will belt you down.” She warns him and he freezes, not sure if he more wants to find out what that would be like or if he’d prefer to try and hold himself still for her himself.

She moves to his hands, reaching under the padded top of the bench to release something. A padded arm support swings out to the side, locking into place with a click, just shy of straight out to the side. She lifts his arm to move it onto the arm and manacles his wrist into place before walking around him to repeat it on the other side.

“I’d like to blindfold you, John.” She says, drawing the slip of silky fabric from around her neck to run it along the side of his face. “But since this is our first time together I’ll give you the option.”

He considers that. He wants to see what she’s doing but he can imagine how appealing the anticipation of not knowing what’s coming would be also. It’s also a little comforting to think he won’t have to think where to look or not right then, to know he won’t have time to be anxious about anything he sees coming.

“If I say yes, can I watch you another time?” He asks at last and her grin is wide and possessive.

“If you say yes I’ll sit you in front of a mirror so you can see how incredible you look while I take you apart.” She promises, the words shivering down his spine.

He groans, feeling his cock jerk at the image.

“Fuck. Yes then.” He agrees and she leans down to kiss him again, sweeter this time, just a delicate brush of lips and tongue. When she pulls back he tries to follow and she uses the opportunity to slip the blindfold over his head.

The dark is less disorienting than he expected. There’s a sliver of light near his nose, but he can’t see enough through it to make anything out.

“Relax, sugar. I’m going to take good care of you.” She promises and he tries to let himself sink down onto the bench he’s tied to. It’s not an uncomfortable position really, and the padding is just the right balance of firm and soft. He concentrates on relaxing, listening as she walks around him, humming absently to herself as she does.

She isn’t touching him and he can’t tell what she’s doing beyond the occasional rustle of fabric – possibly her going into his backpack? And the drag of something along the floor. He’s just started to think that he can calm down and relax for a bit when something clips hard to his right nipple and he cries out at the sharp, now familiar pinch of a nipple clamp. A second later the other one is on and he squirms and whines as she gives a small tug to the chain that connects them.

“So sensitive, Johnny.” She whispers in his ear as he pants, half in pain and half in surprise. She gives another tug to the chain and he tries to arch into the pull, but can’t with his arms tied. She lets go of the chain and pets down his sides and then back up again hands running through the dusting of hair on his chest, shifting up around his nipples to massage at his pecs for a moment before she pulls away again.

He hears her step away and then back again and something soft that smells like leather draws down his torso. It feels like dozens of stroking fingers down his body and he thinks it might be the flogger he saw earlier on the wall and he tenses in anticipation of a blow that never comes.

Instead the strips of leather just pet down his sides, his belly, his arms and legs, slipping over his cock over and over again. Leaving a strange shivering of awareness in their wake. Even though the motion doesn’t change the sensation seems to get stronger as they retrace their steps over him and each time they brush over the nipple clamps it sends a shock of pleasure/pain straight to his cock.

“Could I get you off like this, sugar?” Abigail wonders. “Just petting you lightly over and over until you couldn’t take it anymore?”

He has no idea if it would actually be enough, but the idea is appealing enough he groans anyway.

The flogger pulls away and then her hand is suddenly on his dick and he lets out a surprised cry at the sudden tight grasp of her warm fingers. She strokes him a few times, thumb stopping to circle the head and rub the moisture of the pre-come he can feel there.

“Look at you, all wet for me.” She rubs the slickness in slow circles, thumb catching just below the head in a way that makes him arch. She strokes him firm and fast and he tries to buck up into it, orgasm dangerously close already.

And then her hand slips away and she yanks on the chain connecting the nipple clamps and rips them off and away.

John thinks he actually screams a bit – the confused edge of pleasure butting up against a sharp and sudden shocking pain. Releasing the clamps easily feels intense – ripping them off feels like he’s just set fire to his chest.

“Still good there, John?” Abigail asks, hands tracing circles around the irritated flesh.

“Fuck.” He says in answer, whining when she leans over him and licks at one nipple, sucking lightly and it feels like all the nerves in his body have jumped up to fit in that one tiny spot.

“I’m gonna need more than that, sugar. “ She says, pulling off of his chest. “On a scale of one to ten, one being totally chill and ten being your safeword, how are you doing right now?”

John has no idea how to rate what he’s feeling. He’s wound up and his cock is leaking on his stomach and he wants to come and his chest hurts but he doesn’t want to stop. Is not anywhere near wanting to stop.

“Five?” He decides eventually.

She kisses him again, gentle and then biting hard at his lower lip.

“Good boy.”

When the flogger drags back over his chest the leather strips feel sharper and he squirms, doesn’t know if he wants to lean into or away from the feeling. It pulls away and he’s waiting for it to drag over his cock again when the blow lands.

The sound reaches him before the sting, a loud smack as the leather strips slap over his pecs. He jerks and another blow lands opposite the first. It’s only really painful where they land on his too-sensitive nipples, the feeling over the rest of his chest like a dull slap.

Abigail pulls it away, drags it down his sides a few times again and then it’s back to slapping his chest and he whines.

“Look at you, you like this don’t you, precious? Your cock does. You should see it jumping every time I land a hit.” One of her hands is back on his dick, fingers playing over the length too gently to do more than tease. There’s that weird sense again that his nipples and cock are on some kind of joint circuit. Little electrical pulses of want shivering between the two. He tries to rock up into her hand and she brings the flogger down again, which almost accomplishes the same thing.

He remembers the man from the club and wonders if she’ll try and get him off that way. Tries to imagine the feel of those leather strips biting into the sensitive skin of his cock. Maybe it’s the idea or maybe it’s the timing of her next blow but suddenly he can feel the first curl of orgasm.

“Oh fuck… I’m gonna…” He tries to say and then Abigail’s hand is abruptly around the base of his cock so tight it hurts and he gasps, body trying so hard to orgasm but held back. He whines, breath coming hard and fast. She holds him tight until the desperate need to come ebbs.

“Jesus, Johnny. You should see yourself.” Abigail whispers as she pulls off of him, hand finally releasing him. “You could come right now just from me thrashing your nipples again couldn’t you?”

He can’t get words to form in response so he just nods. If she touches him again he’s not going to be able to hold back.

“I would love to see it.” She leans over to whisper in his ear. “But I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I want to do with you and I’m not ready to be done with you just yet.” She says, fingers trailing over his cheeks and lips. She gives him a gentle kiss before she steps away again and he tries to concentrate on breathing, tries to grab some bit of calm before she comes back with her next torment.

There’s a snapping sound like latex and he jerks when a gloved hand traces up his inner thigh, stopping to massage at the crease just alongside his balls. A moment later there’s something wet and slick petting at his perineum and he grunts and thrusts up instinctively. It slips down and rubs at his ass and he realizes it’s a gloved finger.

“Did you try this, John?” Abigail asks, just petting over the tight bundle of muscle slowly.

“A… a little.” He manages, biting his lip as just the very tip of a finger dips in and then out again. It feels different than his own fumbling. It hadn’t occurred to him to spend any time on the rim, just shoving up inside in an effort to try and figure out the appeal. He’d clearly missed the point entirely.

The hand not playing with his ass returns to his cock, stroking it in a frustratingly slow, far too gentle rhythm. He tries to thrust up, get more friction, but her hand follows his movement and when he drops back it slips her finger further inside him.

It feels weird still, not really painful or even uncomfortable with just the one finger but… weird. Invasive maybe. She continues stroking his cock as her finger pets at his insides. He’s about to say something, maybe that as much as he’d like to be into this it’s kind of more distracting than enjoyable when she hits something inside of him that forces a shiver all the way from his ass to his shoulders.

He jerks, confused.

“There we are.” She lays a kiss on his inner thigh and then she’s rubbing hard at that place she’s found and he doesn’t recognize the sound that crawls up from this throat.

It feels like an impending orgasm that just keeps building. He can feel a flushing heat crawling over his shoulders and down his spine, rocking through his cock and down into his thighs. It’s like she reached in and grabbed the spot where an orgasm starts, somewhere deep inside and is wrenching it up from the inside out.

“Ah… fuck… I fuck…” He isn’t sure if he’s going to come. It half feels like he already is but it doesn’t stop, just rolls over and over and he whines, tries to move into the touch or out of it. Can’t think enough to figure out what he wants to ask for.

“Look at you, just dripping.” She says, and he can feel a roll of wetness drip down the side of his cock, isn’t sure if it’s just pre-come or something more. “You always get this wet, sugar, or am I special?”

“Just.. just…you.” Words are hard and he rocks in her hands, wanting more, wanting her to stop or never stop. Just wanting.

Without warning her teeth sink into the meat of his thigh and he screams. Her hands withdraw, leaving him right on the edge of something again and he wants to cry.

“Please… no please… I need…” He barely recognizes his own voice.

“Shhh.” She’s back at his head, stroking his hair. “Shh… I know what you need, Johnny. “ She kisses his cheeks, his chin, his lips, murmuring absent praise as he calms. “So good for me. You’re so beautiful like this. Such a good boy.”

She pulls away when his breathing finally stops stuttering, but leaves a comforting hand on his shoulder as she moves. He hears the tearing of a wrapper and then she’s rolling what has to be a condom down his length as she moves to straddle him.

Her hands come up and slide the blindfold away and he blinks up at her, the light startling. She leans over him, hands framing his face and she looks flushed and gorgeous, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.

“You did real good, John. So good.” She leans down to kiss him again and he leans into it eagerly. Her other hand reaches back to grasp his cock and then she’s sinking down onto him and he moans, thrusts up into that slick heat, meets her rolling hips with desperation. She gasps, walls fluttering around him, matching his shallow bucking.

“I’m not gonna… I need….” He pants as she clenches around him.

“It’s okay, John. You can let go. I gotcha.” She whispers against his mouth, and that’s all it takes. He cries out, thrusting as much as he can within the limits of his bonds, feels the orgasm tear through him so hard it hurts.

Abigail gasps above him, grinding herself against him, riding it out with him.

It feels like it goes on forever and he whines helplessly when the twitches of his hips start to feel like too much.

“Shhh… shh… there you go... Such a good boy…” Abigail’s mumbling praise in between kisses and John feels like someone’s cut all his strings, and he can only sag below her, occasional lingering twitches of his cock within her making them both shiver.

John feels like he’s half exited his own body, can’t quite stop shaking under her.

“Can I…” He wants to hold her, ground himself in something. “My arms…” He requests and she hmms an agreement and leans over to unclasp the manacles on his wrists. He drags his arms up around her and it’s better. Feels more solid. She snuggles down into the grasp, hands petting over his sides and up his shoulders.

They lay like that for maybe forever, until the danger of the condom slipping off is enough for her to slip off of him and reach down to tie it off and pitch it away into a small bin she must have brought over while he was blindfolded. She kneels at his feet and unclasps the manacles from his ankles and it's only then that it reaches his mind that she's fully naked now as well, soft curves flushed with arousal. She steps away to retrieve a towel and pair of soft looking robes from the same closet the manacles came from and returns to gently wipe him down. Blotting away sweat and lube and come.

He shivers and lets her maneuver him however she wants, lets her wrap him up in soft cotton terry, shrug into her own robe and then lead him back out into the living room and push him down to sit on the couch.

The sun is setting over the hills in the distance and it really is a beautiful view. She returns with fresh glasses of water, makes him drink and then sits beside him, encouraging him to rest his head in her lap.

He’s relaxed and sleepy and her fingers are carding through his hair.

“M’gonna fall asleep if you keep that up.” He warns.

“Then sleep.” She encourages and so he rubs his face into her leg and does.

Chapter Text

Arthur wakes up to a picture of a sleeping John on his phone. The man looks absolutely debauched – cheeks flushed and lips red and swollen. The collar of one of Abigail’s favorite fluffy ‘aftercare bathrobes’ is tucked against his neck and her hand is petting through his hair.

Can we keep him?

It’s followed shortly by another message.

You have no idea…

There’s a picture below of the man blindfolded and bound to their bondage bench.

The young man is a sight – Legs partially splayed and tied to the sides at the ankles, his arms stretched wide in a way that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders and narrow dip in of his waist. He’s arching his back just a bit, hard cock jutting up to hover just over his stomach, a fine, shimmering strand of pre-come connecting the tip to his abs. Abigail has clamped his nipples and the chain connecting the clips is stretched across that broad chest. There’s a line of tension running through his whole body, a sense of desperation in the strong muscles that are tight and straining against the bonds.

Arthur groans and flops back onto the bed, rocking his hips to get some friction on the morning erection that is not going to go away easy at this rate.

PS. You’re IN SO MUCH TROUBLE 

Why didn’t you tell me he talked to you?

He probably should have. But… he’s been busy. And also it had been sweet and he’d wanted a bit to keep that little something for himself, knowing that he was going to miss out on their first play session. He’ll take whatever punishment she decides on.

It was worth it.

I’m not sending you the rest, you’re gonna have to wait until you get home

You are a cruel woman.

He sends back, a bit disappointed but not really surprised.

You love it.

There’s nothing else after that and Arthur drags himself out of bed. He’s going to have to hurry if he wants to have time to pull one off in the shower before meeting up with Charles for the day’s shoot.

The next three days pass for him in a haze of ropes and lights and he’s grateful to be busy so he’s not spending all his time thinking about how much he might be missing back home just then.

They finally finish on Wednesday after a very risqué shoot featuring a woman that Arthur thinks might be some kind of duchess or other distant royalty and whom Charles is especially taken with if the noises he hears when he’s leaving are anything to go by.

As fun as it always is to work with the other man, he’s glad to be done. It’s not exactly that he doesn’t like traveling, but… he always seems to end up traveling to big cities. There’s only ever about three days of enjoying the novelty of a new place and then he’s missing his house and the quiet and Abigail.

He wonders if the next time he does a collaboration like this if he can convince the other person involved that the best setting for a kinky photoshoot is out in the wilderness instead of inside some gritty industrial building or office or ballroom or whatever.

He’s packing up all his gear in preparation for an early flight out when his phone rings.

He squints at it and checks the clock. It’s almost midnight so it must be late afternoon back home. Too early for Abigail to be calling on a Wednesday – she always does girls' nights on Wednesdays.

He checks the ID and feels an involuntary grin quirk his lips as he clicks to answer.

“Evening, John.”

“Ah… Arthur.” John’s rasp is shy and nervous.

“What can I do for you?” He asks, fishing out a pair of earbuds so he can continue packing as they talk.

“Uh… fuck.” John grunts and Arthur feels his eyebrows crawling up, wondering both what has prompted this call and what exactly the other man is up to. “Shit I don’t know why I even called… just…”

“..just?” Arthur presses, curious. He doesn’t think the other man is actually doing anything on the other end of the line, but if there’s one thing Arthur can recognize in a voice it’s sexual frustration.

“Fuck. Okay. Abigail told me I’m not allowed to get myself off but Jesus-fucking-christ I don’t have a day off again until Friday to see her and I am trying really, really hard here but I think maybe I’m gonna die before then.” It comes out in a rush and Arthur can’t quite stop the bark of laughter that comes out at the boy’s distress. Ah to be young and so full of cum again. “Oh my god, don’t laugh at me! This is serious! I don’t know what to do. Is she really gonna be mad if I can’t make it? I almost got kicked in the head by a horse today I was so distracted!”

“Well, hell boy. None of us want you getting hurt over this. What exactly did she tell you?” He asks. Usually, Abi isn’t one to throw them in the deep end too quick but it’s also possible she doesn’t know how riled up the guy is. John seems so eager to please and Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if it hasn’t occurred to the man he can ask for some help here.

“She said ‘I don’t want you getting yourself off until I see you again’.” John repeats, and Arthur can absolutely hear Abi’s voice in the demand. “And then we made plans for Friday. But man… I usually yank it a couple of times a day and she keeps sending me these messages and it’s only Wednesday and I’m about to lose my goddamn mind.”

Arthur considers that. Abigail has clearly caught herself a horny one this time and damn if that doesn't hold promise. If they can just get the man past the initial blue balls to where he can take some denial...

“Easy solution – have someone else get you off." Arthur tells him. "I know those toys she gave you got Bluetooth.” It’s a bit of a cheat, but it’s Abi’s fault for not being specific and it’s also a good thing she’s left a loophole. And anyway, she’ll be thrilled when he calls her.

“Oh.” John sounds surprised and he can hear the man rustling through something in the background. “I should have thought of that.”

“It sounds like your brains are all stuck in your pants right now,” Arthur tells him, amused as he packs up the last of his clothes. “I think you can be forgiven for not considering all the angles.”

“And I mean… you don’t mind?” Arthur pauses at that. John is still rifling through something on the other end of the line, “I mean… I would really appreciate it but I get that like... you don’t even know me really and I dunno if you’re even into uh… guys? I don’t actually even know if I’m into guys because… it's not a thing I’ve really thought about? But I just am seriously crawling out of my skin here.”

Arthur had meant that John should call Abi and ask her to take control of the toys.

Probably, he should back right up and explain that.

That picture she sent him flashes in his mind of John tied up and desperate, arching against Abigail’s teasing and... fuck it.

“I definitely do not mind.” Arthur’s pants are suddenly uncomfortably tight across the crotch, and he reaches down to adjust himself. “If you’re okay with it, I am more than happy to help you out, John.”

Abigail is probably going to murder him for this and it’s going to be so, so worth it.

“Oh.” John’s rasp is high and surprised, and Arthur realizes his voice has dropped into that low register that Abi always refers to as his 'Dom voice' without his conscious permission.

Seriously, this kid.

Arthur shoves a clear space onto the hotel bed and lays himself back against the headboard, full attention now on his phone.

“Tell me.” He orders. “What’s she been sending that’s got you so worked up?”

“Uh… “ He can hear John fidgeting on the other end of the line. “Fuck, she said she wanted me to watch next time? She was going to tie me up in front of a mirror.”

There’s a faint sound of buzzing in the background that clicks on and off and then Arthur’s phone pings with an incoming message. On the other end of the line, John lets out a little huffing grunt and there’s the wet squelch of lube against skin. He lets out a small, muffled whine of want at whatever he’s doing and Arthur shivers and clicks the link in his texts.

He’d expected to get the control for the vibrating sleeve, but what pops up instead is the control app for the prostate massager and Arthur lets his head thunk back against the headboard, gripping his dick tight where it throbs in his pants. Jesus fucking christ.

“She wanna make you watch while she pulls you apart?” He asks when he thinks he can form intelligent words again. “She sent me a picture, boy. You got any idea how good you looked stretched out on that bench and desperate for it?”

John fucking whimpers in response and Arthur cusses himself internally and opens his pants with one hand, the other thumbing through the massager controls, finding a slow deep pulsing setting that he thinks will make a good warm-up.

John lets out a strangled gasp that tells him the toy is working.

“There we go. You gonna come apart for me as pretty as you did for her, Johnny?” He asks.

“Ah….um...” John grunts incoherently.

“Gonna need some words there, boy.” He says, lowering the toy to a setting that has to be more torment than relief.

“Yessir.” John’s voice is shaky but determined and Arthur feels a little thrill at the honorific. He hadn’t asked for it, but he’ll absolutely take it. “I’ll try.”

“Hmm. Good boy.” He turns the toy back up to the setting from a moment before, letting his other hand wrap loosely around his own cock. “I’d like to see it in person. Watch her wrap you around her finger and make you beg. I bet you beg real nice, don’t ya, John?.”

He flips the toy’s setting up again and the sound of John’s helpless panting fills his ears.

“What else has she been sending?” He asks, voice low. “I know that can’t be it.”

“Uh… pictures of.. stuff…” John breaks off as he turns the toy setting down again, a small unhappy whine of protest that he strangles off.  “I guess… things she wants… ta try on me?”

“Oh?” Arthur waits.

“Uh… a riding crop?” John pauses, sounding embarrassed. “Some.. some kinda leather paddle. I… uh… she didn’t say exactly what but…”

“But you can imagine it, can’t ya?” Arthur turns the toy back up, a reward for the answer. John gasps.

“Uhn…. Yeah… I… yeah…”

“She’s real fond of your ass, boy. Talks about it a lot.” Arthur grins, closing his eyes and plucking at the head of his own cock. He’s very much looking forward to getting a look at the man’s body after having it described to him so graphically. “I can just imagine how much she’ll enjoy painting it red.”

“Fuck.” John grunts at that idea and Arthur’s cock twitches in sympathy.

“You like that idea?” He asks, cranking the toy up another notch, Rhythm still slow but intensity high. “Her spanking you like the naughty boy you are?”

“Fuck.” John pants. “Yes? Can I… fuck…”

“Can you what, boy?” He asks, palming the head of his own dick as he listens to the man’s breathing kick up.

“Can I touch myself?” He pleads.

“You know you can’t.” Arthur says, “That cock ain’t yours right now, John.”

John whines and Arthur kicks the massager to a faster pulse. The man groans and pants helplessly, a litany of “fuck-fuck-fuck’ tripping out of his mouth.

“Tell me.” He orders. “Who’s is it?”

“Ah…. Ah… I don’t… Yours? Abigail’s?”

Arthur grunts at the words, strangling the base of his own cock at the surge of possessive want that rises up. Jesus fuck. Does he even know what he’s saying?

“Yes it is, boy.” He says. “It’s ours.”

He kicks the massager up another setting for just a moment, hears John cry out at the sensation, and then backs it back down.

“Umph… fuck. please…”

“Please what?” He asks, turning the vibrations off entirely. John whines, and he can hear the man squirming against fabric on the other end of the line. Breath coming fast and ragged.

“Noooo… turn it back on. Please… please….”

He was right. John begs so fucking pretty.

Arthur switches it all the way back up, a swift intense pulse and the sound that John makes in response curls his toes. He drools into his own hand, needing something to slick the way and completely unwilling to get up and go find his own stash of lube. The warm wet wrap around his cock makes him shudder.

“Uh.. uh… I… oh god.” John is still babbling incoherently into his ear, sounding like he’s thrashing on his own bed or couch or wherever he’d laid himself up for this. “So close.. so…”

“Hands off!” Arthur flips the toy back down to low and John grunts.

“Fuuuuck! How did you even…?!” Arthur grins at the complaint. He hadn’t actually been sure that John was about to touch himself, but it had been a good guess. And now, he’s in the man’s head.

“You gonna be a good boy if I turn this back up?” He asks.

“Yes… please. I promise. So good.” John half pleads and half promises.

“Hmm.” Arthur kicks it back up one setting. “Yeah? You just gonna lie there and take what I give you?”

“Yes… Yes Yes Yes….” Arthur grins and turns it up again, just shy of the top setting and strokes himself to John’s whining gasps. “Ah… ah… yes… I… fuck… please…”

“You gonna come for me, Johnny?”

“Yeeeesss…. Please… I need…”

“Sure?" He asks, thumb hovering over the controls as his own dick throbs in his hand. "You sure you really need it?”

“Fuck…. fuck-fuck-fuck… Arthur… Please!” That does it. A determined pulse of his own cock at the sound of his name on the boy’s lips and he thumbs the toy up to its highest setting.

John wails – a long, drawn-out sound that’s half shock and half pleasure and then he’s grunting and babbling through an orgasm and Arthur gives in and yanks hard and fast at his own dick, chasing the rush of his own as it shocks up through him, dragged along by the other man’s cries. It’s so intense that for a moment he can’t tell John’s pleasured groans from his own.

John whimpers and gasps on the line, sounding almost pained, and Arthur pulls himself together enough to thumb off the toy.

For a long moment, the call is just them both breathing hard. He can hear John’s breath hitching occasionally with aftershocks that his own body tries to echo.

“Fuck.” John says at last.

“Yeah.” Arthur agrees, rubbing at his mouth.

“Uh… that was…”

“Hot.” Arthur supplies. “Jesus, boy, you are something else.”

John actually giggles at that, sounding ever so slightly hysterical, and then he groans, the movement probably shifting that toy that’s still wedged into his butt. He grunts and Arthur stays quiet, listening for the faint wet sound and soft gasp that means John’s removed it.

“Fuck.” The other man says again, and Arthur can’t stop the grin that splits his face.

“Anytime you want.” He promises. John makes a little strangled sound in response.

“I… you…” He sounds flustered. “Uh…”

“It’s alright, John. You enjoyed that. I enjoyed that. You want that to be all it is? That’s fine. But the offer’s open.” He says, dragging a finger absently through the mess he’s made of his shirt. He hadn’t even had time to get undressed.

“No… I mean… yes… I mean… fuck.” Arthur forces himself not to laugh at the man’s flustered words. “I… I don’t even know what you look like but… uh… it was good?”

“Yeah, it was good.” Arthur agrees.

“I’d like to maybe… um… I mean… Abi said… sometimes you and her… shared?”

There is zero chance that Arthur's dick is going to get hard again so soon but it still gives a hopeful twitch at that and he honestly cannot think of anything he wouldn’t give right then to be able to see the blush he can hear in the other man’s voice.

“Oh did she?” He teases. Abi had somehow found out about John’s impromptu call with him the previous week. Arthur can just imagine the ideas that put into her head.

“Um…” John sounds nervous.

“I’m flying home tomorrow.” He tells the man, before John can decide to panic. “Maybe we can all meet-up and talk about that this weekend.”

“Yeah… I’d… like that.”

“Hmm. Good. Me too.” Arthur yawns, the day finally catching up with him. He’s mostly packed, has just had a great orgasm and his body has decided that it’s time to sleep.  

“Oh shit… it’s gotta be late there, yeah? I don’t mean to keep you up. Abigail said you were in France?” John sounds apologetic but not freaked out so that’s fine.

“Hmm, probably after midnight. It don’t bother me though. You good now? Feeling a bit less… wound up?” He asks, peeling out of his dirtied shirt and wadding it up to stuff into the bottom of his bag.

“Yeah. I… thanks.”

“Like I said, John. Anytime.”

He talks the younger man through getting himself some water, assures himself they’re both good, and then hangs up, grinning softly at the phone.

He has never been so eager to get home from a trip before.

We are definitely keeping this one.

He texts Abigail, and then turns off his phone so she won’t wake him when she reads it.