newyorknative | Yes I want you, and that’s the way it is

Peter’s pretty comfortable, all things considered. His legs aren’t spread as wide, his arms are pulled behind his back - but it’s an easy stretch for the preternaturally flexible, especially now that he’s not fighting against it, taut with arousal. Fiyero’s in kissing distance, offering a long stretch of unblemished skin for Peter to lavish with attention and he does, nuzzling up against Fiyero’s jaw with a happy sigh.

Until he’s prodded to shift, which he does, eyes widening when he gets a lapful of prince. There’s nothing he can do to hold Fiyero, but luckily Fiyero does it for him, draping himself over Peter’s lap and winding his arms around Peter’s neck for balance. Slowly, Peter melts into the kiss - the longer it goes, the less self-conscious Peter is about the arrangement; forgetting his bonds, about anything other than Fiyero’s lips on his. Peter makes a soft sound and parts his lips, inviting Fiyero in; his tongue, hot, wet, claiming every inch of Peter’s mouth; teeth, nipping and scraping against his lip until Peter whines, tipping his head up to get more. His hands itch to bury in Fiyero’s hair, greedily wishing to hold him close, tighter - but it’s up to Fiyero to do so, and blessedly he does, clinging to Peter as tight as he likes.

Fiyero is a really great kisser.

Peter’s already very happy with everything happening, but Fiyero, rubbing up against him like that? Grinding, pressing Peter’s softening cock between his cheeks - it won’t take long for him to perk back up, a low moan muffled against Fiyero’s mouth. As if his mind could be preoccupied with anything else when he has his prince in his lap like that, toying with him however Fiyero likes. Peter’s hips twitch, finding it easier to help grind now that his legs aren’t as spread; he presses up against Fiyero, lifting him off the bed with each roll, tilting his head to bump their noses together and kiss Fiyero messily, excitement evident.

Kissing is one of the few things Fiyero has at least some practice with, and goodness knows they're getting a lot of practice just the two of them. They've really learned the collaborative effort with the push and pull of the kiss, matching each other's pacing, inviting and exploring. The fact that Peter loves it so much only makes Fiyero enjoy it all the more.

It's always impressive how quickly Peter's dick can wake up, but what's surprising is how much leverage he can get to buck his hips even with his thighs and shins strapped to each other. He really only has his feet to work with, but he's sure taking advantage of what little he has. Fiyero neither stops, nor chides him, nor does he pull away. He allows Peter what extra pressure he can manage to chase, for this moment.

Until of course he doesn't, breaking the kiss and climbing off Peter. He keeps a hand in his hair, a point of contact to show he's still there, grinning down at Peter, panting quite a bit to catch his breath after that.

"Alright, baby. Time to get you comfortable. I've got plans for you," he says happily, himself quite excited. He grabs Peter's thigh, pulling it towards him, and then the other one. Turning Peter towards the edge of the bed - he doesn't outright ask for Peter's help, but he does expect his cooperation, at the very least. Even if it's with displeased whining at not being kissed anymore.

Kissing feels really damn good. It’s an easy way to show affection, and getting to learn what Fiyero likes - when Peter tilts his head just so, grazes his teeth against Fiyero’s lip in a way that makes him shiver - it just makes him feel closer, more attuned. He does love it, particularly because it’s Fiyero he gets to kiss.

Fiyero is generous with how much leeway he gives Peter, until he decides he’s let it go on long enough. Peter’s mostly erect again by now, breath coming in harsher pants as Fiyero pulls away. His pupils are dilated, tracking Fiyero’s movements as his head tips back into Fiyero’s warm hand, something fond in his chest at the way Fiyero keeps contact, keeps touching him, a reminder that he’s there even when the point is that he’s letting Peter go, for the moment.

“Yessir,” It’s supposed to be a tease, but it comes out a little breathier than intended. Peter laughs softly at himself, wriggling to help rearrange as Fiyero bids - sliding closer to the edge of the bed. Using his toes to stick and shift is easy, and maybe that helps explain how easy it still is for him to move around a bit - he could balance on one finger if he had to. He has in the past - if Fiyero wants him truly immobile, well, that’s what the posts are for.

“Is it even worth asking?” Peter grins at him, sitting up a little straighter as Fiyero helps arrange him. “Or is it all a surprise?”

"Well, it shouldn't be that surprising," Fiyero answers with a smirk, reaching out to briefly cup Peter's cheeks. "After all, it's what you asked for. You want to be teased until you can't even control yourself anymore?" He leans down and kisses the tip of Peter's nose. "Well, let's just say that was the only orgasm you're gonna have until I decide I'm done with you."

It's the fun mix of playful and seductive, teasing and honest. Fiyero grins as he lets go of Peter to rearrange pillows behind him - and then he carefully pushes him back onto them, lowering him the last bit just to avoid him landing badly on his hands or bumping his head or something like that.

He reaches under Peter's back, adjusting a pillow to lie basically along his spine, so it takes some of the weight off his arms, making sure they're not pinched under him, that his hands are comfortably flat against the bed. Then a couple pillows under his head, to prop his head up comfortable enough that he can easily watch Fiyero. Finally, he goes to grab the webshooter one last time, stepping up in front of Peter.

Peter can’t stop smiling as Fiyero cups his cheeks, eyes closing briefly as Fiyero brushes a sweet kiss over the tip of his nose. He feels - cherished is the cheesiest word for it, but it’s true. He smiles, cheeks rosy at Fiyero’s casual description of what he’s planning to do. “I meant how, but… I’m all yours. Whatever you want…”

Fiyero arranges him carefully, and it’s sweet, the tenderness with which he takes to it. He could toss Peter around and he’d be fine, of course; he’s both flexible and sturdy - but Fiyero doesn’t do that. He treats Peter like he’s precious, tucking pillows around him and ensuring there’s no additional strain as he sets Peter down among them. His bangs flop into his face, but Peter doesn’t bother with them, helping by lifting his back, his legs, whatever Fiyero needs as he settles Peter into the position he wants.

“If I’m…” Peter hesitates, looking up at Fiyero - from here, he looks gorgeous (he always looks gorgeous), the dark hair on his chest trailing down to the vee of his hips, groin hidden from view by the arrangement of Peter’s legs. “…if it’s too much, or I break something, it’s okay to stop, ‘yero. I’ll be okay if we have to.”

The webbing has held up so far… but teased past the point of being able to think straight? Of being able to control himself, the wild strength that flows through his limbs? Peter has no idea what will happen, and the last thing he wants to do is accidentally hurt Fiyero if his construction work doesn’t hold up. If Fiyero notices something slipping - the rebar groaning, the bonds snapping - Peter doesn’t want him continuing on just for the sake of not leaving Peter high and dry.

"Ah, well - mostly just a lot of kissing and touching," Fiyero answers with gentle amusement. He does have some more specific thoughts. If he's up for it, he might fuck Peter's mouth again, but he certainly doesn't want to promise that. If really does mostly revolve around showering Peter in affection while avoiding the places he'll want it the most. Beyond that, as well as taking his sweet time, he just plans to see what works, and what he feels like.

Peter is a very willing subject after all, and they have very specific safeguards for when he's no longer able to cooperate. It's very easy to make things comfortable for him, while giving Fiyero all the access he could want.

He pauses when Peter speaks up, and smiles softly, feeling warmed by his words. It is a bit of a relief, really. A reminder that not only does it not have to be perfect - if doesn't even have to be successful. If something starts to go wrong, with the equipment, or how much Peter can handle - or even how much Fiyero can handle. They've already enjoyed themselves so much. They can just cool down, and then finish up whatever way seems best when they've settled.

"That goes for you too," Fiyero answers, sitting at the edge of the bed and resting a hand on Peter's thigh. "If you want to stop, or it's upsetting you, or you need a break - you let me know. I won't be disappointed either." His soft smile widens into something warmer. "After all, this has already been so much fun. Everything else is just a bonus, right?"

“Oh, well, if there’s kissing involved…” Peter giggles a little and turns his head, squirming lightly against the bed. There’s not much room to duck his head or turn away - he’s completely spread out before Fiyero, for whatever he’d like to do. But there’s clearly no protest, and Peter settles against the pillows, the way it props his hips up at a comfortable angle to avoid pressure on his hands. This is the only sign of anxiety - the way his fingers curl in the sheets, worrying at them lightly.

At least it’s hidden out of view, and Peter makes a conscious effort to relax, especially as Fiyero seats himself on the edge of the bed, warm palm resting on his inner thigh reassuringly. Fiyero is so sweet, and that makes this easier. Peter’s not worried about what they should or shouldn’t have, what lies ahead - and that’s good, that’s the point of enjoying the now, while they have the time, because who knows what will happen. Peter nods, gaze flitting up to meet Fiyero’s genial blue. “I remember the safeword.”

“Oh I’m… definitely enjoying myself.” As if his hard-on isn’t evidence enough, first release streaking the inside of the latex, the pink head of his cock visible beneath the mess. Peter squirms enough for his knee to brush Fiyero’s leg, his own form of reassurance. “Everything with you is fun.”

And already so much more than Peter could have ever expected… but at least he has enough presence of mind not to say that part out loud.

Well, Fiyero will at least be kissing. Whether it will be anywhere Peter can actually kiss back, well, he'll just have to wait and see. Maybe occasionally. Maybe not. Part of making him feel helpless might be even depriving him of even the ability to kiss or return the favour in any way.

Fiyero smiles at the way Peter nudges him, still trying to do exactly that, to return the comfort and reassurance. Fiyero certainly doesn't doubt his enjoyment.

"Time to put your other handiwork to the test, then," he says, getting to his feet once again. He presses his palms down against the insides of Peter's thighs, getting him to spread them almost as far as they can do. Peter really can do the splits, and it feels like he crashes with the mattress before he really reaches the point where he can't stretch further.

Finally, Fiyero starts strapping Peter down to the bed. He shoots the web rope first to the web already attached around Peter's thigh, before he stretches it over to one of the corners of the bed. He attaches it low, close to the mattress, so it's near the frame and less chance of bending the bedposts. The another web rope going from the same time, to the other bedpost at the head of the bed. Giving two anchor points for each leg, both for the sake of strength, evening the strain out, and for stability. This way, Peter can't tug himself on one direction or there other. He's pinned right where he is on the bed.

Fiyero then repeats the process on the other side, tying Peter's other leg to the bottom of the bed the same way. He looks focused and deliberate, very careful to not add extra pull or leave it too slack, but exactly the amount of tautness to keep his legs spread wide, with minimal wiggle room.

Once the last one is secured, waiting for a moment for it to strengthen and set, Fiyero steps back between Peter's legs, looking down at him. "How's that, baby?"

The most challenging part of this is definitely Peter’s propensity to perceived equity, to returning the favor however he can. He gives, but like this, he’s simply forced to receive. This, of course, seems to be a boon for Fiyero, though it’s taking time and repetition for Peter for it to sink in.

He lets his legs fall open, pressed wide, just about flat against the bed. The webbing keeps him there, and Peter watches Fiyero’s hands as they weft and weave to tie him down the way he wants to. He can feel himself hardening even further, turned on by the sure way Fiyero handles him, and the indecency of the whole situation. His gaze eventually settles on Fiyero’s expression, watching him concentrate on getting things just the way he wants them… and Peter can admit to himself that that’s a turn on, too.

When he’s done, Peter’s fully spread, pinned down with hardly any room to shift. He tests it by trying to close his legs, thighs straining against the tension. Nothing happens, no budging, and Peter bites his lip and exerts a little more strength - no dice. He’s not desperate yet, which will add more power behind his struggles - but so far, it holds. The bars, too, seem stable; he was worried they might fold under the pressure, but Fiyero was smart to double rope them, distributing the pressure more evenly rather than allowing one point of failure.

“Can’t move,” Peter reports, chewing on his lower lip. His hips squirm against the pillow, but like this, there’s no chance for incidental friction - no bed to grind against, just empty air above him. Only whatever Fiyero allows, and Peter’s gut clenches just thinking about it, cock curving upwards. “…I think it’s working.”

Fiyero watches as Peter strains, and sure, he's watching any listening for any creaking or weakness in the bondage... But his attention is mostly drawn to Peter's muscles tensing, the way this position leaves him wide open for Fiyero to explore and torment. The subtle change in Peter's expression as he seems to realise this too.

"Mmm... Totally helpless, ready for me to play with," Fiyero observes, his voice practically a purr. He's got that hungry look in his eyes again. Now that the practical parts are covered, he can once again focus on how fucking hot this is.

Fiyero sets the webshooter down on the desk, and pushes the chair further out of the way with a loud scrape against the floor. There's something almost reckless in his movements, that display of confidence and purpose. He reaches down with one hand, pinching the edge of condom, and tugs it off Peter, freeing his cock. He doesn't say anything as he tossed the condom in the trash can, before he leans down over Peter, gripping his legs for balance - and he starts licking Peter's cock clean. Long, firm drags of his tongue, lapping up every drop of come that didn't go with the condom. Hot, wet, firm attention - the only such Peter will probably get for a while.

The change in Fiyero’s voice is subtle, but felt - Peter’s eyes widen, watching the downright devious expression take over Fiyero’s face. There’s no need to be careful now, and the noise of the chair makes Peter jump - though of course, he can’t go very far, successfully pinned down. He gasps, back arching against the bed as Fiyero pulls off the condom, as eager as a kid on Christmas, unwrapping a present.

The hot tongue is equally unexpected.

Peter moans helplessly, jerking against his bonds. What’s the point in holding back? He can’t move, and it’s delicious, the ability to wriggle without worrying about it. He’s still a little cautious, but that hesitation will surely evaporate soon because he can’t move. Fiyero’s mouth feels incredible, long, hot stripes up his shaft, and Peter’s erection rises to stand at full mast, pink and slick with Fiyero’s saliva as he’s cleaned up. Just in time to make another mess…

“Fiyero - Fiyero - !” Peter shivers, thighs tight with tension, outlining the muscle, but there’s no escape. He can’t close them a single inch, spread and open for as long as Fiyero wants him to be. At most, he can lift his hips a tiny bit off the bed, pressing up towards Fiyero’s hot mouth - but it’s just his teasing tongue, lapping up drips left from the condom. He won’t be getting any suction or relief until Fiyero decides he wants to grant it.

Fiyero's intentionally starting off with some intensity, something that will make Peter struggle. He can feel the way his thighs flex, and already his voice sounds full of pleasure and arousal as he calls Fiyero's name. The roughness from when Fiyero's fucked his throat has faded, which is good, even if they probably both miss the evidence of it.

He finishes off by wrapping his lips around the head of Peter's cock, giving maybe a second's worth of suction before it escapes his mouth with a pop, bouncing freely over Peter's stomach.

"I'll be right back, you just stay there," Fiyero teases cheekily, as he licks his lips and straightens up, turning to grab something from the table. With his back to Peter, he swaps the ring for the ball in the gag, though he holds it behind his back as he turns back and crawls into bed over Peter.

With one knee on either side of Peter's waist, his shins pressed against Peter's thighs, Fiyero leans down to kiss Peter once again. "Don't you taste good?" he asks in between kisses, smiling and breathy, moaning softly into Peter's mouth. His hips are posed too high above Peter's - though occasionally Peter's erect cock will brush against Fiyero's, still mostly soft, but definitely starting to get a bit more firm now, waking back up.

Is it intense? God, yes it is. Peter cries out when Fiyero sucks at his head, blood rushing in his ears - it’s over far too soon, leaving his breathless and a little light-headed, cock throbbing as he’s forced to settle back against the bed. He groans quietly, dick leaving a smear of wetness along his belly, and turns his head to track Fiyero’s movements. Peter can’t see him when he moves too far from the bed, and he turns his gaze up to the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. How on earth did he get here?

Fiyero’s back in a tick, and Peter’s eyes flutter open as his boyfriend climbs on top of him, none the wiser about Fiyero’s possession of the gag. Skin brushes here and there, warm and shiver-inducing, but Peter’s distracted by the kissing once more, tasting himself on Fiyero’s tongue. It’s filthy enough to turn his ears red, but Peter still answers with a breathy moan and a Yes, ‘yero, so good in between the soft sounds of their lips, moving in sync. His dick gets some friction - not enough, bumping against Fiyero’s thigh, or sometimes his own soft shaft - but enough that it keeps Peter very engrossed in making out with his boyfriend, muffling noises against his lips. He whines, drawing his tongue over the seam of Fiyero’s lips; requesting entry, licking the taste of himself out of Fiyero’s mouth. Anything to get more of Fiyero, to chase that quick-witted tongue and encourage the stirring he can feel in his boyfriend. Maybe Fiyero won’t be able to get it up again, but if he can, Peter wants.

Fiyero deepens the kiss upon Peter's wordless request, turning his head and invading Peter's mouth with his tongue, opening his mouth like he wants to devour Peter whole. He moans needily into Peter's mouth, and it might be mostly performance to make Peter more turned on - but it's a very easy performance to make. Really, it's just being extra vocal about the enjoyment he feels.

He's breathing very purposefully through his nose, aiming to kiss Peter practically until his head spins. The gag is dropped on the bed next to him, both hands working their way through Peter's hair, tugging him this way and that. Until finally he pulls back, pulling firmly at Peter's hair to keep him against the pillows. Peter might be strong enough to resist it, but that doesn't mean the signal isn't perfectly obvious.

"Alright, darling. You've had your kisses. Hope that was good enough for you..." Fiyero says sweetly. His hand reaches for the gag, picking it up and placing the bright red ball against Peter's lips. There's room for him to argue here, of course, if he's reluctant - but Peter himself was the one who suggested using it now. Just like most of this - Fiyero's trying to give Peter everything he's wanted from this, while still leaving room for surprises.

Fiyero’s kissing drives him into all but a frenzy, until Peter is whimpering and panting, quivering taut against the bed. Yes, Fiyero’s intent is clear, and Peter keeps his head held back at the angle Fiyero’s hands demand, hair a mussed mess agains the pillow. If Fiyero is hamming up his performance for Peter’s sake - well, he’s done a damn good job, because nothing about Peter’s reaction is exaggerated. He’s 100% honest, open and vulnerable in just about every way he can be. Arousal beads at the tip of his cock, and Peter’s breathing is ragged as he tries to catch it, Fiyero’s hands pulling delightfully at his hair.

The way Fiyero frames it, it’s as though the kissing was for Peter but this - the reveal of the ball gag, seemingly out of nowhere because Peter definitely didn’t notice it prior - is for Fiyero. The pink flush intensifies in his cheeks, but Peter meets Fiyero’s gaze as he parts his lips to accept the ball, letting it hold his mouth open. It was his suggestion, though he’d thought Fiyero had forgotten - but with the gag in his mouth, he won’t even be able to beg. Just endure, Fiyero’s dressed up plaything.

“… ‘ank ‘ou,” Peter manages around the ball, pupils blown wide as he stares up at Fiyero, gaze glued to his expression. Intense though this may be, he has Fiyero there to shepard him through it all. However much Fiyero wants to explore and toy with him… Peter feels safe, and that’s what makes this possible.

Really, Fiyero probably could get Peter fully desperate just by kissing him. But part of helping Peter lose control of himself also means to insure he can't accidentally hurt Fiyero - including by accidentally biting him, of something like that. Obviously Peter is capable of controlling himself enough that that probably wouldn't happen, but that also means he'd be holding back. Fiyero wants to limit the amount of holding back that Peter needs to do.

"You're welcome, baby," Fiyero answers softly, getting Peter to lift his head so he can secure the strap against the back of his head. Nice and snug, not pulling, but tight enough that it won't slip out accidentally. "Now, this one maybe could break if you bite too hard. So try to be careful. Then again, we could always buy a new one," he muses as he locks the strap in place, looking down at Peter. It's a sturdy thing, so it'll probably hold.

Fiyero takes a moment to appreciate Peter's face. The dark eyes, the flush in his cheeks, the way his lips wrap around the ball. And then Fiyero leans down and starts lovingly making out with the ball, his lips brushing against Peter's - but any real contact is blocked by the gag. Just like the ring can force him to be open, the ball can close him up. Not just against speaking, but against this too. Maybe it's mean - but Fiyero thinks it serves as a very poetic and effective metaphor for the teasing and denial that Peter will endure. At least he still gets Fiyero's hands tugging at his hair, right?

The strap secures around his head, leather soft but snug around his cheeks, trapping the ball between his lips. Yes, Peter could probably break it if he bit down - but at least if he’s moaning, he’s probably not tensing up his mouth? He nods his understanding, staring up at Fiyero with those wide, trusting eyes.

Making out with the ball gag between them is terribly unfair. Peter whimpers and writhes, trying to feel Fiyero’s lips. His hands are still buried in Peter’s hair, really able to run through it without interference, and Peter’s really starting to feel just how trapped he is. A frustrated noise ekes out of his throat, hips jerking, cock slapping his own stomach - Peter does manage to leverage himself up a little to feel Fiyero’s chest hair tickling him, but he can’t get much further than that with his bonds and the way Fiyero has his hair in hand.

“Nnmmmoo,” Peter groans in protest, struggling in vain. He misses Fiyero’s lips already, so used to the easy gratification they’ve shared. Maybe this will teach him a thing or two about endurance. For Fiyero, it’s training him on taking Peter’s cock, but for Peter, perhaps it’s about lasting just a little bit longer, dragging it out in the smallest iota of pleasure he can find. It’s true that Peter really can feel all of it - the heat if Fiyero’s body, held so close but not close enough, the tantalizing brushes of his lips, only lightly grazing Peter’s…

It's more effective than he anticipated, Peter's frustration obvious and almost immediate. Fiyero smiles and pulls back, looking down at Peter. "Aww, darling. Not as fun as you thought?" he questions, running his fingers through Peter's hair. He leans down and kisses the tip of Peter's nose again, though this time it feels more teasing then just sweet.

He climbs off Peter again, getting out of bed and looking down at Peter. He has a sudden thought, as he looks for - no, not Peter's camera, he doesn't know it well enough if Peter hasn't prepared the settings. But his phone? Yes, Fiyero casts about for his phone, opening the camera application to take some not so tasteful photos of Peter, hard and helpless. He may not have Peter's aesthetic eye for framing and all that, but does that really matter? He's got the perfect subject, which makes up for it.

"You look so gorgeous like this, Peter," he says, leaning down to take a shot up Peter's front, the cock big in the foreground, the gag very visible beyond that. "Hope you don't mind me getting something to remember it by."

Peter’s not exactly known for his patience, which he perhaps should have considered before willingly putting himself in this position. He whines, happily tilting his face up towards Fiyero’s lips, soaking in the one kiss he’s permitted to the tip of his nose before Fiyero is gone, leaving him dizzyingly alone after all that skin on skin contact. He blinks, turning his head to try and see what Fiyero is doing - but he can’t, from this angle, straining to see past his own legs.

Of course, when he does, Fiyero’s got his phone out, snapping pictures to his heart’s content. Peter makes another soft sound behind the gag, thighs trembling lightly as Fiyero moves around him to capture his handiwork in all its glory. Fair’s fair, after Peter took artful shots of his own, but his cheeks warm, knowing what it must look like. Peter hums again, turn his cheek away, almost shy - but his cock is still on display, a rivulet of slick arousal rolling down his shaft. Fiyero’s teasing is undeniably hot, how much Fiyero likes him, but at least Peter’s mouth is occupied, and he can’t stammer himself into a nervous pit.

Neither of them are known for their patience - it's amazing they've gotten this far. And it probably explains why Fiyero decided he wanted Peter to come already. Theoretically, the longer you keep someone worked up and needy without letting them come, the more desperate they'll be, right? That's the whole point of denial. Well, does that still work that way if Peter can come again so quick? Maybe he also has a very short time period required to make him desperate. It wouldn't do to overdo it, in that case. That's the excuse Fiyero is going to go with.

It seems to be working, anyway. Peter is hard and blushing and still seems a little pleasantly dazed even after Fiyero leaves him alone for a moment - though he doesn't plan on doing that a lot. He doesn't want Peter to feel abandoned, and it's not like Fiyero has anything better to do. If he's going to ignore his arousal, it will probably be while snuggling up to him, at minimum.

"Here, look how hot you look," Fiyero says, opening one of the pictures and leaning over Peter to show it to him. It's very revealing and extremely hot, certainly in Fiyero's biased opinion. "Maybe I'll set that as the background on this thing," he teases, putting the phone down on the desk.

"Now, I've been thinking about another request you have," he says, picking something up, and there's the distinct sound of a cap being taken off, soon followed by the smell of marker, as Fiyero turns back to Peter. "I was thinking one crown per orgasm we've had today. Red for yours, blue for mine? I know those are both sort of your colours, but I like blue," he says, chattering on pleasantly - not like Peter can fill the silence.

"So first one, waking up with my cock in your mouth, I think we'll do that one right here," Fiyero says, leaning down to hold Peter's erection still with two fingers, and drawing a nice blue crown on the underside of Peter's cock.

Peter wouldn’t know what his limit is, but that’s what they’re there to find out, isn’t it? Ultimately, it’s probably more mental than physical - though the physical stimulation certainly helps the mental along. Peter turns his eyes up to look at the photo Fiyero took, sure that the blush is reaching his ears now - he looks debauched. He whines at the suggestion Fiyero make it his background - good lord, the idea that Fiyero could be walking around in public with such a thing so casually is obviously a fantasy, but he can’t help imagining it when it’s right in front of his face like this. He closes his eyes and swallows, lips taut around the gag, cock throbbing.

Peter blinks his eyes back open and makes an inquisitive noise at Fiyero’s words, brain feeling like it’s working a little sluggishly - he’s still thinking about Fiyero’s photos, about whether he’d have them in hand when Peter wasn’t around, in class or at work. He catches up as Fiyero uncaps the marker, the scent strong in the space, and makes another soft noise that morphs into a groan as Fiyero scrawls a crown against his aching cock. His tip drools, very turned on by the idea of being claimed - Fiyero’s already done that in spades, but clearly a little more never hurts, and the crowns on his pelvis have started to fade over the last day or so.

He whimpers again and struggles, wriggling in his bonds as Fiyero switches colors for the next crown. How much have they been together today? He’ll have at least six or seven of Fiyero’s marks on him. They’ll probably go all the way up his cock, marking his entire erection as Fiyero’s property. Even if no one else will know they’re there, they’ll know. It’s much sexier than Peter even has words for, but his muffled moans certainly signal his approval. “Nnnnmmph!”

"You like that?" Fiyero asks with a smile, knowing the answers. Peter is struggling, but if he were trying to get away or stop Fiyero, he'd certainly sound a lot more disgruntled. "Yeah, you like it when I mark you as mine," Fiyero says, settling a warm hand on the inside of Peter's thigh, a mix of comfort and possession.

"Next, me on my knees - I think we'll put that on your knee. Can't just put them all on your cock, right? Now, don't struggle while I draw, baby," Fiyero says sweetly, leaning over to draw a red crown on Peter's knee. "Then me on your lap... Let's see.." He switches colours again, swapping over to Peter's other leg, drawing another blue crown on his thigh, between the knee and where the webbing is keeping him wrapped together.

"That one was amazing... Do you remember what you told me, about how you'd tie me up to the bed and fuck me, make me come with you inside me?" Fiyero asks, fingertips tracing Peter's thigh along where he's bound, looking down at his face, smiling sweetly. Fiyero doesn't remember all the words, but the mental image has stuck with him. "I could do the same to you right now. Or even just put the plug in, turn it up, I'm sure you'd come just from that - untouched."

He sighs happily, as if thinking about some casual pleasant daydream, nothing more. "Right, where was I.. Bathtub, right? You, between my thighs. That was nice, just cuddled up together." Fiyero leans down and draws a red crown on the inside of Peter's thigh, right near the groin, the same place Fiyero had fucked him then. Already there's a nice little collection all around Peter's lower half.

Peter makes another incoherent noise, settling when Fiyero’s palm settled on the inside of his spread thigh. It gives him a swoop in his stomach - yes, he does like it. He likes the way Fiyero handles him, the possession a boon. Giving him somewhere to belong, someone to belong to… yes, Peter likes that quite a bit. He quiets a little, limbs twitching as Fiyero scrawls out a few more crowns, adorning his skin with them, pressing Fiyero’s affection everywhere his prince can reach - which is indeed everywhere, it seems.

Peter moans again at Fiyero’s reminder, nodding slightly against the pillow. Yes, he remembers, and right now he’s remembering vividly. Imagining what it would be like, how Fiyero would sound wrapped around his fingers, until Peter fucked him. His cock throbs, still standing tall, untouched - ignored, as Fiyero’s hand brushes his thigh, lazily tracing the peek of skin between the webbing. And the plug - it’s been a while since Peter bothered messing around back there on his own, and he’s never had a toy that vibrates - but the mental image of Fiyero pressing it into him and turning it up against his prostate? Peter would surely come, untouched even, three times over.

He whines again, loud and increasingly more shameless, hips lifting helplessly upwards as Fiyero adds another crown to his thighs, tangibly claiming the spot he’d fucked. Peter’s gaze is hazy as he watches Fiyero, lost in admiring him for a moment. His boyfriend is so handsome, isn’t he? Peter’s lucky to have him, to be his. Fiyero’s given him so much, and here he is, giving him even more…

It's amazing how just talking and drawing on Peter can seem to make him more and more needy. It's easy to make Peter come, but it seems to be also easy to make Peter want to come, even without his finely tuned senses entering into it. Fiyero's not complaining. It's nice, having this power over him, making him feel the way he wants to feel, and looking so gorgeous.

"Almost done, darling," he says playfully, taking a moment to massage the inside of his thigh, letting his hand run up his groin, up to his stomach - carefully avoiding touching his erection. Just look at all this nice skin available to him...

"Then we went on a nice little shopping trip," Fiyero continues, mostly thinking of the visit to the sex shop at the moment. There was other stuff, but really, that's not important right now. "Then you had me right there on that chair, and you fucked my mouth while I was wearing that gag. Hmm. Another one for your cock, I think. One red and one blue," Fiyero considers, hands moving to hold Peter's cock still again. Drawing a red crown right near the base. "I think that's about as far as I managed to swallow you down, right there."

He stands back, admiring his handiwork. "Two - No, three more," Fiyero says, letting out an amused huff. He sets his knee on the edge of the bed, carefully crawling slightly over Peter. "Two times, with me buried in your mouth. Me tied to the chair," he narrates as he draws one blue crown right below Peter's left collarbone, sparing him having it on his neck where someone might see. "And you tied up with your head between my legs." He draws another by the other collarbone to match.

He straightens up, capping the blue marker and tossing it on the desk. "And finally, that last one in my hand, wrapped in my arms. Well, since your hand is hard to reach, I guess we'll have to put it right here. He gingerly takes Peter's cock between his fingers one last time, lifting it so he can draw a red crown on the upside of it, right near the base - since there's too much dripping precome near the tip.

"Well. That's eight. Good day's work, and we're not even done," Fiyero says, his voice chipper. He caps the marker and tosses it onto the desk as well. "If you were worried about keeping score, don't worry. Turns out we're nice and even."

Fiyero is cheerfully ignoring all of Peter's moans, whines and writhing. Treating it like taking notes for school or something, or marking off tasks. Just being very casual about the filthiest subject, and the fact that he's drawing all over Peter's aching cock.

Fiyero definitely has power over him - physically, of course, in this moment - but it’s more than that. Fiyero has the power to build him up with just a few soft words - or tear him down, though he’d never do that. But with his silver tongue, Fiyero’s definitely able to turn Peter on and just keep cranking the heat. Everywhere he touches, it feels like wildfire erupts over Peter’s skin. He’s definitely squirming more and more, whimpering again when Fiyero reminds him of the facefucking he’d performed with Fiyero tied to the chair. Another couple of crowns, but Peter’s body feels hot - remembering the wet heat of Fiyero’s mouth, the whines and lewd noises that slipped out of Fiyero’s throat…

Peter can feel some drool collecting at the corner of his mouth, mostly stoppered by the gag. He inhales, swallowing again and flushing further when he remembers the messy, wrecked picture he must make. It’s not so different from having Fiyero on the chair, and then Fiyero reminds him of the facefucking he’d received himself, Fiyero’s hands in his hair, controlling the pace with a strong grip. It’s amazing how they can switch positions, switch off with the control, and feel just as amazing the whole way through. His tongue presses up against the ball gag, another desperate keen slipping out of him - Peter wishes, for a fervent instant, that it was Fiyero’s cock instead, holding him open, preventing him from speaking.

He gets another handful of crowns dotted along his skin, body trembling beneath Fiyero’s hands. He’s so hard, leaking like a faucet he’s sure, hips lifting up towards Fiyero again without his conscious say-so. His eyes are half-lidded, fixed on Fiyero’s face as he murmurs to him, tallying up their activities. Peter likes the idea of them being written into his body, each one lighting up a visceral memory. Still, Fiyero hasn’t touched him, not really - just graffitied his hard-on in complimentary red and blue. Peter sucks in another breath and moans in a way that sounds like wordless begging, thighs straining against the webbing again.

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