He loops the end of the crop around his wrist and walks forward to rest his hand against Alecto's flank, leather sliding against marked skin, damp with sweat and exertion. He caresses his side, his ass, and his fingers slide past Alecto's to circle the hole he'd been teasing just now with the riding crop.
"For these last three, I think I want to really put you through your paces, my pet," he muses, inserting one gloved fingertip and testing the tension already gathered there, the increased friction from the leather only slightly eased by the dampness of sweat. "You want to be spread out for me, don't you?" he almost croons the words, in answer to Alecto's apologetic purr. "You want to feel me fucking into you, claiming you, making every part of your body mine to do just as I wish?"
He doesn't wait for an answer. He reaches for some items he'd kept in easy reach - a bottle of lubricant and a wide, thick buttplug. It is not very long, but it is wide and challenging, intended to provide strain for that first ring of muscle while not thoroughly acclimating the second. The click of the bottle is loud in the small room as he opens the container, squeezing the lube onto his still-gloved hand, and immediately sliding one finger into Alecto's body, able to move much more quickly and easily than normal while he's in this submissive position, holding himself open on Josh's command.
"You know I do," he says, his words far more airy and wanting than he would have liked them to be. He digs his own fingers into his skin, hissing when he feels the rough texture of the leather glove probing at his sensitive hole, but he's so restrained, so held apart that he body can do nothing but simply twitch with feeling as he's stretched and penetrated to Josh's liking.
But it's when he feels the pressure of something much wider, much harder, that sudden shock of metal - "Ah, fuck," he bites out, legs straining against the hold of the bar around his ankles.
"You can take it," he replies in answer; it's not encouragement as much as it is a declaration of fact. "You want this." Gone are his gentle questionings, the carefully phrased check-ins, at least for the moment; he is watching in fascination as Alecto's body strains and struggles, as he pushes and pulls on the restraints, against Josh's demands, clenching around the steady, inexorable intrusion of the metal plug into his body. Why shouldn't Josh take exactly what he wants, in the moment?
"You'll take your stripes right here, my pet," he says, voice hot with anticipation as he unspools the future in front of both of them, gloved fingers stroking around Alecto's quivering body right where it is bearing down on the metal stretching him open. "You have three left. And then we'll see what else the evening holds for us, if you're good for me."
He grits his teeth, feels that itchy, sour feeling spread all throughout his jaw. “It hurts, master,” he practically moans, hardly a complaint at all, more so a compliment, a declaration of deep, twisted pleasure. The plug is challenging, stretching him beyond wide, truly testing his body’s limits.
“But…I can be good, master,” he says, in such a way that it implies the obvious addition of: if you make it worth my while.
"I know," he replies - it's not meant to be soothing. It's a simple, clear statement, a declaration of intent, a reminder of the power that Alecto had given over to Josh for the night, that he'd asked for this, though not in so many words, that his pain in the moment was one of Josh's goals, not simply a side effect. He has no qualms about pushing more, further, given the eager way Alecto is settling into this treatment, his body clenching and straining and struggling under Josh's watchful gaze.
He steps back, takes the riding crop back in hand with a flourish that makes it whistle through the air. "Three," he says, a reminder of his standing orders, and the next stripe lands across Alecto's buttocks, held spread wide open by his own hands, a sharp nudge of pressure against the wide metal plug.
And fuck, when he feels the way the plug pounds into him when the crop hits, Alecto comes right then and there, squirting thick white ropes all over himself and the bench beneath him, gasping out the count and subsequent "thank you, master" with ever increasing volume until he practically yells the last one in a strained howl.
When it's finally over, Alecto's hands ease off of himself and stretch forward again, trembling. His entire body is singing, cramped and sweaty and useless in the aftermath. It seems, for a moment, he barely even registers what just happened.
He lets the crop hang from his wrist again when he finishes, that final forceful strike a deep burning red against Alecto's pale skin. Alecto stretches beneath his gaze, a picture of lewd obedience, still bound and spread wide under Josh's gaze, his body straining and trembling with effort, the aftermath of that unexpected orgasm leaving him shaky. Inwardly, Josh is thrown, elated, desperately aroused, the reality of his bringing Alecto to orgasm untouched, with pain and manner and demand, roaring in his heated veins, but he is calm and cool outwardly, standing next to Alecto's bent, bare body, watching him slowly come back to himself with a detached expression.
"Is this how you repay me, my pet?" He asks, though it's clear from his tone that he isn't exactly displeased. He simply sounds curious, unconcerned, even as he reaches one still-gloved hand out to rest between Alecto's shoulderblades, a confident, peremptory gesture, sliding over the beads of sweat gathered there. "I had so many plans for the rest of our evening together."
There's power in submission. It took Alecto a while to learn this but once he did, once he realized this truth, he fell into it with a fervor. In pleasure, he held the reins to their narrative, and just like when he was the voice inside of his agent's ear, here, on his knees, he every moan and twitch guided Josh's hand, directed his next lines, moved him.
Alecto's body twitches, shoulder blades shifting where Josh presses down with his hand, his fingers demanding obedience, stillness. "I'm sorry, Master," he groans out against the ruined bench, not sorry at all and yet feeling every bit the thrill of the shame of it. "I couldn't help myself." His eyes are sharp and bright with bliss.
"Selfish," he observes, his tone still deeply amused, his gloved fingers curling in the short hairs at the nape of Alecto's neck, almost scritching lightly at sensitive skin, a precursor to grabbing on tight and yanking hard. "You'd enjoy that far too much, wouldn't you, my pet?"
He uses his other hand to stroke down along Alecto's cheek, forcing him to tilt his head up to look Josh in the eyes. "I do love seeing you on your knees like this," he says matter-of-factly, curling his fingers in the already taut leather of the collar, straining it just enough to put pressure on Alecto's windpipe, his gaze intense and observant as he stares into Alecto's eyes. "I think you'd look absolutely lovely with a few more adornments though, my pet."
He's ignoring his own arousal, the hard, throbbing length of his erection, still tucked away within his beautifully tailored slacks. "Even though you've already made such a mess, cumming all over yourself like a dirty whore, simply from having your hole stretched wide."
He yanks hard on the collar, leather digging into Alecto's neck, dragging him off balance to drop off the bench into an undignified sprawl of limbs on the floor, legs still held apart and bound by the spreader bar, his bare skin streaked with come and sweat.
His heart races when Josh makes him look him in the eye, but he barely has any time to dwell on it before he finds it suddenly difficult to breathe. His head fills with that exciting tint of panic and brief, euphoric wooziness before he's thrown off the ruined bench.
He falls, stumbles, and his knees hit the ground awkwardly. They'll bruise. He loves that.
Words can barely make it out of his throat with how tight the collar is being pulled around it, making his undignified "please" come out like a wheeze, the letters barely audible, fusing together in one breath as a singular sound of thrilled desperation.
His hands grab automatically at the ground, trying to steady himself, pushing his body back up with his palms. Between his legs his damp cock twitches and he resists the urge to touch it, to take the edge off.
He keeps a tight hold of the collar, though he is ever alert for Alecto's breathing and involuntary reactions, holding him up just enough for the position to be a strain, for his palms to be lifted up off the floor, for his legs to quiver with effort, for his body to clench automatically around the plug stil nestled between his buttocks, keeping him stretched open wide there.
"I should bind your hands too," he murmurs, still gazing deep into Alecto's eyes, counting quietly in his own head. "Though I've been doing all the work around here, haven't I, my pet? Perhaps I should put you to work, earning your keep." His tone takes on a contemptuous edge. "Why else should I keep you around, if not for my own pleasure?" It is absolutely and utterly a lie, and both of them know it. But Joshua knows what's expected of him now, has synthesized the past few weeks of their cover identities' sex lives, has parsed the edges where Joshua and Alecto, Thomas and Daniel, start and end.
He lets his fingers uncurl, careless and casual, giving Alecto back air and movement and agency, lowering him back to the floor, and then spins on his heel, to go select something from one of the cabinets on the other side of the room.
His hands clench at nothing but air when Josh mentions binding them. Alecto thinks about how much harder that’d make for him to be able to move, to gesture, to position himself. How much more helpless he’d be to whatever Josh decided to do to him.
But it seems there’s work yet to do first. When the grip of the collar is finally loosened, Alecto’s only slightly dizzy and he collapses back onto himself, sucking in huge mouthfuls of air. His pulse pounds in his throat like a fist.
“Yes, let me prove my worth to you, Master,” he keens, so happy to see Josh lean more and more into his assigned role for the night, see how he’s able to draw from their past engagements and weave entirely new narratives based off of the details he’s gleaned during their time together (in bed, and in the field. Lately, it feels like they’re not all that different).
When he walks back from his brief departure, he is holding a delicately lovely length of chain, with two clover clamps hanging from the end of it, the links pooled in the palm of his hand. He bends down, as dignified as he can make the gesture, holding his cupped hand against Alecto's lips.
"Open," he orders, his voice quiet, expectant. It's commanding in a subtle way, a confident exertion of his own will, rather than being loud or forceful.
"I think I'll want you on the bed," he says, while tipping the cool metal chains into Alecto's waiting mouth. "I want to see how long you can ride me, how many times I can make you spill all over yourself until your legs give out and you beg for me to come inside you, to fill your greedy hole with my spend." His voice softens, but there's no yielding in it, his expectations very clear. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, my pet? Bringing me pleasure with your body while I lie back and let you do all the work, while I play with your nipples and your cock until your entire body is aching?"
He knows exactly what those clamps will do and it sends a shiver down his spine as he feels the metal touch his tongue, the warmth of his mouth seeping into the chain links one by one. And as he listens to what Josh wants of him, Alecto's body nearly shakes with want. He nods, eyes doe-like and wide, eager with nothing but the desire to submit.
The bed is nearby but there's no way for him to get there without - well.
He shifts, clearly intending to crawl but the way his legs are restrained makes the motion awkward and he gazes at Josh, appealingly, for a solution.
He hums thoughtfully as he pulls his hand away from Alecto's mouth now that the chain links are pooled on his tongue, a makeshift gag keeping Alecto silent for the moment in obedience to Josh's orders. "What a shame," he murmurs, dipping his head to kiss Alecto's forehead - it's an affectionate but deliberately condescending gesture, reinforcing the arrangement of their current roles - and gently cup his chin.
"You look so lovely restrained for me like this, but I know you can keep your legs and hole open for me without the help, can't you, my pet?" He shifts to unbuckle the straps of the cuffs on the spreader bar, pushing it aside to free Alecto's legs.
He takes this chance to stretch just a little, toes curling, feeling how sore his legs are getting from being held in position. The plug in his ass is heavy and insistent, shifting with each one of his motions. Alecto's eyes flutter closed as he savors the feeling before he starts to crawl on all fours to the bed, somehow, managing to look both demeaned and utterly graceful.
When he's finally on the bed, feeling the ridiculous silken sheets against his skin, he spreads his legs wide, letting Josh see him strain to do so. He can't help but hiss, his breath squeezing through his teeth before lifting his head again and opening his mouth, offering up the heated metal chain and clamps to Josh once again.
He follows after Alecto, shedding a few extraneous articles of clothing as he goes - the silk tie, his jacket, his vest - draping them over a chair (he can see the carefully designed grooves, for restraints and other attachments) as he watches Alecto crawl up onto the ridiculously large bed. He stays just out of reach, gives him space to settle, hot anticipation filling his veins as he watches Alecto settle in, clearly enjoying the entire scenario, reveling in the weight of Josh's gaze and expectations.
He pauses for just a little longer than is entirely polite when Alecto opens his mouth for Josh, showing off the metal coiled behind his teeth, before he offers his still-gloved hand for Alecto to deposit the clamps in his palm.
"Such a dirty little thing," he murmurs, sounding clearly pleased, folding his fingers around the warm metal links. "Get your nipples ready for the clamps, my pet. And enjoy the use of your hands while you still have them." It's too off-handed to be a threat, simply an observation.
"As you wish, Master," he replies, his voice already a little shaky with excitement. He has to shift positions to properly start touching himself, getting onto his back with a grimace at the way his throbbing, stretched hole continues to protest with each motion.
"I like doing this for you, Master," he says. "I like being your dirty little play thing. Do you like watching me?" He licks the pad of his thumb and rubs it, presses it hard, against his right nipple, feels it slowly start to harden and peak. "Does it make you want to do just the worst things to me?" He sucks in a breath through his nose, his eyes glassy with the heat of arousal.
Josh has truly proven himself to exceed each and every one of Alecto's expectations.
"I don't know how I could look at anything else, my pet," he murmurs, letting genuine warmth and admiration bleed into his tone, though he keeps it firmly within the bounds of the little play they are acting out between them, watching the way Alecto writhes and shifts in response to all the stimulation he is feeling - inflicting on himself, at Josh's orders.
He watches him tease and stimulate his nipples, watches them harden and peak before his eyes. He knows Alecto is sensitive there, knows how well he responds to a little extra stimulus from his fingers or teeth or tongue at an opportune moment. The clamps clutched in his hand feel oddly heavy, as though the anticipation of being able to use them, to see the way they will twist and pinch around Alecto's nipples, conveniently allowing Josh to increase the level of pain he's feeling simply by tugging gently on the chain linking them, is lending them extra weight.
"Are you ready, my pet?" He asks. He wants to put the clamps on before he strips himself of the rest of his clothes, before he can bury himself inside Alecto's already stretched hole. He's already anticipating the feeling - how easily he will be able to slide past the first ring of muscle, already tortured into looseness by the challenging width of the plug, and then how tightly the rest of Alecto's body will cling to him, due to barely being stretched at all. How warm his skin will be, after being whipped earlier by the riding crop, how the salt and movement and exertion will exacerbate the marks and stripes. He'd been so careful not to break the skin, but only just - even from here he can tell that the marks are an angry bright red, and likely sensitive just from rubbing against the silken sheets.
He moves forward, tugs Alecto up towards him by the collar, and motions for him to present himself, to thrust his chest forward to allow Josh to torture it with the clamp.
“Yes,” he says, starry eyed and pliant, immediately shifting, jerking forward with the tug of the collar around his throat. He feels like nothing other than an obedient little plaything for Josh, falling near completely into that headspace now, wanting nothing for himself other than to please the man handling him.
The metal is warm against his skin but the feeling of it is sharp and foreign nonetheless against the sensitive skin of his hardened nipples. He hisses when he feels them finally clamp down around him, creating pinpoints of pressure that unfurl and spread throughout his chest (rising and falling with greater and greater speed as the excitement increases for what comes next).
He flicks at the clamps with his fingers, a deliberately cruel tease - but he knows Alecto can take it, even craves it, wants the feeling of challenge and pain. After the evening's experience, he wonders now if knowing that he's so beautifully obeying orders, that he was exceeding expectations, was another layer of pleasure. He's so used to things the other way around - Alecto directing him, leading and expecting him to follow - and even now there's a layer of that in this interaction, that everything he's doing, the scenario he's setting up and spinning out, is no longer simply in service to the mission, but at Alecto's express request.
It's a heady, intense feeling, but he doesn't allow any of it to show on his face, simply maintains an appreciative but condescending expression as he watches Alecto adjust, watches the way his cock, already hard again after coming (untouched, he'd come untouched under Josh's hands and the riding crop) earlier twitches and fills under his watchful gaze, as though the pain from the clamps held a line of stimulus directly to his dick and balls. Josh had barely touched him there, and he was already such a mess...
He reaches up for the buttons of his shirt. "You get to choose, pet," he says, casually magnanimous, as though bestowing a great favor, "do you want to ride me face to face so I can see exactly how wrecked I'm making you, or do you want to sit on my lap so I can watch my own cock sliding in and out of your gaping hole?" He's careful about the phrasing, making the reasoning about Josh's pleasure, but leaving it up to Alecto's preference. He shrugs off the shirt and undershirt, leaving himself bare-chested. The only things he's still wearing on his upper body are the already ruined leather gloves. He meets Alecto's gaze where he is settled, legs spread wide, on the bed, and reaches for the buckle of the fine leather belt at his waist.
He jerks, as if lightning struck his entire body when he feels that flick against his clamped nipples, feels it pinch tighter into his skin for a sudden and vicious second before it's over, and Alecto is left watching Josh undress with dizzy appreciation, mouth slack, cheeks burning red with the blush of deep arousal.
"I want both," he says, greedy and not at all ashamed about it. "I want to put on a show for you, Master, just like I promised earlier tonight." He's searching Josh's incredibly stoic face (it's impressive), his cock twitching with throbbing interest. His fingers grip the sheets, wanting so badly to touch warm skin instead, but he'll behave. He can be good and wait.
The way the belt buckle clicks open is loud in his ears and Alecto unconsciously wets his lips and leans just a bit more forward.
He makes a deliberate show of sliding the belt out from the loops in his slacks, coiling it neatly, and then stepping forward to set it on the edge of the bed near Alecto, meeting his eyes and smiling, sharp and anticipatory. His shoes and socks are next, laid out neatly, casually, as though he weren't in a room in a sex club with a beautiful boy on his bed, anticipating his every order and whim, suffering prettily at his command. Then he moves to undo his slacks, his fingers quick on the fastenings, remembering the car ride, the way Alecto had leaned in to take his cock down his throat, curled up at Joshua's feet with his head tucked in his still-clothed lap.
After all these weeks he's starting to understand the boundaries better - Daniel loved sucking cock, but Alecto himself did not, though he was amenable to it in certain limited circumstances - but right now, the overriding pretense is the maintenance of their cover identities in the private space and the only orders he is following are Alecto's: I want you to keep playing along. I want you to make me obey you.
"Greedy," he scolds, the breathlessness present but not obvious, as he finally strips off his slacks and tosses them over the chair with his other clothes. He's standing in the silk underwear, so conveniently designed for their earlier activities in the car (he really doesn't want to think about why), his cock an obvious tent in the soft material, straining against the buttons. He slides them down to his ankles and kicks them aside, standing almost entirely nude in front of Alecto, save for the leather gloves.
He walks up to the bed again, and catches up the chain for the nipple clamps and hooks his fingers in the collar again, pulling Alecto towards him, and then he leans in for an intense, passionate kiss, aggressive and commanding without being obnoxious, firmly claiming his mouth as his fingers tighten on the collar until it is taut, putting pressure on Alecto's windpipe without truly cutting off his airway, still allowing him shallow, heady breaths.
"I'm going to want you on your knees so I can watch you fuck yourself open with the plug before you take it out," he murmurs against Alecto's lips, twisting his fingers just so. "And then I'm going to tie your hands behind your back with my belt. I'm not going to help you at all as you mount my cock like the desperate slut you are. I'm just going to watch you twitch as I spear you open, I'm going to tug on your nipples so I can feel you clench around me. I expect a good show, my pet. Do you really think you can make me come like that?"
Alecto chokes out a sob when the chain tugs at the clamps, causing a sharp feeling of agony to suddenly shock through his chest. "Yes, Master," he groans. "I'll do all of that for you. Please, please let me try."
The thing is, Alecto is good at keeping his lines unblurred. Most of the time. He has a talent for compartmentalizing. It's what makes him so good at his job (and so good at all the redacted things his family asks of him). That is, he understands the differences between himself and his actions, and when it comes to playing a cover, even more so. To an extent, he can also tell where Josh draws the line between who he really is and who he's pretending to be for the sake of a mission and these past few months have been enlightening. He knows, for instance, that Josh is a thoughtful lover in bed, one that receives pleasure from giving it, but that his persona, Thomas, is more demanding. Josh is more eager to learn what makes his partner happy (and then improving on it with considerable gusto), than calling the shots. But Thomas likes control. Thomas likes rough shower sex in the morning and taking his husband doggy-style on the couch when it pleased him. Josh? Josh likes eye contact and linking their hands when he cums.
Just to name a few.
For a while, Alecto did nothing with this extra information. He imagined there was no real reason for him to get to know Josh at a deeper level lest things get...too personal. Yet here they were. Personal was putting it lightly.
Presently, he focuses on grabbing the base of the plug and plunging it in and out of himself, his eyes rolling back into his own skull with the ache of it all. He spreads his knees wider, leaning on just his shoulders and the side of his cheek as he continues to punish himself for Josh's delight.
He watches Alecto fuck himself with the plug, straining and whimpering with the challenge of following Josh's orders, lost in the scenario they've settled into, a mutual feedback loop of pleasure. Alecto is just so extraordinarily beautiful in his submission - aesthetically, of course, which went without saying, but the true appeal of it for Joshua Archer was the obvious enjoyment Alecto was wringing from the situation, from having the structure of orders and hierarchy imposed in this very specific and unusual context. He wouldn't have (dared to) pegged Alecto for a masochist based on their professional acquaintance, but this entire evening had been a revelation on that front. Just as he couldn't have predicted exactly how much everything about this scenario would appeal to himself personally, how much Alecto's pleasure and unspoken expectation was pushing Josh further - to be more creative, more forceful. More of a Dom, in a very specific sense.
He steps forward and shifts up onto the bed, grabbing Alecto's wrists while he is pushing the plug into himself, right at the widest point, and starts to wrap the leather belt around them, drawing it tight without letting it dig into his skin. Alecto's skin is such a bright, lovely red, a spreading flush in the beautiful curve of his ass, his cheeks held apart by his spread legs and the handle of the plug.
"I want to hear you," he whispers, tucking the end of the belt through the buckle and tugging on Alecto's hands to make sure they are fastened securely. With casual ease, he loops the chain for the nipple rings up over Alecto's head so the links are draped over his shoulders, the trailing length centered between his shoulder blades. Everything is perfectly positioned for Josh to reach, to touch, to torture. He wraps one still gloved hand around the end of the chain and the leather of the belt tying his wrists together at the same time, blatantly ignoring the strain as the metal pulls taught, tugging hard on Alecto's nipples in an upward direction, the links digging into the skin of his shoulders, while his other hand strokes proprietarily over Alecto's ass, until he has wrapped his fingers around the base of the plug again. He fucks it into Alecto with deliberate force, once, twice, three times, before he yanks it out and tosses it aside, positioning himself there instead.
Alecto is still leaning forward on his knees, and Josh is kneeling up behind him on the bed. He takes his own cock in hand, slapping it lightly against the hot-flushed skin of Alecto's sore ass, before he slides it down against his perineum, and up between the crack of his ass, dragging the head against Alecto's slicked, gaping hole.
"You're so stretched for me, my pet," he murmurs, and there is awe and admiration and affection in his tone, impossible to keep out. "I can't wait to feel you around my cock. You'll squeeze tight for me, won't you pet? You can't wait to bring me pleasure?"
He slides just the head, just the tip, in past the barely-there resistance of the much-abused and already loosened ring of muscle, and then stops utterly still.
"Well?" He asks, his voice harsher, more demanding. "I'm waiting."
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"For these last three, I think I want to really put you through your paces, my pet," he muses, inserting one gloved fingertip and testing the tension already gathered there, the increased friction from the leather only slightly eased by the dampness of sweat. "You want to be spread out for me, don't you?" he almost croons the words, in answer to Alecto's apologetic purr. "You want to feel me fucking into you, claiming you, making every part of your body mine to do just as I wish?"
He doesn't wait for an answer. He reaches for some items he'd kept in easy reach - a bottle of lubricant and a wide, thick buttplug. It is not very long, but it is wide and challenging, intended to provide strain for that first ring of muscle while not thoroughly acclimating the second. The click of the bottle is loud in the small room as he opens the container, squeezing the lube onto his still-gloved hand, and immediately sliding one finger into Alecto's body, able to move much more quickly and easily than normal while he's in this submissive position, holding himself open on Josh's command.
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But it's when he feels the pressure of something much wider, much harder, that sudden shock of metal - "Ah, fuck," he bites out, legs straining against the hold of the bar around his ankles.
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"You'll take your stripes right here, my pet," he says, voice hot with anticipation as he unspools the future in front of both of them, gloved fingers stroking around Alecto's quivering body right where it is bearing down on the metal stretching him open. "You have three left. And then we'll see what else the evening holds for us, if you're good for me."
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“But…I can be good, master,” he says, in such a way that it implies the obvious addition of: if you make it worth my while.
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He steps back, takes the riding crop back in hand with a flourish that makes it whistle through the air. "Three," he says, a reminder of his standing orders, and the next stripe lands across Alecto's buttocks, held spread wide open by his own hands, a sharp nudge of pressure against the wide metal plug.
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When it's finally over, Alecto's hands ease off of himself and stretch forward again, trembling. His entire body is singing, cramped and sweaty and useless in the aftermath. It seems, for a moment, he barely even registers what just happened.
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"Is this how you repay me, my pet?" He asks, though it's clear from his tone that he isn't exactly displeased. He simply sounds curious, unconcerned, even as he reaches one still-gloved hand out to rest between Alecto's shoulderblades, a confident, peremptory gesture, sliding over the beads of sweat gathered there. "I had so many plans for the rest of our evening together."
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Alecto's body twitches, shoulder blades shifting where Josh presses down with his hand, his fingers demanding obedience, stillness. "I'm sorry, Master," he groans out against the ruined bench, not sorry at all and yet feeling every bit the thrill of the shame of it. "I couldn't help myself." His eyes are sharp and bright with bliss.
"Punish me."
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He uses his other hand to stroke down along Alecto's cheek, forcing him to tilt his head up to look Josh in the eyes. "I do love seeing you on your knees like this," he says matter-of-factly, curling his fingers in the already taut leather of the collar, straining it just enough to put pressure on Alecto's windpipe, his gaze intense and observant as he stares into Alecto's eyes. "I think you'd look absolutely lovely with a few more adornments though, my pet."
He's ignoring his own arousal, the hard, throbbing length of his erection, still tucked away within his beautifully tailored slacks. "Even though you've already made such a mess, cumming all over yourself like a dirty whore, simply from having your hole stretched wide."
He yanks hard on the collar, leather digging into Alecto's neck, dragging him off balance to drop off the bench into an undignified sprawl of limbs on the floor, legs still held apart and bound by the spreader bar, his bare skin streaked with come and sweat.
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He falls, stumbles, and his knees hit the ground awkwardly. They'll bruise. He loves that.
Words can barely make it out of his throat with how tight the collar is being pulled around it, making his undignified "please" come out like a wheeze, the letters barely audible, fusing together in one breath as a singular sound of thrilled desperation.
His hands grab automatically at the ground, trying to steady himself, pushing his body back up with his palms. Between his legs his damp cock twitches and he resists the urge to touch it, to take the edge off.
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"I should bind your hands too," he murmurs, still gazing deep into Alecto's eyes, counting quietly in his own head. "Though I've been doing all the work around here, haven't I, my pet? Perhaps I should put you to work, earning your keep." His tone takes on a contemptuous edge. "Why else should I keep you around, if not for my own pleasure?" It is absolutely and utterly a lie, and both of them know it. But Joshua knows what's expected of him now, has synthesized the past few weeks of their cover identities' sex lives, has parsed the edges where Joshua and Alecto, Thomas and Daniel, start and end.
He lets his fingers uncurl, careless and casual, giving Alecto back air and movement and agency, lowering him back to the floor, and then spins on his heel, to go select something from one of the cabinets on the other side of the room.
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But it seems there’s work yet to do first. When the grip of the collar is finally loosened, Alecto’s only slightly dizzy and he collapses back onto himself, sucking in huge mouthfuls of air. His pulse pounds in his throat like a fist.
“Yes, let me prove my worth to you, Master,” he keens, so happy to see Josh lean more and more into his assigned role for the night, see how he’s able to draw from their past engagements and weave entirely new narratives based off of the details he’s gleaned during their time together (in bed, and in the field. Lately, it feels like they’re not all that different).
“Tell me what you want me to do for you.”
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"Open," he orders, his voice quiet, expectant. It's commanding in a subtle way, a confident exertion of his own will, rather than being loud or forceful.
"I think I'll want you on the bed," he says, while tipping the cool metal chains into Alecto's waiting mouth. "I want to see how long you can ride me, how many times I can make you spill all over yourself until your legs give out and you beg for me to come inside you, to fill your greedy hole with my spend." His voice softens, but there's no yielding in it, his expectations very clear. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, my pet? Bringing me pleasure with your body while I lie back and let you do all the work, while I play with your nipples and your cock until your entire body is aching?"
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The bed is nearby but there's no way for him to get there without - well.
He shifts, clearly intending to crawl but the way his legs are restrained makes the motion awkward and he gazes at Josh, appealingly, for a solution.
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"You look so lovely restrained for me like this, but I know you can keep your legs and hole open for me without the help, can't you, my pet?" He shifts to unbuckle the straps of the cuffs on the spreader bar, pushing it aside to free Alecto's legs.
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When he's finally on the bed, feeling the ridiculous silken sheets against his skin, he spreads his legs wide, letting Josh see him strain to do so. He can't help but hiss, his breath squeezing through his teeth before lifting his head again and opening his mouth, offering up the heated metal chain and clamps to Josh once again.
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He pauses for just a little longer than is entirely polite when Alecto opens his mouth for Josh, showing off the metal coiled behind his teeth, before he offers his still-gloved hand for Alecto to deposit the clamps in his palm.
"Such a dirty little thing," he murmurs, sounding clearly pleased, folding his fingers around the warm metal links. "Get your nipples ready for the clamps, my pet. And enjoy the use of your hands while you still have them." It's too off-handed to be a threat, simply an observation.
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"I like doing this for you, Master," he says. "I like being your dirty little play thing. Do you like watching me?" He licks the pad of his thumb and rubs it, presses it hard, against his right nipple, feels it slowly start to harden and peak. "Does it make you want to do just the worst things to me?" He sucks in a breath through his nose, his eyes glassy with the heat of arousal.
Josh has truly proven himself to exceed each and every one of Alecto's expectations.
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He watches him tease and stimulate his nipples, watches them harden and peak before his eyes. He knows Alecto is sensitive there, knows how well he responds to a little extra stimulus from his fingers or teeth or tongue at an opportune moment. The clamps clutched in his hand feel oddly heavy, as though the anticipation of being able to use them, to see the way they will twist and pinch around Alecto's nipples, conveniently allowing Josh to increase the level of pain he's feeling simply by tugging gently on the chain linking them, is lending them extra weight.
"Are you ready, my pet?" He asks. He wants to put the clamps on before he strips himself of the rest of his clothes, before he can bury himself inside Alecto's already stretched hole. He's already anticipating the feeling - how easily he will be able to slide past the first ring of muscle, already tortured into looseness by the challenging width of the plug, and then how tightly the rest of Alecto's body will cling to him, due to barely being stretched at all. How warm his skin will be, after being whipped earlier by the riding crop, how the salt and movement and exertion will exacerbate the marks and stripes. He'd been so careful not to break the skin, but only just - even from here he can tell that the marks are an angry bright red, and likely sensitive just from rubbing against the silken sheets.
He moves forward, tugs Alecto up towards him by the collar, and motions for him to present himself, to thrust his chest forward to allow Josh to torture it with the clamp.
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The metal is warm against his skin but the feeling of it is sharp and foreign nonetheless against the sensitive skin of his hardened nipples. He hisses when he feels them finally clamp down around him, creating pinpoints of pressure that unfurl and spread throughout his chest (rising and falling with greater and greater speed as the excitement increases for what comes next).
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It's a heady, intense feeling, but he doesn't allow any of it to show on his face, simply maintains an appreciative but condescending expression as he watches Alecto adjust, watches the way his cock, already hard again after coming (untouched, he'd come untouched under Josh's hands and the riding crop) earlier twitches and fills under his watchful gaze, as though the pain from the clamps held a line of stimulus directly to his dick and balls. Josh had barely touched him there, and he was already such a mess...
He reaches up for the buttons of his shirt. "You get to choose, pet," he says, casually magnanimous, as though bestowing a great favor, "do you want to ride me face to face so I can see exactly how wrecked I'm making you, or do you want to sit on my lap so I can watch my own cock sliding in and out of your gaping hole?" He's careful about the phrasing, making the reasoning about Josh's pleasure, but leaving it up to Alecto's preference. He shrugs off the shirt and undershirt, leaving himself bare-chested. The only things he's still wearing on his upper body are the already ruined leather gloves. He meets Alecto's gaze where he is settled, legs spread wide, on the bed, and reaches for the buckle of the fine leather belt at his waist.
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"I want both," he says, greedy and not at all ashamed about it. "I want to put on a show for you, Master, just like I promised earlier tonight." He's searching Josh's incredibly stoic face (it's impressive), his cock twitching with throbbing interest. His fingers grip the sheets, wanting so badly to touch warm skin instead, but he'll behave. He can be good and wait.
The way the belt buckle clicks open is loud in his ears and Alecto unconsciously wets his lips and leans just a bit more forward.
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After all these weeks he's starting to understand the boundaries better - Daniel loved sucking cock, but Alecto himself did not, though he was amenable to it in certain limited circumstances - but right now, the overriding pretense is the maintenance of their cover identities in the private space and the only orders he is following are Alecto's: I want you to keep playing along. I want you to make me obey you.
"Greedy," he scolds, the breathlessness present but not obvious, as he finally strips off his slacks and tosses them over the chair with his other clothes. He's standing in the silk underwear, so conveniently designed for their earlier activities in the car (he really doesn't want to think about why), his cock an obvious tent in the soft material, straining against the buttons. He slides them down to his ankles and kicks them aside, standing almost entirely nude in front of Alecto, save for the leather gloves.
He walks up to the bed again, and catches up the chain for the nipple clamps and hooks his fingers in the collar again, pulling Alecto towards him, and then he leans in for an intense, passionate kiss, aggressive and commanding without being obnoxious, firmly claiming his mouth as his fingers tighten on the collar until it is taut, putting pressure on Alecto's windpipe without truly cutting off his airway, still allowing him shallow, heady breaths.
"I'm going to want you on your knees so I can watch you fuck yourself open with the plug before you take it out," he murmurs against Alecto's lips, twisting his fingers just so. "And then I'm going to tie your hands behind your back with my belt. I'm not going to help you at all as you mount my cock like the desperate slut you are. I'm just going to watch you twitch as I spear you open, I'm going to tug on your nipples so I can feel you clench around me. I expect a good show, my pet. Do you really think you can make me come like that?"
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The thing is, Alecto is good at keeping his lines unblurred. Most of the time. He has a talent for compartmentalizing. It's what makes him so good at his job (and so good at all the redacted things his family asks of him). That is, he understands the differences between himself and his actions, and when it comes to playing a cover, even more so. To an extent, he can also tell where Josh draws the line between who he really is and who he's pretending to be for the sake of a mission and these past few months have been enlightening. He knows, for instance, that Josh is a thoughtful lover in bed, one that receives pleasure from giving it, but that his persona, Thomas, is more demanding. Josh is more eager to learn what makes his partner happy (and then improving on it with considerable gusto), than calling the shots. But Thomas likes control. Thomas likes rough shower sex in the morning and taking his husband doggy-style on the couch when it pleased him. Josh? Josh likes eye contact and linking their hands when he cums.
Just to name a few.
For a while, Alecto did nothing with this extra information. He imagined there was no real reason for him to get to know Josh at a deeper level lest things get...too personal. Yet here they were. Personal was putting it lightly.
Presently, he focuses on grabbing the base of the plug and plunging it in and out of himself, his eyes rolling back into his own skull with the ache of it all. He spreads his knees wider, leaning on just his shoulders and the side of his cheek as he continues to punish himself for Josh's delight.
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He steps forward and shifts up onto the bed, grabbing Alecto's wrists while he is pushing the plug into himself, right at the widest point, and starts to wrap the leather belt around them, drawing it tight without letting it dig into his skin. Alecto's skin is such a bright, lovely red, a spreading flush in the beautiful curve of his ass, his cheeks held apart by his spread legs and the handle of the plug.
"I want to hear you," he whispers, tucking the end of the belt through the buckle and tugging on Alecto's hands to make sure they are fastened securely. With casual ease, he loops the chain for the nipple rings up over Alecto's head so the links are draped over his shoulders, the trailing length centered between his shoulder blades. Everything is perfectly positioned for Josh to reach, to touch, to torture. He wraps one still gloved hand around the end of the chain and the leather of the belt tying his wrists together at the same time, blatantly ignoring the strain as the metal pulls taught, tugging hard on Alecto's nipples in an upward direction, the links digging into the skin of his shoulders, while his other hand strokes proprietarily over Alecto's ass, until he has wrapped his fingers around the base of the plug again. He fucks it into Alecto with deliberate force, once, twice, three times, before he yanks it out and tosses it aside, positioning himself there instead.
Alecto is still leaning forward on his knees, and Josh is kneeling up behind him on the bed. He takes his own cock in hand, slapping it lightly against the hot-flushed skin of Alecto's sore ass, before he slides it down against his perineum, and up between the crack of his ass, dragging the head against Alecto's slicked, gaping hole.
"You're so stretched for me, my pet," he murmurs, and there is awe and admiration and affection in his tone, impossible to keep out. "I can't wait to feel you around my cock. You'll squeeze tight for me, won't you pet? You can't wait to bring me pleasure?"
He slides just the head, just the tip, in past the barely-there resistance of the much-abused and already loosened ring of muscle, and then stops utterly still.
"Well?" He asks, his voice harsher, more demanding. "I'm waiting."
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