"You read my mind. And hey - if you want that work-out routine, I totally meant what I said about making you a big old grizzly bear. Right now you're kinda like...the baby bear that doesn't survive the winter because it was born just before hibernation."
"Wow, excuse you, I've survived plenty of harsh winters. I mean, emotionally speaking."
Rhys - a man who has been cold only once in his entire life - protests, before attempting the absolute least convincing sexy growl in the history of time.
Rhys doesn't actually fall, but he does slide down the wall a few inches when he's dropped. He tightens his legs a little more around the other man's waist, as his weight is suddenly divided between his legs and his one shackled wrist.
Then the growl-- rolls right out of Betelgeuse and hits Rhys bone deep, rattling right up his spine and setting all of the hairs on the back of his neck upright.
Said without hesitation. In fact, he's lifting his hand to begin unfastening his shirt.
"Should I be facing you for this? Facing away? Actually, do you wanna--?"
He leaves his shirt half unbuttoned, lifting his hand to hook his fingers through another of the shackles on the wall. How shackled should he be for this?
"I'm into whatever you're into." He decides after a second of contemplation, grinning when he realizes Rhys is as big of an attention whore as himself.
"You see me, Rhysball. That's enough to get me off."
"You sure? Because you should know that leaves you with a pretty long yes list." Rhys purrs, leaning forward so that the shackles tug a little at his wrists, "And does that mean you might take your shirt off for me one of these days?"
"Yes, and no, in that order." He says, pushing a hand to Rhys' back to guide him back to the wall.
"You don't wanna see that crap, Rhys, it's just death bullshit. I'm sensitive. Now hold still, I wanna see if I can do a perfect nine tail scratch out of your back here."
Rhys wants to argue that it can't be that bad, but then his chest is to the wall again and he knows, absently, that they could probably argue right the way through this flogging session and he'd be distracted from all the good bits.
So instead he shivers and wraps his hands around the chains on his wrists to brace a little,
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Rhys suggests, before shuddering as Betelgeuse kisses him in a way that really shouldn't be possible with a relatively human mouth,
"Only exercise I ever got was running away from people." He mumbles against the other man's mouth, "I bet you could run circles around me."
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Rhys - a man who has been cold only once in his entire life - protests, before attempting the absolute least convincing sexy growl in the history of time.
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"No - no, no, not like that. LIKE THIS."
He growls back, summoning the worst, gutterral noises from his stomach.
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Then the growl-- rolls right out of Betelgeuse and hits Rhys bone deep, rattling right up his spine and setting all of the hairs on the back of his neck upright.
"Okay, maybe you do get to be a bear."
He finally concedes.
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"Yeah, Rhys, I know. I was there when the terms were INVENTED."
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Rhys offers, reluctantly dropping his legs, one after the other, and releasing Betelgeuse back into the wild.
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"Holy shit. Can you say eBay?"
He says, bringing up a dusty old spiked collar.
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Rhys points out, amicably.
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"You don't really seem the type to go up against Mad Max-style hoards, kid."
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Pause.
Holds up a cat-o-nine-tails
"You know this comes standard with every medieval torture dungeon AND kink dungeon? We lived in the wrong generation, kid."
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He shifts to get a better look, wrist clinking in it's chain,
"You used one before?"
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He stands up with a groan.
"Whoa. Been crouched too long. Anyway! Yes, no?"
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Said without hesitation. In fact, he's lifting his hand to begin unfastening his shirt.
"Should I be facing you for this? Facing away? Actually, do you wanna--?"
He leaves his shirt half unbuttoned, lifting his hand to hook his fingers through another of the shackles on the wall. How shackled should he be for this?
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"Wow. Yeah, totally."
He makes his way over and chains up Rhys' other arm, giving him a smack on Rhys' butt as he does so.
"You have no idea what this is doing for me, Rhys."
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"This is what you're into, huh? I mean-- even in a no-lifelong-trauma context."
He gives a warm, pleased little shiver, shamelessly delighted by the fullness of the other man's attention.
"Shit, I should have taken my pants off--"
Before he nagged you to chain his second hand up for him. Just for the sake of all around better access.
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"You see me, Rhysball. That's enough to get me off."
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"You don't wanna see that crap, Rhys, it's just death bullshit. I'm sensitive. Now hold still, I wanna see if I can do a perfect nine tail scratch out of your back here."
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So instead he shivers and wraps his hands around the chains on his wrists to brace a little,
"Okay, gimmie your best shot."