“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Chris moaned, jerking their dicks together.
“You’re not to come yet,” Marc commanded.
“Why?” he whimpered, more than ready to go.
“Because.” The bassist scooted back.
Torn between kicking him or wanking himself to grasp that release he had been denied twice, Chris rubbed his face.
“What is it?” he asked, even more annoyed when he saw his friend looking down as if there was something super interesting on the floor.
“You have lube?”
Of course. He hadn’t stayed at the Zimmer’s, like he always did whenever he came to Hamburg, for a reason. “Yeah, in the bathroom.”
“Be right back.”
Butt-naked, Marc jumped off the bed, leaving Chris alone in the room with a rampant heart and a throbbing dick. However painful this edging was, the guitarist was feasting on the anticipation itching under his skin. There was something delicious in the way all his senses were heightened and pushed to the precipice, but never allowed to fall.
A few seconds passed and Marc returned, but instead of crawling into bed with him, he crouched down to where they had left a mess of clothes on the floor.
“What are you doing?” Chris grumbled without even trying to get up.
“Getting… this.” He showed him the suspenders he was wearing before.
His brow furrowed. “The fuck is that for?”
“To tie you up.”
“What?”
Marc got onto the mattress and straddled Chris again, dropping the bottle of lube beside them. “Give me your hands.”
The guitarist stared at him, mouth agape.
“We don’t have to do this if it’s too much for you, but—”
“It’s just…” Chris swallowed, gaze flicking down for a moment as he reclined on his elbows. “I’ve never been restrained before.”
Marc offered a naughty grin. “I figured. You’ve never been the submissive type.”
“You really are forcing me out of my shell, huh?”
The bassist shook his head, propping on his fists as he kissed Chris on the lips. “Am I going to dominate you? Absolutely,” he rasped, the cadence of his words slower than normal as his pupils blew up. “But whether or not I tie you is up to you. Unless you give me free rein, I’m never gonna get out of your comfort zone. I make the rules, but you’re the one in control.”
Chris swallowed. His entire being was set aflame. He was nervous, afraid to grant someone too much power over his body and mind. But it was Marc. He knew his limits and would never betray him. Not with this, at least—yeah, still bitter.
The guitarist sucked in a deep breath as he lay down again, and turned his wrists up, offering them to his friend. “Do it.”
Marc motioned for Chris to bring his arms together in front of his chest and wrapped his wrists, crossing and looping the elastic through itself. Doing this with a proper rope would probably be better, but eh, this was all they had, and it was looking sexy as hell.
Maybe it was the sensation of knowing he couldn’t escape, or the man kneeling between his thighs in all his searing glory, with his dick at full-mast and those veiny forearms and hands working on him, but Chris was so into this.
Once he was done, the bassist brushed a finger over the tip of Chris’s cock, pulling on the piercing as he tilted his head. “So fucking beautiful.”
The touch and praise made Chris squirm. “Fuck… That feels good.”
Without uttering another word, Marc squirted some lube on his palm and began working on the guitarist. He stroked his swollen dick, giving it gentle tugs as his other hand cupped his balls. Slowly, he rolled into a quicker pace, and something snaked inside of Chris, awakening as the endorphins crept into his brain.
