Feather-light brushes that stroked over the tingling skin of his arms, under his jaw, behind his ear, over his inner thigh, circling a nipple.
A paintbrush. Quinn was touching him with a fucking paintbrush.
He heard a chuckle, and then more touches followed. Quinn kept alternating between using the bristles of his brush and his mouth, creating an easy pattern for August to predict as the torture carried on.
“I think I’ll use paint on you like this some day,” said Quinn, dragging the brush along the line of his Adonis belt, coming dangerously close to his cock. “Red just like the ropes, because the colour looks so pretty on you.”
“Fuck, Quinn—”
The brush touched the base of his cock and moved upward, creating a wet glide through all the precum. August knew what would follow because Quinn had been teaching him the pattern, but he still couldn’t quite believe it when something hot and flat traced the same path as the brush, lapping up the slick trail of precum in one slow stroke. It slid from base to tip, circling the sensitive ridge of his head with a teasing swirl that made his hips twitch involuntarily against the unyielding ropes binding his arms.
He couldn’t see Quinn, but he felt his presence; the faint rustle of movement, the humid puff of breath ghosting over his skin before his lips parted and he descended. Quinn’s mouth closed around the head of August’s cock, sucking gently at first, then drawing him deeper with a languid pull.
A low groan escaped August’s throat, his muscles straining against the restraints as pleasure bloomed, slow and deep in his stomach. Quinntook his time working him down his throat, like he was aware of how close August was to coming, and he was trying to avoid a premature end just to spite him.
The wet heat of Quinn’s mouth brought him to the brink of madness as it stretched around August’s girth, building suction gradually.
“Ohfuck. Green light—green light! Please go faster.”
Chuckling vibrations around his cock had August fighting the bonds and tossing his head, trying to cope with the rhythmic hollowing of cheeks that tugged at every nerve, while Quinn traced the pulsing veins with his tongue.
August’s balls drew tight, the slow drag pulling him toward release faster than he could brace for, even though it was all hefucking wanted.
Quinn hummed around him, bobbing shallowly, saliva mixing with precum to coat August’s cock in sticky wetness that made the glide frictionless. August’s fingers flexed uselessly, seeking purchase as his hips bucked, the restraints keeping him pinned while Quinn swallowed him to the base, throat relaxing to take him fully.
August didn’t have enough oxygen left in his lungs to scream. The pressure coiled unbearably, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his control finally snapped, and then he was coming in hot spurts down Quinn’s throat.
Quinn didn't move; he swallowed it all with steady pulls of his mouth, milking August dry as waves rippled through him, leaving him shuddering and spent.
Quinn finally released him with a soft pop and a laugh, lips brushing a final kiss to the softening tip before August felt hands at the back of his head.
“Not gonna lie, you almost drowned me.”
August joined in on the laughter as the blindfold slipped free, and cool air hit his eyes as his vision returned in a blur of bright light and Quinn's flushed face. He blinked when he realized that Quinn was kneeling between his spread thighs, naked. His hand was already wrapped around his cock, stroking with firm, deliberate twists.
Quinn’s dreamy gaze locked onto August’s as he pumped himself faster, thumb circling the head to spread the leaking precum. His free hand trailed over August’s chest, fingers digging into the red rope marks, then lower to splay across his abs.
August watched, chest heaving, as Quinn’s strokes quickened until his breath stuttered, his pulsing cock painting August’s abs in sticky lines that pooled in the dips of his muscles. Quinn groaned low, riding theaftershocks with a few final pumps, and then he sighed and pressed a kiss to August’s lips, fingers tracing lazy patterns through the mess on his skin.
“Ready to get out of those restraints?”
August had no answer for him. He wasn’t sure he would ever find the mental capacity to speak words again.
Quinn laughed and began untying him. The moment August’s arms were no longer bound to his thighs, Quinn made him lie down while he removed the rest. It took less time to get them off than it did to put them on. August tried to sit up so he could get a drink once they were gone, but Quinn was there before he could move, pushing him back onto the bed.
“Stay right there. Let me take care of you.”
That wasn’t how things were supposed to be between them, but one narrow-eyed look from Quinn had him relaxing back into the bed.
August lay motionless as Quinn pushed the ropes away to give them more room, and then he disappeared to the bathroom to get a wet cloth. It was…mildly awkward to be wiped down—not because it made him feel weak, but because he had never experienced it before.
“Damn, you might bruise a bit around the wrists, but maybe your teammates won’t notice?”
August had seen weirder shit than bruised wrists in the locker room, so he wasn’t worried about it.
Quinn helped him take a drink, and once all the blood was cleaned up, and August was left feeling boneless, Quinn stood at the edge of the bed and gazed down at him.
“What?” August asked, but he already knew what was coming. Quinn was making sure he was okay, and then he was going to leave, and August would be too damn shaky to chase him.
