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Sleep well, my love. You will need your strength, come morning.
Yusuf’s dreams are already lost to him as he wakes; Nicolò’s words of the previous night fill his mind in their place. Something is planned for him, and though Yusuf knows not what, he has great expectations. Nicolò would not have spoken in advance of any mere trifle, and Yusuf is eager to discover the secret.
He rolls his shoulders, and goes to draw in his arms from where he has flung them out across the pillow as he slept. They do not move from their respective spots, and he comes awake fully as he finds his wrists bound.
The gas-lamps in the room are lit and daylight seeps from behind the curtains, so Yusuf can see that his arms have been bound to the carved headboard of the bed with clever, tight knots. Nothing he cannot slip, but it is clear that he is not supposed to. Nicolò has been busy while Yusuf slept the dawn through. The rest of Yusuf’s body has been left alone, bare beneath their sheets as he ever would be, though his cock is beginning to take an interest in the proceedings.
“I appear to be ill-used,” he announces to the room with amusement.
“Ill-used, he says,” comes a languid drawl in answer. Yusuf tips his chin down to his breast to catch sight of Nicolò sprawled naked in an armchair, fingers playing with a small pile of shining metal on the narrow end-table beside him. Nicolò’s head is tilted back as if to address the ceiling, though Yusuf has all his attention and likely has since well before he awoke.
“I have suffered days of cruelty at his hands,” Nicolò continues in the same tone. “I have been beaten and bound, gagged and whipped, and he will complain of being ill-used.”
The game begins to take shape in Yusuf’s mind. He did all those things and more to Nicolò in the past week, that much is true enough. They both enjoyed those darkly pleasurable hours, making satisfying use of the bounds of their healing gift - mostly Nicolò’s. Yusuf wore the guise of Majid, bad-tempered and brutal, and Nicolò played as Mickey, irreverent and vicious. Mickey pretended to unfaithfulness and disrespect, and so Majid punished him for it, thoroughly, deservedly. This present predicament, then, is Mickey’s revenge.
Mickey, for so Nicolò is playing once more, looks across the room at Yusuf, his eyes cold. It is easy for Yusuf to give way to Majid’s character in return, for Nicolò would never look upon Yusuf so and mean it.
There is nothing quite like it, however, when they make excuses to share those looks regardless.
Mickey’s lip curls. “What have you to say for yourself?”
“Release me,” Majid demands, futilely; Mickey can have no intention of acquiescing so early. Majid has lost this round before he even began it, though Yusuf has no cause whatsoever for complaint.
“No. No, I do not think I will.”
Mickey rises from his armchair and crosses the room with all the composure of a prince in his own court, regardless of his unadorned nudity. Majid’s heart rises in his throat as Mickey approaches, and he jerks at his bonds to show protest as Mickey whips the sheets from his body. With Majid bared to him, Mickey mounts the bed, fluid as a dancer, then swings a leg across Majid’s hips to straddle him.
Mickey settles his full weight onto Majid, teasingly too high for his ass to touch Majid’s cock. Mickey’s toes curl where they sit alongside Majid’s thighs. Mickey drops something small and light to the mattress before his hands claim Majid’s chest, stroking indecently from shoulders to waist. Mickey’s thumbs circle his nipples until they peak, and he grins when Majid throws his head back in the pillows, teeth gritted.
“Wretched harlot - unhand me this instant.”
“Such unkind words,” Mickey chides, and his palms cover Majid’s pectorals, fingers fanning out to brush his collarbones. “Really, darling, you have been unspeakably cruel to me. Surely you cannot be surprised I have decided that you need a reminder.”
Majid takes the bait. “A reminder of what?”
Mickey clasps Majid’s face between his hands. “That you belong to me.”
He leans in close, hovering over Majid. “It is my turn to be cruel.”
“Oh, I am petrified,” Majid snarls, defiant. “Am I to fear a kitten trying to roar?”
“Cats have sharp claws.” Mickey sits upright and reaches for the things he brought with him. The fingernails of his other hand pinch Majid’s earlobe. “As you will find very shortly.”
He pushes Majid’s face to the side, forcing him to look away and to leave that ear in easy reach, exposed. For all Majid’s insults, Mickey is well strong enough to match him, and Majid is pinned down without leverage to resist.
As if his earlier gesture were not clue enough, the way Mickey leans down and breathes over Majid’s ear would give away his plans. Add to that the telltale metal items Mickey brought to the bed and his claims of possession, and Majid is unsurprised when Mickey’s fingers seize his lobe and the tip of a needle pricks it.
Mickey pushes the needle through steady and sure, and for an instant it does not hurt. Majid’s exhale catches only in the aftermath, the pain spreading sharp and aching at the same time. He shifts to relieve the feeling of pressure, making little headway with his outstretched arms bound and Mickey astride his waist.
The needle is drawn out as smoothly as it pierced him, and Mickey threads something into the hole with swift hands before it can heal, the little weight tugging at the raw wound. The dull throbbing in his ear grows for another few heartbeats as Majid’s flesh tries to eject the metal, before it yields and closes around it as any mortal man’s piercing would, given time.
He lets out a shuddering breath. Yusuf does not savor pain quite as Nicolò does when it is his turn to receive it; his satisfaction comes in this moment afterwards, the rush of being marked, being claimed, of having his husband’s touch left within his very skin. There is little they can do to bind themselves to each other physically, when neither tattoo nor scar will endure for more than a moment, but a careful piercing Yusuf will get to keep until that flesh takes another injury to heal from. His cock stirs with the thrill of it.
Of course, there is no reason Majid should let Mickey know any of that.
“What is this - a ring?” Majid turns his head to feel it better, the very faintest pull of gravity as the metal moves with him. “And a rather miserly one at that. Couldn’t afford anything with more heft, I suppose? Or perhaps your delicate hands are unaccustomed to the work required to lift anything larger.”
“Hm.” Mickey, his hands perfectly strong and capable, shoves Majid’s face to look in the opposite direction, his other ear now upright. Mickey holds him in place with rather more force than necessary, his point made over again. “If you are to insult me, my love, do try to make it relevant.”
“You are a godless whore who should be burned alive, would it not be more reward than punishment.”
Mickey laughs. “Much better.”
The second bite of the needle is just as quick as the first and before long Majid’s ear has undergone the same treatment as its predecessor. Mickey’s work is neat and balanced, a symmetrical pull of each ring’s weight as Majid turns his head back to the center to stare upright.
Mickey is grinning down at him with bright malice as he wipes his hands clean in the bedsheets. He looks like a fallen angel with his hair in soft waves around his face, porcelain skin, and utter sin in his eyes. Lust and wrath, to name just a few. “An excellent beginning,” Mickey declares, tossing the sheets aside. “But there is more of you to use.”
He slides his hands down Majid’s chest and thumbs his nipples, and the realization of what Mickey intends next shoots through Majid’s skin like warm lightning.
“You are depraved,” he growls, even as Mickey takes up his needle again, another silver ring with it. Majid’s heart beats faster and he can almost taste his own eagerness on his tongue.
“Very likely,” Mickey agrees, positioning his tools. “What then are you, who submits to me?”
The needle spears Majid’s nipple before he can reply. It feels colder and sharper, the pain clearer here; he groans behind his teeth as Mickey slides the needle out and the ring in. The second piercing is done before the first has quite finished healing, and the ache seems to shift from one side of his chest to the other like a cloud in a high wind. Mickey, cruel, twists the second in his fingers to draw out the process, and laughs when Majid snaps his teeth at him for it.
“It’s no fun for me if you enjoy it,” Mickey says, and flicks at the newest piercing with his nail so it stings. “Behave yourself.”
“What’s to enjoy? Your cat’s claws do little more than scratch me.”
“We shall see.”
Mickey takes up something larger from the bed, a long silver thread that rattles musically; when he brings it higher Majid can see it is a jeweler’s chain, fine yet strong. Clever clasps attach each end to his nipple rings, and then the cool weight of it pools across his sternum, sliding a little to fill the dip between his pectorals.
“Lovely,” Mickey coos, and stirs the chain with his finger. It tugs at the piercings and Majid’s cock thickens. With the pain absent now there is only pleasure, the constant weight on his chest a reminder of Mickey’s handiwork and Mickey himself temptation incarnate atop him. Majid’s hands strain at his bonds, eager to seize Mickey by the waist and feel his supple flesh against his palms. And then shift him a few inches lower so Majid’s cock may take its privilege of Mickey’s ass.
Mickey hooks his finger in the chain and jerks it sharply; Majid hisses, head thrown back. “I said to behave yourself. We have one more to go, darling.”
“One more?” Majid asks, for an instant unable to guess where Mickey means to put it, before Mickey’s hand wraps around his cock and strokes slowly from root to tip.
“You belong to me,” Mickey purrs wickedly. “I’m going to shove a ring through your pretty little cock, because I want to and it’s mine.” His thumb traces the head, fingernail finding the precise spot at the underside the needle will pierce. “What do you think of that?”
“I think you’re a filthy-”
“I don’t care,” Mickey says, and crawls sinuously backwards down Majid’s body until he is sitting on Majid’s knees and has Majid’s cock in front of him. He grips it firmly in one hand and takes up the needle with the other. Majid’s stomach seizes in anticipation. One more spearing to endure, a few seconds to heal, and then he will be thoroughly glad of it.
The needle bites tender flesh deep and with a greater pain than any other this morning. Majid barely feels the distinction of the needle coming free and the ring taking its place. His cock has gone soft in a rush and mocking laughter reaches his ears. His skin crawls terribly as it heals around the metal, and then all at once it is over, and he is lying gasping for breath with his cock being stroked by possessive fingers.
Arousal coils in his belly and begins to rise to meet that touch.
“Now, then, what to do with this?” Mickey murmurs, steadily drawing Majid’s cock harder and harder. “It seems a waste not to make use of it, and yet, you hardly deserve a reward for your treatment of me.”
“Do not pretend you haven’t already decided on your plans. Leave off the grandstanding, and get on with your pathetic attempts at punishing me.”
Mickey grins savagely at him, and releases his cock to slap against his belly. “Well, well. Since you are so eager, you may use it.”
“What do you-”
“I know what I want.” Mickey rocks upwards and stretches himself over Majid to reach something on the bedside table. “Yes, you can have the rest.”
He returns with a jar of thick, scented oil, and shoves Majid’s legs apart to make room for himself between them.
“I am going to fuck you,” Mickey declares, dipping two fingers together into the jar. “I am sure it will hurt, since you are so uptight and refuse to enjoy any of the more disreputable pleasures of life. All the better for me.”
Two fingers pushed into Majid’s ass at once does cause a little discomfort; he hisses through his teeth, overplaying it slightly so as to give more weight to Mickey’s allegation that he does not love getting fucked by his husband at every opportunity. “Damn you,” he snarls, hips pushing down into Mickey’s hand. “You selfish, miserable-”
“Yes, yes,” Mickey says idly, and with his other hand he tugs at the chain between Majid’s nipples as if it is a leash pulling him to heel. “I will remind you who lay here slumbering and let me bind him so sweetly, almost as if he was dreaming of it.” His fingers pump in and out of Majid’s ass with the smooth confidence of long familiarity. “Look how you were made to take a cock despite all your protests. It is fortunate for you that you are able to please me so well. I don’t know what I’d do with you if you didn’t.”
“Find some other plaything to entertain you, no doubt,” Majid grits out.
“True.” Mickey pulls his fingers free and lets Majid squirm around the slick emptiness. He is stretched enough, if barely so, but Mickey takes mercy on him and spreads more oil over his cock to ease the way. “But I don’t know where I’d find another plaything as versatile as you.”
“You flatter me,” Majid spits.
“For instance,” Mickey adds as if Majid had not spoken, and his hands shove under Majid’s thighs and heft them up from the bed. “It is not every one of my conquests who can suck his own cock.”
Oh. Oh. They have not done this for a long time, and with the piercing in… Majid tries not to let his mouth fall open in eagerness. “You dare-”
Mickey lifts Majid’s lower half up and over until his thighs are pressed to his sides and his calves are pinned beneath his outstretched arms. His cock hangs in the air just below his nipple chain; with effort, he could raise his head and lick at the pierced tip. A white bead of fluid already hangs from the ring, his body’s pleasure clear despite his voiced disagreement. Majid looks past it, between his spread legs, to glare at Mickey.
Mickey has positioned himself kneeling to match the elevated tilt of Majid’s hips. His cock is hard and thick, shining with oil, and he holds it just a hair away from Majid’s rim like a weapon. His other hand comes forward, sliding forcefully over Majid’s hair to cup the back of his head. “You shouldn’t have cut this,” he scolds, raking his fingernails across Majid’s scalp. “I cannot pull it at this length.”
“I am sorry to inconvenience you.”
“Not yet, you aren’t.”
Mickey fucks into Majid without another word, burying himself to the hilt in one swift stroke. Majid groans, the ache for a moment almost like being punched before it melts through him and transmutes into pleasure. Mickey rocks in deeper, pushing every last bit of his cock into Majid, his weight keeping Majid bent in half. Majid’s cock throbs at the sensation of being filled - finally after all the morning’s teasing - and juts stiffly towards his mouth, a thin stream of fluid now drooling from the tip and dripping from the piercing.
“Lovely,” Mickey compliments him, hips twitching. A red flush is spreading across Mickey’s cheekbones and down his chest, putting the lie to his cool detachment of manner. “You make an excellent cock-sheath. I’ll be here for some time, I think.”
Majid moans at the thought; he knows exactly how long Mickey can stay hard, keeping his cock warm in one end or the other of Majid’s body, when the mood strikes him. He goes to throw his head back into the pillow and is caught by Mickey’s hand.
“Ah-ah,” Mickey chides. “You aren’t getting out of this yet.”
Mickey pulls Majid’s head forward, lifting his shoulders off the bed, and holds him right before his cock, the ring actually brushing his lips. “Oh, I like that,” Mickey whispers gleefully. “I don’t think I need to warn you that this is one cock you won’t want to bite. Be good and put on a show for me, so I don’t have to find something more fun to do with you.”
“I shudder to think.” And Majid does, a little - it would be punishment now to be denied his own pierced cock in his mouth, after Mickey having promised it so enticingly.
Mickey’s eyes glitter like shards of broken glass as he pulls Majid forward the last inch.
Musk and metal flood Majid’s tongue. The silver ring catches behind his teeth and sends shudders down his cock. His lips feel hot where they close around the very end of his shaft, and his cock-head burns in his mouth. He licks at the piercing tentatively and feels the shape of it burst clear, feels the silver draw every sensation deep until he seems to be licking the inside of his cock.
His open-mouthed groan of pleasure is cut short by a long, brutal thrust from Mickey and a commanding shove of Majid’s head back down over his cock. “Why are you stopping? You do not have my permission to stop. You may not let up until we have both come. Perhaps not even then. I might like the sight of you overflowing with your own spend.”
Majid rolls his eyes, unsurprised that Mickey has found a way to make Majid’s release all to his benefit. He goes to call Mickey a selfish bastard and finds his tongue pinned down by his cock, the words slurred beyond recognition.
“Ahh, yes,” Mickey sighs. “I like you much better with your mouth full. Now, where were we?”
He rolls his broad shoulders back like a sportsman warming up for the hunt; Majid, bound and bent up and vulnerable, feels himself very much the prey.
Mickey’s thrusts begin slow and languid, unhurried, stoking his own pleasure. He draws his cock in and out of Majid’s ass, root to tip, only making Majid more aware of how thoroughly he is used. He is tight, almost painfully so, after how little Mickey bothered to work him open, and Mickey is not gentle despite his pace. There is no escape for Majid with Mickey so controlled, no blur of overwhelming sensation he can lose himself in. He must feel each and every thrust stroking deep, claiming him, coring him open. There is no softening of the growing strain of his position, of his outstretched, bound arms, muscles of his thighs stretched to their limit, his spine bent as sharply as it will go, twice over.
Mickey’s movements rock Majid’s cock in his mouth, back and forth over his tongue and through the circle of his lips. The piercing rubs at the roof of his mouth, ever-present, and he can taste his arousal dripping on his tongue. Majid sucks, just a little, and sends his head spinning. He sucks again, before he has even thought to, drawing more pleasure from himself.
The chain across his chest shifts with a particularly forceful thrust from Mickey, warm metal sliding down Majid’s sternum towards his belly. The weight tugs sharply at his pierced nipples and he groans, trying to move himself to relieve the pull of it. There is nowhere to go with his arms tied and Mickey holding him in place, hand behind his head and cock buried in his ass. Majid looks up at him, made helpless, and Mickey grins like a demon.
“Mine,” he gloats, his free hand twisting one of the earrings Majid had all-but forgotten by now. Mickey releases the earring only to slide a finger down the exposed underside of Majid’s cock, ending with a caress of Majid’s lips stretched around his shaft. “All mine.”
He sets that hand on Majid’s hip to hold him steady, and draws in a fortifying breath, eyes glowing with new resolve.
Mickey fucks him so hard and fast that Majid feels it in his fingertips, and has barely registered one thrust before the next follows. The build is sudden, powerful, Mickey’s cock impaling him again and again. Majid begins to slip into the haze of pleasure, the smack of Mickey’s hips against his ass, the bob of his own cock in his mouth, the now-constant serpentine movements of his nipple chain, his ass fucked open by Mickey’s cock. He’s barely sucking his own cock anymore, merely letting Mickey’s thrusts push it through his lips. Faster, and faster, Mickey’s every stroke striking sparks inside him until his body is filled with fire.
Majid drags his eyes upwards to see Mickey, his head thrown back, hair loose and disheveled, mouth open in delight, even now the hint of a laugh around his lips. His muscles are tensed with the effort of fucking Majid, a hint of sweat shining in the lines of his flushed skin. From this angle he is more commanding and imperious than ever, the master of Majid’s fate.
How Majid adores him.
Mickey tips his head down and catches Majid looking at him. His hand on Majid’s head holds him in place a little harder, and his other moves between them to stroke Majid’s shaft.
“Come on,” Mickey hisses, “fill up your mouth, spill all over yourself - then you’ll swallow it for me, yes-” His hand moves swiftly, grabbing the threads of Majid’s arousal and pulling them taut. The heel of his palm grinds into Majid’s balls as he goes, and his curled forefinger hits Majid’s lips with each pulse. He jerks Majid’s cock in time with his own thrusts, and the rising wave of pleasure surges higher with each one. Majid reaches for it, straining for relief, stimulation drowning him - he must overflow soon, he cannot contain it all-
“Do as you’re told,” Mickey snarls, and something clicks.
Majid spills like a tree cleaved by an axe, splitting apart all at once. The ecstasy of his release only heightens the shock of his own seed shooting into his mouth and sweetens the ache in his flesh. It is overpowering, pleasure flowing through his veins, and he lets it consume him gladly.
He emerges to the frantic thrusting of the cock in his ass and Mickey’s short, gasping breaths. Majid’s pleasure sharpens and seems to turn on him, almost too much, as Mickey fucks him still. Majid’s cock cannot soften under the onslaught, too stiff to slip from his mouth, and only growing stiffer as he cannot help sucking at himself. The piercing pulls behind his teeth and tugs at the head, a sudden burst of pleasure-pain. Mickey’s cock is a delightful torment, hot and claiming, Majid burning from being stretched so wide for so long. He cannot think any longer, only dissolve into sensation and await Mickey’s finish.
When Mickey spills, it is without warning, an abrupt flood of Majid’s insides with wet heat. Mickey grunts satisfaction and slows his hips, giving a few last, forceful thrusts as he softens, fucking his release into Majid. Majid thrills with it, ass clenching as if to pull it deeper.
Mickey gives a shuddering sigh and caresses Majid’s hip. “Do that again.”
Majid pushes his cock with his tongue until the tip is balanced on his lip, past his teeth. If he is careful, it will stay there as he speaks - “Do it yourself.”
Mickey laughs, and slaps the same spot he caressed; Majid jerks involuntarily, tensing - and Mickey sighs again, smugly, as Majid’s ass grips his cock.
“That was a dirty trick,” Majid mutters, relaxing.
“As was this.” Mickey takes Majid’s chin in a terribly tender hand, makes him open his mouth so his cock-head pushes back in, and closes it around the shaft again. Majid trembles with it, cock throbbing on his tongue, so glutted on pleasure that the thought of more is almost distressing. “I suppose you didn’t quite disobey me, so in all fairness I cannot punish you for it.”
Majid arches a skeptical eyebrow.
“No need to look like that,” Mickey says, flicking Majid’s brow with his fingernail. “I admit I am the last man to play fair, especially when you have done nothing to deserve it.”
Mickey grins as his next wicked idea occurs to him, and without moving from his position, reaches for something in the sheets. Majid’s eyes search without catching sight of it, but he can hear the sweet chime of yet more fine silver.
Yusuf is not in the least surprised by how thoroughly Nicolò has planned ahead to be so equipped even now.
A second fine chain, easily longer than the first upon his chest, is dangled before him. Even it cannot hide the width of Mickey’s grin, sharp as obsidian, as he attaches the first end to one of Majid’s nipple piercings. Crowded, Majid thinks, amused, before Mickey draws the other end of the chain towards his mouth.
Fingers pushing between Majid’s lips, Mickey threads the chain through his cock piercing before attaching it to his other nipple. “Now you may come down.”
Trepidation swirls in Majid’s chest as Mickey at last allows him to lower his head to the pillows, neck aching. “How long is that chain, precisely?”
“I didn’t bother to measure it,” Mickey says dismissively. “Let me know, when you find out, hm?”
He pulls his cock free with a single twitch, leaving Majid’s ass to gape and flutter around nothing, and then leans over to free Majid’s legs from where his arms hold them in place. Majid’s muscles are sore and almost cold with having spent so long motionless and strained, and he groans at the rush of returning blood as Mickey bends his legs at the knee and pulls them down.
The new chain drags across Majid’s belly and tugs at its three anchors as his hips lower to the mattress. He can feel himself tensing, trying to keep from finding its limit, but with his strength nearly spent he can only go where Mickey guides him. Lower, and lower, the chain seeming to draw tight…
“Perfect,” Mickey breathes, just as Majid comes to rest on the bed. His legs are sprawled to either side of Mickey, Mickey’s hands now braced on Majid’s thighs to hold him still. Majid’s erection has not softened, Mickey’s menace and the constant awareness of the piercings more than enough to maintain its interest. When Majid looks down at himself, he can see the long, v-shaped sweep of the new chain from his chest towards his upright cock, rising gracefully from his ribs to hang from the ring through the head. The weight is not enough to drag his cock down to his belly, but is plenty for him to feel it, a sense of pressure balanced by the strain of his cock towards the ceiling.
So long as he remains hard, he will not be troubled by the chain’s length. Should his cock soften, and fall to his thighs, however…
Mickey draws his finger up the length of Majid’s cock, balls to tip, and Majid trembles, his whole body overcome with the simple touch. “How lovely you are,” Mickey says, and sits back to slick his palm with the jar of oil. “Made for me to use just as I please.”
He wraps his hand around Majid’s length, and now Majid is free to arch backwards, hips driving up and head pushing into the pillows. The silver chains tinkle softly with his movement, filling his ears and giving proof to his adornment; Majid jerks his hips again to hear it more. Mickey chuckles, doubtless amused that he has not even moved his hand yet and has still reduced Majid to desperation.
“You love this,” he goads, voice liquid. “So strong and proud, aren’t you, all arrogance and anger - until I snap my fingers and you crumble.” His thumb presses at the slit of Majid’s cock where the ring emerges, and his other hand tweaks at the chain hanging above Majid’s belly. “You belong here, you know, beneath me for my amusement.”
Majid can only agree, thrusting up with abandon into Mickey’s grip. His feet slide in the bedsheets as he tries to gain leverage to control his hips and take more pleasure from Mickey’s hand. Each light brush of the swinging chain against his cock is maddening, and Mickey’s careful, calculated strokes headier still. Mickey’s eyes are as cold as sea ice as he works Majid’s cock, but the slick mess in Majid’s ass tells a different story. Majid clenches down to feel it again and lets it add to his arousal, wanting everything Mickey can give him.
“Hungry,” Mickey says, and squeezes Majid’s cock delicately. The feel of it pulls Majid’s eyelids closed. “Greedy, wanting to spill again. I shouldn’t let you. Once is more than you deserve.”
“Please-” Majid drives his hips up, trying to speed Mickey’s strokes. “Please, I want-”
“I don’t care what you want.” Mickey gives it to him all the same, tightening his fingers and quickening his pace. “But I want to see you make a mess all over my gifts.” His other hand cups Majid’s balls and rolls them. “You have more to give me, yet. Don’t try to hold back now.”
It is the furthest thought from Majid’s mind. The swirl of pleasurable touch is building upon much already laid, and his second release has never been far out of reach. It is easy to give himself over to Mickey and allow him to make Majid spill in whatever way pleases him most.
It pleases Mickey to toy with his craftsmanship, one hand a continuous pulse up and down Majid’s cock, the other exploring, tugging on one chain or the other, twisting his piercings, claiming Majid’s bare chest or arms or thighs for his own. Majid’s arousal grows more intense with each touch, like a watch being wound until it sings with tension - and must break sooner or later.
Mickey’s tongue sweeps hot and wet across the head of Majid’s cock, catching on the piercing and pressing the chain into his flesh. Majid cries out, back arched, arms straining at his bonds. The mattress shifts as Mickey crawls over him, one-handed, and bites the meat of Majid’s pectoral. Still stroking Majid’s cock all the while, Mickey moves further, taking an earring between his lips and sucking at it. Majid can feel the heat of Mickey’s skin, the fall of his hair against his face, his breath curling in his ear, and it is intoxicating.
Mickey smiles around his mouthful and releases it. “Close, are you?”
“I - yes,” Majid gasps. “Mickey-”
“You know I love hearing you beg, darling.”
He makes no decision, only obeys. “Please, please - I need you - a little more, please-”
“What do you want?”
A cruel question, when Majid has lost all coherence save the urgency Mickey is stoking in him. Mickey takes pity on him, shifting again until his open mouth kisses the base of Majid’s cock below his fingers. Majid cries out, Mickey’s hand and tongue together so much, heat and pressure and want-
He does not feel what changes, what carries him from not enough to too much, but he spills with a shout in Mickey’s grip. The rush through him overpowers everything, need resolving into relief and scouring the desperation from his veins. Majid is left with a soft glow, body easing into the sheets, pleasure settling lightly over him. He feels loose and satisfied, well-used and well-rewarded for it.
He feels his wrists come free from their bonds, one and then the other, and careful hands draw his arms down to rest by his sides. Awakened from his haze, he opens his eyes slowly, blinking a little at the brightness in the room. He finds Nicolò at once, smiling gently at him from between his legs. Nicolò’s arms are folded, elbows resting at the very tops of Yusuf’s thighs, chin leaned in one hand. He has also carefully laid Yusuf’s soft cock upon his belly, and not allowed the chain to pull tight, a consideration Mickey would not have given were he still playing with Majid. So gone is Mickey’s chill vengeance and dominance, without a trace - save for the silver still threaded into Yusuf’s body.
“You look beautiful,” Nicolò tells him. His expression shifts a fraction back towards lewd. “And as though you had a busy morning.”
“Whose fault is that, I wonder?” Yusuf smiles at him. “Well, I cannot fault your industry. I am keeping at least two of these rings, for a time.”
“Oh?” Nicolò’s smile lifts at the corner in return. “Which two, pray?”
“Those that others can see must go, before we leave this room,” Yusuf says regretfully, lifting one shoulder to indicate an earring. Nicolò nods; he knows the cautions they must take as well as Yusuf does. “Those that I can conceal may stay a while longer.”
“You mean these two, I presume.” Nicolò unfolds himself to rub his thumbs across Yusuf’s pierced nipples. Yusuf shudders, enjoying a lazy spark of arousal that drifts through the dark rather than catching flame.
“Yes, I have made my mind up on those.”
“And the fifth…?”
Yusuf grins up at Nicolò. “You went to such efforts to place it there, it would be a shame to remove it in haste.”
Nicolò grins back. “You delight in my labors, then?”
“Always, my love. Though I must say you outdid yourself today. It was a most delicious indulgence.”
“You deserve it.” Nicolò traces the path of the chain between Yusuf’s nipples, this time with reverence and not possession. “My Yusuf.”
Nicolò removes the chains from him carefully, placing them to one side in a shining heap. With his chest now infinitely more suitable to lie upon, Yusuf lifts his arms in invitation, and Nicolò comes to him at once. Their lips meet, more natural than breathing, the kiss light as a butterfly landing on a young leaf. Yusuf embraces Nicolò closely, one hand sliding into his hair, the other finding the supple curve of his ass.
Nicolò parts their mouths to lean their brows together, the tip of his nose rubbing gently across Yusuf’s. “I am so fortunate to have you,” he murmurs.
“Yes. Yes, I think you are. I am singularly handsome, highly learned, and fantastically wealthy. I own so many properties and investments I have forgotten half of them. I can fence, ride, paint, shoot, and dance with the best. I am kind and generous with those who earn my friendship, yet unforgiving of those who cross me. You have attained for yourself perhaps the most desirable husband in Europe. Indeed, there might be no man alive more fortunate than you.”
Nicolò snorts. “I hope that was not your idea of a romantic speech. It wasn’t, in the slightest.”
“I have had you to myself for seven hundred and fifty years. Have I any need of romance now?”
“Do you wish to have me for another seven hundred and fifty?”
Yusuf’s mood shifts. “Yes,” he promises in a whisper. “More than anything.”
Nicolò’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Then a touch of romance would not go amiss.”
Yusuf gives way to the surge of affection in his breast and kisses Nicolò again, deep and tender. One or the other of them rolls them over so that Nicolò lies beneath, and his hands may have their fill of Yusuf’s back and shoulders. How Yusuf loves this man - seven hundred and fifty decades would not run dry the well that is his heart.
Nicolò speaks when they break for air. “I think we should bathe for the day before going out. I would like to walk through the city gardens, and show off my handsome, learned, wealthy husband.”
“A sound plan,” Yusuf says wholeheartedly. “They should all know who has captured my affections. If only you could show off this morning’s handiwork as well, and let society marvel at how you have wrought my body for your pleasure.”
Nicolò’s fingers find a nipple ring and tweak it. “No. I shall be jealous, and keep these secrets for myself alone.”
“Likely for the best,” Yusuf admits, and then twists his hips downwards to rub his pierced cockhead against Nicolò’s broad thigh. “Especially this one-”
Nicolò laughs, and catches Yusuf behind the neck to draw him in for another kiss. Yusuf yields to him gladly, as he ever does, and hopes for seven hundred and fifty centuries together, just to begin with.