Page 19 of Love Language

It’s rougher than I expected.

Marco nodded, as if pleased. By his honesty?

This felt exactly like a scene, and yet not, at the same time.

I’m going to tie you up with it. So that you can’t move. Marco’s eyes were dark, commanding.

Greg’s heart stuttered. This felt like a scene.

Put that on the bed, then strip.

Greg felt awkward as he put the rope on the bed and began to pull off his T-shirt under Marco’s steady gaze. He knew that his belly bulged, that his pecs lacked definition. He turned and put it on the chair, hoping that it was the right thing to do.

He wanted to stay turned around, his back to Marco, as he slid off his pants. But he assumed that it wouldn’t be acceptable.

He turned back and began unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans.

Even though he didn’t look up, he could feel Marco’s eyes on him, burning into him.

He was on display. An object. At the command of Marco’s hungry desires. His embarrassment turned to helpless arousal, as it always did.

He could feel himself growing hard, which only made him more embarrassed. A terrible and thrilling cycle.

He let his pants and boxers drop to the floor in one practiced motion, then toed off his socks along with the rest of the fabric that pooled at his feet. There wasn’t really an elegant way to take off your pants, so this was the best he could do. He was glad that he still remembered the trick.

Now, though, he needed to pick them up. He wanted to bend forward, to hide himself.

But what would Marco like?

Turning first, he bent straight-legged to pick up the pile, knowing how he was exposing himself to Marco’s scrutiny. The Dom’s indrawn breath was a glorious reward.

He placed the clothing on the chair, not quite folded, but reasonably neat. Then, he got into position, feet evenly spaced, one hand clasping the other behind his back, head slightly down.

As he had expected, Marco strode up to inspect him.

He walked around him, then trailed a few fingers over Greg’s shoulder. Even that small stroke ricocheted through him. It had been so long since he’d been touched.

And not just touched, but in this delicious, impersonal way that said he was both objectified and treasured. A precious belonging.

Marco’s hands caressed his chest. His ass. His belly. His neck. His dick. His arms. There seemed to be no pattern to it, other than Marco’s own enjoyment. Greg quivered under his fingers.

Finally, Marco stood in front of him. Greg realized, with some far-off part of his brain, that Marco was much shorter than he was. Perhaps by five or six inches.

Yet he was utterly in command.

Kneel on the bed.

Greg obeyed. He tried to slink into bed, making a show of it, but he felt a bit silly. The smooth movements that he had perfected for Richard as a young man felt disingenuous now. Hopefully, his obedience would be enough.

He placed himself in position and waited, head tilted higher than normal so that he could see. Marco stood at the foot of the bed and looked him over.

Very good.

Greg’s heart swelled with the praise.

If you need to safeword, you can either sign red or yellow, or just shake your head no. I’m going to bind your hands in front of you, and I won’t constrain your head. No matter where I am, I should be able to see one or the other.

I understand.