(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It’s important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)
***I AM DEEPLY ASHAMED OF THIS CHAPTER AND I APOLOGIZE. UGH THIS IS AWFUL***
I could feel my briefs tightening around my boner. I didn’t know if he was ready to do anything just yet. I figured I might need to get him a little drunk before he’d let me use the cuffs. We finished the jay, listening to most of the playlist, including “Pillowtalk,” “Promise” by Ciara, and the Weeknd’s “Often.”
I snuffed the stub on the nightstand and climbed off the bed to open the tequila. I brought it over and poured two cups. He sat up and drank it ridiculously fast before asking for more. I figured I needed to catch up, so I tossed back the same amount and thought for sure I’d burned a hole in my esophagus. By my second round, I was getting lightheaded and my feet felt unsure beneath me. He kicked back a third, but I declined, not wanting to bring on a headache.
I sat the empty cups and bottle on the nightstand, straddling him as he laid back on the bed again. He grinded up into my boner, rubbing his hand down between my legs as I grunted.
“Fuck, babe…” I exhaled, chewing my lip. He squeezed my waist between his hands, shoving me down onto his bulge, bucking his hips so hard it make me hop up and down. Then he growled and sat up again, locking me onto his lap and ripping my shirt off.
“These are great nipples…” he said, staring at my chest, stoned out of his gourd. He bent and licked one and then dissolved into laughter. I laughed too, doubling over, following which we butted heads.
“Fuckkk…” he groaned, rubbing his forehead. I kissed it and mumbled I was sorry, then traced his swollen lips with my thumb before.
“You’re soh fuckin’ perfect…” I bent and kissed him. “Can I make love to youh now?” Suddenly he stood up, locking my legs around his waist.
“And who the fuck said you get to top?” he seethed. I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Huh?” he headbutted my chin, repeatedly and on purpose. I couldn’t respond for laughing so hard. I just blew a raspberry against his forehead until he laughed too. “Sexual” by Neiked came on and he danced around a little with me in his arms.
“Lay down, okay?” I whispered. He stopped and looked up at me, probably barely registering who I was. Eventually he set me onto my feet and I headed for my bag, unpacking everything and lining it up at my disposal like a mad surgeon; an inquisitor prepared to torture. Then I approached him in the fluttering candlelight, revealing two sets of handcuffs and a black blindfold.
“What the actual fuck…” he fretted, laid out atop the sheets as I instructed.
“Youh trust me?” He just nodded. I bent and pressed my lips to his, relishing the contact, then slipped the blind fold over his head. His breath quickened almost immediately. I took one wrist and hooked it to the bed and he panicked a little, tugging at the binding.
“We don’t need two. One’s good, right?”
“Noh, babe, it isn’t. It really isn’t.”
I walked around the bed and locked his other wrist with the second set of cuffs, then secured it to the bedframe. His hands were trembling. He was now well and truly at my disposal. It felt unsettling to have someone so utterly at my clemency, in such a dark room in the middle of nowhere. I felt wildly powerful.
DVSN’s “Too Deep” came on and I felt my dick twitch and tauten with the lyrics. He squirmed atop the mattress, leg bent at the knee and anxiously fanning, unknowingly inviting me into his hidden warmth. Unknowingly driving me batshit crazy. I took another shot of tequila and told my nerves to ante up. Then I moved back to the bed and unfastened the towel from around his waist, revealing his semi which was slowly sprung up towards his belly.
His skin seemed to scintillate in the candlelight. I traced his butterfly in a maddening, unhurried trek, during which he flinched and whimpered, fearful of what I might try next. It’s amazing how vulnerable a person could become once you disarmed them. Once they knew they couldn’t stop you, no matter how much they tried. And I was also amazed by how easily he had trusted me to do this. To reward him with pleasure so earthshattering he was willing to give up his freedom to receive it.
“Youh nervous?” came my quiet inquiry. He nodded, brow wrinkled. “It’s okay, baby.” I bent and kissed his lips for the hundredth time, unable to stop myself. “I’m gonna take care of youh. Youh know I am. I always do. M’tryin’ to get youh right, babe…” In a move that surprised even myself, I suddenly bit his earlobe and he gasped a little, tossing his head back onto the pillows. It seemed like an invitation to do more, so I bit his jaw and then his throat, leaving a mark.
“Fucks sake…” he hissed through the pain.
I looked at his bound hands and felt a coldness wash over me. How could he allow me to disarm him in this way? He always said that the sexiest thing anyone can do in the bedroom was to be vulnerable. Once you let your walls down, the possibilities were endless. Nothing felt repressed when I was with him. I could desire anything and freely tell him, and he would make it his business to make it happen. Like what was occurring right now. And I tried to reciprocate as best as I could, because I wanted him to leave the bed feeling taken care of in a way he couldn’t find anywhere else. That was what kept him coming back.
I continued to marvel at his body, unable to believe my luck. It felt as though I was hallucinating, stuck in an elaborate mirage fueled by boredom, hunger, and homesickness from this endless Paris trip. I listened to him breathe as I readied my other supplies, drinking it all in. Occasionally I turned back and soaked up every inch of the vision he created, like a biologist peering through a microscope.
He was uniquely beautiful and alluring in a way I couldn’t fathom. In the sense that every part of him was to be desired, from his elbows to kneecaps. From his writs to his ankles to his toes. In the sense that his imperfections made him inarguably perfect. The extra nipples, the rabbit teeth, the birthmark marring his right wrist. All theoretically imperfect in terms of traditional human biology, yet I’d kill him if he ever got rid of a single one.
All the other parts were just as they needed to be, and in just the right proportions. He was built different. A flawless and graceful figure. His thighs, his ass, his arms, his pecs, all without fault. I leaned over him again and it startled him. I kissed his belly, lips ghosting down his treasure trail to the base of his dick. I nuzzled it and he moaned without reserve, sinking into the mattress.
“Youh are soh fuckin’ perfect, Harry. M’losin’ my mind over here. What the fuck are youh doin’ to me?” It was accusatory I know, but he had no right being this fucking irresistible. It made my blood boil and I could feel my skin blistering from the inside out. I just had to get on with it already.
I grabbed the warming lube and a cockring and sat on my legs in the center of the bed, stroking the inside of his spread thighs. It was my favorite thing to do, ever since I’d discovered it was one of the most sensitive parts of his body and drove him mad without fail. His parted mouth let out hitched breaths beneath the blindfold. I could read the confusion on his face as he tried to sense my every move. I drizzled lube all over, taking my time in massaging it around his hardening length, then sliding the ring into place.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait….” he panted.
“You’re okay, babe. It’s okay.” Something scolded me that I needed to capture this moment for the rest of my life. I had untold digital hordes of Harry Styles photos. A disturbing museum buried deep in the locked chambers of my phone. Only capable of being opened by my lead fingerprint. Without doubt, it was some of the most sought after and extremely valued footage in the world.
We were both art connoisseurs in our own rights, but I was also obsessed with his body and liked to collect these strange gems at every opportunity I could. Whether he was awake or asleep, it didn’t matter. It was all precious to me. Him climbing dripping wet out of the shower. Him sitting and playing guitar. And dozens of the headless videos he had sent me since we were 18. I was probably sitting on millions of dollars’ worth of footage in this phone alone (decamillions) and if the world ever found out about it, they’d rip me apart. But there was something sickeningly sweet in the prospect of knowing how much everyone desired him, but I was the only man on the planet he’d allowed to see him like this. And I wouldn’t change that fact for all the money in the world.
I got up and grabbed my phone, snapping over a dozen shots of his flushed body at all angles. Something about the bindings and the blindfold put a knot in my stomach that wouldn’t unwind for days to come.
“Z…” he groaned, more than prepared to get on with it. “At least give me something to drink.” I gave him a sip of wine directly from the bottle and he expressed his thanks. On the second go ’round I poured way too much and he snapped his mouth shut, turning his head aside. I laughed my ass off as he cursed me, before licking the access off his cheek, and dabbing the rest up with the sheet.
“Can I have a kiss?” he pleaded. I sat beside him and straddled his chest with my hands, staring at his puffy mouth. “Kiss me,” he begged. I gifted him a little peck, but he wanted far more. He presented his tongue for the taking and I was too much of a mess to resist it. I humored it a while, kissing him deeply until I felt he was thoroughly turned on. Then I abruptly broke the kiss and used the vibrator remote to startle him. The cockring pulsated around the base of his dick and he bit his lip, twisting his legs about in gratification. I watched in a morbid fascination before hitting the button repeatedly, rocking his body with tons of successive shockwaves.
“Can’t….take…anymore…” he shuddered, as if he’d been tased.
He was rock hard and bobbing about as he moved, but I didn’t stop there. I grabbed the silicon plug and set it beside him without saying a word. Then I slid a pillow under his hips, and lubed up my two longest fingers. They were trembling. I inserted them slowly, causing him to exhale and sit down onto my hand. I wiggled them in and out until he moaned with abandon, losing every ounce of composure he once maintained.
I heard the cuffs clanking against the bedframe and it drove me insane. It all felt very dark ages, especially with the fragranced firelight filling the room. I could feel my dick leaking. Now I lubed up the plug and slowly inserted the tip in the place of my fingers. He panicked.
“Woah, woah, woah…” he rasped. “What the fuck is that??”
“Guess youh’ll find out.” I said. “Relax babe…”
“Is it cold or something?”
“No, no…just weird.”
“Don’t act like we haven’t done it before…”
“But never cuffed, and never blindfolded. You could be sticking anything into me and I’d never know…”
“But it’s gonna feel amazing, trust me.” I reinserted my fingers to massage him into submission, playing while his puckering hole on the way in. He melted around my familiar touch, unclenching and letting his legs go limp. His breathless moans were beginning to drive me up the wall. It was all I wanted to hear. I shoved my fingers deeper and deeper in hopes of making him cry out louder. My breath fell into rhythm with his, just as labored, just as strangled. I wanted to get inside and pound him until I exploded, but knew I needed to make this worth his while first.
After a few more aborted tries, I was finally able to successfully insert the plug, all the way down to the base. He relaxed and tried to explain in confused and muttering terms how good it felt. How tight and full he felt. For added shock value, I hit the button on the remote and he nearly jumped through the roof with the combined sensations of both toys.
My hands were a slippery mess by the time I had finished. I wiped them on the sheets before getting up to grab my cigarettes. He squirmed in place, gasping whenever I surprised him with unpredictable pulsations.
“Z?” he whimpered, as I’d gotten too quiet and he couldn’t sense me anymore. I sat in the chair beside the window and enjoyed a few puffs, watching him search for me through the cloth covering his eyes. Then he extended his legs and tried to feel for me with his outstretched toes.
“Z?!” He panicked. “Please…” He unsure of what he was even asking for, but I knew. Occasionally he twisted so much that he turned onto his side, and all I cold see was the black plug hanging out of his ass and his ropy spine. His outstretched arms made his ribs protrude, and all I could think of was his beating heart.
“Z? What’s happening?” More silence. He lifted his head off the mattress, trying to catch any sound he could. “Z?! Answer me!” he shouted. I walked over to the door, then opened and shut it to make him think I’d left.
“Zayn?!” he panicked. “Zaynnnn!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, probably imagining I was halfway down the road by now. “No, no, no, no no! Don’t fucking do this to me! Please…don’t fucking leave me like this…” he cried breathlessly, already giving up.
I laughed uncontrollably and he cursed me when he realized I never left, spitting angrily in my direction. “Fuck you! I can’t fucking believe you did that!” Eventually he couldn’t hold back a laugh. “For fucks sakkkeee! Mate, I was soooo scared. You’re an asshole for that!” I thumped my ashes off onto his belly and watched them break apart. He felt it atop his skin and called me an asshole again.
“Would you just say something please?! You’re really freaking me out, Z…” I grinned to myself, butting the cigarette on the nightstand. “I’m scared. You’re not acting like yourself.”
“It’s okay baby,” I replied, laying half atop him and kissing his ear.
“You gotta talk to me…”
“It’s okay…I’m gonna take care of youh…” My voice was barely audible, but he could understand my faintest utterance. It was a method of communication we had developed after so many years spent together on the road, and with so many stoned nights. “Not gonna let anything happen to youh…”
I kneeled on the bed and popped the lube open, drizzling it all over his cock; massaging his rigid heat in my hand. He spread his legs for more, careful of the plug. Then, without warning, I pressed the remote again, for so long he clenched his teeth shouted, riding the wave until it ended. Rocking his hips to settle into the alarming sensations overcoming him.
“I fucking hate you!” He cursed me, but I just squeezed his shaft, licking the tip of his head in a torturously slow swirl.
“Imma get youh right babe…” I said between licks. “Just wait…” Now I drizzled honey onto his nipples and sucked them until he was practically screaming. His back arched and he called out my name repeatedly, but I just kept sucking until they grew raw and achy.
When he grew overly boisterous, calling out my name with far too much clarity for these thin walls, I grabbed the duct tape and placed it over his mouth. Now I took my briefs off and pulled at my cock, absurdly turned on by the sight he presented. Gagged and bound. Calling out my name like he never had before; angry about the abrupt end to the nipple play.
I lay down at his waist and finally took him into my mouth. He hissed, startled by the fiery sheath, doing all he could to meet me halfway. His massive cock slipped up and down my drooling tongue, making me salivate like a starved canine. I carefully removed the plug and he came quaveringly, all over my hand.
I didn’t stop there. I was back inside with a few lubed fingers, dragging them in and out of his freshly stretched hole until he couldn’t stand it. Circling his prostate with my middle finger like trigger. Milky fluid started to pool down the tip of his penis, and I watched in awe because I was just getting started. I climbed up onto my knees, drizzling my aching cock with lube and slid inside as seamlessly as a breath. I removed the tape from his mouth because he looked about ready to pass out.
“You’re so deep…” he whispered drunkenly. “You’re so fucking deep…” That was all the encouragement I needed. I pounded him until I felt the reverberation rip through me as our bodies crashed. Shockwaves that rattled my nervous system and made him tear up. He came back to life at my urging, slinging his leg up over my shoulder; sighing my name; asking me to go faster and harder.
I tossed my head back and glimpsed our chaos in the overhead mirror. We were surrounded by a dark, transgressive haze. Like the climax of a narcotic nightmare. It made my heart grim with fear. We looked outlandish, like two grappling apes. Like nothing I had ever seen before. My eyes looked primitive and drugged.
I thanked the powers that be that no one was around to see us like this. It was utterly our secret, one we would take to the grave or die trying. All the shameless imagery. All the dazed and embarrassing exclamations. All the weird sounds and smells. All the twisted power dynamics. All the unconventional fantasies lived out between any sheets we came in contact with. It was ours alone. His and mine. He and I. He and I.
I slowed my thrusts to a measured grind to savor every atom of him. Every textured inch of his gloriously crafted sphincter. I stared at myself in the overhead mirror a while longer, until the friction reduced me to shudders and my pupils rolled into the back of my head.
What To Expect Next:
– As you have probably guessed by now, this situation won’t end well, and the Paris trip will have repercussions on their relationship for years to come.
– Headed back into 2013 in the next chapters!