#ejunkiet

Some notes from the wip:

It’s that image of Honey kissing Guy on the forehead and rubbing their noses together. And then it pulls back and you see Guy with a ball gag in his mouth and that he’s in an intricate shibari tie suspended from the ceiling

Honey is dressed like they just got off work and are rolling up their sleeves, unbuttoning the top button. mmmm yummy

Honey sitting at their desk, working dilligently on their laptop and ignoring the squirming, writhing guy who is whining as he hangs from the ceiling (there's a mirror within their eyesight that gives them a clear view of Guy so they can monitor him, and he knows that his nonverbal safeword is snapping two times for a check in and three times to stop completely)

what... what if i said cbt, and not my kind of cbt... giving Honey a riding crop in my mind and torturing Guy with it as a treat

I think Guy needs a cock ring on AT THE LEAST. I wouldn't be opposed to caging him too

Help what if Guy had a special collar or something? or would that cause issues with the ropes? food for thought

Another hum, before what few braincells haven’t been murked by Milo’s recent ten-hour shift hum feebly to life in an endeavour to give some sort of verbal response. “Yeah, probably,” he mumbles. He kisses their shoulder. “Why, that a problem? You not comfy? Want me to move?”

“Only for you.” They pat his arm tenderly, a fond smile blooming when he takes it as an invitation to draw them in closer. “My bad ol’ wolf needs a real sleep in a real bed, not a power nap bunched around me on our couch.”

Milo grumbles something into their sleep shirt. The words are completely lost, but the tone is obvious.

“If I phase out from under you right now, you’ll land on your pretty face, old man,” they reply. “And you’ll never get that Calvin Klein callback if you break your snoofly-sniffler.”

“My sniffler?” Milo echoes, sleepily incredulous.

“Mhm.”

“Old man?”

Got him.

They don’t phase, because they really don’t want him to shatter his nose on the floor. Total control over his reflexes, he most definitely does not have.

They do trail ahead of him like a sleepy-werewolf-honour guard, because his eyes keep fluttering shut and it would be a shame if he avoided the hardwood only to run into a side table.

It doesn’t take much to get him into bed. His shoes and jacket are already in their proper place by the front door; it’s a simple matter of work jeans off, work polo off, pull back the duvet, settle him on the pillow, and done.