#nick squared

It wasn’t as if this was their first time being intimate. It wasn’t. At this point, maybe the novelty should have started wearing off, but every encounter still filled Nicholas with an awe and warmth that sparked a deep-gutted desire, one he swore he’d never be able to completely satiate. It made him hungry, aching with need, but he restrained himself; he was never desperate, never rushed, even if Folio usually asked for something almost-brutal and fast. Nicholas, of course, almost always denied him that because he knew Folio’d enjoy himself more if it was drawn out nearly to the point of torturous.

Getting Folio undressed never took much effort; the drummer always seemed ready to fuck, whether that be something quick and needy, or something slower and sweeter. He’d jump at the chance, make an excuse to leave any event if Nicholas gave him that look, and it never took much to make him eager and desperate. Nicholas’s favorite was to snag his fingers in one of Folio’s belt loops and tug — he’d all but trained Folio to damn-near salivate at the simple act.

Sometimes, though, it was something like this. 

(Nicholas could maybe be accused of theatrics. It was the artist in him. But it had been worth every single second of effort to make it to this point in time. He was just grateful that Folio was willing to indulge him in such things.)

Folio was on his back on the bed, eyes bright and face flushed as he stared up at Nicholas; he had been surprisingly quiet so far this evening, but Nicholas knew exactly what button to hit to change that. He could make the drummer vocal, pry noises from him so loud they reverberated off the walls, or he could reduce him to desperate whimpers and begging that all slurred together into a single breath. For now, though, the quiet gave Nicholas a chance to admire the way Folio looked.

It wasn’t their first time using rope, but the setup was more elaborate than it had been previously. Before, it had been wrists tied together or to the head of the bed, ankles held spread; this time, Folio was more restrained, and he was doing beautifully. His legs were secured to themselves, bent at the knees, calves to thighs with a series of knots. Nicholas had kept both legs spread but allowed Folio to plant his feet on the mattress in order to rock his hips desperately, if only because it was awfully endearing. Seeing the way his body begged for touch was as enticing as the words Folio managed to string together when he was pushed far enough.

There had been more hesitation around the arm ties, but he had agreed to try them. Elbows were bent, the rope keeping forearms to biceps, and his fingers occasionally twitched, seemingly with the urge to touch, but so far he hadn’t whined. The rope was something dark green and soft in a way that rope for this purpose tended to be, tied firmly enough to prevent movement but not enough to cut off circulation. Nicholas hoped that it was enough to leave marks — faint ones that would fade quickly, but marks nonetheless. He knew it’d be a beautiful sight.

Nicholas couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss to Folio’s sternum, mouth making its way up, up, up the column of his throat. Nicholas stopped just shy of Folio’s lips, pulling back to smile down at him. Speaking of beautiful sights. Folio certainly was one at the moment. He was flushed and panting, eyes starting to glaze over as he sank deeper, and he’d chewed his bottom lip raw as he’d forced himself to sit still for the process of being tied up in such a manner. 

“What?” Folio gasped, writhing a little, and it wasn’t a rude question, wasn’t sharp or demanding. It was breathless, shaky, uncertain. His eyes widened as he stared up at Nicholas, visibly trembling with need he had thus far refused to vocalize. It wouldn’t take much to change that, of course; it never did. Besides, Folio was always so well-behaved for Nicholas — if Nicholas wanted him to be vocal, he’d comply in earnest.

Finally, finally Nicholas placed his hand on Folio’s cock, earning a long, drawn-out sound. He’d ignored it completely until now, though his fingertips had wandered near it, along his upper things, the lines of his hips, the expanse of his waist above it. It twitched in his grasp as he stroked, fingers wrapped loose enough to almost be considered playful, and Nicholas considered what it would be like to fuck Folio like this. He bet, with all of the anticipation and build-up, he could make Folio cum untouched.

But that wasn’t the plan for tonight. For the first time with this particular configuration of rope, Nicholas was going to keep it simple, though the temptation was there to bury himself inside his now-squirming boyfriend. Nicholas leaned in and kissed Folio, slow and sweet despite the way Folio was whining and leaking all over his fingers every time Nicholas reached the tip of his cock. He took his time, kissing and kissing him until Folio was breathless, and then pulled back to smile down at him.

Nicholas’s words were soft, threaded through with sincerity and the faintest bit of awe. “You really are a good boy,” he told Folio, knowing from the first syllable the kind of reaction he’d get. It was damn near identical to what he’d envisioned but somehow that much more satisfying, that much more gratifying. Head tipped back and throat bared, Folio’s fingers curling into fists as he moaned loudly. He always responded so beautifully to praise.

Folio struggled to offer any sort of response as Nicholas’s mouth descended on his exposed neck. He could feel the younger man swallow beneath his lips, his tongue; he kept his teeth tucked away, not wanting to hurt Folio — just drive him to the point of mindless. Folio deserved it, those moments of bliss in the form of complete incoherency, and Nicholas loved that he could offer them, could quiet everything so Folio could just sink.

It was easy to ease him down now. Nicholas stroked him until Folio was thrusting up into his grip enough that all he had to do was hold his hand in place and let Folio fuck it, chasing his own pleasure as Nicholas’s lips trailed along his collarbone. He murmured against the skin as Folio fell apart, soft little bits of praise and encouragement, and then pulled back to watch Folio’s face as he moved his hand away abruptly. 

The tension that had built in Folio’s lower gut to the point that Nicholas had felt it increased and then loosened all at once; Folio groaned but knew better than to try to beg for more. He’d learned a while ago that asking for more this soon would only get him patient smiles and gentle reminders that Nicholas would make sure he felt amazing. (And Folio knew that, if he needed to, he could call it off at any moment. If it was too much, they’d stop.)

Nicholas tugged on the rope on one arm, took the time to check in and make sure Folio could still feel his fingertips, and then pressed one last kiss to Folio’s lips before turning his attention to Folio’s nipples. He fell apart so beautifully the second Nicholas got his teeth on them — they were the one part of the drummer’s body that always seemed to crave a harsh, painful approach, so Nicholas didn’t hold back. He did ease Folio into it, increasing the pressure of his teeth until he was biting so hard that Folio’s back arched up off of the mattress and he keened.

“N-Nick,” Folio managed to utter between gasps and moans, hips twitching uselessly. Nicholas made sure to brace himself in such a way that Folio couldn’t possibly get friction on his cock, and it was clearly frustrating Folio that satisfaction was so close but being withheld. As Nicholas continued to bite at his nipples, tongue flicking over the hardened buds to soothe them periodically, Folio started up a broken refrain of his name — Nick shifting into Nicholas, Nicholas, Nicholas as he grew more desperate.

Finally, Nicholas pulled away from the task at hand, more than a tad reluctant to abandon the pretty noises he was wringing from his progressively-fraying boyfriend but eager to see Folio’s face. And, fuck, wasn’t he a sight. “What is it?” he asked, as if he had no idea why Folio could possibly be chanting for his attention.

Folio’s head thumped against the pillow and his limbs visibly strained against the rope as he made a loud, frustrated noise. “Touch me,” he begged, desperate enough that his voice had taken on a slightly whiny tone. At the silence that followed his words, he opened his eyes and stared up at Nicholas. “Please.” When all Nicholas did was raise his eyebrows, Folio took a shaky, ragged breath and tried for a third time: “Please touch me, Nicholas, please, I want you to touch me, I need you to touch me, please let me cum, Nicholas, I’ve been so good for you, please.”

God, the way Folio would ramble when he got frantic enough, an incessant flowing of words that stumbled into and bumped against one another in their haste to leave his lips. Nicholas was tempted to keep him talking, to see how long it took for Folio’s brain to short-circuit and nothing to leave him but wordless noises, but he decided to be a bit kinder today. After all, Folio had been very well-behaved throughout the entire process — especially while being tied up, his ever-present energy contained enough to stay still for it all.

It meant a lot to Nicholas that Folio had indulged this desire of his, and he also wanted to see Folio fall apart with more urgency than he’d expected when this started. Maybe it was seeing the piece of artwork that Nicholas had helped tie Folio into, maybe it was how desperate his dewy brown eyes were as they blinked up at him, or maybe Nicholas had more of a soft spot for his boyfriend than he’d thought.

Regardless of why, Nicholas wrapped his fingers around Folio’s cock again, still hard and aching for him. “Do you want to cum for me, Nick?” he all but purred as he leaned down to kiss him again. He smiled against Folio’s parted lips, feeling his hot breath hit his face as Folio panted and nodded so quickly and repeatedly that it came off as mindless. “I want to hear you say it.” He couldn’t exactly cave completely at the first exceptionally pretty bit of begging, after all.

Folio whined low in his throat, thighs taking up a faint trembling from how tightly clenched the muscles were. “Can I cum, please? I want to cum for you, baby,” he pleaded, thrusting up as best he could into Nicholas’s fist again.

Nicholas hummed in a way that suggested he was considering, as if he hadn’t made up his mind already. “I think you’ve earned it,” he murmured against the corner of Folio’s jaw, “for being such a good boy for me. Cum, Nick.” The command left him with an unwavering firmness but was delivered with soft edges, and it was all that Folio needed before he came with a sound close to a wail, loud and uninhibited.

He painted such a beautiful picture. Nicholas milked him through it, admiring the sight below him — the rope, the sheen of sweat, the trembling of Folio’s body, the cum splattered across his still-taut stomach as evidence of how well Nicholas had taken him apart. It filled him with a swell of pride and a desire that Nicholas already knew he would be setting aside for the time being.

Untying Folio took less time than expected, or maybe Nicholas just lost himself in the task. Folio was clearly floating in the afterglow, still half-sunk, and he simply mumbled affirmatives when Nicholas checked in. “You did such a wonderful job,” Nicholas told him, and he offered praise repeatedly as he untied Folio completely. The rope was set aside and promptly (momentarily) forgotten about so Nicholas could trace the faint indents the ropes had left.

Then Nicholas gathered Folio in his arms, leaving the cum to dry into something sticky until Folio was more securely back in his body and settled into his limbs. He ignored his own erection, still present but not insistent enough to distract his efforts to soothe and comfort Folio. Nose tucked into Folio’s hair, Folio held as close as possible but in a grasp so gentle and careful, the two breathed together for a while in a comfortable silence.

“Are you feeling okay?” Nicholas asked for what was at least the fifth time since untying Folio, not too worried about being annoying in his insistent checking in. He doubted Folio remembered most of them, after all, though the drummer looked much more focused and present as he met Nicholas’s gaze now.

Folio gave a smile, warm despite the faint sleepiness dulling that near-blinding brightness that usually illuminated his features, and nodded. “Yeah, Nick, I’m good. I’m great.” He exhaled slowly, tucked his face into the crook of Nicholas’s neck and sagged against him. “Just really—“ A yawn, pressed into Nicholas’s skin. “—tired.”

Nicholas chuckled, stroked his fingers down Folio’s back. “You’re going to feel gross later if I don’t clean you up.” When all that argument got was a sleepy grunt from Folio, Nicholas rolled his eyes fondly. “Fine. You’ll complain when you wake up, but I know better than to try now. You’ll whine either way. Get some sleep, dearest.” He wouldn’t sleep, but just holding Folio in stillness was restful enough.