well nonny, my brain immediately answered this question in a really sultry lapdance. all tease, full steam ahead. link tying rhett to a chair with his wrists bound in thick rope cuz he likes to be restrained, likes how the rope’s a little scratchy and a little too tight. link having him alone, all to himself in a low-light room with rhett’s favorite scented candles and low, pulsing music. the blinds down, of course. link keeping his azure eyes on rhett, dark like blue flames as he sways his hips, pitches his voice low and talks dirty to him. forcing rhett to watch his strip tease, the roll of his hips as he takes his sweet time unbuttoning his shirt, slipping his jeans down over his hips. and maybe he’s got some special panties on, panties rhett bought him, maybe they say something - a message just for rhett that rhett can read when link turns around and shows off that perfect ass. he takes his time working rhett up til he’s tenting in his boxers, rolling his hips desperately for some friction, dampening up the fabric with his swollen cockhead. and link’s inching closer and closer, slurring out words like, “eyes on me, baby. don’t look away.” hands in the air, hands on his chest, hands on his waist and hips and thighs, sweeping to cup his own junk through the panties and making rhett salivate. working rhett into a frenzy til he’s whimpering, straining so hard against the ropes that rhett’s wrists turn raw where it rubs him, rhett snarling, biting his teeth and barking when link dances in front of him, just out of reach. when link finally gets close enough to give him a lap dance, rhett’s dick is straight-up and pulsing, so close to coming just from the look in link’s eyes, the moves of his body and his deep southern drawl, “betcha want to touch yourself, dontcha? betcha want me to, dontcha?” and when link dances on him, he’s careful not to touch rhett, not at all. he hovers his lap above rhett’s dick, spreading his skinny thighs so wide he doesn’t even brush the side of rhett’s legs. rhett tries to buck up, tries to touch him, but link’s a massive tease. link stares down into his eyes, ghosts an almost-kiss on his beardy lips, swerving, grinding, so close but not close enough. rhett’s sweating hard and rolling his hips against nothing when link puts one finger under his chin and lifts his face up, looks deep into his eyes and whispers, “come,” and rhett does.
