[ nice space, nice painting. wash knows mostly by context through looking through felix's cam logs that the painting is likely by ephemera. he looks content enough with the dungeon's space when they get there -- it's always interesting to see what someone chooses to keep in their sex dungeon. tells you a lot about people, for obvious reasons.
he'll wait for crais' go-ahead before he starts looking through some of the shelves. what he's looking for is the old standby: rope, good rope, and lots of it. blindfolds, gags, maybe some carabiners, looking to see if there's an appropriate ceiling-or-frame hook installed anywhere for suspension work. he isn't taking anything out, yet, just taking stock for now. ]
Then we'll figure some of that out together.
[ a thoughtful hum. ]
And if we wanted to push your response to temperature. Do you have anything for that here?
[ It is their space but stocking and setup are largely the result of Cyram and he doesn't fool around - he's an invincible immortal who plays hard and sometimes plays with similar people. If there's anything down here missing, it would surprise both of them. Some of it doesn't even look sane at first blush, Crais is pretty sure. Good first aid and medical supplies, too. ]
Rope should be in the third drawer on the level. As for temperature, yes. But I don't know what sort of playing with it you mean. There's a thermostat, refrigerator, and all manner of things that get hot or warm.
[ plenty to work with, he hums with quiet approval as he looks through everything -- and he pulls out a length of rope. mostly just to test it, winding it slightly between his hands, tugging at it to test the strength. not that he doubts crais and cyram would stock anything subpar, but wash is clearly the kind of of man with a meticulous attention to detail. this isn't his space, and so he'll verify things himself. he seems pleased enough with it, and later he'll start laying out exactly what he needs, maybe on that desk, maybe a different part of the space that's suitable.
a few moments is enough for him to verify that he's satisfied with the rope. ]
That'll do.
There's a few more things I want to know, but. [ its things he can ask and clarify while having a little fun with it. he ends up by the thermostat, turning around to face him, taking a few moments to regard him carefully. there is a certain intensity in his gaze, even more than usual, like he's drinking in every single detail, every breath, every slight movement or shift in crais' frame. he gestures him closer with a tip of his head. ] If you're ready and don't have anymore questions for me, you can just give me your safeword.
[ He leans a shoulder against a wall and watches Wash moving around the space and the deliberation of him watching and checking things. It's a good thing, though he's still on edge enough that just being in this space isn't altering his mental state quite as much as it would otherwise.
Look, associations are strong but also Wash is new and relatively unknown to Crais.
The thermostat's a promising thing to be spending time with, though.
He stays put when gestured closer, but it isn't defiance it's a deliberate 'just a second'. ]
[ he can tell that crais is a little on edge, he won't pry. presumably being on edge is part of why they're doing this to begin with. he merely observes, notes how he acts and moves -- nods briefly, just in acknowledgment. a fair question. ]
We don't have to. [ its not something wash will require of him, at least this time. the power exchange itself is enough. if crais wants sex, of course, that's a different matter -- and he pauses for a moment, considering. eyeing him carefully, again. tracing mental ropes across his body. what would he like to do? ] But I've a mind to push you to exhaustion, Crais. In every sense of the word.
[ maybe he won't fuck him, unless crais specifically wants it. but he wants to push him to exhaustion, to overwhelm, and pleasure is one avenue he wouldn't leave unexplored. they haven't started anything yet, crais hasn't given him a safeword, and so it's a statement of intent rather than a demand; the power exchange itself is more than appealing enough that he'd be content with that. but for as infuriatingly unflappable and put-together as crais is, there is something terribly appealing to him about the idea of really being able to find the right kind of pleasure to make him squirm. ]
[ Crais can feel the weight of Wash's gaze like a physical thing. It, as much as Wash's words start something shifting a little behind his eyes. Relaxing and starting to come off the edge of wariness.
Which, yeah, is part of why he is absolutely onboard for this. He wants to learn more about Washington, yes, but also the slight edge of not quite trusting him adds something to it.
He nods slightly when Wash is finished speaking, laces his fingers together and stretches his arms above his head and his entire body out with that stretch. Then drops his arms and settles into a much looser posture. ]
My safeword is mango. If I am overly slow to respond and you need that response call me Bialar. Don't overuse that, it will throw me out if I'm not fairly far gone mentally.
[ wash is, clearly, ready. he watches crais with that same focused intensity as he stretches and moves, nodding. mango. nice and easy to remember. use bialar if he's too unresponsive, but only if needed. crais grins at him, says lets play, and wash take sit as at least a little bit of a challenge. he doesn't quite grin back, but there is a moment, the corner of his mouth quirking upward in something closer to a smirk. ]
Lets.
[ the words fall from his mouth and wash is moving in, sudden, precise, like a predator lying in wait who saw his moment to strike -- somehow, he moves and acts like a soldier, even here. his fingers twist in the front of his shirt, dragging him forcibly closer until he can lean down and catch his mouth with his own in a harsh, bruising kiss. it's rough, demanding, something almost possessive in it, harsh enough to draw blood and for wash to learn first-hand if his would taste like human blood. but for all the time they've spent laying ground work, it does seem almost terribly conventional.
if crais isn't too distracted, though, he might notice what wash is doing. one hand to keep him close-- his other hand on the controls of the thermostat on the wall behind him. he's turning it up, little by little at a perfectly steady rate. he hauls him close, lifting him to his toes, presses their chests against each other until he can feel his heartbeat. that intensity in his gaze and movement carries here, too -- taking in every detail, even here, mapping him out with his teeth and tongue as much as he would with his mouth and hands. why ask where to draw the limit when he can feel it, instead, learn for himself what it does to crais' body?
[ It isn't the smoothest transition by Crais - but that has more to do with his brain than anything to do with Washington - and it sure as hell isn't bad.
He lifts one hand and catches himself against Washington's shoulder when he's hauled forward. There's no bracing or pushing back, just his hand coming up instinctively and a moment or two of his fingers curling down and gripping with some pressure. Holding on.
Then his attention almost perceptibly shifts to the kiss. He goes from a sort of blunt force return of it in the initial moments to something that's more yielding and meeting the demand, bending a little into it. It's matched almost exactly by his grip on Washington loosening, and changes from holding on to just touching.
He knows the other hand is absent and while he doesn't know why immediately he becomes aware that the room is warming up. He realizes it's not just arousal making him feel warmer and a little fuzzy headed when he sways forward just a bit and sweat breaks out at the back of his neck and on his temples. Sweat is obvious but that sway is his motor control trying to break down.
And his pulse kicking up is definitely the result of adrenaline. It's kind of like oxygen deprivation. Instinctively his body just does not like the conditions. Mentally? His cock against Wash just gets a little harder.
Doesn't even try to break the kiss, though the sound he makes it into it has the slightest edge of a growl. Look he did say it could make him kind of cranky. It does.
...still leans (emotionally and mentally as well as physically) into the person he's choosing to do it with, though.]
[ wash sinks into it. takes control as crais yields it. he lets it ease from something just raw and aggressive to something a little more languid, but just as possessive. there is precision and calculation to his movements even here -- he's making sure crais gets enough chance to breathe, but not that much, just enough. he notes everything: the sweat starting to bead across his skin, the way he can feel crais' heat rate start to race against his chest, and of course, crais' growing arousal, his cock hardening as he presses against him.
he feels that shift in him when he starts to almost sway, like he's teetering, starting to shift off balance. and wash remembers (of course) what crais had told him about the effects: motor control being affected. push too far and he gets catatonic. he shifts slightly against him, untwists his grip from the front of his shirt, his hand sliding down to crais' side so that he can haul crais closer against him, to better support him in case he falls.
because he does keep pushing. still increasing that heat steadily. and he only stops when crais actually starts to buckle enough to break away from their kiss, and immediately wash is catching him, keeping him upright. he gives him a second or two to steady himself, lifting a hand to cradle his cheek against his palm, tipping his head back enough that he can look him fully in the eye. taking in a quick assessment of his condition, even as he sweeps his thumb over his lower lip. ]
What's your safe word?
[ just going to make sure that you can still do that. ]
It's not just that his nervous system is, pun intended, melting down, or that he's turned on and a little dizzy from carefully controlled oxygen intake. It's that he's being pushed and Wash is using controlled affection and ...checking in and on Crais.
All of those things are an enormous, enormous turn on.
He's flushed, pupils dilated and a little glassy eyed, both from arousal and some fairly minor (comparatively) affects of the (relatively mild, really) neurological impacts from the heat.
And also, you know, an altered mental state commonly referred to as subspace.
He blinks twice to make his eyes focus but his voice is maybe a little soft edged, but confident and sure.]
Mango. I'm good.
[ He wouldn't be interested, or willing, to fake that just to push something further, but he is being aided here - he's got enough experience to recognize a checkin and to respond to it clearly and honestly.]
[ even when crais answers him he doesn't take it as face value, clearly watching him, listening for any slurring or any inability to form his words, watching his eyes. he is definitely a little glassy-eyed, but there is a confidence to his tone. he watches him take a breath or two before he seems satisfied, leaning down again to nip sharply at his lower lip with his teeth. ]
Good.
[ and he punctuates it with his hand sliding down between them, rolling his palm over the bulge of crais' cock through his clothing.
maybe in the future he'd be more willing to push that even further, but leaving crais unable to coherently speak would be an issue until wash knows him well enough to read the subtleties of his condition. he might learn quickly, but he won't make assumptions -- for now he expects that crais will remain coherent. he can feel how much crais is wavering and how much he's relying on his support to stand as he holds him, and he gauges that he'll stay upright on his own. for a while. and then he might not.
which makes it, of course, entirely pragmatic for wash to force him down to his knees, easily and smoothly with precisely applied pressure with one hand against his upper back. that same hand slides up -- a little careful around those scars at the back of his neck, just skipping over the deep scar at the center -- and then moving up to tangle his fingers through his hair, tugging, pulling his face against his thigh. ]
There's a few more things I need to prepare. [ namely, he's identified that there's good rope. but it shouldn't be too surprising that wash is the type who knows exactly what he wants to do, exactly what he needs, and wants it all laid out and on-hand and ready. ] By the time I've everything I need, I want you to be undressed and ready for me. Don't make a mess.
[ fully undressed and back on his knees and without clothes strewn everywhere, please and thank you. wash expects that it will take a little while for that heat to fully settle in, that it'll probably uptick a bit more from what crais is feeling now. it is very much a direction and also a bit of a test for wash to gauge if his coordination is affected enough for just undressing to be difficult. he'll wait for crais to acknowledge his directions before he'll pull away, turning to leave him to it as he retrieves everything he needs. no browsing, either, its like he already knows how much he wants and where it all is, like he's formulated a very precise plan already. because he has. ]
Edited (couple of typos!!!) 2022-02-16 15:28 (UTC)
[ Crais is pretty damn easy to get onto his knees, especially after the press of Wash's palm against his cock. That makes him, combined with the heat, dizzy enough that getting down to a more stable position is a bit of a relief.
He growls a little in an inarticulate warning at the skim of Wash's fingers over the back of his neck, but settles out of it almost immediately - because Wash doesn't linger and because he likes his face in against Washington's thigh, thanks. He has a better than human sense of smell, and better sight (and hearing); the combination of darkness and scent of the person he's playing with are both erotic and strangely... reassuring?
Good enough. Wash moving away he likes less, but recognizes it's necessary. He can't get undressed while in physical contact with the guy.]
I live here; I'm not going to make a mess.
[ Sounds snarky in content but not so much in delivery - just kind of faintly amused. He has to stand at some point to get rid of his pants, but he manages okay and leaves his clothes folded and stacked out of the way of anything they're going to use and tucked away.
He's physically having to work more for that as the heat does continue to sink in and impact him but he gets it done. More relieved to get back on his knees - though lower to the ground with his knees further apart this time - closes his eyes and puts his hands behind his back.
[ he's gonna give you clear instructions either way, okay. wash doesn't answer that, just leaves crais to it as he focuses on getting what he needs. he is listening, though, watching out of the corner of his eye. he can ehar him shifting and moving as the heat settles in more, on himself too, sweat starting to bead lightly across his skin. he can tell that it's taking him more effort than it usually would -- but he manages it. and that's good enough.
mostly, it tells him that the next time they try this he can afford to push that heat even further. but this will do, for now.
he's quick and efficient, ends up with a selection of rope laid out, a few fastenings and carabiners, some lubricant, a suitable blindfold. even when he's done he just turns to regard crais for a while, pleased enough at how he follows his directions, and just admiring the sight of him. one thing does take a little longer to prepare, and he takes care to only start on it once he knows crais' eyes are closed -- a suitable frame, a hook attached to the top of it. even if they haven't used it much, just part of a well-equipped dungeon. he'll take a moment to test it until he's satisfied that it's sufficiently weight-bearing, before attaching a length of rope. they'll get to that later, depending on how well crais takes to all this.
he moves up in front of him -- he tends to naturally move in a way that's almost silent, but here he takes care to make sure crais can hear him coming. he starts with a light touch against his shoulder, to let him know he's there before the slips the blindfold around him, secures it nice and firmly. again, he tangles his fingers through his hair, using that grip to pull him against his thigh, stays there for a while just to let crais get accustomed to the feel (and scent, even if that's not something wash is aware of at the moment) of him without any visuals to go with it. ]
This is a good look for you.
[ a low rumble to his voice, punctuated with a slight tug through his hair.
eventually, he pulls back again -- but this time he stays close, keeps one hand against his shoulder to ground and orient him. it'll start simply, a short length of rope as he kneels down behind him in turn, gripping one hand over both of crais' wrists. he already has them behind his back, but he pulls them further up into what he considers a better position, leaning close and tucking his face against his hair. he remembers what crais had said before -- uncomfortable, but he can get off on it if it's done with some degree of care. everything about this is intensely deliberate, and as he starts to wind the rope around his wrists, there's something about the methodical, considered nature of it. it's attention, the same way wash tends to look at him like he means to memorize everything about him, still entirely focused on crais, just now being channeled by the rope and his movements instead of just his eyes. even the way he breathes against his hair, if crais is in the right enough mind to notice it, is deliberate. listening for crais' heartrate, for his breathing, finding a way to tune into it.
soon enough he gets to the point where he just needs one hand to keep working the rope around his wrists, freeing up the other to settle over one of crais' thighs, palming smoothly over his skin, damp with sweat. again, slow, deliberate, mapping him out with his touch, his fingers dipping towards the inside of his thigh. ]
How much are you usually tied up, Crais?
[ his voice is lower now, a bit of a smooth rumble to it, half-muffled with the way his face is tucked against him. this kind of thing is usually more effective in silence, but he can tell crais is a talker, even here -- and it's fine. hearing his voice will help him dial into his state even more, and there's nothing wrong with getting a little more information. ]
[ The distinction between what comes from being aroused and a bit down would be hazy even for Crais right now -- there's just too much overlap, and too many places where one is feeding into the other.
It probably doesn't really matter, except in as much as it's turning up the intensity on what's happening and his reactions to it.
Nothing they're doing is entirely comfortable for him, and that's the point.
He doesn't open his eyes when he hears Washington approaching, and certainly doesn't resist the blindfold - but he does actively push into Washington's thigh for a moment, with his jaw tensing just a little. The time he spends there means that reaction gets... handled and put aside.
Just like Washington's face at his neck has his fingers twitching and the path of the rope twining around his wrist makes his shoulders tense and breath catch. It's arousal, but it's also just... low level fear born of a heightened sense of vulnerability. More intense than would happen with Cy, but not so intense that it's more than tension in his shoulders and up the back of his neck. Tension that, thanks to the impact of heat, turning into a definite muscle tremor His breathing going a bit more shallow and erratic and pulse speeding up a bit more.
He doesn't actively press into the hand at his thighs but fingers even suggesting inward movement means his knees slide out a little further and further apart. Following the suggestion and then breathing more evenly and deeply again.
Given how blunt he is, direct and transparent, the reactions here are subtle for the moment.
Pressure and voice work to keep him pretty damn okay though and... he's absolutely bending into Washington to handle himself. Relying on him more, responding to him more.]
Frequency, duration, or degree?
[ Annnnd there's the start of a softer edged slur, something a little...blurred in his voice. ]
[ wash is paying very close attention -- he always is, but it's a lot more evident, here. it's difficult to tell what might be indications of an actual problem and what's being caused by the heat, so what wash has to do is simply observe and take note of everything, and to trust crais himself to be able to tell him if anything is genuinely too much. the entire point here is that this is uncomfortable, that it's beyond what he'd normally do. some amount of that is not just expected, but desired, and good.
he stays close and keeps working the rope around his wrists, even when he feels that tension work through his shoulders, when he feels those fingers twitch. when he feels how that tightens into more of a definite tremor, he does take the time to tighten his grip over his wrists to steady him, but he keeps going until he's pulling it taut, tying it off and effectively binding crais' wrists together behind his back. he lingers there for a few moments just to let him adjust, noting the way crais responds to the touch against his thigh, how he's leaning into him more, relying on him more. that slight blur to his voice, his words starting to slur, but in a way that wash recognizes as distinct from what might be happening to him because of heat.
good. ]
Mostly degree.
[ arms behind the back is entirely normal and something he expects crais to have had some experience with, hence why he'd started there. his hand eases further up between his thigh until his fingers are dragging along the underside of his cock, using that touch to both distract and ground him as he moves on.
crais' wrists might be bound, but his elbows aren't, there's more than enough space to maneuver and and shift his arms, and wash is gentle enough but firm as he pushes his wrists down until crais' arms are straight out behind him, and he could use a hand to forcibly hold them in this position while he works, but he's going to let crais hold himself in position, instead: it might bring to mind the locked posture of a strait jacket. it's a little hard to tell since crais wouldn't be able to see it, but it might be clear then that wash hasn't just knotted off the rope and is moving onto a new one. he's taking the same rope and pulling it up, starting to wind it around his arms again, the rope settling just under the joint of his elbows.
he wouldn't normally do this with someone brand new, but the pushing is the point, here, and better for him to get a sense of how crais responds to the unfamiliar now. it'd be more difficult if he only starts to push when it comes to the rest of his body. ]
[ Crais is paying attention. He isn't in a position that's great for applying a great deal of thought to anything, or attributing deep meanings to it, but he is aware of it.
Half the point of this for him is figuring out at least enough about Wash to know if he wants to play with him like this again. That means at least noticing gut level reactions now, even if he has to go over the details later.
And right now he's mostly getting that there's enough support there to rely on and enough push to keep things... interesting. And to keep him turned on.
His wrists being pushed down results in a pull and strain that's... just about perfect. Definitely contributes to his cock staying hard, though not quite as much as the drag of Washington's fingers.
Maintaining it on his own is harder than it should be, thanks to not having great control over... literally anything. He's actually almost looking forward to more rope being tied off - or secured in some way - to support that position.
There's a slight grimace on his face, and it carries into his voice - just a little. Not knocked out of that familiar, altered space, but physically under some minor stress and not hiding it. ]
Wrists. Ankles. Cuffs and spreader bars. Occasional blindfolds.
[ a gentle hum, considering, rumbling slightly in his chest. ]
Then there's a lot you're going to learn, today.
[ wash would've provided the grip needed if crais hadn't been able to hold his arms in position, but he manages it, and wash is clearly pleased that he's doing that at all.
he's a little slower with this, on multiple fronts -- the same intensity and focus he has with everything and how much he absorbs every detail around him, but channeled through the rope. he's giving crais time to adjust to it but also paying attention every single time he draws a length of it across his skin. one thing he's very aware of is that crais, as human as he seems, isn't actually human, hence how much more he's being affected by the steady heat in the air around them. he knows where to position rope to avoid sensitive nerve pathways and what places would be better suited for more or less support, in a human. for all he knows, under the skin, crais is an entirely different thing. so he's paying very, very close attention, running his fingers over his skin where he means to place the rope, and then watching for his response when he does, making sure there's nothing unexpected.
wash shifts closer against him. that grimace and discomfort he can hear in him is noted, but isn't enough for wash to feel alarmed, just yet. his own breathing is slow, steady, and he's close enough for crais to feel it, for his calm and stabilizing presence to be something he can anchor himself to if needed.
he moves to take his cock fully in his hand. squeezing, learning and memorizing the heat and weight of him against his palm, circling his thumb over the head. it starts slowly, as he finds the rhythm to touch him while working with the rope at the same time, but he starts working his hand over him at a good, steady pace. a loop of rope under and above the elbow around both arms to avoid pressuring the joint directly. every time he pulls the rope taut, there's a distinct vibration that runs through them, thrumming around where the rope meets his skin -- just around his arms, just for now, but it could be pleasant or alarming or both, depending, a reminder of just how much he's bound. eventually wash is pulling his hand from his cock, settling against his waist, and crais' arms are well and truly bound -- four loops of rope binding his arms in a distinct triangle behind his back, each loop secured to a length of rope running up between both arms from his wrist.
it just needs one more pull, to take pull it all taut. and when he does, in the same movement, the ropes reverberating against his skin, wash is taking his other hand and using it to bend him over. sudden, rough and hard enough for it to be giddying as he forces his cheek against the floor, a stark contrast to how not-quite-gentle but steady and deliberate he's been with the rope. he would normally brace a hand against the back of his neck, but with that scarring he opts to keep him down with pressure against his shoulder, instead, his other hand palming crudely up over the back of one thigh, over his ass. ]
Good.
[ that hand pulls away for a moment, the sound of him reaching for something else, and it'll be clear soon enough as he presses his fingers down through the crease of his ass, this time slick and cool with lubricant. he's just as deliberate here, but not nearly as gentle, this he expects crais to have little problem with as rubs his fingers over hole, down to press against the stretch of skin just behind his balls, back up -- and starts to press them inside him. one finger, a second, curving back, pressing against heated walls inside him to find that sensitive bundle of nerves. ]
[ The binding around his arms heightens Crais' awareness of his own pulse. It is well done, isn't inhibiting circulation but the pressure around pulse points makes it incredibly easy for him to feel the thud of his heart against the rope.
That, in turn, makes him a little more acutely aware of his body and skin, and sort of lulls his already slightly sluggish mind a little more.
Both add something to Washington's hand stroking his cock. Where he can also feel his pulse quite well, thank you.
That, and everything to it - the heat, the blindfold, his own pulse, Washington's steadiness, even the faint vibration of the friction of rope pulling over itself - mean that he is zoned, not out, but in on sensation and his body and Washington's presence.
He doesn't resist - doesn't have the leverage or muscle control frankly - being pushed forward, but he doesn't expect it, either.
Understatement; it startles the frell out of him.
There is an immediate wave of adrenaline that sends his pulse racing and results in him trying to instinctively pull his arms apart and hands curling into fists. Every muscle tenses, under his skin and in Washington's hand.
The noise that comes out of him is literally in human - closer to a large cat snarling than any sound a human throat could manage.
It actually takes him a second to process what is going on. He stays disoriented and dizzy (the dizzy is the heat more than just the abrupt position change) but the fingers sliding over his ass and then pushing into him -- tell him he's still okay.
He doesn't exactly relax, but rather the tension in his muscle stays and turns into slightly uneven shaking -( still heat) and the feline snarl bleeds into a still inhuman growl. Until Washington's fingers find what they're looking for and then the only sound Crais is making is a much more human, uninhibited, groan.
At least the blindfold is keeping sweat out of his eyes.
[ that sound doesn't deter him, if anything it seems to encourage him. this is meant to startle him, it's meant to throw him off balance. sometimes when he works with rope it's just hours of zoning in to the almost peace and tranquility of it, but that requires a certain state of mind on both ends, a certain familiarity and intimacy. he's still trying to tap into that, here, but broken up between something that crais would probably find more familiar -- and that wash will happily use to attempt to overwhelm and exhaust him. it's fun, but also aiding crais in a way. it'll get easier and easier to sink into the rope, each time.
he's paying close attention, trusts his own senses to know crais' state, and for everything he can't see, he trusts crais to tell him if there's sonething wrong. that snarl is harsh, and the tremble that starts to work its way through his body similarly so, but once wash's fingers find their mark that groan tells him he's still on track.
where every other time he's been moving relatively slowly and giving crais time to settle, here he's a lot more unrelenting. he shifts close enough for crais to feel him against his side, his free hand roaming across the length of his back and taking full advantage of the rope wound over his arms. he doesn't tug on his limbs, he tugs on the rope, forces him to feel it more, to keep constantly in his awareness not just his lack of mobility, but also what exactly is holding him there, and just how much he's bound.
the entire time, wash keeps working his fingers in and out of him, always making sure to press up against that sensitive spot inside him. what's different, what wash is especially good at, is just how much he seems to tune into crais. every hitch of his breath, every tremor, the slightest ebb and flow of tension through every muscle in his body. wash is pressed against him so he can feel all of it, and as he works his fingers inside him he makes use of it. moving in a certain way doesn't get as much as a response as before, but moving this way does by the tiniest fraction, and so he'll move that way and zone in on whatever gets him the most, again. he's found where to push, but he's learning still, rhythm, pressure, how much, how often, and other times he might be trying to tune into a comfortable pace but now he's simply honing in on anything and everything that makes crais squirm, that'll pull more of those groans from his chest and lungs. wash always pursues his goals with single-minded precision, and before it'd been to accustom him to this -- but now, its nothing less than just to have him fall apart.
he leans further in, enough to tuck his face against his shoulder, the side of his neck, mouthing a lazy kiss over his skin -- languid and almost laid back in sharp contrast to literally everything else he's doing. pushing down slightly, a little closer to the ground, forcing his knees to slide against the floor and spread apart just that much more. ]
[ Crais is going to be sore, later. Shoulders, back, arms, thighs, his ass, from the position, from the weight pushing him down and making his hips and the insides of his thighs burn a bit.
Later.
Later also being when he's going to realize how much of this focus and ability to read people and scenarios, chase them down and follow them makes Washington dangerous, but also how much sense that makes of... Felix, ironically.
In the moment he's not thinking about anything, and what he's feeling might technically be some burning and pressure, but it's all just bleeding straight back around into arousal and making every move of Washington's fingers that much more intense.
He doesn't exactly squirm - doesn't have the leverage and really isn't inclined to fight the weight on his back when it feels as comforting and solidly good to him as it does, but that doesn't mean there's not a reaction, not a lot of it. There's a whole lot of subtle shifts and not so subtle noises, muscles tensing and relaxing and the way his hands below the rope clench along with his ass.
It doesn't take him all that long to come and when he does it's... messy and comes with a loud, wordless shout pushed through gritted teeth. ]
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notleavingquietly) wrote2037-07-18 11:23 pm
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he'll wait for crais' go-ahead before he starts looking through some of the shelves. what he's looking for is the old standby: rope, good rope, and lots of it. blindfolds, gags, maybe some carabiners, looking to see if there's an appropriate ceiling-or-frame hook installed anywhere for suspension work. he isn't taking anything out, yet, just taking stock for now. ]
Then we'll figure some of that out together.
[ a thoughtful hum. ]
And if we wanted to push your response to temperature. Do you have anything for that here?
no subject
[ It is their space but stocking and setup are largely the result of Cyram and he doesn't fool around - he's an invincible immortal who plays hard and sometimes plays with similar people. If there's anything down here missing, it would surprise both of them. Some of it doesn't even look sane at first blush, Crais is pretty sure. Good first aid and medical supplies, too. ]
Rope should be in the third drawer on the level. As for temperature, yes. But I don't know what sort of playing with it you mean. There's a thermostat, refrigerator, and all manner of things that get hot or warm.
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a few moments is enough for him to verify that he's satisfied with the rope. ]
That'll do.
There's a few more things I want to know, but. [ its things he can ask and clarify while having a little fun with it. he ends up by the thermostat, turning around to face him, taking a few moments to regard him carefully. there is a certain intensity in his gaze, even more than usual, like he's drinking in every single detail, every breath, every slight movement or shift in crais' frame. he gestures him closer with a tip of his head. ] If you're ready and don't have anymore questions for me, you can just give me your safeword.
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Look, associations are strong but also Wash is new and relatively unknown to Crais.
The thermostat's a promising thing to be spending time with, though.
He stays put when gestured closer, but it isn't defiance it's a deliberate 'just a second'. ]
Are we having sex?
[ Mindset varies. ]
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We don't have to. [ its not something wash will require of him, at least this time. the power exchange itself is enough. if crais wants sex, of course, that's a different matter -- and he pauses for a moment, considering. eyeing him carefully, again. tracing mental ropes across his body. what would he like to do? ] But I've a mind to push you to exhaustion, Crais. In every sense of the word.
[ maybe he won't fuck him, unless crais specifically wants it. but he wants to push him to exhaustion, to overwhelm, and pleasure is one avenue he wouldn't leave unexplored. they haven't started anything yet, crais hasn't given him a safeword, and so it's a statement of intent rather than a demand; the power exchange itself is more than appealing enough that he'd be content with that. but for as infuriatingly unflappable and put-together as crais is, there is something terribly appealing to him about the idea of really being able to find the right kind of pleasure to make him squirm. ]
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Which, yeah, is part of why he is absolutely onboard for this. He wants to learn more about Washington, yes, but also the slight edge of not quite trusting him adds something to it.
He nods slightly when Wash is finished speaking, laces his fingers together and stretches his arms above his head and his entire body out with that stretch. Then drops his arms and settles into a much looser posture. ]
My safeword is mango. If I am overly slow to respond and you need that response call me Bialar. Don't overuse that, it will throw me out if I'm not fairly far gone mentally.
[ Then he grins, sharply. ]
Let's play.
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Lets.
[ the words fall from his mouth and wash is moving in, sudden, precise, like a predator lying in wait who saw his moment to strike -- somehow, he moves and acts like a soldier, even here. his fingers twist in the front of his shirt, dragging him forcibly closer until he can lean down and catch his mouth with his own in a harsh, bruising kiss. it's rough, demanding, something almost possessive in it, harsh enough to draw blood and for wash to learn first-hand if his would taste like human blood. but for all the time they've spent laying ground work, it does seem almost terribly conventional.
if crais isn't too distracted, though, he might notice what wash is doing. one hand to keep him close-- his other hand on the controls of the thermostat on the wall behind him. he's turning it up, little by little at a perfectly steady rate. he hauls him close, lifting him to his toes, presses their chests against each other until he can feel his heartbeat. that intensity in his gaze and movement carries here, too -- taking in every detail, even here, mapping him out with his teeth and tongue as much as he would with his mouth and hands. why ask where to draw the limit when he can feel it, instead, learn for himself what it does to crais' body?
he'll keep pushing it up, at a steady climb. ]
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He lifts one hand and catches himself against Washington's shoulder when he's hauled forward. There's no bracing or pushing back, just his hand coming up instinctively and a moment or two of his fingers curling down and gripping with some pressure. Holding on.
Then his attention almost perceptibly shifts to the kiss. He goes from a sort of blunt force return of it in the initial moments to something that's more yielding and meeting the demand, bending a little into it. It's matched almost exactly by his grip on Washington loosening, and changes from holding on to just touching.
He knows the other hand is absent and while he doesn't know why immediately he becomes aware that the room is warming up. He realizes it's not just arousal making him feel warmer and a little fuzzy headed when he sways forward just a bit and sweat breaks out at the back of his neck and on his temples. Sweat is obvious but that sway is his motor control trying to break down.
And his pulse kicking up is definitely the result of adrenaline. It's kind of like oxygen deprivation. Instinctively his body just does not like the conditions. Mentally? His cock against Wash just gets a little harder.
Doesn't even try to break the kiss, though the sound he makes it into it has the slightest edge of a growl. Look he did say it could make him kind of cranky. It does.
...still leans (emotionally and mentally as well as physically) into the person he's choosing to do it with, though.]
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he feels that shift in him when he starts to almost sway, like he's teetering, starting to shift off balance. and wash remembers (of course) what crais had told him about the effects: motor control being affected. push too far and he gets catatonic. he shifts slightly against him, untwists his grip from the front of his shirt, his hand sliding down to crais' side so that he can haul crais closer against him, to better support him in case he falls.
because he does keep pushing. still increasing that heat steadily. and he only stops when crais actually starts to buckle enough to break away from their kiss, and immediately wash is catching him, keeping him upright. he gives him a second or two to steady himself, lifting a hand to cradle his cheek against his palm, tipping his head back enough that he can look him fully in the eye. taking in a quick assessment of his condition, even as he sweeps his thumb over his lower lip. ]
What's your safe word?
[ just going to make sure that you can still do that. ]
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It's not just that his nervous system is, pun intended, melting down, or that he's turned on and a little dizzy from carefully controlled oxygen intake. It's that he's being pushed and Wash is using controlled affection and ...checking in and on Crais.
All of those things are an enormous, enormous turn on.
He's flushed, pupils dilated and a little glassy eyed, both from arousal and some fairly minor (comparatively) affects of the (relatively mild, really) neurological impacts from the heat.
And also, you know, an altered mental state commonly referred to as subspace.
He blinks twice to make his eyes focus but his voice is maybe a little soft edged, but confident and sure.]
Mango. I'm good.
[ He wouldn't be interested, or willing, to fake that just to push something further, but he is being aided here - he's got enough experience to recognize a checkin and to respond to it clearly and honestly.]
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Good.
[ and he punctuates it with his hand sliding down between them, rolling his palm over the bulge of crais' cock through his clothing.
maybe in the future he'd be more willing to push that even further, but leaving crais unable to coherently speak would be an issue until wash knows him well enough to read the subtleties of his condition. he might learn quickly, but he won't make assumptions -- for now he expects that crais will remain coherent. he can feel how much crais is wavering and how much he's relying on his support to stand as he holds him, and he gauges that he'll stay upright on his own. for a while. and then he might not.
which makes it, of course, entirely pragmatic for wash to force him down to his knees, easily and smoothly with precisely applied pressure with one hand against his upper back. that same hand slides up -- a little careful around those scars at the back of his neck, just skipping over the deep scar at the center -- and then moving up to tangle his fingers through his hair, tugging, pulling his face against his thigh. ]
There's a few more things I need to prepare. [ namely, he's identified that there's good rope. but it shouldn't be too surprising that wash is the type who knows exactly what he wants to do, exactly what he needs, and wants it all laid out and on-hand and ready. ] By the time I've everything I need, I want you to be undressed and ready for me. Don't make a mess.
[ fully undressed and back on his knees and without clothes strewn everywhere, please and thank you. wash expects that it will take a little while for that heat to fully settle in, that it'll probably uptick a bit more from what crais is feeling now. it is very much a direction and also a bit of a test for wash to gauge if his coordination is affected enough for just undressing to be difficult. he'll wait for crais to acknowledge his directions before he'll pull away, turning to leave him to it as he retrieves everything he needs. no browsing, either, its like he already knows how much he wants and where it all is, like he's formulated a very precise plan already. because he has. ]
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He growls a little in an inarticulate warning at the skim of Wash's fingers over the back of his neck, but settles out of it almost immediately - because Wash doesn't linger and because he likes his face in against Washington's thigh, thanks. He has a better than human sense of smell, and better sight (and hearing); the combination of darkness and scent of the person he's playing with are both erotic and strangely... reassuring?
Good enough. Wash moving away he likes less, but recognizes it's necessary. He can't get undressed while in physical contact with the guy.]
I live here; I'm not going to make a mess.
[ Sounds snarky in content but not so much in delivery - just kind of faintly amused. He has to stand at some point to get rid of his pants, but he manages okay and leaves his clothes folded and stacked out of the way of anything they're going to use and tucked away.
He's physically having to work more for that as the heat does continue to sink in and impact him but he gets it done. More relieved to get back on his knees - though lower to the ground with his knees further apart this time - closes his eyes and puts his hands behind his back.
Then just... breathes and waits. ]
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mostly, it tells him that the next time they try this he can afford to push that heat even further. but this will do, for now.
he's quick and efficient, ends up with a selection of rope laid out, a few fastenings and carabiners, some lubricant, a suitable blindfold. even when he's done he just turns to regard crais for a while, pleased enough at how he follows his directions, and just admiring the sight of him. one thing does take a little longer to prepare, and he takes care to only start on it once he knows crais' eyes are closed -- a suitable frame, a hook attached to the top of it. even if they haven't used it much, just part of a well-equipped dungeon. he'll take a moment to test it until he's satisfied that it's sufficiently weight-bearing, before attaching a length of rope. they'll get to that later, depending on how well crais takes to all this.
he moves up in front of him -- he tends to naturally move in a way that's almost silent, but here he takes care to make sure crais can hear him coming. he starts with a light touch against his shoulder, to let him know he's there before the slips the blindfold around him, secures it nice and firmly. again, he tangles his fingers through his hair, using that grip to pull him against his thigh, stays there for a while just to let crais get accustomed to the feel (and scent, even if that's not something wash is aware of at the moment) of him without any visuals to go with it. ]
This is a good look for you.
[ a low rumble to his voice, punctuated with a slight tug through his hair.
eventually, he pulls back again -- but this time he stays close, keeps one hand against his shoulder to ground and orient him. it'll start simply, a short length of rope as he kneels down behind him in turn, gripping one hand over both of crais' wrists. he already has them behind his back, but he pulls them further up into what he considers a better position, leaning close and tucking his face against his hair. he remembers what crais had said before -- uncomfortable, but he can get off on it if it's done with some degree of care. everything about this is intensely deliberate, and as he starts to wind the rope around his wrists, there's something about the methodical, considered nature of it. it's attention, the same way wash tends to look at him like he means to memorize everything about him, still entirely focused on crais, just now being channeled by the rope and his movements instead of just his eyes. even the way he breathes against his hair, if crais is in the right enough mind to notice it, is deliberate. listening for crais' heartrate, for his breathing, finding a way to tune into it.
soon enough he gets to the point where he just needs one hand to keep working the rope around his wrists, freeing up the other to settle over one of crais' thighs, palming smoothly over his skin, damp with sweat. again, slow, deliberate, mapping him out with his touch, his fingers dipping towards the inside of his thigh. ]
How much are you usually tied up, Crais?
[ his voice is lower now, a bit of a smooth rumble to it, half-muffled with the way his face is tucked against him. this kind of thing is usually more effective in silence, but he can tell crais is a talker, even here -- and it's fine. hearing his voice will help him dial into his state even more, and there's nothing wrong with getting a little more information. ]
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It probably doesn't really matter, except in as much as it's turning up the intensity on what's happening and his reactions to it.
Nothing they're doing is entirely comfortable for him, and that's the point.
He doesn't open his eyes when he hears Washington approaching, and certainly doesn't resist the blindfold - but he does actively push into Washington's thigh for a moment, with his jaw tensing just a little. The time he spends there means that reaction gets... handled and put aside.
Just like Washington's face at his neck has his fingers twitching and the path of the rope twining around his wrist makes his shoulders tense and breath catch. It's arousal, but it's also just... low level fear born of a heightened sense of vulnerability. More intense than would happen with Cy, but not so intense that it's more than tension in his shoulders and up the back of his neck. Tension that, thanks to the impact of heat, turning into a definite muscle tremor His breathing going a bit more shallow and erratic and pulse speeding up a bit more.
He doesn't actively press into the hand at his thighs but fingers even suggesting inward movement means his knees slide out a little further and further apart. Following the suggestion and then breathing more evenly and deeply again.
Given how blunt he is, direct and transparent, the reactions here are subtle for the moment.
Pressure and voice work to keep him pretty damn okay though and... he's absolutely bending into Washington to handle himself. Relying on him more, responding to him more.]
Frequency, duration, or degree?
[ Annnnd there's the start of a softer edged slur, something a little...blurred in his voice. ]
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he stays close and keeps working the rope around his wrists, even when he feels that tension work through his shoulders, when he feels those fingers twitch. when he feels how that tightens into more of a definite tremor, he does take the time to tighten his grip over his wrists to steady him, but he keeps going until he's pulling it taut, tying it off and effectively binding crais' wrists together behind his back. he lingers there for a few moments just to let him adjust, noting the way crais responds to the touch against his thigh, how he's leaning into him more, relying on him more. that slight blur to his voice, his words starting to slur, but in a way that wash recognizes as distinct from what might be happening to him because of heat.
good. ]
Mostly degree.
[ arms behind the back is entirely normal and something he expects crais to have had some experience with, hence why he'd started there. his hand eases further up between his thigh until his fingers are dragging along the underside of his cock, using that touch to both distract and ground him as he moves on.
crais' wrists might be bound, but his elbows aren't, there's more than enough space to maneuver and and shift his arms, and wash is gentle enough but firm as he pushes his wrists down until crais' arms are straight out behind him, and he could use a hand to forcibly hold them in this position while he works, but he's going to let crais hold himself in position, instead: it might bring to mind the locked posture of a strait jacket. it's a little hard to tell since crais wouldn't be able to see it, but it might be clear then that wash hasn't just knotted off the rope and is moving onto a new one. he's taking the same rope and pulling it up, starting to wind it around his arms again, the rope settling just under the joint of his elbows.
he wouldn't normally do this with someone brand new, but the pushing is the point, here, and better for him to get a sense of how crais responds to the unfamiliar now. it'd be more difficult if he only starts to push when it comes to the rest of his body. ]
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Half the point of this for him is figuring out at least enough about Wash to know if he wants to play with him like this again. That means at least noticing gut level reactions now, even if he has to go over the details later.
And right now he's mostly getting that there's enough support there to rely on and enough push to keep things... interesting. And to keep him turned on.
His wrists being pushed down results in a pull and strain that's... just about perfect. Definitely contributes to his cock staying hard, though not quite as much as the drag of Washington's fingers.
Maintaining it on his own is harder than it should be, thanks to not having great control over... literally anything. He's actually almost looking forward to more rope being tied off - or secured in some way - to support that position.
There's a slight grimace on his face, and it carries into his voice - just a little. Not knocked out of that familiar, altered space, but physically under some minor stress and not hiding it. ]
Wrists. Ankles. Cuffs and spreader bars. Occasional blindfolds.
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Then there's a lot you're going to learn, today.
[ wash would've provided the grip needed if crais hadn't been able to hold his arms in position, but he manages it, and wash is clearly pleased that he's doing that at all.
he's a little slower with this, on multiple fronts -- the same intensity and focus he has with everything and how much he absorbs every detail around him, but channeled through the rope. he's giving crais time to adjust to it but also paying attention every single time he draws a length of it across his skin. one thing he's very aware of is that crais, as human as he seems, isn't actually human, hence how much more he's being affected by the steady heat in the air around them. he knows where to position rope to avoid sensitive nerve pathways and what places would be better suited for more or less support, in a human. for all he knows, under the skin, crais is an entirely different thing. so he's paying very, very close attention, running his fingers over his skin where he means to place the rope, and then watching for his response when he does, making sure there's nothing unexpected.
wash shifts closer against him. that grimace and discomfort he can hear in him is noted, but isn't enough for wash to feel alarmed, just yet. his own breathing is slow, steady, and he's close enough for crais to feel it, for his calm and stabilizing presence to be something he can anchor himself to if needed.
he moves to take his cock fully in his hand. squeezing, learning and memorizing the heat and weight of him against his palm, circling his thumb over the head. it starts slowly, as he finds the rhythm to touch him while working with the rope at the same time, but he starts working his hand over him at a good, steady pace. a loop of rope under and above the elbow around both arms to avoid pressuring the joint directly. every time he pulls the rope taut, there's a distinct vibration that runs through them, thrumming around where the rope meets his skin -- just around his arms, just for now, but it could be pleasant or alarming or both, depending, a reminder of just how much he's bound. eventually wash is pulling his hand from his cock, settling against his waist, and crais' arms are well and truly bound -- four loops of rope binding his arms in a distinct triangle behind his back, each loop secured to a length of rope running up between both arms from his wrist.
it just needs one more pull, to take pull it all taut. and when he does, in the same movement, the ropes reverberating against his skin, wash is taking his other hand and using it to bend him over. sudden, rough and hard enough for it to be giddying as he forces his cheek against the floor, a stark contrast to how not-quite-gentle but steady and deliberate he's been with the rope. he would normally brace a hand against the back of his neck, but with that scarring he opts to keep him down with pressure against his shoulder, instead, his other hand palming crudely up over the back of one thigh, over his ass. ]
Good.
[ that hand pulls away for a moment, the sound of him reaching for something else, and it'll be clear soon enough as he presses his fingers down through the crease of his ass, this time slick and cool with lubricant. he's just as deliberate here, but not nearly as gentle, this he expects crais to have little problem with as rubs his fingers over hole, down to press against the stretch of skin just behind his balls, back up -- and starts to press them inside him. one finger, a second, curving back, pressing against heated walls inside him to find that sensitive bundle of nerves. ]
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That, in turn, makes him a little more acutely aware of his body and skin, and sort of lulls his already slightly sluggish mind a little more.
Both add something to Washington's hand stroking his cock. Where he can also feel his pulse quite well, thank you.
That, and everything to it - the heat, the blindfold, his own pulse, Washington's steadiness, even the faint vibration of the friction of rope pulling over itself - mean that he is zoned, not out, but in on sensation and his body and Washington's presence.
He doesn't resist - doesn't have the leverage or muscle control frankly - being pushed forward, but he doesn't expect it, either.
Understatement; it startles the frell out of him.
There is an immediate wave of adrenaline that sends his pulse racing and results in him trying to instinctively pull his arms apart and hands curling into fists. Every muscle tenses, under his skin and in Washington's hand.
The noise that comes out of him is literally in human - closer to a large cat snarling than any sound a human throat could manage.
It actually takes him a second to process what is going on. He stays disoriented and dizzy (the dizzy is the heat more than just the abrupt position change) but the fingers sliding over his ass and then pushing into him -- tell him he's still okay.
He doesn't exactly relax, but rather the tension in his muscle stays and turns into slightly uneven shaking -( still heat) and the feline snarl bleeds into a still inhuman growl. Until Washington's fingers find what they're looking for and then the only sound Crais is making is a much more human, uninhibited, groan.
At least the blindfold is keeping sweat out of his eyes.
]
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he's paying close attention, trusts his own senses to know crais' state, and for everything he can't see, he trusts crais to tell him if there's sonething wrong. that snarl is harsh, and the tremble that starts to work its way through his body similarly so, but once wash's fingers find their mark that groan tells him he's still on track.
where every other time he's been moving relatively slowly and giving crais time to settle, here he's a lot more unrelenting. he shifts close enough for crais to feel him against his side, his free hand roaming across the length of his back and taking full advantage of the rope wound over his arms. he doesn't tug on his limbs, he tugs on the rope, forces him to feel it more, to keep constantly in his awareness not just his lack of mobility, but also what exactly is holding him there, and just how much he's bound.
the entire time, wash keeps working his fingers in and out of him, always making sure to press up against that sensitive spot inside him. what's different, what wash is especially good at, is just how much he seems to tune into crais. every hitch of his breath, every tremor, the slightest ebb and flow of tension through every muscle in his body. wash is pressed against him so he can feel all of it, and as he works his fingers inside him he makes use of it. moving in a certain way doesn't get as much as a response as before, but moving this way does by the tiniest fraction, and so he'll move that way and zone in on whatever gets him the most, again. he's found where to push, but he's learning still, rhythm, pressure, how much, how often, and other times he might be trying to tune into a comfortable pace but now he's simply honing in on anything and everything that makes crais squirm, that'll pull more of those groans from his chest and lungs. wash always pursues his goals with single-minded precision, and before it'd been to accustom him to this -- but now, its nothing less than just to have him fall apart.
he leans further in, enough to tuck his face against his shoulder, the side of his neck, mouthing a lazy kiss over his skin -- languid and almost laid back in sharp contrast to literally everything else he's doing. pushing down slightly, a little closer to the ground, forcing his knees to slide against the floor and spread apart just that much more. ]
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Later.
Later also being when he's going to realize how much of this focus and ability to read people and scenarios, chase them down and follow them makes Washington dangerous, but also how much sense that makes of... Felix, ironically.
In the moment he's not thinking about anything, and what he's feeling might technically be some burning and pressure, but it's all just bleeding straight back around into arousal and making every move of Washington's fingers that much more intense.
He doesn't exactly squirm - doesn't have the leverage and really isn't inclined to fight the weight on his back when it feels as comforting and solidly good to him as it does, but that doesn't mean there's not a reaction, not a lot of it. There's a whole lot of subtle shifts and not so subtle noises, muscles tensing and relaxing and the way his hands below the rope clench along with his ass.
It doesn't take him all that long to come and when he does it's... messy and comes with a loud, wordless shout pushed through gritted teeth. ]