Your name is Dave Strider and you are chained to the wall.
You don’t know why you ever even agree to this. It always ends in you having a shitty boner you can't relieve while Bro goes and does whatever the fuck it is he does when he chains your ankles to the bed and your wrists to the little hook in the wall and gets you all hot and bothered and them absconds like the colossal douchebag he is before actually getting you off.
And then you have to lie there waiting for him to return. The longest you think he’d left you was for an hour—he’s at least conscious of the fact that at some point you’ll stop being about to feel your hands and feet—and by that point you were considerably un-turned on and had resorted to practising your beats. Once he’d finally showed up he’d looked disappointed and unchained you without a word. He’s never left you that long since.
But it still feels like a fucking long time and you really hate his disappointed face. It reminds you of when you were a kid and you’d seriously fucked something up, and he wouldn’t get mad. His mouth would just drop to a thin line and his brow would smooth out and he’d take one look at you before turning without a word, and it’d make you want to cry. But you held it in of course, until he was well and truly gone. But it was a fucking awful feeling and you don’t ever want to make him give you that look. So you try. You think of hot babes and hot guys and of the shitty porn you watch and anything that keeps you going until he finally fucking does whatever it is he does and he comes back and you have to keep your poker face on so he doesn’t see how fucking relieved you are (but he knows, he always does).
And he does finally come back, after maybe fifteen minutes (time is so much slower when you’re like this, ugh) he’s holding a riding crop and a roll of duct tape and you groan because you fucking hate duct tape. Duct tape is great and all but not when it’s been ripped off your mouth. And then there’s the riding crop. When the fuck did he get a riding crop? Wow you were not prepared for this level of kinkiness, but you figure Bro knew that and he’s just purposely doing it to fuck with you. But everything he does is to fuck with you so why are you even surprised?
You frown at him, but you can’t see what his eyes are doing from behind his shades. He sets the tape down on the bed and straddles you, crop in hand. You expect him to hit you, but he just runs it along your torso, and you shudder. He runs his free hand along your dick and you buck your hips up and moan. And then he suddenly smacks your thigh with the riding crop, and you jolt and hiss. Bro smirks and you glower at him.
He rubs the crop over the spot and continues to palm your dick. He smacks you again and your pained hiss and your moaning get tangled together in your mouth and you can tell the sound makes Bro flustered, even if he would never show it outright. And he knows you know this because he picks up the roll of tape and taps it against your mouth. He gives you a meaningful look and you bite your tongue and try your fucking hardest to keep quiet, which is really fucking hard when he’s pumping at your dick and the crop’s smack has stopping hurting and become sort of warm and tingly and pleasant and it makes you want to kick this douchefuck in the face, and you consider that that is precisely the reason he chains you up.
And then suddenly everything stops and he climbs off you and disappears again, and you collapse into the mattress and yell, “Are you fucking serious,” after him because this is a new sort of sadistic. But no, he comes back a few seconds later with a bottle of lube and one eyebrow raised, and you instantly feel embarrassed.
“Don’t make me tape you up, kid,” he says, and you press your lips together.
You lean back and wait for him to loosen the restraints around your ankles so he can hoist your feet over his shoulders and fuck you senseless (by which point the tape will definitely be utilised) but no, he straddles you again and squeezes out a glob of lube and rubs it over your dick. You frown at him for one confused moment before, holy shit, you realise what he’s doing. Your eyes widen and he nods at you just slightly and you drop your head back because oh my god.
The one time you attempted to fuck Bro, you’d somehow managed to flip him over and you’d had his legs over your shoulders and you’d almost gotten there before he’d done one of his stupid ninja moves and flipped you onto your stomach and whispered into your ear, “I’m impressed, kid. Never thought you’d have the audacity to even try that shit,” before pinning you down and fucking you until you were screaming into the pillow. So yeah, you hadn’t really tried that since.
Bro starts to push himself down on you and you panic momentarily because you didn't see him lube himself up but of course, he already has.
(the fact that he's planned this makes you shiver)
And oh my god he feels so amazing and tight and you can’t help it, you moan and he smirks and shakes his head and picks up the tape. He rips a piece off with his teeth, and you thrash your head around, but he easily takes a hold of you and covers your mouth. You glare at him, but then he keeps pushing down and you stop caring.
You feel his hips meet yours and you take a steady, measured breath through your nose before he starts moving. Your back arches and you want to swear at him and tell him to go faster but there is fucking tape over your mouth, so you resign yourself to making muffled noises. He moves agonizingly slowly and you buck your hips up to try and gives him a hint, but he only puts his hands on your hips and pins you down. And of course, you think, of course you finally get to fuck him and he’s still in control. It would piss you off if it didn’t feel so fucking good. You make a note to feel pissed off about it later.
You can only arch up and grip the wrist restraints and moan into the tape as he rides you. It’s weird to watch his face like this; he normally looks infuriatingly smug, but right now he has his head tilted back and his face is flushed and he looks vulnerable and you don’t know how you feel about it. A part of you want so be all tender and shit and stroke his cheek, another part of you wants to abscond, but the loudest part is telling you who the fuck cares. He’s starting to get a lot faster now, and his dick is rubbing against your stomach and you’re getting so close, and you’re pretty proud of yourself for lasting this long. He speeds up even more and you arch up and loll your head back and—
And then he suddenly rips the tape off your mouth and you’re not sure if your cry is from having several layers of your skin ripped off, or from everything else.
“Holy shit, Bro,” you breathe out, and his smirk is back on his face.
“I want to hear you come for me,” he says, which is something he never admits to wanting and the sound of his voice, all dry and husky like that, makes you tip over and you scream. You buck up hard into him and he grunts at the force and you arch back and you dissolve into shudders and jittering moans before you collapse back into the mattress.
Bro lifts himself off you, and gives you a minute to compose yourself because holy fuck that was intense. He even strokes your cheek, which is fucking weird for him but whatever; you’re too spent to really care. And then you feel him move up you and he’s pressing his thumb into your mouth. Of course he wants a fucking blowjob, you think. You open your mouth because you don’t feel like making him force it open right now. He straddles your face and pushes himself into you. You can tell from how tense he is that this isn’t going to take long, and it only takes a few expert (you like to think you’re an expert) movements of your tongue before he shudders, bucks hard into your mouth and lets out one solitary shout. You taste the sweet saltiness of his cum and he pulls out of you so you can turn your head to the side and spit it out onto the sheets. You are never going to get used to that taste, no matter what anyone says.
He slides back down and rests his head in the crook of your neck and you let yourself breath him in and feel his hair tickle the side of your face, before he reaches up and clicks open your wrist restraints. You pull your arms down and flex your wrists just to make sure. He climbs off you and does the same for your ankles, and you swing yourself upright so you’re sitting over the side of the bed. You rub your head and you feel kinda weird, and to be honest you could do with more cuddling, but you’d never admit it. You can’t get Bro’s vulnerable face out of your head and it’s making you legitimately upset and you start crying. Holy shit, you have turned into that guy who cries after sex, good going, Strider. Bro is saying something about having a shower, but then he turns to see you hunched and shaking with your face in your hands and he says, “Whoa, holy shit,” before promptly sitting back down on the bed and pressing you against his chest.
He lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders and you feel immensely pathetic, but you don’t mind because at least now you’re the vulnerable one, not him. And you get why it’s bothering you so much, because Bro is never vulnerable; he’s always strong, always in charge and it’s scary to see him any other way.
“Dude, is everything okay? Shit, sorry, I always skimp on the aftercare part.” He tucks your head under his chin. “Don’t worry dude, I got you.”
You relax into him and you manage to stop crying like a pathetic little shit. You find your discarded shirt to wipe your face with, and you mutter out a stupid apology. Bro just shushes you and lifts you up by the shoulders and guides you to the shower. The cascade of warm water is relaxing and you start to feel much better. You turn your back to let Bro clean himself, and to give yourself time to feel less shitty.
Bro wraps his arms around your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck, and you lean into him, letting the warm water cascade over you until you feel okay again.