“Hey Troth, can I borrow you for just like. A hot second? Weird question, but. Could you just, um.” Tom holds out his hands, palm up, fingers relaxed but trembling slightly, curled loosely inwards. “Just kind of try holding onto my wrists for a bit?”
Troth perches on the bed in front of him, considering him with a small measure of confusion. After a moment, she simply says, “Of course,” and reaches out, wrapping her hands loosely around his wrists.
Her hands are warm, warmer than he’d expected, but dry. With her hands wrapped around his arms like this, he can truly feel how much control she must be using, every second of her life, to restrain her tremendous strength. He blinks slowly, looking down at the connection between them. Her thumbs easily wrap all the way around his wrists, overlapping the rest of her fingers by several inches.
He doesn’t notice how much time has passed in silence until he feels her starting to pull away.
“Tom? I’m sorry, did I hurt you somehow?” she starts to ask, concern furrowing her brow as she pulls her hands back.
“Oh, no no no, it’s-- it’s, uh-- it’s all good.” Tom leans forward, reaching out to try to grab her arms, to pull her back in. He doesn’t really manage to do much but trail his fingertips over the insides of her wrists, but she stops, watching him. “Please don’t, uh. Please don’t stop?”
Now it’s Troth’s turn to blink owlishly at him. After a moment’s hesitation, she places her hands on his wrists again, holding on just a little more firmly. Tom feels his eyes slip closed, his heart fluttering, the tension slowly bleeding out of his shoulders.
They sit like this for several minutes, Tom’s breathing slowly falling into a more relaxed pace, and Troth takes it all in curiously. He’s more relaxed than she’s ever seen him, somehow, just slightly restrained in this way.
After some time, Troth, moving slowly, takes one of his wrists and transfers it to her other hand. Tom feels his breath catch in his throat, and he can feel Troth tense at this, but something in his body language or the noise he made must have told her that he was doing just fine, because after a moment, she relaxes again.
He hears, faintly, a little puff of breath, the quiet sound of amusement Troth makes when another person might laugh. He doesn’t have much time to question it, because suddenly there are fingers tipping his chin upwards, and before his eyes can even flutter open, there are lips on his.
He isn’t proud of the needy noise he makes as he leans into the kiss, practically melting into it. She tugs on his arms gently, coaxing him forwards to lean against her for support. It takes him a moment to get his legs under him, but he goes easily as soon as he’s able. Glancing at her for guidance, he straddles one of her thighs.
“That was good,” she says quietly.
“Wh- what was?” he asks, distracted by the sudden warmth of being so close to her.
“Oh!” Tom knows he’s blushing from the tips of his ears to- well, probably his toes, at this point, but he tries to play it at least slightly cool. “Well, it’s, uh. Not hard to make me do that?”
Gently, or at least as gently as she can muster, Troth raises his wrists over his head. He knows his shirt is riding up a little, exposing his stomach.
“How’s that?” Troth asks, watching him intently.
“That’s doing me- oh my god.” He breaks off as she shifts her thigh up into his crotch. “That’s doing me very very good.”
“Excellent,” she says, and then she’s kissing him again. Between breaths, he wonders how she can hold her arms up for such a long time without getting tired. It must be a monk thing, he decides, and either way he’s not complaining.
Their general motion increases the friction between his thighs, and if he wasn’t aroused before, he certainly is now. Involuntarily, he makes a few more noises, constantly reminded that she’s holding him up with just one hand, that they’re close in a way he hasn’t really ever been before.
“Tom, friend, are you nervous?”
“No,” he answers, too quickly. He’s shaking in her grip.
“You’re lying to me.”
“Okay, well, maybe a little. Look, I’m always nervous, alright? You’ve met me.”
“Indeed, I know you well.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “So I’m nervous, but I’m also- well- there are other things that make me, um, sweat and breathe hard and stuff-” Troth rocks her thigh up harder, and he gasps, unable to stop his hips from shifting in response.
“Like that,” she says, and he would swear she looks smug. “I am powerful.”
“You sure are,” he says, smiling as shyly as someone rutting against his partner’s thigh can muster. She smiles back, and tightens her grip.
“Does this hurt you?”
“A little, but- don’t let go,” he pleads. “I think I like the pain, kind of? God, I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Me neither,” she admits, but of course it sounds ridiculous coming from a ripped tiefling monk who Tom has seen thwomp the hell out of like fifty dudes. How could she not have people dying at her feet?
“We’re figuring this out together,” he reassures her. “Can I, like- I don’t know how to say this. Can I keep going?” She nods before leaning in to kiss his ear, his neck. She gives him a tentative bite, and he whimpers.
“That’s how I can make the noises keep happening,” she says, teasing.
Tom picks up the pace, able to act unashamed without her gaze directly on him. The restraint on his wrists helps to ground him, remind him that he’s safe with her.
“I’m glad,” he gasps. “I’m glad I’m doing this with you. I trust you.” Troth pulls back to look at him, and he could swear that she’s blushing now. Emboldened by his words, she drags her free hand down his chest, over his stomach, right onto the fly of his pants, and that’s all he needs to come with groan, thrusting a few last times before stilling.
“Tom,” she says with an unusual intensity, dropping his hands and kissing him hard.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps once his mouth is free. She frowns.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I- that was- uh, fast.” Troth laughs and drags him into a hug.
“Don’t worry, friend. We’re figuring this out, like you said.”
“That was good,” she insists, emphasizing her words. “I liked that very much.”
“I want to touch you, next time,” says Tom quickly. “If that’s okay.”
“Oh, Tom. I look forward to it.”