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Written on the Body

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               Don’t touch his feet. They’re ticklish, and Red never misses when he’s aiming for dick.

               But his ankles? They’re a good place to start. With fingertips or fingernails, some rope or other restraints. Spread him out between bedposts or wrap him up tight: doesn’t seem to matter as long as the bonds hold.

               Backs of his knees are the softest part of him. Touch ‘em lightly and he squirms, irritated, and that’s all well and good sometimes, but the best is gripping them gradually, pressure mounting. Watching Red’s leg twitch and shake, his pelvis buck helplessly, as he melts from the waist up.

               Stretch his balls. Use a cock ring. He’ll thank you for it later with a fuck you garbled by his slack jaw.  

               Red’s chest is a snarled road map of dead ends, wrong turns, bumpy back streets and hidden turnoffs. Stroke his belly and get your hand slapped. Pinch Red’s sides, he’ll pinch yours right back. Touching that swoop below his ribs gets a good reaction; makes his breath all fluttery and sometimes, if he’s warmed up right, makes his head arch back, a moan escaping him.

               Can do whatever to his nipples - pinch them, bite them, stroke them, twist them, slap them, cup them, suck them – but he’ll break a jaw if they’re disrespected. No name calling. He’s only here because he wants to be here; only touching him ‘cuz he wants to be touched, and don’t you ever forget it. 

               Shoulders, collarbones, biceps: use a firm hand on those, especially when looking to nab his wrists. Take him by the palms and spread his arms wide and kiss him the way a wave kisses the shore. Snap a pair of cuffs on him; get the rest of him slung between the bedposts, wide-open and straining. Or flip him over, lash his arms behind him. Truss him up like a wild animal, bucking and groaning.

               Put a hand on his lower back and leave it there. Let him unwind under it, then start on the insides of his thighs: tongue and teeth and hands and fingernails, the tip of a knife or the slap of a belt. Mark him up till he’s the same colour of his suit. Save his ass for last and he won’t be able to use words by the time you’re done.

               Back of his neck is a sweet spot. Ditto the region between his shoulder blades. Scoop him up by the sides, palms flush over his ribs, and he’s yours, all yours.

               Keep the kisses neat. Too much licking and biting sends his senses elsewhere, gets him fixed on the swaths of saliva ‘stead of whatever’s done next, and while it’s fun to mess with him, watch him dart helplessly between sensations, too much distracts him from what you’re doing in the here and now. Hand through his hair is a grounding force; Red takes a deep breath, centring himself, and then he’s ready to go all over again.

               Strangle him a little. From in front or behind. That little hitch of breath sends a satisfying shock through his features right before he presses himself into it, Adam’s apple bobbing under the grip. Stubble stabbing defiantly into your palm. When the grip loosens, Red’s always got a whole new spark in him, but it’s nothing a little work on his ass and pecs can’t quell.

               Suck on his earlobes. Nip at his neck. Run a finger down the crack of his ass. Take it slow or he’ll finish before you get inside him even with the hardware on his dick. Ignore him when he begs you to get on with it. Lube him up nice and slick, and stretch him out till he’s a puppet on your strings.

               Fuck him face-up with his legs slung over your shoulders or stretched taut against your waist. Fuck him face-down, legs bent and ass high like the supplicant to an angry God. Fuck him like you could rip him in half. Fuck him till he’s on the verge of coming apart. Hold his thighs to your hips so every thrust ripples through him or let him slide right to end of your dick before shoving him back where he belongs. Wait for him to stop praying before you tell him how good he is, then say it loud enough to be heard over his moans.

               Let him come. Or don’t. Red’s fine either way. He thrives on the edge with breaths and moans, but he climaxes with sound and fury. Hang onto him in the aftermath; Red takes too easily to being discarded, so keep one hand on him at all times as the restraints come undone.

               Waiting for him to recover is a mistake. Either get the hell out of there or stay to reap what you sow. Red repays every favour. Shove a plug in his ass so he can’t lie still. Sit on his face, let him lap at your ass with his smartass tongue and finish on his chest this time, one more mark on his marked up torso. Or wrap his perfect fucking mouth around your dick to clean up. Don’t grip him by the hair or hold his head in place. Don’t use a mouth spreader. He’ll suck harder, better, nicer, you give him the choice not to, you give him the impression that you expect him to go.

               Sometimes he swallows; sometimes he doesn’t. No way of telling which. Give him an order and he might follow or he might throw it right back in your face.

               Match his contrariness. Red likes getting fucked by words as much as anything else. Punish him for the right things as much as the wrong. Tell him he’s good when he’s being a shit. Tell him he deserves it, when you’re petting his hair as he swallows your load. When you’re holding his sides, fucking him in your lap. When you’re stretching him out or folding him up. When you’re tying the knots or loosening them. When he’s bent over a table or slung off the rooftop ledge or trapped between you and a brick wall. Tell him all the time that he’s too God damn good for this world, and that you’re going to show him how good he really is. 

               Then show him. 


Happy reading!