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wrap your arms around me, solid

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G sat there, shirtless, testing his arms against the chains that bound them. He knew that they were solid – he just liked the feel of trying to break his bonds and not being able to.

“I told you to stay still, G,” Sam said, voice faux-stern, with just enough amusement in it for G to smile at, “You know what happens when you disobey.”

Sam easily picked G up, chains and all, and threw him over his shoulder. He walked over to the bed and threw G down. (He gently set G down, and, with perfect control, he sped up at the end so G could have the sensation of being thrown on the bed without ever being in any danger.)

He looked down at G, who was powerless against him. G stared back up at him as Sam tugged G’s pants and boxers off, leaving him naked. Sam’s gaze, predatory, never left his eyes.

G loved that Sam was bigger than him, stronger than him. That size and strength, though, wouldn’t have meant much if it were just some guy who went to the gym. They both knew that in an actual fight, Sam would be able to take G down in a minute flat. Less, if Sam weren’t worried about injuring him. That power, that skill, all that discipline and control: that’s what made it intoxicating when Sam manhandled him. That’s what made his mouth dry with need every time Sam muscled arms wrapped around him, when Sam’s body surrounded him, relentless, impossible to escape.

“What are you thinking, G?” Sam said. Clearly wanting to make sure G wasn’t getting lost in his own headspace.

He wasn’t. But he also wasn’t about to tell Sam how safe and warm he felt in Sam’s arms or some crap like that.

“Just thinking about that time I beat you at darts last week,” G said. “It’s hard not to laugh when I think about it. I mean, I hope your performance today isn’t like that, because--”

“All right, we’ll see who’s laughing soon enough,” Sam said, exasperation belied by the hint of a smile on his lips.

Sam lifted up G’s knees, bent them to his chest.

Sam smirked. “Apologize for disobeying, G.”

G’s breath hitched. He could refuse. Drag out the foreplay. But he was feeling… impatient.

“Sorry for disobeying you.”

Sam nodded, breached G with one finger, slowly.

“Don’t prepare me,” G said.

Sam paused.

G continued. “It’s punishment, right? Let me feel all of you. All at once.”

Sam looked at him, skeptical. G had figured as much. Sam was always cautious, always vigilant, in this more than anything.

One the other hand… it had taken G a long time to tell Sam what he wanted. Sam had waited patiently – for years – for G’s trust, and whenever it was given, Sam drank it up like cold water in a horizon full of sand. He knew that Sam would want, desperately, to give G anything he asked for, to reward that trust. Even if it made Sam uncomfortable. Even if Sam hated it.

G smiled, full of obviously-fake innocence. “I mean, if you keep teasing me with your fingers, I’m going to get bored.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, crooked his finger in just the right spot. “These fingers are going to make you lose your damn mind, G. And you know it,” he said, cocky as hell.

G closed his eyes, satisfied with what was going to happen (satisfied enough, at any rate). Sam would work him with his fingers forever now, make G beg for it.

He loved Sam’s size, Sam’s power, Sam’s skill. He loved the feel of Sam’s arms wrapped around him tight, a shield and a home all in one. The way Sam could, if he desired, do anything he wanted to G, the way G would be powerless to stop it. Even (especially) if what Sam wanted was to take good care of G.

But for all Sam’s strength, for all Sam could see right through him to all his depraved desperate needs, G knew what Sam needed too. And G would do anything to protect him.