As a bisexual man dating an asexual man, Benny always knew that their relationship would be an interesting one, but never did he expect to find things under his boyfriend’s bed. Kinky things.
At first they freaked him out, not knowing what they were for exactly and not sure how they fit with Dean in the picture. Benny didn’t know a lot about mountain climbing, but he was pretty damn sure that they’re not for that. They were too soft, too well-taken care of, nothing like he had ever seen before. That is, nothing he had ever seen before outside of porn.
Which really confused him.
After walking in on his boyfriend with the bundles of ropes in each hand, Dean sat him down that afternoon and explained everything to him—the ropes, the knots, the bondage, the kink that Dean’s been keeping from him for the three years they’ve been dating. When Benny protested, Dean said he could live without it, just like Benny was living without sex.
And that was that. Simple.
Until Benny brought it up again weeks later. It’s been on his mind ever since that afternoon. Wishing to be in full support of his boyfriend, Benny researched bondage, looking at every tutorial and every picture and imagining how Dean might look in each rope design. Dean described the feeling of being bound as “thrilling,” and well, Benny felt a little thrilled about the idea as well.
"I’d like to try it," Benny announces one evening as they’re eating dessert. "The thing you like." He can’t seem to say it out loud, his cheeks too pink and his face growing warm. When his boyfriend raises a confused eyebrow, he clarifies. "The thing with the… ropes."
"I’ve been looking up stuff, tutorials and the like," Benny explains. "It looks… interesting."
"Benny," Dean begins, putting down his forkful of peach pie which he knows is a sign that shit’s about to get serious. "You don’t have to if you’re uncomfo—"
"No," he interrupts. Benny tries to speak with the utmost confidence. "I want to. I wanna make you happy."
Dean seems to consider the proposal for a moment, rolling the idea around in his head. Benny cannot even imagine what is going on in Dean’s head at the moment. Does Dean even trust him with this? Is he overstepping his bounds by even asking? What if he fucks this up and fucks up their entire relationship? The line between success and utter failure is so blurry, so fragile.
So that’s why he’s genuinely surprised when his boyfriend says: “If you’re sure.”
"Now? Tonight?" Benny asks impatiently, jumping at the opportunity that he’s been thinking about for weeks. Dean nods slowly.
When Benny begins to stand up from the table, Dean holds a hand out. “Hold up, pie first.”
Dean steers Benny into his bedroom, turning on the bedside lamp before fishing out the drawstring bag of rope and handing it to his boyfriend. Benny takes it but tries to hide his hesitation as best he can. He doesn’t want to make Dean think he’s not one hundred percent into it.
"You gonna, uh, undress?"
"No." Dean’s cheeks grow pink, bashful and cute. "I mean, not completely."
Benny traces the lines of the ropes with his fingers as Dean sheds his henley and lets it drop to the floor, leaving himself with his chest bare and just his jeans slung low across his hips. It’s then that they just stare at each other.
"I should probably get you a book," Dean says after a beat passes, turning to fish something out from the back of his desk drawer. ‘Bondage for Beginners: An Illustrated Guide.' He presses it into Benny's hands.
"We could start simple," Dean says, continuing as his boyfriend flicks through the pages. "Like just my arms or—"
"This one," Benny interrupts, pointing to a page about halfway through the book. "I mean, is this one okay, sugar?"
Dean looks over his shoulder, reading the title and looking at the picture. “You have good taste.” He smiles, sliding down to his knees.
Despite being the one tied up, Dean skillfully directs Benny and his uncertain hands through the wrapping and weaving and tying of knots. He works slowly, making sure that the ropes are positioned just like the pictures in the guidebook. With every successful knot—not too tight or too loose, sometimes he has to retry a few times—Benny presses a lingering kiss to Dean’s exposed torso, on his shoulders, his collarbone, the nape of his neck.
The rope winds around Dean’s wrists a dozen times, binding them together. His elbows and shoulders get the same treatment, with a knot between them to keep the ropes from tightening accidentally. They use three of Dean’s ropes of various lengths and Benny can’t believe how many yards have gone into the effort. But, as it comes together, he sees that every foot of the strong rope is worth it.
Dean kneels there on the carpet, arms held steady behind his own back as he patiently waits for Benny to bind him, giving gentle words of encouragement and direction when necessary. Benny keeps a careful eye on his boyfriend, looking for signs that the ropes are too tight or in the wrong place, looking for a sign that Dean might not want Benny to do this anymore.
But those signs never come.
It still doesn’t stop him from asking.
"These okay, darlin’?"
Letting out a breath he’s been holding in, Benny sits back on his heels and admires his completed work. It’s beautiful—Dean’s beautiful. The black rope looks so good against Dean’s pale and freckled skin, holding him taut and secure. He’s like a piece of art.
"Benny," Dean says, voice low and rough in a stark contrast to his flushed cheeks. It’s a rare sight that Benny wants to drink in like a fine aged wine. "You did good. Thank you."
Benny nods. “You’re beautiful.”
Dean’s cheeks grow even more red, making his freckles stand out even more in the low light of the lamp in his bedroom. Benny opens his mouth once more but snaps it shut when Dean lets out an exasperated huff.
"Cut the pleasantries and kiss me."