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An Angel In Flesh And Blood

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The moment it had finally happened, Cody himself had struggled quite a lot to understand what exactly was going on inside his head. Leo had just watched him, speechless, scared and unsettled, as he kicked and wiggled out of his restraints, and he had instinctively backed off, giving him space. He could still hear Blaine’s voice in his own mind. If he makes you understand that he doesn’t want to have you all over himself anymore, no matter if he doesn’t use his safe word, back away. He had asked him, but how will I be able to understand if he’s serious or he’s teasing, how can I tell the difference? Blaine had just smiled, ruffling his hair. You’ll know, he had just told him. As Leo moved away from him that night, he had understood what his mentor had meant.

Cody had jumped off the bed, nervous and shaken. He seemed angry and Leo had never seen him like that. He had tried asking him what was the problem, and Cody had reacted in a way that Leo had never experienced before: he had pushed him away, growling like a small size dog ready to jump at someone’s throat, and then he had screamed at him. “This is not enough!” he had yelled in a high-pitched voice, angry tears already forming in his eyes, “Why can’t you understand it?!”

Leo had gone over everything he had done to him that night, again and again, trying to find the reason he had snapped so violently, trying to understand what could had not be enough to satisfy him. The ropes were tight, he had fucked his mouth twice, he had laid him down with his legs forcibly spread for him, he had started to fuck him right away, with close to no preparation, to make it a little rougher, because he knew Cody would’ve liked it. If that hadn’t been enough, Leo wasn’t sure he could ever get to the point to find out what would’ve been.

“Let’s talk about it,” he had said. Cody had growled again. Then he had yelled once more, out of frustration. He had put his clothes on and he had left the room in a hurry, leaving him like that, anxious and confused.

They hadn’t spoken for three days, at the end of which Cody had come back, crying. Leo had held him, kissed him, pushed him on all fours to the ground, fucked him like that, in the middle of the house, whispering continuously in his ear, what if someone comes in, what if someone sees you, what if someone hears you moan like that with my dick buried deep up your ass, huh?, what then, little slut? Cody had come harder than Leo had ever felt him come, his whole body shaking, his chest heaving violently. They had hugged for hours, lying naked on the floor, and Cody had told him, his face pressed hard against his chest as if he was ashamed to show it, and he had told him “I wanted you to hurt me, you never wanna hurt me. It’s been going on a while. I resisted, for your sake. And then I couldn’t anymore.”

Leo had felt something stiffen inside his chest, the thing that always made him back off a step or two whenever Cody asked him, with his words or his eyes, to do something out of his comfort zone.

Pain had always been an issue, a jammed clog inside the otherwise perfectly functioning war machine that was their relationship. Leo doesn’t like it – he doesn’t like to experience it and he doesn’t like to impose it on someone else – and most of the time Cody isn’t particularly interested in it either, but there are times in which he doesn’t simply want it, he needs it. It’s like a calling, a distant voice he has to follow, and when he begs for it and Leo isn’t able to deliver, he loses it.

That had been what had happened that night, and the fact that Cody had decided to leave the room entirely, not to come back for so many days and finally tell him meant they had reached a point of no return, one of the many they had reached along the way, probably not heavy enough to jeopardize their whole relationship, but important nonetheless.

Something needed to be done about it, and Leo had known right from the start he couldn’t have been the one doing it. So he had swallowed his pride, he had put his own jealousy and possessiveness aside, and had decided to think about his sub’s well-being.

He had leant in, he had kissed Cody on his lips. “Let’s talk with Blaine,” he had whispered in between kisses.

Cody had kissed him back, exhaling a thanks. Leo had felt him get lighter between his arms, as if an actual weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

They had gone to Westerville the very next day.

Of course it hadn’t been easy to explain to Blaine the whole situation. Leo had had to make the most of the talking, at first, which had made him extremely uncomfortable, and Cody had felt guilty and more than one time, along the conversation, he had tugged at his sleeve to catch his attention and tell him “never mind, it’s not as important as I thought, let it go, let’s go back home”. Leo knew this was just his way to try and run away from the uncomfortable feeling of having forced him to do something he didn’t really want, and he had ignored him, soldiering on until Blaine had picked up the thin trail of thoughts Leo was trying to convey to him in the most vague of ways, and Leo had seen knowledge dawn in his eyes, and he had instantly shut his mouth, knowing there was no need for him to talk anymore.

Blaine had started asking questions, then. The usual ones, really, nothing too shocking. Are you sure?, is this what you really want, both of you?, have you talked about it?, are you on the same page?, do you need to discuss it some more with me? Their answers has to have been satisfactory, because after a few minutes Blaine had just sat down more comfortably on his couch and had started discussing options.

“I could introduce you to someone”, he had told them, “He’s a professional Dom. He’s good, a little expensive but he specializes exactly in what you need, and he’s a dear friend, he’ll shave the price down for you.”

Leo had looked at Cody, finding him staring back with an overly worried, desperate look on his face. He had shook his head once, twice, thrice, quickly, and Leo had turned back towards Blaine and, once again, he had swallowed down his pride, gathering the courage to speak again.

“Couldn’t it be you?” he had said.

Blaine had sat silently in front of them for the longest time, looking at them, thinking it over. “If I accept, we’re going to need rules,” he had said sternly.

“And of course I’ll pay you,” Leo had tried, not really sure if that would’ve made things simpler or just even more awkward.

Blaine had snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it,” he had said, “That is not my job anymore, I’m retired, and I won’t be paid for it. It’ll be a personal favor, from me to two of my closest friends. That is going to be it, and I don’t want to hear you talk about money in front of me ever again.”

Leo had nodded, embarrassed and ashamed. That weird, unsettling feeling of having been doing something wrong and out of line would have stuck with him for days.

They had started to talk rules right away. It had been surprisingly easy, and the main reason had probably been the fact that Blaine already knew exactly how to work it out. He would only touch Cody to impart punishments Leo didn’t feel like imparting himself. In no circumstance he would have let Cody touch him under the belt. Any direct contact between Cody and him would have been strictly limited to the punishment itself and would not in any way purposely lead to an orgasm for Cody or him. He would only see the two of them together, and would have accepted no private sessions with Cody alone. And never, never would he ever have sex with him, being Leo in the room or not.

“We aren’t discussing this,” Leo had said, a little puzzled but not in any way disappointed, “I thought rules needed to be discussed.”

“You’re right,” Blaine had nodded, “Rules usually are. Then let’s not think of them as rules. Think of them as conditions. These are the conditions under which I will help you out with what you need. If you’re alright with them, then we can proceed. If you’re not, I’ll have to introduce you to someone else.”

Leo had read on Cody’s face that the idea of not being allowed to touch Blaine didn’t sit well with him, as easily as he had read in Blaine’s eyes his determination to keep these conditions as they were, his need to, to keep himself in check in the presence of him. He had always known there was something vaguely tying them together, Blaine and Cody, something discretely drawing them to one another. They liked each other, that much was pretty clear, but it was more than just that. There was something in their deepest nature, in Blaine’s need to dominate and in Cody’s need to be subdued, that called them to one another. They had a deeper understanding of this whole thing than Leo could ever hope to have – or want to have, for that matter. He once spoke with Adam about it, and Adam told him he thinks the core of it is that their souls look alike, they’re like two different paintings from the very same art movement. They’re not the same, but you can see the similarities, and those similarities connect them.

Even then, Leo had not been scared that this could make them end up together, that they would cross the line or anything. He had learned to trust Cody, and he had instinctively trusted Blaine, his competence and his self-control right from the start. But he had been grateful of those conditions nonetheless. They had made him feel safe. They had helped him dive head-first in this new thing with a lighter heart, and a lighter mind.

The first few times had been weird and awkward, exactly as he had expected them to be. It had been particularly hard to get used to it, especially since it didn’t happen often. Every now and then Cody had felt the need, and sometimes Leo had managed to quench it himself using their personal set of rougher handcuffs, which Cody himself had basically begged him to buy when they had been together for just a few months and which Leo more often than not preferred not to use, because they left his wrists scorched and bruised. Some other times, though, he hadn’t managed. So he had brought him to Blaine.

Sessions with Blaine had been the same, over and over. It felt safe, the repetition of the same gestures, the same codified movements. Leo would tie him up. Cody would struggle a little. Defy him. Blaine would chip in, turn him around and spank him hard enough to make his skin fire up and burn. Sometimes Cody would defy him too, and Blaine would paddle him. Leo would try and not look, try and not listen to the noises. At some point, Cody would break, and Blaine would back off. Leo would get closer to him. Giving way to his inner resentment, both towards Cody for needing more and towards himself for not being able to provide it, he’d fuck him harder than he usually fucked him at home. Perhaps a little part of it would have been to show his strength to Blaine, to show him that he wasn’t a weak Dom, that he had no problems ramming his shaft up his boyfriend’s ass in front of someone else, even if it was an authoritative figure such as him. They would both come under Blaine’s seemingly unperturbed gaze. Then they would leave, exchanging but a few words, thanking him for his help, and he would smile kindly as he always did, ruffling their hair in that fatherly way, telling them to come again whenever they needed it.

Back then during those first times, Leo would have never thought it would become a routine. To get through it, he had to repeat to himself that it probably was just temporary. That, at some point, they’d bore of it, or that they just wouldn’t have needed it as bad. He used that thought to adjust to the situation, to grow more comfortably into it.

Until he was comfortable enough that it wasn’t bothering him anymore.

He opens the door without making a sound, smiling politely at Blaine, standing on the other side of it. He’s dressed impeccably, as usual. The sharp black suit he’s wearing makes him seem even more authoritative than he already is. With his white shirt and sleek gray striped tie, he looks exactly like a businessman who just came out of his office. He’d be intimidating, especially considering Leo’s only wearing a pretty standard pair of denim jeans and a t-shirt, if Leo wasn’t used to him.

“How bad is it?” he asks, greeting Leo with a kiss on his cheek as he nonchalantly walks into the house.

“Not that bad,” Leo closes the door, following him, “He’s moody, though. He’s been impossible all day.”

Blaine smiles sweetly, standing in the middle of the room with one hand inside his trousers’ pocket and the other arm loosely hanging down his side. He looks so confident, so at ease. As always, Leo can’t help but give in to the weird mixture of envy and admiration he always manages to impose over him.

“Is something the matter with him?”

“Midterms in two weeks,” Leo sighs heavily, shaking his head. He himself is nervous about it too, mainly because, too taken with Cody and with exploring the new world they walked hand in hand into, he hasn’t been studying as he knows he should’ve. For what he knows, Cody’s been way more focused than him, and he’s studied methodically quite a lot more, but for some reason he can’t handle the stress of it as well as Leo can, and that makes him ask for trouble in order to try and gain some more extreme release.

“Ah, right,” Blaine chuckles faintly, “Sometimes I forget you’re still in college.”

Leo answers with half a smile, and then walks past him, towards the bedroom door. He left it closed, he really doesn’t know why. “Come on,” he says, “He’s waiting.”

Blaine follows him without uttering a word. He could complain about Leo’s evident dismissal of any proper hosting notion – he didn’t even offer him a coffee or a glass of water –, and Leo’s thankful to him for not saying anything about it. He’s nervous, probably just as much as Cody is, though for entirely different reasons, and he just wants this train to be on its tracks as soon as possible. He knows he’ll feel better the moment he can recognize a familiar situation again, and the fact that Blaine knows how to respect that is already something that lifts his spirit, in a way, in itself.

Inside the room, Cody's sitting nervously on the very edge of the bed, one leg stretched, pointed on the ground, the other folded at the knee, his foot pressing against the softness of the mattress. He raises his eyes instantly when he hears the door open and then close. He's biting at his thumb's fingernail, but he stops the very moment he sees them. There's something dark in his eyes, something screaming. It doesn't go quiet, not even when he sees Blaine and knows he's gonna be satisfied tonight. It's not the kind of scream you can simply silence, Leo's learned that, by now. Cody's needs aren't just needs, they're urgencies – just like his own. The fact that they're not always the same doesn't mean Leo can't understand them, and how they work.

"Hello, pet," Blaine says, waving, "You look nice."

Leo thinks Cody looks more than nice. He thinks he looks unreal. He's wearing a corset – he wanted to try it, and Leo got it for him – and nothing else except a simple pair of black underpants. His milky white skin contrasts against the sharp, shiny blackness of the leather corset and the softer one of his underpants, making his shoulders, arms and thighs look even paler, almost radiant, and he's been biting at his lips hard enough to make them swollen and cherry red. He doesn't look nice. He looks good enough to take a bite off him.

"Thanks," he says, shyly looking down as he slides off the bed and on his feet, "Thanks, Sir."

Something else Leo's had to struggle to get used to. Cody calling Blaine "Sir" during their common scenes. He realizes why he needs it, that he has to acknowledge Blaine as a figure of authority during their games, but it's always bothered him – it still bothers him, to a certain extent, whenever he happens to reflect upon it, which is why he tries not to.

He's a possessive person, and the kind of relationship Cody and him have did nothing to try and soften that part of him down. Even more, he knows Cody likes him like that. Whenever they're out clubbing, more often than not Cody plays him into stepping in to tear him away from someone with whom he's been dancing much too closely, and he knows Cody does it on purpose, to force that kind of reaction out of him, because he likes it when Leo grabs him, when he handles him roughly, when he drags him outside whatever place they are and almost carries him back home to fuck him stupid just to reaffirm ownership over him – and that’s only when he actually manages to reach home to do it, because a lot of times, many times, countless times, really, he just managed to get him to the backseat of the car before fucking him, when he wasn’t stopping at the back alley behind the club already, to push him against the dark, dirty wall, kiss him fiercely, slip his hand between his thighs to remind him he belongs to him, one whisper, one liquid moan after the other.

What happens when Blaine’s involved is completely different than that, though, it’s not the spur of the moment, it’s not Leo taking action to claim him back, it’s not Cody pushing things in that direction on purpose to be roughed up. It’s planned, deep and long thought of, regulated. Methodic, like everything else Blaine does. And so, Leo’s reaction to it is way different than it’d be if he caught Cody dance too close to someone else on the dancefloor.

He walks towards him, putting a hand on his back and letting it travel up his spine, until it stops on his nape, underneath the collar. He’s wearing the leather one a bit more loosely than he usually does, and Leo’s fingers can move underneath it, massaging his neck. “Better?” he asks, leaning in to kiss him on his cheek.

Cody turns his face, searching for more contact. He’s got his eyes already closed and his lips already parted, and Leo kisses him because they both want it. “Almost,” he says, once the kiss is over. Leo knows exactly what it means.

He turns towards Blaine, his hand still firmly holding Cody by his nape. “Please, take a seat,” he says, finally remembering his manners. Blaine smiles thankfully at him, but doesn’t speak. He just walks nonchalantly to the armchair in the corner of the bedroom that’s usually crowded by clothes and notebooks, and that Leo always remembers to tidy up when they’re waiting for him. He unbuttons his blazer as he sits down, but he doesn’t take it off yet. Leo knows it’s part of the show, of what’s gonna happen later, anyway, and he doesn’t comment upon it.

He looks back at Cody, instead. Cody’s got his eyes on Blaine, and he’s watching him intently, biting at his bottom lip. Leo can feel his hunger, and though he knows Cody’s not exactly hungry for Blaine himself, but more for what he knows he’ll do to him, that knowledge alone is not enough to quench his annoyance. He tightens his hold around Cody’s neck, cutting his breath for a moment. Cody whimpers and instantly looks down, squirming on the spot. God, the way his thighs squeeze together, their plumpness, their softness. Leo slips a hand in between them just to feel them gently crush his fingers, and then he moves upwards, palming him at his crotch. “Concentrate,” he says sternly, “I’ve gotta set you up.”

“Yes, Sir,” Cody answers instantly, nodding.

Leo leads him back on the bed, on which Cody climbs after Leo invites him to with a light spank on his buttocks. He squeals, and Blaine chuckles softly from his armchair in his corner.

Leo turns to look at him, grinning. “Enjoying the show?” he asks, playfully.

“You’re not showing me much, yet,” Blaine answers with a smile. It’s not a snarky remark, just a comment on the state of things, but Leo still takes it as a challenge, because that’s how he’s used to go through this, at this point. Blaine’s presence dares him to do more, to try and be a better Dom, and so he nods slowly, walking around the bed to get to the nightstand.

“Just wait,” he says, opening the bottom drawer, “We’ll show you plenty soon enough.” He turns towards Cody as he crouches down to get a pair of handcuffs, and looks at him as he speaks. “Your wrists,” he says, expecting Cody to offer them obediently. Cody does, of course. He’s well trained. He’s a good sub, his perfect, adorable boyfriend. He knows he can only kick when he’s allowed to. Partly, it’s because of the sudden bout of pride that overcomes him as he thinks about it, that Leo chooses to reward him with the handcuffs he knows Cody’s longing for right now.

At this point, they have several. Handcuffs were the first kind of gear they bought, even before they got to the collar. Cody’s favorite are a pair of very rough leather ones, bound together by a heavy chain that Leo, the rare times he feel inclined to use them, usually wraps around the metal bars at the head of the bed, so to keep him still. He tugs and tugs at them, and since they’re tight, and since they’ve got close to no lining whatsoever on the inner part, they usually end up hurting him, some way or another – burning marks from rubbing against his skin, bruises, scratches. More often than not, they draw a little blood.

Cody’s fascinated with them. He loves how tight they are, and that the chain is so short that he doesn’t get to move at all when he’s bound with them, but obviously what he loves more is the pain he gets from them, how they cut, how they sink into his skin, the various, pulsing marks they leave on his wrists.

Leo’s not entirely comfortable with this, but it is a length he can walk. The idea of pain repulses him, but to see Cody squirm and to hear him whimper the way he does when a certain amount of it is included in their games is always extremely rewarding, almost in a numbing way, so, after discussing it at length, Leo admitted that this, and this alone, was something he could grant him, every once in a while. Handcuffs hard enough to hurt, when he isn’t able to do it.

Sure, not always that’s enough – or Blaine and his presence would have never been necessary –, but even when the handcuffs are not enough, they must always be a part of the equation. At least when Cody’s in such a mood, and Leo decides to give him something.

Cody blushes vividly when he recognizes the handcuffs in question. He squeezes his thighs shut, pressing them together just like girls do when they’re excited and getting wet. It’s amazing to think about it. The fact that most of his physical reaction are concentrated on the idea of receiving something, instead of giving. Leo can’t imagine how that feels – he’s been with a few boys, he’s been a bottom too, before meeting with Cody, but he’s never experienced sex in the same way Cody does. He liked it, even when he was bottoming, he liked the idea of having someone’s cock inside, but he never craved it, he never ached for it, not to the point of having to stimulate himself in some way to quench anticipation, even by just squeezing his thighs or buttocks together. Cody does it, instead, he does it all the time. It’s an automatic reaction, written underneath his skin, and every time Leo thinks about it, it hits him like a new and unheard of concept, blowing his mind.

He sits on the edge of the bed, holding the handcuffs with one hand as he strokes Cody’s hair with the other. Cody puts his wrists on his lap, offering them again. “Hurry…” he whines, sliding closer to him. His urgency is only half sincere, and Leo detects it easily. A part of Cody’s just being whimsical, right now. Throwing a tantrum, like a child, in an attempt to force him to react violently.

He grabs his wrists hard, squeezing them both in his hands until he hears his bones shift underneath the thin layer of skin covering them. “Stop that,” he stays sternly, “Don’t conduct yourself poorly in front of our guest. You put yourself and your Master to shame.”

“I’m not…” Cody whines again, forcing Leo’s hold to press closer, “I didn’t want to—“

“Say you’re sorry,” Leo stops him, squeezing harder to stop him from moving any further. Cody closes his mouth right away, falling silent. “Cody,” Leo calls out for him, frowning deeply, “I said, say you’re sorry.”

Still no answer from him. Cody stubbornly decides not to speak, knowing very well that will give a kick start to the rest of the scene. Leo growls softly, as a matter of fact, angry at him, almost disappointed to fully understand how bad Cody wants this – bad enough to behave in such a way that makes any foreplay impossible, pushing the scene faster in the right direction.

He stands up, and Cody’s body falls on the mattress, once deprived of the only thing that was keeping him up.

“Fine, then,” Leo says, leaning towards him once again to press him on his stomach on the bed, binding his wrists with the handcuffs and hooking them around the metal bar, “Let’s have it your way. See if you still like it after our guest has told you exactly what he thinks of you, and how you behave.”

“Yes, Sir,” Cody exhales, trying to turn his head as much as he can to look at him walking away from above his shoulder. Leo can’t help but notice that he keeps his ass pointing upwards, putting some space between himself and the mattress, not to crush his raging hard on.

He tries to suppress the wild wave of desire drawing him towards the whimpering boy on the bed. He needs to put some distance in between them, right now. He needs to. If he wants to survive the next few minutes.

He stops in front of Blaine, still sitting on the armchair, looking up at him. His eyes and expression are unreadable. If he’s having fun, he doesn’t show it in the least. If he’s horny, or if he feels particularly drawn towards Cody, in a sexual way or not, he doesn’t show it either.

He doesn’t move from his sitting position. He’s resting with his shoulders against the back of the armchair, his arms gently leaning against the armrests. He doesn’t look tense, doesn’t show any sign of anticipation. He’s in his element, he’s focused on the task at hand, on what’s happening, what his role is and why it’s so desperately needed. He’s a professional at work, no matter the friendship capacity of his commitment with them.

“Take over,” Leo whispers to him. He doesn’t want the responsibility of this. He wants to sit back and don’t be in charge of this for a moment.

Blaine nods, standing up, leaving the armchair to Leo. He takes the seat eagerly, diving into its softness, into the warmth left by Blaine’s body, and looks at him as he moves a few steps away from him and towards the bed.

Blaine always follows the same path when getting ready to play his role in a scene. He insists that repetition makes movements appear more confident. That he’s been repeating the same choreography over and over again for so long, at this point, that each part of it is inscribed on his physical memory like a tattoo, or a scar. It’s just there, unmovable. The way he takes his blazer off and puts it down, orderly folded, on the back of the chair in front of Leo’s desk. The way he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, the tendons and muscles in his forearms tensing in the movements. The way he unbuckles the wristband of his watch, and then puts it on the nightstand to put it out of the way. Each single movement emanates confidence, it’s like a magnetic field spreading out and all around him, with him at the core. You look at him prepare, and you’re struck with the profound knowledge that this man knows what he’s doing as if he’d been born to do it, as if it was his mission. Much as it bothers Leo, it’s the kind of knowledge that forces you to step aside when he walks on the stage to do his thing.

Cody’s waiting eagerly for him, Leo can see it in the way his entire body tenses towards him. He can barely contain himself. If he focuses on him, and him alone, it’s pretty hot to stare at. He’s writhing and whimpering, he’s not holding himself up from the mattress anymore, on the contrary, he’s pressing hard against it, moving quickly back and forth, rubbing. Leo imagines himself underneath him, pictures himself to be the very thing Cody’s desperately rubbing against, and his cock grows so hard so quickly he feels dizzy for a moment, as if all blood had been drained from the rest of his body to converge between his thighs.

Blaine sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes intent and serious. He’s scanning Cody up and down, and Leo knows he’s taking in pictures of his body, bound and desperate like that, to memorize it. He just knows, and he can’t do a thing about it.

“You’re acting like a slut,” Blaine says. His voice is deep and dark, firm like a marble stone. There’s no sympathy passing through it, no arousal, no interest. That’s the only thing that softens Leo down. No matter how attracted Blaine feels towards Cody, when he starts punishing him, it’s never sexual. It’s just like offering water to the thirsty. An act of generosity, brought about by a bare necessity.

“Yes, sir,” Cody answers in a tiny moan, rubbing himself faster against the mattress.

Blaine spanks him hard, the slapping sound for a moment filling the room completely. “Stop moving,” he orders, and Cody stops right away, holding his breath. “I’m very disappointed in you,” Blaine goes on, glaring at him. Cody can’t see his eyes, but Leo’s sure he can very well feel him. Blaine has a way to make each and every look count, regardless if you’re looking back at him or not. “You’re defiant, shameless, out of control. You disrespect your Master, and in front of other people, too.” He spanks him again, harder. The red trace of his five fingers remains stamped against Cody’s milky skin as he lets go of a little desperate yell and pulls himself up against the mattress, tugging at his restraints. “Is that the best you can do?”

“No, Sir,” Cody whimpers in such a tiny voice Leo barely gets to hear him.

“Speak up, boy!” Blaine roars, spanking him again, on his other buttock.

“No, Sir!” Cody repeats, squeezing his thighs shut as he half turns on his side, to try and run away from his hands.

Blaine instantly grabs him, putting him back in his original position. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growls. His voice sounds threatening, it opens a pit of twisted desire in Leo’s stomach too, so he can only vaguely imagine what this might feel for Cody, right now. He vaguely wonders if he manages to pull it off, when they’re having sex or they’re playing a scene. If he ever sounds so dark, so scary, if he manages to make Cody feel it, if he’s enough to make him happy.

Cody doesn’t try to move away again. He settles down, breathing heavily. By the way the chain is tensing, Leo can see he’s pulling hard and steady at his handcuffs, and he’s sure his heavy breathing comes in part from that. From the effort and the pain and how the two combine to give him pleasure.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” he whispers, moving his wrists in circles, then whining loudly and suddenly stopping to pull when the handcuffs, Leo guesses, cut into his skin. “Sorry for trying to get away.”

“It’s not me you should apologize to, boy,” Blaine says, spanking him again, “Your Master’s sitting right there. He’s looking at you and you’re acting like a filthy whore. Is this the kind of show you want to play for him? Is this how you want him to see you?”

“Yes,” Cody answers, rotating his hips against the mattress.

Blaine spanks him, shouting, “I said stop moving!”

Cody complies once again, but he whines, this time, his whole body falling limp against the mattress. He’s shivering ever so slightly, trying to contain himself, and his chest is heaving so much his shoulders shake as if he was crying. Leo bites down at his bottom lip, because he knows this is where it gets harder for him to watch. Sometimes it gets hard enough he wishes he could leave.

“I’m sorry,” Cody finally manages to say, his face pressed against the mattress. There’s a dark shadow dawning from underneath the lower part of his handcuffs, meaning he bled, if only a little, and blood got smeared around his wrists as he moved them frantically, pulling and twisting his arms to rub his skin against the raw edges of the inner leather.

“You’re sorry for what?” Blaine questions him, climbing on the bed on his knees and putting a hand on his lower back, to keep him still.

“For misbehaving,” Cody answers in a light wheeze, his hips moving slowly, almost inviting Blaine to touch further down, “For… for acting like a slut and showing your my worst, and for embarrassing my Master.”

“Very well,” Blaine says. He hooks his index finger underneath the edges of Cody’s underpants, pulling them up, uncovering his buttocks, first one, then the other. The one that has been spanked more frequently is quickly going red, and there are little spots of a more intense red, tinier than the tiniest mole, surfacing on his skin already. “If you really are sorry, you know what you need to do to show it.”

“I need to be punished, Sir,” Cody answers, his voice breaking in anticipation.

Blaine nods, very, very slowly. “Exactly,” he whispers.

The first blow breaks a nervous silence, its slapping sound echoing everywhere around Leo, quickly followed by Cody’s restless yell. Both noises are so loud, so intense that Leo fully expects the whole thing to be called off by Blaine or Cody immediately, as if they had been passing a crystal ball to one another and it had suddenly slipped, breaking in a million tiny, sharp pieces.

They don’t.

Blaine spanks him again, and Cody yells once more, his hips swinging, moving up towards Blaine’s hand, inviting the pain, then running away from it when it turns out too sharp, then moving up once more when sharpness becomes irrelevant, crosses over the limit of pain itself and turns into pleasure and desperate release.

Leo will never be able to fully understand the thing between Cody and the pain. It’s a relationship that predates his own with Cody, and like all relationships, new partners – such as he is in this situation – can’t really understand them. He’s slowly learning to respect it, the presence of pain in Cody’s life, his way to deal with it, he’s learning to respect the fact that not being able to understand it doesn’t make it okay to think it’s unhealthy on principle. Cody’s a good boy, he’s responsible, he’s smart, he takes care of himself perhaps better than Leo does, and he’s trustworthy, and there’s no reason Leo shouldn’t trust him with this, with knowing how to handle his own suffering to release it instead of bottling it in.

Leo doesn’t really understand his ways, but there are moments, moments like this, when Cody’s bound and restricted, when there’s blood around his wrists and all his aching body, forced in an unnatural position, begs and cries for more, when Leo goes as far as to believe that understanding this isn’t necessary, after all, that the tension in Cody’s body, his complete abandonment, they look beautiful in themselves, like everything too bright to be looked straight up, like anything limitless enough to scare you just as much as it fascinates you. Moaning and screaming, Cody turns into the sun, he turns into the sky, into the highest mountain, the biggest, deepest ocean, he’s something otherworldly and yet inherently carnal, an angel in flesh and blood, and there’s something shockingly arousing in it, something sinister, in a way, but inexplicably enticing, that makes him beautiful like a work of art, something his own hands are molding.

Leo sinks his fingers in the armrests of the armchair, struggling to sit still. Blaine’s been spanking Cody relentlessly for more than a few minutes, and Cody’s whimpering so loudly the sound of each blow disappears underneath it – that’s pain disappearing underneath mindless pleasure, that’s Cody stepping back into a territory Leo knows and understand, that’s the signal his time as a watcher’s coming to an end, that he needs to reprise his role, walk back into his skin, claim back what is his own.

He stands up, and the moment he does Blaine immediately stops spanking Cody. He’s not even breathing a little heavily, he looks in full control, the physical effort seemingly nothing to him. He stands up slowly, his movements never losing their sharpness, their poise.

“Sir…” Cody whispers. Instinctively, Leo knows he’s calling him, not Blaine, and he moves towards the bed, as Blaine steps away from it.

“Is that enough, baby boy?” he asks as he gently touches Cody’s red hot skin, feeling him shiver wildly underneath his fingertips.

Cody nods quickly, hiding his face against the pillow – not fast enough to hide his tears from him. Leo’s used to them, by now, to the idea of their salty presence against his lips when he’s gonna kiss him. He climbs on the bed, only vaguely aware of the sound the bedroom door makes as Blaine opens it and then closes it once he’s slipped out. He covers Cody’s hands with one of his own and strokes their backs, moving down towards his wrists, that he only barely touches. “What about these?” he asks in a low voice.

“Let me keep them, Sir?” Cody begs, moving a little underneath him, “Please?”

Leo just nods, letting his wrists go and putting his hands around his waist. He settles behind him, between his barely parted legs, and slowly spreads his buttocks with his thumbs, exposing him to his eyes. He must’ve come while Blaine spanked him, there are traces of his orgasm on the sheets. Leo touches them with his index finger, and then spreads them all over his opening, making it slick. Cody moans deeply, his hips starting to move right away, even if he looks so tired and spent he can barely keep his eyes open.

“What is it you want, now?” Leo asks, his fingertip lingering against Cody’s opening for a moment, and then breaching it, thrusting in.

“I wa— ah—“ Cody bites at his bottom lip and swallows, “I want you to fuck me, Sir.”

“Yeah?” Leo replies, deep in the space he always enters when he’s in such a situation with Cody, and his natural instinct to dominate him suppresses everything else, making him blind and deaf to the protests of his own conscience, “And why should I? Why do you think you deserve it?”

“I don’t, Sir,” Cody whimpers, moving towards Leo’s finger, taking it in, “But I want it so much…”

Leo lets him wait a few more seconds, just because he knows he can afford to torture him a little bit longer. He keeps fingering him slowly, twisting and turning his finger inside him, opening him up. Cody moans louder and louder with each passing second, his body slowly filling up with arousal once again. Leo notices his softness is turning into hardness once more, and when Cody pulls up his ass, keeping away from the mattress, he knows he’s fully erect.

That’s been enough waiting, he decides.

He pulls out his finger and puts his hands around Cody’s waist again. He keeps him still because he wants him still, he wants him subdued, under control. He thrusts inside him hard and deep and forbids him to move. When Cody moans, he forbids him to make a sound too. There’s something miraculous in the dedication with which Cody follows his every order, something out of a religious ceremony, something that speaks of fervent devotion, of such an utter trust he keeps towards him, the kind of trust you’d reserve to a God. Leo takes his responsibility very seriously, and makes sure Cody knows his blind loyalty’s worth it.

He fucks him hard and fast, without giving him a second to breathe. Cody keeps pulling at his restraints and they keep cutting him, and blood keeps falling, at some point it’s abundant enough that the leather bands, wide as they are, can’t keep it hidden anymore. It pours down his forearms in rills and rivulets, drawing red swirls on his white, white skin. Taken as he is with every hard blow, squeezed inside Cody’s hot wetness, drawn to him and to the tension of his face and to the hardness with which he’s biting into his bottom lip, lost in mindless pleasure and yet so very present to himself, so extremely aware of what he’s doing, and of Cody’s pleasure and his own, and the way they both mix with his boyfriend’s pain, Leo leans in, and licks that blood away, from his inner elbow up to his wrists, and he enjoys it, while Cody breaks, unable to keep his voice silent anymore, and he screams, coming violently against the mattress.

He’s still shivering, panting and spent, when Leo comes inside him, releasing down to the very last drop of his own orgasm, filling him up so much come quickly comes out of Cody’s opening, dripping down between his buttocks, forming a small, translucent pool on the sheets.

He can taste Cody’s blood on his own tongue. He can taste it, and it’s unbearable.

He moves away from him abruptly, carelessly. Cody whimpers and curls in a little ball – he forgets about his restraints, he tries to free his wrists and he doesn’t manage, the sharp leather edges cut deeper into his flesh and this time he doesn’t like it, this time he whines and complains, and he’s about to ask Leo to take them off, but Leo can’t be in that room anymore, he needs a breather, he needs it now, so he climbs off the bed, he pulls his pants up and he’s eager enough to get out of there that he doesn’t even zip them before running off.

Outside, the house is still the house, and the world is still the world. Nothing’s changed, and he needs that to reassure himself. Nothing’s changed. It’s okay.

Adam has come back home, while he was busy with Cody in the other room. Blaine and him are chatting on the couch, Adam’s telling him about meeting with Jesse the night before, all the things they did. Leo likes the way Adam talks about what he does with Jesse, he’s so practical, he makes everything seem simple. One morning he came back while Leo was making breakfast and he just sat down at the table and stole a bowl of fruit because he was starving. Then, as Leo went on to cut some more fruit for himself, he had told him “I kept him tied to the table for the entire night. He kept misbehaving. He did it on purpose. He kept grinning and challenging me, he was completely unbreakable, and the funny thing is – I didn’t manage to break him, and it was fine. This morning we had a shower together and as we cleaned each other up he explained to me it was normal, that we’ve just started to date and he isn’t the kind of sub you simply submit, he’s the kind of sub I should try and conquer. It was amazing.”

In his voice, in his words, it had all seemed so easy. Like anyone could do it. Even now, every time Leo struggles to understand something, and something feels too hard and complex, he always goes to Adam first, because he helps him lay things down in their simplicity, as he did when he explained to him how Cody and Blaine worked. More often than not, it does the trick. When it doesn’t, that’s when Leo needs Blaine. Like he does now.

Adam understands it – he’s known Leo since they were three, he can read it in a second, when he needs to – and he stands up, smiling kindly at him. “I’ll go have a shower, I’m spent,” he says. He passes by him, greeting him with half a hug and a kiss on his cheek, and then disappears down the hallway. Blaine’s waiting for him on the couch, smiling indulgently, as usual. He pats on the now free spot next to him, inviting him to sit down, and Leo does it, diving into Adam’s warmth as he had dove into Blaine’s on the armchair in the other room.

“It was bad again, wasn’t it?” he asks. He’s used to it, by now. They’re slowly building something out of these meetings of theirs, but sometimes it still gets bad, sometimes Leo still loses control, and when it happens Blaine has to calm him down. “What did you do?”

“I licked his blood,” Leo says, spitting it out as if he could spit out the blood itself, “It was disgusting.”

Blaine smiles once again, reaching out for him to ruffle his hair. “I bet you didn’t think so while it was happening.”

“No, I didn’t think so while it was happening, or I wouldn’t have done it, obviously,” Leo answers sharply, annoyed by Blaine’s condescension. “But it was still disgusting once it was over.”

Blaine chuckles, bringing him in for a hug. Leo resists, at first. Then he softens up, and leans against his shoulder, exhaling. “It is a practice I wouldn’t recommend to someone surfing the Scene with multiple partners,” Blaine says when he’s settled, “but it isn’t that uncommon among solid couples. A little bloodplay never killed anyone.”

“Regardless,” Leo insists, shaking his head, “I don’t think I’ll ever want to do it again.”

“Don’t worry, kid,” Blaine says, stroking his hair soothingly, “Trust your instincts. If you really don’t want to do it again, you won’t.”

Leo’s not sure about it, as he is not sure he can simply trust his instincts when Cody’s around. He’s learning how to rely on them more often, that’s true, and it feels good, it feels liberating, but an instinct is not a flawless thing per se, instincts can be wrong, they can lead to mistakes.

He figures that’s part of the game too. To learn how to tell the right instincts from the wrong ones, without losing confidence in oneself. That’s not as easy as Blaine makes it seem, but if he was able to accomplish that Leo has to believe he will too, in time.

Blaine kisses him on his forehead, and then pulls away to look at him in his eyes. “Have you calmed down a little?” he asks kindly. Leo just nods, looking away. “Good. Then go back to your boyfriend, he needs you.”

Leo nods again, sighing. He stands up, turning towards the bedroom door. It’s still closed, but he can almost see Cody on the other side of it. Curling down on the mattress, his eyes closed, his whole body holding pain in as he patiently waits for his Master to return. He goes back to him – not before having leant in one last time to kiss Blaine on his lips and thank him for what he’s done for them – and he’s not surprised to see him exactly as he had imagined him, still frozen in the same position he left him in when he walked out.

He moves towards the bed, sitting on the edge of it. Cody feels the mattress shifting underneath his body and opens his eyes, forcing a little smile upon his own lips. His eyes are veiled with tears and he’s a little pale. Leo needs to clean him up. Feed him. Take care of him. He needs to.

“I’m sorry,” he says, taking off his handcuffs and struggling not to look at the cuts on his wrists.

Cody stretches his arms and sits up. He doesn’t look at his wounds either, but that’s just because he knows them even without seeing them. “You don’t need to,” he answers, “You know I wanted it.”

“No, I’m sorry because I went away,” Leo insists, turning towards the nightstand and opening the first drawer. There’s a seemingly bottomless supply of chocolate snacks in there. With Cody, you never know how much you’ll need.

Cody chuckles as Leo turns back towards him. “I know you needed it,” he says.

Leo sighs, and then smiles back at him. “Do you want one?” he asks, holding the snack up for him.

“Do you even need to ask…?” Cody replies, genuinely surprises, reaching out for it.

Leo chuckles, pulling it back. “I’ll hold it for you,” he says, unpacking it, “Your hands are dirty.”

Cody nods, and they both lie down on the bed, carefully avoiding the stains of come and blood as they settle close to one another, Leo with his back against the metal bars, Cody draped on top of him, still naked, searching for some warmth to share. Leo feeds him slowly, kissing him every now and then, savoring chocolate from his lips, stroking his hair with his free hand.

“Adam’s back,” he says conversationally, kissing Cody on his forehead as he swallows the last bite of his snack, “He’s in the shower, now. Once he’s done, I’ll clean you up. Then I’ll fix your cuts, and I’ll clean the handcuffs last. We won’t be using them again soon.”

“Won’t we?” Cody asks. He seems a little disappointed, but not too much.

“You have to heal first,” Leo answers, squeezing him in a tighter hug.

Cody nods slowly, hiding his face against the curve of his neck. “Okay,” he whispers on his skin, “But I’m in no hurry to get under the shower.”

“You’re soiled all over,” Leo chuckles, pressing him even closer to himself.

“I know,” Cody answers, pouting a little, “Do I disgust you?”

“No,” Leo answers right away, kissing him on his cheek, “Never.”

He kisses him down on his jaw, pulling him away a little, searching for his lips. Cody offers them trustingly, clinging to him, leaning against him with his eyes closed. Leo knows his wounds are still bleeding, that he’s leaving traces of blood on his shirt on the spot where his wrists are pressing against it, he knows some of that blood is seeping through, ending up on his skin too, as if he himself had a wound similar to Cody’s, twin wounds exchanging blood like wedding vows.

He’s not even bothered by the thought anymore.