She was sitting there when he walked in, all expectant. As if he was supposed to do something, as if he’d forgotten, some duty that had gone unattended. The handcuffs dangled from her finger like a question mark, and the look on her face served as every answer to every question it could ever be. He smirked. Laughed, even, for a half second.
"Something on your mind?" Something about scenes like this always made him play the antagonist, slip into the role like a second skin, and bait and tease until there was either a hard core or a soft puddle in front of him. Today she’d be hard.
"I need a little help." It didn’t sound like she did. It sounded, in fact, like she was doing rather well on her own. The second set of cuffs were tight around her ankles, and she was looking to complete the set. But he knew she could do it herself, which made her expectancy all the more entertaining.
"And with what, pray tell, would that be?" Another habit flaring up like a theatrical flourish. His speech overcomplicated, regressing through a century or two, whenever he adopted the role. Subclauses and prefixes spilled off his tongue like wine, making everything seem extravagant and overindulgent.
She smirked, almost smiled, but smirked. He could see her thinking, and each moment that passed pleased him a little more. She was trying hard at this, and she was struggling.
"Well you’re not going to leave a girl all half bound, are you? Here I was thinking you were a gentleman." He chuckled.
"And here I was thinking you’d do better. You’re never going to get what you want by appealing to my better nature." Suddenly the space between them was considerably smaller, the length of the room crossed in a few quick strides. His hand at her neck, thumb pressed firmly against her windpipe.
"You and I both know that it’s not all that better." She said nothing, swallowing for a moment and just staring hard into his eyes. He liked this, the defiance, the strength. He enjoyed the resistance, almost as much as he enjoyed wearing it down.
The handcuffs fell from her hand, and he caught them halfway to the floor, he spare hand snatching out. For a moment he entertained humouring her, letting the steel bite into her wrists as he bound them behind her back. But not today, not when she was like this. The handcuffs ricocheted off the far wall, and a gasp fell from her lips. She almost pouted.
"Once again, you forget one of the fundamental principles of this relationship, lovely." His lips against her ear, thumb pulsing against her throat. "You don’t make the demands, not unless you’d like me to make some bruises."
And then there it was. A moan. Submission.
(Source: simply-black-and-white, via elpanteranera)