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cjmarloweIt's my birthday today, so I come bearing gifts! Or at least I think that's how that whole thing works.... (Okay, I'm an hour or so late, let's just pretend I'm on the Pacific coast.) Also, celebrating my birthday on 101010 clearly means I am the answer to life, the universe and everything. You're welcome.
My now-year-long project, until next year's kink bingo challenge starts, is to finish a multi-fandom blackout. Because I like to make things more difficult for myself, I decided to do each vertical line on a different theme, five separate theme bingos to make up one blackout. I may or may not stick to this in the long run. >.> This story is part of the MUSIC bingo.
Club Bastille
Kink bingo square: confined/caged
RPF. 1600 words. NC-17. Adam/Brad. Also contains: bondage, public sex
Adam knows where to find him on a night like this, after a fight when the air is hot. Adam knows exactly where Brad has gone because Brad doesn't brood and Brad doesn't wallow, Brad believes in turning negative energy into something positive. Brad has gone out to dance.
The line outside Club Bastille is long but Adam ignores it, tosses his shoulders back and heads straight for the doors at the front of the line. He might not be someone important, and he might not be the hottest guy in line, but there's a lot to be said for acting like you belong somewhere, for knowing the right person to nod at and the right way to hold yourself as you approach the velvet rope.
Adam is good at this game. He wasn't always, but he's been playing it for long enough now that the part comes naturally to him.
"Evening," he says, and cocks an eyebrow, and the rope magically parts in front of him, the unremarkable steel door opens outward and Adam sails right on through. He doesn't miss the jealous jeers at his back, but he's used to those, too. They'll learn.
He takes his time at the bar and orders himself a drink, Stoli and cranberry, not too demanding for a club that's known more for it's décor than it's liquor. Someone presses up against his side; Adam just gives him a smile and a shake of his head and the guy moves smoothly on.
Adam turns his back to the bar, elbows resting easily on top as he surveys the rest of the club. Brad might be in the middle of the dance floor, but that's less likely that the other option: occupying one of the many cages that surround and decorate the room. He won't even have had to cajole his way into one, because that's just how Brad operates. If he wants it, he finds a way to make it happen.
Adam sips his drink, undulates his body to the music, and finally spots a flash of silver in the corner that he thinks he recognizes. He doesn't throw his drink back and go, instead sips it steadily till it's gone, which is exactly how long it takes him to eyeball a path to Brad that won't require him to circumnavigate the room. After all, Brad's not going anywhere. Not until Adam finds him, or last call, whichever comes first.
The corner is lit with blue, mood lights rather than spotlights, and Brad gives off an ethereal glow beneath them. It's three steps up to get as close as Adam can, and would have been a few more to get into the cage but those steps don't exist, the cage suspended level with his biceps. Brad doesn't look but Adam can see the moment Brad knows he's there in the way his body tenses. A moment later his hips release again and he moves them like he's grinding against an invisible partner.
"Hey," says Adam, and his wraps his hand around the bar just above his head. Brad brushes his fingers against Adam's as he dances, almost but definitely not accidentally. Not when he does it again. And again.
Brad's philosophy has always been 'when you're feeling down, go be spectacular.' Adam can't think of a better way to describe him right now.
"I came."
"I see that," murmurs Brad, and when he finally glances at Adam out of the corner of his eye his gaze is smoldering. Adam's getting turned on just watching him, not just in the way a guy gets turned on by another guy but in the way where his brain says, 'that's mine, that’s what I get to go home with, that amazing person wants to be with me.'
He rests his elbows on the floor of the cage, both hands inside the bars, and that's when Brad drops into a squat, whips his belt off and is tying Adam's wrists together before Adam even really registers what's happening. When he does catch up, he only glances back over his shoulder to see who's watching them. People are, of course. When you're in a cage, you're on display. But if they're watching Adam, they're being more subtle about it.
"I wasn't going anywhere anyway," he says, but Brad just gives him a mischievous smile.
"I know," he says, standing up again, grabbing the bars and dancing in Adam's face. "This is just recreational." Adam can't touch now unless Brad lets him, but Brad keeps coming back, letting Adam run a hand here and slide his fingers there before moving out of reach again.
He can only watch as Brad flirts with someone on the other side of the cage, bending and shaking and looking coyly over his shoulder, even though he knows the endgame will be Brad giving him the brush-off and coming back to Adam. It's not that Adam doubts he will, not even for a moment, but the flare of jealousy in spite of that makes him hot all over.
Brad drops to his knees when he comes back, spreading them wide, then his hand is going to the tie at the front of his shorts, loosening it, opening it. Adam's eyes shoot up to Brad's face and he feels like Brad is as surprised by the direction this has gone in as Adam, but now that he's started he's going for it. Right through the bars, as close as they can get with cold metal between them.
If they get caught they're out of here. No, that's not true. If they get caught and someone busts them, they're out of here, but Adam doesn't think anyone is going to say anything to anyone who matters. Anyone watching them in this shadowy, surreally lit corner can speculate about what's going on but they can't be sure, and simulated sex acts are just a part of the scene.
They can't take it slow, though. The amount of time Brad spends out of his shorts needs to be exactly the amount of time it takes Adam to get him off, not a moment longer. Brad can choreograph that much, but anything longer would be pushing their luck just a little bit too far.
"I can be fast," murmurs Adam, then he closes his eyes and opens his mouth and a moment later he feels Brad sliding inside, no pause at all, no chance for anyone to dwell on what he's doing or what he's exposing. Adam knows the feel of him, knows the weight of him, has done this so many times that he doesn't even have to think about what makes Brad feel good. He has no control over how deep or how fast Brad goes, but what he does with his lips and tongue is completely on him.
Brad grips the bars and not him, moves his hips in a rhythm that's more about performance than about getting off, but Adam compensates for that, swallows him down and hums against the soft, trim hairs at his groin, pulls against the bars with his bound wrists not because he thinks it'll get him anywhere but because he knows the sight of it will get Brad hot. The bars press hard into his face, hard enough to leave marks, but for the brief moments they’ll last after this is over they'll be badges of honor.
Brad throws his head back as he comes, which Adam only knows because his eyes fly open as it hits his throat. Brad's grip on the bars is the only thing holding him up as Adam sucks him clean, eyes fluttering closed again for a moment as he does.
Brad pulls out and laces back up quickly, but Adam can see his hands trembling, can hear the quickness of his breath and feel the heat off his skin.
"I always love it when you come for me," says Brad, sliding smoothly onto his stomach in the cage, arcing his legs up behind him and hooking one foot around a bar. He kisses Adam through the bars, long and slow. "I'm sorry. We're okay now?"
"I'm sorry too," says Adam, closing his eyes as they kiss. "We were always okay."
"I know," says Brad, finally pulling away and sliding smoothly to his knees again, legs spread wide and gripping the bars over Adam's head. "But you know what I mean."
Adam does, but the answer stays the same. Maybe they argued, maybe they needed to blow off some steam, but they were always okay.
"Come home," says Adam, straining his wrists against the belt. If he really wanted to he could release himself, but that would defeat the purpose. He wants Brad to let him out.
But Brad stands up and licks his lips. "One more dance," he says, and grabs hold of the bars and starts moving again to the driving, pulsing beat.
Adam knows he means it, just one more dance and then they'll go home together, but for the length of that dance all he can do is stand there and tilt his head up and watch. And as hard as he is, as much as he aches to throw Brad down onto his bed, watching Brad is never somewhere he doesn't want to be.
They have all the time in the world.
My now-year-long project, until next year's kink bingo challenge starts, is to finish a multi-fandom blackout. Because I like to make things more difficult for myself, I decided to do each vertical line on a different theme, five separate theme bingos to make up one blackout. I may or may not stick to this in the long run. >.> This story is part of the MUSIC bingo.
Club Bastille
Kink bingo square: confined/caged
RPF. 1600 words. NC-17. Adam/Brad. Also contains: bondage, public sex
Adam knows where to find him on a night like this, after a fight when the air is hot. Adam knows exactly where Brad has gone because Brad doesn't brood and Brad doesn't wallow, Brad believes in turning negative energy into something positive. Brad has gone out to dance.
The line outside Club Bastille is long but Adam ignores it, tosses his shoulders back and heads straight for the doors at the front of the line. He might not be someone important, and he might not be the hottest guy in line, but there's a lot to be said for acting like you belong somewhere, for knowing the right person to nod at and the right way to hold yourself as you approach the velvet rope.
Adam is good at this game. He wasn't always, but he's been playing it for long enough now that the part comes naturally to him.
"Evening," he says, and cocks an eyebrow, and the rope magically parts in front of him, the unremarkable steel door opens outward and Adam sails right on through. He doesn't miss the jealous jeers at his back, but he's used to those, too. They'll learn.
He takes his time at the bar and orders himself a drink, Stoli and cranberry, not too demanding for a club that's known more for it's décor than it's liquor. Someone presses up against his side; Adam just gives him a smile and a shake of his head and the guy moves smoothly on.
Adam turns his back to the bar, elbows resting easily on top as he surveys the rest of the club. Brad might be in the middle of the dance floor, but that's less likely that the other option: occupying one of the many cages that surround and decorate the room. He won't even have had to cajole his way into one, because that's just how Brad operates. If he wants it, he finds a way to make it happen.
Adam sips his drink, undulates his body to the music, and finally spots a flash of silver in the corner that he thinks he recognizes. He doesn't throw his drink back and go, instead sips it steadily till it's gone, which is exactly how long it takes him to eyeball a path to Brad that won't require him to circumnavigate the room. After all, Brad's not going anywhere. Not until Adam finds him, or last call, whichever comes first.
The corner is lit with blue, mood lights rather than spotlights, and Brad gives off an ethereal glow beneath them. It's three steps up to get as close as Adam can, and would have been a few more to get into the cage but those steps don't exist, the cage suspended level with his biceps. Brad doesn't look but Adam can see the moment Brad knows he's there in the way his body tenses. A moment later his hips release again and he moves them like he's grinding against an invisible partner.
"Hey," says Adam, and his wraps his hand around the bar just above his head. Brad brushes his fingers against Adam's as he dances, almost but definitely not accidentally. Not when he does it again. And again.
Brad's philosophy has always been 'when you're feeling down, go be spectacular.' Adam can't think of a better way to describe him right now.
"I came."
"I see that," murmurs Brad, and when he finally glances at Adam out of the corner of his eye his gaze is smoldering. Adam's getting turned on just watching him, not just in the way a guy gets turned on by another guy but in the way where his brain says, 'that's mine, that’s what I get to go home with, that amazing person wants to be with me.'
He rests his elbows on the floor of the cage, both hands inside the bars, and that's when Brad drops into a squat, whips his belt off and is tying Adam's wrists together before Adam even really registers what's happening. When he does catch up, he only glances back over his shoulder to see who's watching them. People are, of course. When you're in a cage, you're on display. But if they're watching Adam, they're being more subtle about it.
"I wasn't going anywhere anyway," he says, but Brad just gives him a mischievous smile.
"I know," he says, standing up again, grabbing the bars and dancing in Adam's face. "This is just recreational." Adam can't touch now unless Brad lets him, but Brad keeps coming back, letting Adam run a hand here and slide his fingers there before moving out of reach again.
He can only watch as Brad flirts with someone on the other side of the cage, bending and shaking and looking coyly over his shoulder, even though he knows the endgame will be Brad giving him the brush-off and coming back to Adam. It's not that Adam doubts he will, not even for a moment, but the flare of jealousy in spite of that makes him hot all over.
Brad drops to his knees when he comes back, spreading them wide, then his hand is going to the tie at the front of his shorts, loosening it, opening it. Adam's eyes shoot up to Brad's face and he feels like Brad is as surprised by the direction this has gone in as Adam, but now that he's started he's going for it. Right through the bars, as close as they can get with cold metal between them.
If they get caught they're out of here. No, that's not true. If they get caught and someone busts them, they're out of here, but Adam doesn't think anyone is going to say anything to anyone who matters. Anyone watching them in this shadowy, surreally lit corner can speculate about what's going on but they can't be sure, and simulated sex acts are just a part of the scene.
They can't take it slow, though. The amount of time Brad spends out of his shorts needs to be exactly the amount of time it takes Adam to get him off, not a moment longer. Brad can choreograph that much, but anything longer would be pushing their luck just a little bit too far.
"I can be fast," murmurs Adam, then he closes his eyes and opens his mouth and a moment later he feels Brad sliding inside, no pause at all, no chance for anyone to dwell on what he's doing or what he's exposing. Adam knows the feel of him, knows the weight of him, has done this so many times that he doesn't even have to think about what makes Brad feel good. He has no control over how deep or how fast Brad goes, but what he does with his lips and tongue is completely on him.
Brad grips the bars and not him, moves his hips in a rhythm that's more about performance than about getting off, but Adam compensates for that, swallows him down and hums against the soft, trim hairs at his groin, pulls against the bars with his bound wrists not because he thinks it'll get him anywhere but because he knows the sight of it will get Brad hot. The bars press hard into his face, hard enough to leave marks, but for the brief moments they’ll last after this is over they'll be badges of honor.
Brad throws his head back as he comes, which Adam only knows because his eyes fly open as it hits his throat. Brad's grip on the bars is the only thing holding him up as Adam sucks him clean, eyes fluttering closed again for a moment as he does.
Brad pulls out and laces back up quickly, but Adam can see his hands trembling, can hear the quickness of his breath and feel the heat off his skin.
"I always love it when you come for me," says Brad, sliding smoothly onto his stomach in the cage, arcing his legs up behind him and hooking one foot around a bar. He kisses Adam through the bars, long and slow. "I'm sorry. We're okay now?"
"I'm sorry too," says Adam, closing his eyes as they kiss. "We were always okay."
"I know," says Brad, finally pulling away and sliding smoothly to his knees again, legs spread wide and gripping the bars over Adam's head. "But you know what I mean."
Adam does, but the answer stays the same. Maybe they argued, maybe they needed to blow off some steam, but they were always okay.
"Come home," says Adam, straining his wrists against the belt. If he really wanted to he could release himself, but that would defeat the purpose. He wants Brad to let him out.
But Brad stands up and licks his lips. "One more dance," he says, and grabs hold of the bars and starts moving again to the driving, pulsing beat.
Adam knows he means it, just one more dance and then they'll go home together, but for the length of that dance all he can do is stand there and tilt his head up and watch. And as hard as he is, as much as he aches to throw Brad down onto his bed, watching Brad is never somewhere he doesn't want to be.
They have all the time in the world.
