Page 55 of For Real

For me.

This is a thing he can do. He can make himself into a gift.

And what it makes me feel is humble.

Honestly, I really fucking admire him. And the more he gives me—pain, dignity, shame, tears, this weakness that isn’t weakness at all—the more I admire him. The more I just totally adore him.

So much for pretending I was sophisticated enough for whatever we’re doing together. But I don’t give a fuck. Worrying comes later. This is now. And right now, I’m king of the world. Well, king of his world anyway.

I get rid of my clothes and climb onto the bed, pushing his legs apart so I can get between them.

“Toby, what are you doing?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute.”

Which, of course, I won’t. He brings his head up and watches me in this half-excited, half-wary way. So fucking beautiful. I reach out and run my fingers across the muscles of his abdomen so I can feel the quiver in them. Turns out my beautiful man is a little bit nervous.

Good. I like him that way. It soothes me and fills me with small fires. All for him.

I pick up what I guess is an ankle cuff. It’s weirdly good to touch, leather and suede and metal, this sort of weight and certainty, and it’s warm and cold at the same. It’s equally good to buckle it round him, and from the sound he makes, maybe it’s good to have it buckled.

I wonder if it feels like my hand holding him.

I do the other leg, and he lets out a very long, slow breath, and I sit back a moment, just to look at him again. I don’t know why, but somehow he seems more naked with the cuffs on. Or maybe they draw attention to the fact he is naked except for some bands of black leather I’ve put on him. There’s a set of wider cuffs for his thighs. They’re kind of a bit tougher. It’s not like it’s a fight or anything, but he kind of has to actively consent to them.

And that drives us both a bit crazy.

Heavy breathing all round. Very hard cocks. But my hands are steady with the buckles, so I’m secretly a bit proud. And when I’m done, I push against his knee, and use one of these double-ended clip things to connect the ankle cuff to the thigh cuff. He makes a startled noise at the second snap, like he’s only just realised what I’m doing. It’s not actually very restrictive—heh, yet—but the heel of his foot is drawn towards the back of his thigh, and he can’t straighten his leg. As I do the same on the other side, he curls his knee protectively over his body. Can’t say I blame him, which is why I let him get away with it. While he can.

I don’t know where it comes from, but I’m suddenly having this rush of…I don’t know what to call it. Joy, I guess. But it’s so…so…sharp and kind of dark. And I realise this is it: I’m a card-carrying sadist. And it’s okay.

As well as the clips and the rope and the cuffs, he’s brought me a collection of chains. I go for a shortish one, fitted with another set of double-ended snap hooks. Clip one end to the spare ring on the thigh cuffs, and the other to this cunning little eyelet I noticed ages ago set into the bed frame itself.

I wonder if I should be bothered they’re there. I mean, obviously I know I’m not the only person who’s been in Laurie’s life, but they’re a pretty strong reminder that he’s lain here for someone else. I think about it, and it turns out I’m not jealous.

Well, not really. It’s becoming my new mantra: I’m here now.

That’s what matters. And the eyelets are good thinking.

So, uh, thanks, random person.

As I reach for his other knee, Laurie sort of twists away from me, the chain rattling. I think he’s cottoned on to what I’ve got planned.

“Toby…I don’t…”

“Stop wriggling.” His grip tightens, which turns the sinews of his arms all knotty and delicious. Ngh. I pull at his leg, but he’s still resisting me. “Laurie.”

He shakes his head, eyes tightly closed. “I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can.”

“Can you…can you”—his throat ripples gorgeously as he swallows—“tie my hands first? Please?”

Definitely better than two out of ten. But there’s a problem. “I’m not going to tie your hands.”

His eyes snap open. And now there’s definitely a kind of fear there. So fucking hot. “W-what?”

“I’ve got things for them to do. So just…like, cling on to the rail like I’ve said, okay? That’s your cuffs.”

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