Page 72 of Fire & Ice

“I thought you might appreciate some grounding today,” he explains, pulling lengths of the soft rope absently through his hands, like he has no idea what it’s doing to Tripp, having to sit still and watch.

Tease.

“Yes, Sir,” Tripp replies eagerly, and then more calmly, “thank you, Sir.”

Rolling his eyes a little, Leander steps between Tripp’s legs and cups the base of his skull, gripping his hair for leverage to tip his head back so that they’re making eye contact. “One thing I would like for you to think about,” he says, “is whether you’d be open to taking some pictures later. I would love to add onto the harness I’m going to tie for the wedding, to suspend you from the ceiling and push you to the edge of your limits. And I wouldloveto take some pictures of how incredible you look while that happens. Something for us to have, to look back on. Perhaps even frame and hang in the playroom.”

Up until that point, Tripp was all-fucking-in forwhateverkinks Leander wanted to break out tonight, but that last sentence has him tripping inside his own head and nearly choking on his tongue.“Frame?”he sputters, holding up a hand. “Let me get this straight. You want naked pictures of me on the walls of your house?”

Leander just smirks and shrugs, releasing Tripp’s hair to loop the soft, satiny rope around the back of his neck, twisting each side together across the middle of Tripp’s chest, dead-center over his sternum. “If you’re self-conscious, perhaps weshould have some taken together. Then we can both be on the walls of my house.”

That proposition makes Tripp’s mouth go completely dry for more than one reason, and thankfully, that seems to be Leander’s intention, because he doesn’t look for a reply. Instead, he sets about weaving a fairly simple diamond harness over Tripp’s torso. It’s just as well—there aren’t many non-sexual aspects of his and Lee's relationship that Tripp enjoys more than this, and he relaxes easily into Leander’s touch, relishing the feel of the rope sliding across his bare skin.

“Comfortable?” Leander murmurs as he nears the bottom of Tripp’s abdomen, touching his hip in a nonverbal directive to stand, which he understands and obeys intuitively.

“Yes, Sir,” he replies, his voice breathy, and if this was anyone other than Lee, that would be embarrassing. By this point, he and Leander have dabbled in shibari quite a few times, and suspension is a favorite for both of them, but Tripp’s not yet had the opportunity to wear one of his Dom’s woven creations in public. They’ve discussed it, mostly as an option for Lee to ‘be with’ Tripp when he isn’t physically able, but the majority of the time they spend apart lately is for work.

Everything else aside, wearing something like that underneath firefighting gear could be a safety risk, a hazard to Tripp’s health. If something disastrous were to happen where seconds matter, the paramedics having to cut through his harness could be the difference between life and death for Tripp. And God forbid that paramedic beLee—neither of them had to say it aloud to understand that Lee wouldn’t survive that happening on his watch.

Suffice it to say, shibari at work isn’t an option for Tripp.

Today, though, Tripp can’twaitto be out there with his and Lee's little secret tied beneath his clothing. Maybe he should be more worried, more careful—after all, he’ll definitely be expected to do a shit ton of hugging, all day long. But the rope is thin, and his dress shirt and jacket are thick, which should take care of hiding the goods. Plus, anyone whodoesfeel something will probably just assume he’s holstered and carrying discreetly, because everyone around here does.

After the business with Christian last night—which Tripp is positive has ripped through the emergency services community like wildfire—no one would blame him, either. Regardless, if anyone has something to say, that’s the lie Tripp’s prepared to serve cold.

Oblivious to his inner monologue, Lee is busying wrapping loops around each of Tripp’s thighs, adding a few twists that result in the rope wound snug at the base of his cock and around his balls. A careful tie-off is situated near his hip so that it won’t stand out, and then they’re done.

“I know that I specified ‘later’,” Leander starts, openly admiring his work and the way Tripp’s dick has plumped up significantly from the incidental contact. “But could we circle back to the photography question early? I would love—”

“Do it,” Tripp interrupts, catching Leander’s surprised gaze head-on and with confidence. “Sir.”

Fake it ‘til you make it, right?He can do this. Hewantsto do this. Still, Tripp’s unprepared for Leander to surge forward and knock him onto his ass on the bed, to straddle his hips, grab him roughly by the hair, and kiss him like his life depends on it. Their positioning makes it easy for Tripp to rock up into the sweet friction of Lee's barely-clothed groin, moaning into his mouth without reservation, andhoping.

But Leander’s a man with a plan.

“No, Lee, comeon,”Tripp pleads when Leander slides backward off of him, his stupid white grandpa boxers tented fully now, but Lee doesn’t even seem to register the change. Without responding to Tripp’s whines, he snatches his phone from the nightstand and swipes open the camera, centering Tripp in the frame with focused intent. Tripp doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment.

“You can pout,” Leander tells him, unbothered. “You’re very sexy when you pout.” Tripp rolls his eyes and Leander glances up sharply. “Donotruin this by turning into a brat,” he warns.

They really don’t have the time for Tripp to test Leander’s patience, so he nods and grabs the base of his dick, looking towards the camera through the fan of his eyelashes. He’s not naive—Tripp knows exactly what he looks like all tied up and splayed-out, propped on one elbow against messy, unmade sheets. That’s gonna be one hell of a picture, and suddenly, Tripp finds himself warming to the idea of Lee maybe taking afewmore featuring only him, after all. He’s already all-in for the rest of Lee's suggestions, no convincing needed.

Without warning, there’s a loud knock at Tripp’s bedroom door, followed by Beau's voice filtering in from the other side. “The walls arethin,you know,” he yells, less irritated than Tripp would expect, but clearly exasperated. “You think you two could keep it in your pants foroneday? Just one.”

“Sorry, Beau,” Leander calls back, sounding apologetic. “We’re behaving, truly. Although, you were right not to come in.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure. Photographer is here, by the way, and whatever ‘getting ready’ you guys are doing isn’t something Iwas looking to capture for the wedding scrapbook, so. If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Be right out, Bozo. Yousureyou don’t want pictures of this, though?” Tripp chimes in, unable to help himself. Both he and Lee suppress laughs while listening as Beau shuffles away, grumbling loudly.

“Ironic phrasing,” Leander says, holding up his phone. “Do you want to see?”

“Hellyes,” Tripp replies enthusiastically. “But I’m also kind of worried that if I look, we aren’t going to make it out that door without Beau's soul leaving his body. So—”

“Raincheck,” Leander agrees with a nod, reaching for the garment bag with his name on the front and tugging open the zipper. “Tonight.”

“Tonight,” Tripp echoes, returning Leander’s smile with a genuine one of his own.

***

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