Ten minutes? What could possibly be accomplished in ten sodding minutes? Hardly time enough for a decent poo! Jon’s mental complaint as he’d truncated prefered bathing habits verging on the ritualistic.
First five minutes of doing absolutely nothing but standing beneath scalding hot springs cut from nightly routine ensured a somewhat clammy-skinned but smelling sweet lad stretched center of doublewide bed with minutes to spare. Best of British luck, that, because it’d wound up taking Jon longer than anticipated to latch himself into blocky ankle and wrist cuffs still stiff from the packaging.
Not that the task proved difficult. Jon coaxed the leather tongues through shiny brass latchings fluidly as the sitar player noodled ethereal melodies over their five-point-one surround sound; his fingers were nimble, see, but his mind was a trip-hazard.
Tighter and tighter he cinched the restraints, until saddle rivets warmed to his touch and the edges of unbroken leather bit into bone. All bets solid Robb would furrow animated brow at the discovery, tear apart the inside of left cheek as he gnawed his way through a lecture and adjusting of straps to suit.
But surprisingly, he hadn’t.
By the time Robb slithered into their bedroom a grinning viper and straddled Jon on the bed, fully clothed thighs constricting European-cut knickers purposefully two sizes too small for growing muscles, Jon had worked himself into such an intricate mental knot as to rival the renowned illuminations in the Book of Kells. Infinite loops of gold and silver and copper so detailed one needed a very fine microscope to pick out the ink strokes.
The overall theme, however, was blatantly obvious to both lads. And for once, be it due to Loras’ guidance or the straight-pin focus of ocean blue eyes pinning flighty butterfly to spreading board while wings dried and stiffened, Jon found the confidence to voice, “Leave them, please? I need it.”
Security found in boundaries. The physical more than the emotional, allowing Jon to finally take a full breath since first receiving instructions via text message and begin to relax. Radiating warmth of boyfriend’s groin blanketing his thighs, the feel of hooking fingers through belt loops, weighted down and held in place exactly what the doctor ordered.
Smiling up at his better half, Jon rattled off, “Cleansed, trimmed, dried and scantily clad as per request,” and found even his voice had loosed a little.