Reed was feeling very frustrated. He loved the scarves, but at the same time he cursed them. There was something so very erotic about being tied up by Emerson, and he loved watching the joy he received from it, but there was nothing so irritating as not being able to touch the one you loved during such times as these.
At this very moment he had his head thrown back against the pillows, his fingers digging into the pillow as Emerson teased him. The tongue on his stomach half tickled and half turned him on more, and the hands that were running up and down his legs were driving his mad with want. He pulled uselessly at the scarves and then tried to move his hips so he'd rub against Emerson. It failed, of course.