Late Night (gznz)

This was a commission for Poltergeistrose! I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it!

No warnings

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“Princess, I know yer not trying to keep going at this hour.”

Guzma’s voice was firm, but he still noted the way Piers’ shoulders hunched up a little further, guilty that he was hunched over his battered old laptop at a quarter past one in the morning. Late nights were no stranger to either of them, but despite what he might insist otherwise, even Piers needed sleep. But Guzma could list his excuses and reasons why not before Piers even turned to give him that haughty, ‘and what are you going to do about it?’ face that he was so fond of. Marnie was so young to be running a gym, there were so many things that happened behind the scenes that she still needed help with, and there was a lot of administration work that needed managing in Spikemuth itself, plus emails back and forth with record labels and the studio to book in recording sessions for his new album…the list went on and on.

Yet Guzma only crossed his arms in front of his chest, and gave Piers the raised eyebrow that he’d learned from the same, and watched his lover deflate. Dark circles were already starting to line the underside of his lovely eyes, and exhaustion was evident in the drooping of his shoulders.

“I need to, Guz, if I don’t then who will—“ he began, and Guzma raised a hand.

“I know yer not arguing with me, either,” he cut Piers off, voice stern, but softened as he moved in to scoop his boyfriend up like a lost kitten. Weighed so little, this one did, it was like lifting a particularly scrawny sack of potatoes. “You know what’s gotta happen if you talk back, and when ya don’t take care of yourself proper.”

Piers grumbled as he turned his face in towards Guzma’s chest, but he still clung there as he was carried up the creaking stairs to the master bedroom of Shady House. Under the thin fabric of his t-shirt, Guzma could feel his ribs expanding with slow breaths, and the hammering of his heart keeping him warm. This would be good for him; it had been a little while for both of them, since they’d both had more than enough work on their plates this week, and needed to seize any chance at intimacy.

He deposited his armful on the bed, and gave a faint grunt of approval when Piers moved to strip his shirt off immediately, movements slow and forgiving. From under the bed, Guzma took out the long box and flicked open the locks that kept out any prying eyes, and drew out the jacket.

It was odd, he’d admit. That this was relaxation for them; but everyone has their thing, right? Some people like massages, some people like handcuffs, and some people like full restraints. Piers had explained it to him as being like an embrace, I don’t have to worry about anything ‘cause I know you’ve got me. Even if I can’t move, that just means I can’t fall apart. You’re holdin’ it together for me, y’know?

That was as good an explanation as any, and Guzma hadn’t needed to ask any further questions.

In the present, he shook out the jacket and made sure all the straps and buckles were flipped to the outside and unhooked, then circled around the bed and waited for Piers to silently hold his arms out.

“I’ll take care of ya, beautiful, if you’re not gonna do it for yourself. You know that, right?”

Piers nodded as the sleeves were fitted over his arms, and when Guzma crossed and tucked them under one another, buckling them into place, he gave a sigh of what could only be relief. His slim weight sank back, and Guzma caught it with ease before beginning to methodically work up the buckles and clasps that lined the back, until Piers’ spine was straight and his upper body almost entirely immobile. He could pull as much as he pleased, but he was still bound, still helpless. Yet it only took one look at the blissful expression softening his sharp features to know that this was precisely where he wanted to be.

“Yeah…take care of me, boss,” he murmured as Guzma guided him back onto the bed, laying him down and spreading out his thighs, caressing them with gentle hands before slowly dragging away the tight jeans Piers had zipped himself into far earlier in the day.

Guzma’s lips quirked at the familiar name. Just because he was going to be caring, that didn’t mean he was going to be nice.

The low light of the moon made his lover beautiful even in his exhaustion, the metal of his piercings and the buckles on the jacket gleaming with the same starlight shine as he closed his eyes, and those pale lips parted on a sigh. As he reached into the beside table for the toy he intended to use, he watched Piers’ muscles strain for a moment against his bonds, always needing to test the boundaries—though this was as much for his own sureness and comfort as it was any act of rebellion.

They’d be getting to that soon enough.

It was an utter delight to watch the flesh of Piers’ pale thigh shiver as the head of the vibrator circled up it, not even on yet and still making him tremble. So responsive. Guzma felt his smirk lengthen as his planned cruelty unfurled in his mind; he raised the vibrator away from Piers’ skin and turned it on, the humming buzz filling the air between them, but rather than lowering it immediately to that ready sex, he stretched out two fingers and spread the folds to admire the lovely pink within.

“Oh—fff, G—boss,” Piers moaned, and Guzma chuckled at the bitten-off curse.

“What’s the matter, princess? This is supposed to be a punishment, ain’t it? Can’t have you enjoying yourself too much. Not just yet, anyhow.”

Then he lowered the vibrator and watched Piers’ cunt clench violently when it touched his clit, chasing after his hips and driving it down even as they shook and instinctively tried to escape the tidal wave of pleasure. There would be no getting away from this. It was all too much fun, to watch Piers squirm and writhe, pushing uselessly against the jacket and against Guzma’s hand as it held his hips in place, forcing him close to the edge faster and faster, closer and closer until—

Piers’ cry was pained when he took the vibrator away, and those slim hips jerked high in the air, pleading in an obscene way for what he’d just been denied. His hard red clit throbbed visibly, and Guzma considered putting the vibrator back and ruining his orgasm until he cried those pretty tears, but no. No, patience was tonight’s virtue, and he shoved Piers’ hips back down to the bed and listened to him hiccup at the loss.

“This is what happens when yer bad, yeah? Gotta remind you who’s in charge.”

Piers whimpered something, and Guzma soothed him with two warm palms slipped up the inside of his thighs, pulling him close once more. He was hard, for certain, and could finish them both off like this…but Piers hadn’t earned it yet. Hadn’t given in, not all the way, not like he needed to for a true release. Piers was the sort who needed it teased out, to be really broken down before he could feel weightless.

This time, when he reapplied the vibrator, he kept it steady and light and waited for Piers’ next trick. Like this, he could just see the lower part of his belly from underneath the jacket, could watch it tense and flex and then hold still as Piers tried to sneak the orgasm out. As though if he weren’t loud, somehow Guzma wouldn’t notice him slyly getting off.

All it earned him was the removal of the vibrator and a harsh slap to the thigh that had him jolting and squirming anew in the bonds.

“No—boss, Guz, please, c’mon—!” The words tripped their way out of his mouth, halting and vulnerable, voice trembling as he tried to find the sense to beg. How beautiful he was when he pleaded, how sweet his begging voice. It made Guzma feel needed, and to be needed by someone as gorgeous as Piers was a valuable thing indeed.

Piers’ head thrashed against the pillows, hair spilling out around him and getting tangled across his face, but he hardly seemed to care as his hips bucked, primal and wanting, and he tried to offer himself up and was smacked once again.

“Sounds like ya want somethin’ real bad, princess. Better find those nice words I know you’ve got in your head and ask me proper,” he growled, and pushed the head of the vibe tight to Piers’ entrance this time, watching it grow slick as Piers struggled to ride it.

There was a panting pause, and then a broken little whimper. The sound of Piers snapping, in all the right ways. “I’m sorry—fuck, I’m sorry I was bad—“

Guzma started to pull the vibrator back, and Piers chased it with more pleas.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t treat myself right! I’m sorry I was workin’ too hard and—shit, I really wanna cum, let me, it fuckin’ aches!” His voice reached a fever pitch and Guzma finally relented, sliding the vibrator up onto his clit once more and working it back and forth just the way Piers liked it.

Watching Piers go over the edge was almost as good as going himself, Guzma decided. The way all of him strained, eyes rolling back in his head as his thighs clenched on the intrusion between them and his mouth fell open in a silent scream of pleasure, only to slip lax and soft when his body finally retreated to aftershocks. Prettier than a damn picture, and a sight he could watch every night for the rest of his life without ever tiring of it.

Afterwards, he cleaned Piers up and tapped one of the buckles to ask a silent question, but Piers shook his head. No, he wanted to stay safely bound and held tonight, and Guzma respects the decision. The pressure on his arms helped him sleep better, even if he would be a little stiff in the morning. So Guzma only got a cloth to wipe his face, then between his thighs, and slid a loose pair of sleep trousers on him before tucking them both into bed.

As he wrapped his arms around Piers and settled in for the night, careful that none of the straps were digging in, he felt satisfied with their odd little ways of taking care of one another. Besides, who cared about strange as long as one was happy?