Whipped Smooth

by Jane Davitt

It's a playful act, no more, when Danny pauses, wearing nothing but a primly buttoned shirt, and brings his tie down across Steve's back. "Wake up," he starts to say to Steve who's lying sprawled out naked, smiling sleepily, sated.

He gets out the first syllable, but the open-mouthed exhale Steve gives as the tie strikes him silences Danny.

It didn't hurt, that soft, slight slap. Didn't make Steve's tanned back flush pink, didn't draw a sound of pain from the lips Danny's spent the afternoon kissing hot and tender.

Just made Steve breathe out, as if something captured and held had been released.

Danny does it again, watching the gaudily patterned fabric splash down. It's too loose to crack dramatically, but Steve makes that sound again and even with their balls drained dry, Danny knows this is doing something for them both. He's just not sure why.

He doesn't ask questions. He talks, yes, he talks a lot, even when they're fucking, until Steve shuts him up with a big hand pressed over his mouth, or a kiss too comprehensive to let Danny breathe, for fuck's sake, but for this, he's quiet.

He wants to hear everything Steve's not-saying.

His arm rises, falls, over and over until he's sweating, muscles burning. He stripes Steve from nape to ankles, whipping him with a tie he'll never be able to wear again, damp with their sweat, twisted, creased.

No marks. Invisible, every single stroke.

He wants there to be something--

Steve turns finally, going to his back, his cock stiff, a shivering exclamation point, come spilling out. His eyes are dazed, but they sharpen when they meet Danny's gaze and Danny brings the tie down one final time, through the last creamy spurt of come, and falls onto the bed beside Steve.

He's clumsy in his need, too rough when he pulls Steve to him, but Steve's like melted butter, pouring into every space Danny has, every emptiness, surrendering to Danny's needs without reservation.

Danny could do anything to Steve right then and for a dizzying moment, he wants to do so much... He could put Steve on his hands and knees, fuck him with a raw edge to it for once, make Steve keen and cry out, broken, desperate sounds...

He breathes out. Gentles his touch and strokes Steve's hair over and over until Steve drifts asleep.

Maybe next time. Maybe not.

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