Glee Fic: I'll Teach You the Rules,You'll Show Me the Ropes
Title: I'll Teach You the Rules, You'll Show Me the Ropes
Author: Caroline-Shea
Rating: NC-17 for language and sex
Word Count: ~2,500
Pairings: Blaine/Finn
Warnings: D/s; Power play; Like, 'unnecessary roughness' or something? IDEK; Dirty talking; Orgasm denial. In case these warnings aren't enough, this may not be everyone's cup of tea.
Summary: Blaine, Finn's boyfriend of several months, is not excited about Finn's 'mailman problem' and he decides to do something to fix it.
A/N: Originally written a few months ago for pyroclastic 's Glee Multiship 1-sentence meme (written for rrrowr 's prompt: "Premature Ejaculation.") It eventually spiraled into... well, um, this. FYI: Parts of this MAY seem kind of dub-con, but let me assure you that they have a safe-word with which they're both comfortable and that both Finn and Blaine are electing not to use it. They trust each other; it's all cool.
Every nerve-ending in Finn's body is on fire; every muscle taut and trembling as he stretches against the ropes binding his arms to the bedposts.
"You're not going to get loose, Finn," says Blaine, his voice a low, sharp hiss against his ear.
"Blaine, I - I'm sorry. I - fuck - I really tried this time, I..."
"I know you did, baby," he whispers, his voice now a deceptively gentle purr. "But it's not just this one time I'm talking about." Blaine shifts forward in his position - straddled over Finn on the bed - and nips gently at the pale skin of his boyfriend's throat.
Finn's hips jerk upward helplessly. "Blaine.. I couldn't help it. I - god, the way you look in those jeans. I'd been half-hard all night just from staring at you. I was okay when we were just making out, but then you started grinding against me, baby, and I just couldn't - fuck!" he cries out sharply as Blaine bites down on his collarbone.
Blaine's tone is frighteningly calm. "You're not listening to me, Finn. It's not just tonight I'm talking about. I'm talking about how you hardly ever last longer than a minute when I go down on you. I'm talking," and at this point he tugs at Finn's ear with his teeth, eliciting a low, desperate moan from his boyfriend, "about how, the first time I let you fuck me, you were barely in me before you came. I'm talking about how I booked a room for us at the Hawthorne for our two-month anniversary and you came before I finished taking my clothes off. I wasn't even naked yet, Finn."
Finn strains valiantly against the ropes. "Dammit, Blaine, I'm sorry, okay? It's not like it's only a disappointment for you when that happens. You know about my..." He swallows. "...problem. You know about the fucking mailman. You know I try. What the hell else do you expect me to do?"
Blaine's smile is at once teasing and slightly threatening. "Actually, it's what I'm going to do. It's what I should have done a long time ago."
Finn's heart stops. "What - break up with me?"
Blaine shakes his head. "Hardly," he says. "Not after all the work I've put into you. No, Finn, what I'm going to do is teach you a few very simple lessons. The first of which is self-control." He skims his hands down the front of Finn's body and palms his boyfriend's erection lightly, rubbing it in slow circles with the heel of his hand.
Finn's reaction is instantaneous. He throws his head back, lets out a high, harsh groan, and bucks his hips upward, attempting to grind into Blaine's hand. "Blaine...oh - ohh..."
The hand is withdrawn instantly. "No, Finn," says Blaine sharply. "Don't press into my hand. Just lay back and let me touch you. We're going to start slow. You need to last at least two minutes, Finn. For every minute after that that you let me touch you without trying to make yourself come faster - in fact, for every minute past two minutes that you don't come, period..." Blaine gazes down at Finn through his eyelashes, his expression unreadable. "You'll have a reward. Trust me when I say that you will fucking love this reward, Finn."
Finn is just starting to feel the burning sting of the ropes as they chafe against his wrists. He licks his lips nervously. "What if... what if I don't last two minutes?"
Blaine's smile stays plastered on his face, but the expression in his eyes becomes indefinably darker. "Well, Finn..." he says, "that would bring us straight to our second lesson." He digs his fingernails into Finn's hips sharply, wrenching a startled, pained hiss from his boyfriend's throat.
"The second lesson," he continues conversationally, as though he hadn't just nearly drawn blood from the tied-up boy below him, "is that actions have consequences."
0000
0000
Blaine stares at his pocket-watch, his facial expression contained and impassive.
"Ten, nine, eight, seven..." he counts down, shifting his gaze abruptly, giving an almost bored glance to the stretched-taut boy he's hovering over..
"Blaine," pleads Finn, his voice drier than the air around them. "Blaine, I"-
"Ready or not..." says Blaine darkly, slithering his hand up the inside of Finn's thigh. "Don't come."
There's no slow seduction this time - no wet-hot press of lips or tongue against Finn's mouth; no tender, worshipful touches or intimate eye contact or softly-murmured sweet-nothings.
There's just Blaine's hand, palming Finn's dick through his jeans - and Blaine himself, flicking his gaze back and forth from his watch to his boyfriend's crotch with a look of near-clinical detachment that Finn's absolutely certain he shouldn't find as hot as he does.
"A minute and forty seconds to go," Blaine tells him calmly.
Finn can't believe it's only been twenty seconds; Blaine's smooth, insistent strokes are sending sparks
to every fucking nerve in his body and he's already feeling the familiar rush of heat pool low in his groin. He closes his eyes and bites his trembling lower lip, trying to stave off the inevitable. Mailman, he thinks desperately. Mailman, mailman, mailman -
And apparently some of that had been spoken out loud, because Blaine's eyes are flashing fire right now.
"Rule number three," Blaine says roughly - and Finn can hear him striving to keep his voice level - "Enough with the mailman. It doesn't fucking work, Finn." He rubs harder at Finn's straining erection. Finn's eyes fly open and lock onto Blaine's, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to keep his hips still.
"Blaine, come on"-
"No, you come on," growls Blaine. "You think that's sexy for me? Knowing that the whole time I'm being fucked by my boyfriend - my boyfriend who I'm thinking about, by the way - he's thinking about a civil servant he nearly killed? Yeah, Finn. That's really hot."
Finn shuts his eyes tightly , partly from embarrassment and partly because he's about to go out of his goddamn mind if Blaine doesn't stop-
"Open your eyes," commands Blaine.
Finn obeys, taking a deep, steadying breath as he does so.
"Look at me," says Blaine, now rubbing in a torturously slow circle with the heel of his palm.
"Uhh..." shudders Finn, his hips twisting slightly. The room's too hot all of a sudden; unbearably hot. He can feel the sweat sticking to his skin, and the sheets twisted around his ankles, and the heat of Blaine's gaze as it lances him open, a fever-flush spreading across his face, his neck, his torso. His skin is buzzing, almost, with tension and need and energy - all of which seem to be centered around the low, pulsing ache in his groin.
"A minute to go, Finn."
Finn braces himself. He can do this; he can. He grits his teeth and summons all of his resolve. You're over halfway there, he thinks. All you need to do is just keep doing what you're-
And that's when the silence of the room is broken by the slow, metallic downward-drag of a zipper.
"Ngh - what?" pants Finn. "Blaine, no. I - fuck, there's no way I'll be able to"-
"Let's find out," says Blaine dangerously, curling his fingers deftly around Finn's hard, aching cock.
"Oh, god, Blaine. Fuck. Blaine"- Finn gasps at the sensation; his hips arching off the bed despite himself.
"Thirty seconds," says Blaine impassively as he jerks Finn off; varying the strength of his grip and the speed of his strokes and the movements of his wrist and fingers, using every trick he's picked up over the years to reduce Finn to a shaking, shuddering mess - which he is.
"Twenty seconds," he says roughly, his eyes still locked on Finn's. Finn bites viciously down on his lip - and fuck, he wishes he could dig his fingernails into the bedspread - but his arms are spread out, held in place by the ropes, and so he curls his fingers inward, digging them sharply into his own palms instead.
"Blaine," he pleads desperately. "I don't think I ca-an"- The sentence ends in a sharp groan as Blaine twists his wrist just so under the head of Finn's cock.
"You will," says Blaine sharply.
"No," he gasps. "I - I can't"- Far from backing off, Blaine brings his left hand in on the action, brushing his fingers lightly over Finn's balls as he picks up the tempo with his right hand.
"Fuck!"" God, he's just - he's never felt anything like this. It feels like every single part of him (not just his arms) has been strung up with wire or rope and is being stretched to the breaking point. He's never wanted and not-wanted something so badly at the same.
His throat constricts; his thighs actually start shaking. The muscles in his ass clench; his abdomen tightens; his hips jerk upward as he thrusts into Blaine's hand.
"Fifteen seconds," says Blaine tightly.
Finn drags in as much air as he can. "Oh. Fuck. Me," he rasps, his body starting to thrash of its own accord. And fuck, he's just about to come - he's just about to -
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
It takes Finn a second to make sense of that. But when he does, it's enough to distract him, to startle him out of himself. He lifts his head off the mattress, twists his face into a mask of confusion, and seeks out Blaine's eyes.
"Wh- Blaine, what did you just"-
"You'd like it, wouldn't you, Finn. If I fucked you?" He puncuates the sentence with an exquisitely slow drag of his palm along Finn's cock; Finn lets out a low groan at the sensation.
After a short pause, Finn speaks up hesitantly. "I - I thought you said you didn't want"-
"I didn't say I'd like it," says Blaine sharply. "I said you'd like it. You'd like it I laid you out underneath me, spread your legs, worked you open with my fingers"-
"No..."
"Liar."
"I"-
"Shut up," Blaine orders, rubbing his thumb over the slit in Finn's cock, causing FInn to hiss loudly. "You want my fingers in you"-
"No..."
"You want my cock in you"-
"No," moans Finn as Blaine shifts his position, snaking himself downward until he's on his hands and knees, his mouth positioned directly over Finn's cock.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," he whines as Blaine darts his tongue out, swirls it slowly around the head.
"How would you want to be, Finn?" Blaine growls, breathing heavily now. "On all fours? Pressing back into me, begging me to fuck you harder? Or on your back? Looking up at me while I'm pounding your tight ass, while I'm making you fucking take it"-
Finn practically sobs as Blaine sinks his mouth down onto Finn's cock, enveloping it in the tight, wet warmth of his mouth.
"Blaine!" cries Finn hoarsely as Blaine's head bobs up and down, his hands gripping Finn's hips tightly, anchoring them to the bed. He groans loudly around Finn's dick and Finn suddenly can't breathe; and he can't seem to control his muscles either because all of him is just kind of shaking apart; his legs twitching, his wrists jerking against the ropes. And Blaine doesn't let up, just keeps up the steady, unrelenting rhythm he'd set. He brings Finn closer and closer, bringing him as near to the edge as he can before-
-pulling off. And stopping completely.
Finn lets out a low, desperate hiss. "You fucking..."
"Yeah," agrees Blaine. "Just admit it. Admit that you want it, Finn."
"Fuck you," growls Finn. "Let me up, Blaine - it's been way longer than two minutes"-
"Rule number four," says Blaine nonchalantly, "is that you need to work on your adaptability, Finn. So what if I changed the objectives mid-game?" Blaine bends his head a little, and the angle change causes the lighting to hit him differently; his hazel eyes seem to glow almost menacingly in the room's dim illumination. "That doesn't mean you get to stop playing."
He hovers his hand just over Finn's straining erection. "Tell me. No, don't tell me - beg me. Beg me to fuck you."
Finn grits his teeth; feels every beat of his heart, every pulse of his veins. "You don't even want to fuck me, so why the hell should I"-
"-because I'd get off on hearing it," says Blaine, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I'd get off on knowing that I'd never actually give it to you no matter how much you wanted it."
"You're so twisted," says Finn, shivering as Blaine circles his palm maddeningly lightly over the head of Finn's cock. He can't really tell if he'd meant that as a compliment or not, although Blaine seems to have had no trouble deciding.
"And you're not?" hisses Blaine fiercely. "Imagine what your friends would say if they could see you now: Tied up. Powerless. Mine."
"But they'll never know"-
"They would if I told them," says Blaine unconcernedly. "I could tell them all about it; the things you let me do to you. The way your body shakes when you're close - the way your voice breaks when you beg - the way you look when you're gagging for it"-
"Fuck you, Blaine"-
"Finn, the football captain. Finn, the Glee club captain. Finn, the basketball player."
"Shut up"-
"Finn, the altar boy. Finn, the Peer Mediator. Finn, the Boy Scout."
There's a low pounding in FInn's ears; a rush of energy that seems to spread outward-
"I was a Boy Scout, actually," he says, tipping his chin up, slightly defensive.
A dark smile hovers at the corner of Blaine's lips. "Well, isn't that just... sweet?" he asks mockingly. "I confess I never saw the appeal."
"Your loss," says Finn, fixing Blaine with a slow, serious stare. "Maybe if you'd joined, you would have learned to tie knots that aren't totally fucking useless."
About three seconds of silence follow that statement, during which Finn stares steadily up at Blaine and Blaine blinks down uncertainly at his boyfriend.
"Finn..." breathes out Blaine slowly . "What is that supposed to"-
- but before Blaine can register what's happening, Finn sits up roughly, throwing Blaine off-balance, and jerks both wrists against the ridiculously flimsy knots until they give. He throws himself on top of Blaine, who thrashes against him, staring up at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed as his wrists are pinned forcefully to either side of him.
"Oh my god," whimpers Blaine as Finn dives for his throat, dragging his teeth against Blaine's jaw and sucking lightly on Blaine's pulse point. "Finn, you know I was just joking; I was just - nghh," he shrieks as Finn clamps a hand roughly to Blaine's mouth, removing it after a few seconds, once Blaine's jaw has stopped moving.
"Rule number five," whispers Finn, his voice a dark caress against Blaine's ear. "Payback's a bitch."
FIN
Author: Caroline-Shea
Rating: NC-17 for language and sex
Word Count: ~2,500
Pairings: Blaine/Finn
Warnings: D/s; Power play; Like, 'unnecessary roughness' or something? IDEK; Dirty talking; Orgasm denial. In case these warnings aren't enough, this may not be everyone's cup of tea.
Summary: Blaine, Finn's boyfriend of several months, is not excited about Finn's 'mailman problem' and he decides to do something to fix it.
A/N: Originally written a few months ago for pyroclastic 's Glee Multiship 1-sentence meme (written for rrrowr 's prompt: "Premature Ejaculation.") It eventually spiraled into... well, um, this. FYI: Parts of this MAY seem kind of dub-con, but let me assure you that they have a safe-word with which they're both comfortable and that both Finn and Blaine are electing not to use it. They trust each other; it's all cool.
Every nerve-ending in Finn's body is on fire; every muscle taut and trembling as he stretches against the ropes binding his arms to the bedposts.
"You're not going to get loose, Finn," says Blaine, his voice a low, sharp hiss against his ear.
"Blaine, I - I'm sorry. I - fuck - I really tried this time, I..."
"I know you did, baby," he whispers, his voice now a deceptively gentle purr. "But it's not just this one time I'm talking about." Blaine shifts forward in his position - straddled over Finn on the bed - and nips gently at the pale skin of his boyfriend's throat.
Finn's hips jerk upward helplessly. "Blaine.. I couldn't help it. I - god, the way you look in those jeans. I'd been half-hard all night just from staring at you. I was okay when we were just making out, but then you started grinding against me, baby, and I just couldn't - fuck!" he cries out sharply as Blaine bites down on his collarbone.
Blaine's tone is frighteningly calm. "You're not listening to me, Finn. It's not just tonight I'm talking about. I'm talking about how you hardly ever last longer than a minute when I go down on you. I'm talking," and at this point he tugs at Finn's ear with his teeth, eliciting a low, desperate moan from his boyfriend, "about how, the first time I let you fuck me, you were barely in me before you came. I'm talking about how I booked a room for us at the Hawthorne for our two-month anniversary and you came before I finished taking my clothes off. I wasn't even naked yet, Finn."
Finn strains valiantly against the ropes. "Dammit, Blaine, I'm sorry, okay? It's not like it's only a disappointment for you when that happens. You know about my..." He swallows. "...problem. You know about the fucking mailman. You know I try. What the hell else do you expect me to do?"
Blaine's smile is at once teasing and slightly threatening. "Actually, it's what I'm going to do. It's what I should have done a long time ago."
Finn's heart stops. "What - break up with me?"
Blaine shakes his head. "Hardly," he says. "Not after all the work I've put into you. No, Finn, what I'm going to do is teach you a few very simple lessons. The first of which is self-control." He skims his hands down the front of Finn's body and palms his boyfriend's erection lightly, rubbing it in slow circles with the heel of his hand.
Finn's reaction is instantaneous. He throws his head back, lets out a high, harsh groan, and bucks his hips upward, attempting to grind into Blaine's hand. "Blaine...oh - ohh..."
The hand is withdrawn instantly. "No, Finn," says Blaine sharply. "Don't press into my hand. Just lay back and let me touch you. We're going to start slow. You need to last at least two minutes, Finn. For every minute after that that you let me touch you without trying to make yourself come faster - in fact, for every minute past two minutes that you don't come, period..." Blaine gazes down at Finn through his eyelashes, his expression unreadable. "You'll have a reward. Trust me when I say that you will fucking love this reward, Finn."
Finn is just starting to feel the burning sting of the ropes as they chafe against his wrists. He licks his lips nervously. "What if... what if I don't last two minutes?"
Blaine's smile stays plastered on his face, but the expression in his eyes becomes indefinably darker. "Well, Finn..." he says, "that would bring us straight to our second lesson." He digs his fingernails into Finn's hips sharply, wrenching a startled, pained hiss from his boyfriend's throat.
"The second lesson," he continues conversationally, as though he hadn't just nearly drawn blood from the tied-up boy below him, "is that actions have consequences."
0000
0000
Blaine stares at his pocket-watch, his facial expression contained and impassive.
"Ten, nine, eight, seven..." he counts down, shifting his gaze abruptly, giving an almost bored glance to the stretched-taut boy he's hovering over..
"Blaine," pleads Finn, his voice drier than the air around them. "Blaine, I"-
"Ready or not..." says Blaine darkly, slithering his hand up the inside of Finn's thigh. "Don't come."
There's no slow seduction this time - no wet-hot press of lips or tongue against Finn's mouth; no tender, worshipful touches or intimate eye contact or softly-murmured sweet-nothings.
There's just Blaine's hand, palming Finn's dick through his jeans - and Blaine himself, flicking his gaze back and forth from his watch to his boyfriend's crotch with a look of near-clinical detachment that Finn's absolutely certain he shouldn't find as hot as he does.
"A minute and forty seconds to go," Blaine tells him calmly.
Finn can't believe it's only been twenty seconds; Blaine's smooth, insistent strokes are sending sparks
to every fucking nerve in his body and he's already feeling the familiar rush of heat pool low in his groin. He closes his eyes and bites his trembling lower lip, trying to stave off the inevitable. Mailman, he thinks desperately. Mailman, mailman, mailman -
And apparently some of that had been spoken out loud, because Blaine's eyes are flashing fire right now.
"Rule number three," Blaine says roughly - and Finn can hear him striving to keep his voice level - "Enough with the mailman. It doesn't fucking work, Finn." He rubs harder at Finn's straining erection. Finn's eyes fly open and lock onto Blaine's, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to keep his hips still.
"Blaine, come on"-
"No, you come on," growls Blaine. "You think that's sexy for me? Knowing that the whole time I'm being fucked by my boyfriend - my boyfriend who I'm thinking about, by the way - he's thinking about a civil servant he nearly killed? Yeah, Finn. That's really hot."
Finn shuts his eyes tightly , partly from embarrassment and partly because he's about to go out of his goddamn mind if Blaine doesn't stop-
"Open your eyes," commands Blaine.
Finn obeys, taking a deep, steadying breath as he does so.
"Look at me," says Blaine, now rubbing in a torturously slow circle with the heel of his palm.
"Uhh..." shudders Finn, his hips twisting slightly. The room's too hot all of a sudden; unbearably hot. He can feel the sweat sticking to his skin, and the sheets twisted around his ankles, and the heat of Blaine's gaze as it lances him open, a fever-flush spreading across his face, his neck, his torso. His skin is buzzing, almost, with tension and need and energy - all of which seem to be centered around the low, pulsing ache in his groin.
"A minute to go, Finn."
Finn braces himself. He can do this; he can. He grits his teeth and summons all of his resolve. You're over halfway there, he thinks. All you need to do is just keep doing what you're-
And that's when the silence of the room is broken by the slow, metallic downward-drag of a zipper.
"Ngh - what?" pants Finn. "Blaine, no. I - fuck, there's no way I'll be able to"-
"Let's find out," says Blaine dangerously, curling his fingers deftly around Finn's hard, aching cock.
"Oh, god, Blaine. Fuck. Blaine"- Finn gasps at the sensation; his hips arching off the bed despite himself.
"Thirty seconds," says Blaine impassively as he jerks Finn off; varying the strength of his grip and the speed of his strokes and the movements of his wrist and fingers, using every trick he's picked up over the years to reduce Finn to a shaking, shuddering mess - which he is.
"Twenty seconds," he says roughly, his eyes still locked on Finn's. Finn bites viciously down on his lip - and fuck, he wishes he could dig his fingernails into the bedspread - but his arms are spread out, held in place by the ropes, and so he curls his fingers inward, digging them sharply into his own palms instead.
"Blaine," he pleads desperately. "I don't think I ca-an"- The sentence ends in a sharp groan as Blaine twists his wrist just so under the head of Finn's cock.
"You will," says Blaine sharply.
"No," he gasps. "I - I can't"- Far from backing off, Blaine brings his left hand in on the action, brushing his fingers lightly over Finn's balls as he picks up the tempo with his right hand.
"Fuck!"" God, he's just - he's never felt anything like this. It feels like every single part of him (not just his arms) has been strung up with wire or rope and is being stretched to the breaking point. He's never wanted and not-wanted something so badly at the same.
His throat constricts; his thighs actually start shaking. The muscles in his ass clench; his abdomen tightens; his hips jerk upward as he thrusts into Blaine's hand.
"Fifteen seconds," says Blaine tightly.
Finn drags in as much air as he can. "Oh. Fuck. Me," he rasps, his body starting to thrash of its own accord. And fuck, he's just about to come - he's just about to -
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
It takes Finn a second to make sense of that. But when he does, it's enough to distract him, to startle him out of himself. He lifts his head off the mattress, twists his face into a mask of confusion, and seeks out Blaine's eyes.
"Wh- Blaine, what did you just"-
"You'd like it, wouldn't you, Finn. If I fucked you?" He puncuates the sentence with an exquisitely slow drag of his palm along Finn's cock; Finn lets out a low groan at the sensation.
After a short pause, Finn speaks up hesitantly. "I - I thought you said you didn't want"-
"I didn't say I'd like it," says Blaine sharply. "I said you'd like it. You'd like it I laid you out underneath me, spread your legs, worked you open with my fingers"-
"No..."
"Liar."
"I"-
"Shut up," Blaine orders, rubbing his thumb over the slit in Finn's cock, causing FInn to hiss loudly. "You want my fingers in you"-
"No..."
"You want my cock in you"-
"No," moans Finn as Blaine shifts his position, snaking himself downward until he's on his hands and knees, his mouth positioned directly over Finn's cock.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," he whines as Blaine darts his tongue out, swirls it slowly around the head.
"How would you want to be, Finn?" Blaine growls, breathing heavily now. "On all fours? Pressing back into me, begging me to fuck you harder? Or on your back? Looking up at me while I'm pounding your tight ass, while I'm making you fucking take it"-
Finn practically sobs as Blaine sinks his mouth down onto Finn's cock, enveloping it in the tight, wet warmth of his mouth.
"Blaine!" cries Finn hoarsely as Blaine's head bobs up and down, his hands gripping Finn's hips tightly, anchoring them to the bed. He groans loudly around Finn's dick and Finn suddenly can't breathe; and he can't seem to control his muscles either because all of him is just kind of shaking apart; his legs twitching, his wrists jerking against the ropes. And Blaine doesn't let up, just keeps up the steady, unrelenting rhythm he'd set. He brings Finn closer and closer, bringing him as near to the edge as he can before-
-pulling off. And stopping completely.
Finn lets out a low, desperate hiss. "You fucking..."
"Yeah," agrees Blaine. "Just admit it. Admit that you want it, Finn."
"Fuck you," growls Finn. "Let me up, Blaine - it's been way longer than two minutes"-
"Rule number four," says Blaine nonchalantly, "is that you need to work on your adaptability, Finn. So what if I changed the objectives mid-game?" Blaine bends his head a little, and the angle change causes the lighting to hit him differently; his hazel eyes seem to glow almost menacingly in the room's dim illumination. "That doesn't mean you get to stop playing."
He hovers his hand just over Finn's straining erection. "Tell me. No, don't tell me - beg me. Beg me to fuck you."
Finn grits his teeth; feels every beat of his heart, every pulse of his veins. "You don't even want to fuck me, so why the hell should I"-
"-because I'd get off on hearing it," says Blaine, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I'd get off on knowing that I'd never actually give it to you no matter how much you wanted it."
"You're so twisted," says Finn, shivering as Blaine circles his palm maddeningly lightly over the head of Finn's cock. He can't really tell if he'd meant that as a compliment or not, although Blaine seems to have had no trouble deciding.
"And you're not?" hisses Blaine fiercely. "Imagine what your friends would say if they could see you now: Tied up. Powerless. Mine."
"But they'll never know"-
"They would if I told them," says Blaine unconcernedly. "I could tell them all about it; the things you let me do to you. The way your body shakes when you're close - the way your voice breaks when you beg - the way you look when you're gagging for it"-
"Fuck you, Blaine"-
"Finn, the football captain. Finn, the Glee club captain. Finn, the basketball player."
"Shut up"-
"Finn, the altar boy. Finn, the Peer Mediator. Finn, the Boy Scout."
There's a low pounding in FInn's ears; a rush of energy that seems to spread outward-
"I was a Boy Scout, actually," he says, tipping his chin up, slightly defensive.
A dark smile hovers at the corner of Blaine's lips. "Well, isn't that just... sweet?" he asks mockingly. "I confess I never saw the appeal."
"Your loss," says Finn, fixing Blaine with a slow, serious stare. "Maybe if you'd joined, you would have learned to tie knots that aren't totally fucking useless."
About three seconds of silence follow that statement, during which Finn stares steadily up at Blaine and Blaine blinks down uncertainly at his boyfriend.
"Finn..." breathes out Blaine slowly . "What is that supposed to"-
- but before Blaine can register what's happening, Finn sits up roughly, throwing Blaine off-balance, and jerks both wrists against the ridiculously flimsy knots until they give. He throws himself on top of Blaine, who thrashes against him, staring up at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed as his wrists are pinned forcefully to either side of him.
"Oh my god," whimpers Blaine as Finn dives for his throat, dragging his teeth against Blaine's jaw and sucking lightly on Blaine's pulse point. "Finn, you know I was just joking; I was just - nghh," he shrieks as Finn clamps a hand roughly to Blaine's mouth, removing it after a few seconds, once Blaine's jaw has stopped moving.
"Rule number five," whispers Finn, his voice a dark caress against Blaine's ear. "Payback's a bitch."
FIN