(no subject)
Title: Handcuffs & Alibis
Author: promisethstars
Pairing: Martin Johnson/Paul DiGiovanni
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: use of handcuffs
Summary: Paul figures out that Martin has a kink, and decides to do something about it.
Disclaimer: No facts, just fiction and a stoyrline.
Notes: Thanks to random_yayness ♥ Also to syn_or_fantasy for talking me into writing this in the first place ♥
Martin freezes when he hears the tinkle of metal chain and turns his head to see Paul holding up a pair of metal handcuffs. Paul raises an eyebrow at him.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, dude,” Paul says, walking slowly towards the bed, turning the handcuffs over in his hands. “You hesitate every time you hand that necklace over. The way you look at me when I’m wearing it changes from how you always look at me. Believe me, I noticed.”
“But I… you don’t have to…” Martin starts. “It’s not a thing.”
“I think it is,” Paul says quietly. “I think you like it. You, Martin Johnson, are a kinky fucker.”
Martin swallows hard as Paul tosses the cuffs on the bed, the metal clinking together as they come to rest near the pillows. Paul pushes him onto the bed, on his back, and wastes no time in pulling Martin’s shirt up and over his head.
They’ve kissed before, because really, who doesn’t end up kissing their bandmates after a couple drinks? But it’s never been like this, Paul’s never deliberately stuck his tongue in Martin’s mouth before, Martin’s never bit Paul’s lip and pulled, just enough to get a low moan out of Paul’s throat. Paul runs a careful hand over Martin’s chest, just briefly, just to distract him from-
Martin stills when he feels the cool metal around his wrist, loses the ability to keep kissing Paul no matter how much he doesn’t want to quit. Paul gets it though, he moves down to bite at Martin’s neck while he somehow manages to get the chain threaded through the headboard and then the other cuff is snapped around Martin’s wrist.
He pulls experimentally at the chain, surprised at how strong it actually is. Not that Martin goes around thinking about what it would be like to be handcuffed to the bed or anything.
“You can get out anytime you want,” Paul mutters. He holds up a small silver key, then puts it on the bedside table. “If you need to. I won’t be mad.”
Martin shakes his head. It’s nice to have an out, but he won’t use it. No fucking way. Paul smirks, that stupid smirk that Martin was dumb enough to fall in love with, and then crawls up a little more to keep biting at Martin’s neck. He draws in a sharp breath; he can practically feel the bruises forming already.
Paul realizes that he’s going to have to do all the work on removing their clothes, with Martin’s hands up and out of commission, but he really doesn’t care. He pulls his shirt off, barely taking the time to remove his mouth from Martin’s neck to do so. He gets his hands between them and starts working at Martin’s belt, wishing that he was better with belt buckles.
“Fuck,” Martin hears Paul say under his breath. “Fucking stupid belt.” Martin tries not to laugh, but he can’t help a little giggle escaping his mouth. Paul looks up at him, then finally gets a hand down Martin’s jeans. He palms at Martin’s dick and smirks again when it makes Martin stop laughing and start almost whimpering instead.
It isn’t long before Paul’s got Martin’s jeans pushed down and off, and then his own join Martin’s on the floor of their hotel room. Paul is suddenly really glad that they’re doing this in a hotel room and not on the bus, because to be honest, he really likes John and Bryan, and Paul would really like to still be in a band when the morning rolls around. He digs in the pocket of his jeans for a minute, finally finding the condom and lube he put there earlier - so maybe Paul was thinking rather than hoping that Martin would go for this.
When Martin watches Paul crawl back up on the bed, setting condom and lube aside, he swallows hard. He doesn’t know why he’s a little bit nervous, because this is Paul, and he shouldn’t be nervous about it, but they’ve never… no matter what anyone says, they’ve never hooked up before. As Paul lowers his head over Martin’s cock, Martin bites his lip, Paul’s eyes meeting his for a second before he’s got his mouth around Martin’s dick and that’s when Martin stops thinking about being nervous. Instead, he thinks about how badly he wishes his hands were free so he could have his hands in Paul’s hair.
Paul hums a little as he moves up and down. He keeps pushing down on Martin’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises, but he has a feeling that neither of them is going to care in the morning. When he hears Martin’s breath speed up and he starts muttering obscenities under his breath, Paul decides it’s time to pull off and get on with it. He sits up, wiping his mouth on the band of his hand, and grins at Martin.
“You want your hands back?” he asks, and Martin can’t seem to make himself speak, but he shakes his head back and forth again. “Okay then.” He grabs the lube and flips it open. Paul takes his time stretching Martin open, listening to every little noise Martin makes when he pushes just right or adds another finger.
Finally, just when Martin is about to seriously lose it, Paul reaches for the condom. Another minute or two later, and Paul’s sitting up on his knees, Martin’s legs pushed up by Paul’s shoulders. Paul leans forward to bite Martin’s lip, then kisses him while he slowly (too fucking slowly, Martin thinks) pushes in.
When he’s finally got his dick inside, Paul stops for a minute, lets Martin get adjusted, then pulls back and starts slowly thrusting. He can’t believe that it’s taken them this long to do this, but then again, it took Paul a little bit to pinpoint exactly what Martin wanted.
Paul’s thrusts are shallow at first, and for Martin, it isn’t enough. He keeps pushing back on Paul’s cock, trying to get the message across, but it’s not working.
“Damnit Paul, harder, come on,” he whines, and when he realizes he’s begging, he doesn’t even care. “You can go so much harder, fuck.”
Lucky for Martin, Paul is totally willing to fuck him harder. He pushes Martin’s legs up a little higher and watches Martin wrap his hands around the chain, pulling at it almost desperately. He thinks for a second about getting the key and letting Martin go, but Martin would have said if he wanted his hands free, so Paul leaves it.
Martin is surprised how different sex is when you don’t have the use of your hands. He wants to touch, wants to pull Paul’s hair and scratch at his back, his fingers are itching for all of that. Next time though - because holy shit there’s going to be a next time. He rests his head back against the pillow and lets himself just feel for a minute, then realizes that he can feel some very familiar sensations and knows that it won’t be long now.
“Fuck, Paul, I’m really fucking close,” Martin mutters, and he doesn’t even know if Paul caught that, but somehow he seems to know anyway. Paul gets a hand around Martin’s dick and strokes. It’s barely half a dozen strokes later and Martin comes, pulsing in Paul’s hand. Martin moans in probably what is way too high of a pitch for it to be anything but hilarious, but Paul isn’t laughing.
Paul feels Martin push back against him harder than before, and he barely gets a chance to say “shit, Martin, I’m-“ before he comes too, thrusting in one more time and stilling. They both sit there for a minute, breathing hard, and then Paul leans forward, kissing Martin and licking into his mouth. Martin leans into the kiss, then winces slightly when he realizes how sore his shoulders are.
“Fuck, shit dude, sorry,” Paul apologizes. He leans over to grab the key, smoothly unlocking the handcuffs and tossing them on the nightstand. Paul pulls out, feeling just as disappointed as Martin sounds when he does. The condom gets tossed in the vague direction of the garbage can (fuck it, they’ll take care of it tomorrow), then Paul and Martin get under the blankets.
“So, uh,” Martin says, clearing his throat. “We can do that again. Right?”
“Marty, baby, we can do whatever the fuck you want if it’s that good.”
“You sure you want to say that?”
“Yeah, why?”
Martin grins. “Because I’ve kind of got some ideas and I think you’d be interested…”
Author: promisethstars
Pairing: Martin Johnson/Paul DiGiovanni
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: use of handcuffs
Summary: Paul figures out that Martin has a kink, and decides to do something about it.
Disclaimer: No facts, just fiction and a stoyrline.
Notes: Thanks to random_yayness ♥ Also to syn_or_fantasy for talking me into writing this in the first place ♥
Martin freezes when he hears the tinkle of metal chain and turns his head to see Paul holding up a pair of metal handcuffs. Paul raises an eyebrow at him.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, dude,” Paul says, walking slowly towards the bed, turning the handcuffs over in his hands. “You hesitate every time you hand that necklace over. The way you look at me when I’m wearing it changes from how you always look at me. Believe me, I noticed.”
“But I… you don’t have to…” Martin starts. “It’s not a thing.”
“I think it is,” Paul says quietly. “I think you like it. You, Martin Johnson, are a kinky fucker.”
Martin swallows hard as Paul tosses the cuffs on the bed, the metal clinking together as they come to rest near the pillows. Paul pushes him onto the bed, on his back, and wastes no time in pulling Martin’s shirt up and over his head.
They’ve kissed before, because really, who doesn’t end up kissing their bandmates after a couple drinks? But it’s never been like this, Paul’s never deliberately stuck his tongue in Martin’s mouth before, Martin’s never bit Paul’s lip and pulled, just enough to get a low moan out of Paul’s throat. Paul runs a careful hand over Martin’s chest, just briefly, just to distract him from-
Martin stills when he feels the cool metal around his wrist, loses the ability to keep kissing Paul no matter how much he doesn’t want to quit. Paul gets it though, he moves down to bite at Martin’s neck while he somehow manages to get the chain threaded through the headboard and then the other cuff is snapped around Martin’s wrist.
He pulls experimentally at the chain, surprised at how strong it actually is. Not that Martin goes around thinking about what it would be like to be handcuffed to the bed or anything.
“You can get out anytime you want,” Paul mutters. He holds up a small silver key, then puts it on the bedside table. “If you need to. I won’t be mad.”
Martin shakes his head. It’s nice to have an out, but he won’t use it. No fucking way. Paul smirks, that stupid smirk that Martin was dumb enough to fall in love with, and then crawls up a little more to keep biting at Martin’s neck. He draws in a sharp breath; he can practically feel the bruises forming already.
Paul realizes that he’s going to have to do all the work on removing their clothes, with Martin’s hands up and out of commission, but he really doesn’t care. He pulls his shirt off, barely taking the time to remove his mouth from Martin’s neck to do so. He gets his hands between them and starts working at Martin’s belt, wishing that he was better with belt buckles.
“Fuck,” Martin hears Paul say under his breath. “Fucking stupid belt.” Martin tries not to laugh, but he can’t help a little giggle escaping his mouth. Paul looks up at him, then finally gets a hand down Martin’s jeans. He palms at Martin’s dick and smirks again when it makes Martin stop laughing and start almost whimpering instead.
It isn’t long before Paul’s got Martin’s jeans pushed down and off, and then his own join Martin’s on the floor of their hotel room. Paul is suddenly really glad that they’re doing this in a hotel room and not on the bus, because to be honest, he really likes John and Bryan, and Paul would really like to still be in a band when the morning rolls around. He digs in the pocket of his jeans for a minute, finally finding the condom and lube he put there earlier - so maybe Paul was thinking rather than hoping that Martin would go for this.
When Martin watches Paul crawl back up on the bed, setting condom and lube aside, he swallows hard. He doesn’t know why he’s a little bit nervous, because this is Paul, and he shouldn’t be nervous about it, but they’ve never… no matter what anyone says, they’ve never hooked up before. As Paul lowers his head over Martin’s cock, Martin bites his lip, Paul’s eyes meeting his for a second before he’s got his mouth around Martin’s dick and that’s when Martin stops thinking about being nervous. Instead, he thinks about how badly he wishes his hands were free so he could have his hands in Paul’s hair.
Paul hums a little as he moves up and down. He keeps pushing down on Martin’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises, but he has a feeling that neither of them is going to care in the morning. When he hears Martin’s breath speed up and he starts muttering obscenities under his breath, Paul decides it’s time to pull off and get on with it. He sits up, wiping his mouth on the band of his hand, and grins at Martin.
“You want your hands back?” he asks, and Martin can’t seem to make himself speak, but he shakes his head back and forth again. “Okay then.” He grabs the lube and flips it open. Paul takes his time stretching Martin open, listening to every little noise Martin makes when he pushes just right or adds another finger.
Finally, just when Martin is about to seriously lose it, Paul reaches for the condom. Another minute or two later, and Paul’s sitting up on his knees, Martin’s legs pushed up by Paul’s shoulders. Paul leans forward to bite Martin’s lip, then kisses him while he slowly (too fucking slowly, Martin thinks) pushes in.
When he’s finally got his dick inside, Paul stops for a minute, lets Martin get adjusted, then pulls back and starts slowly thrusting. He can’t believe that it’s taken them this long to do this, but then again, it took Paul a little bit to pinpoint exactly what Martin wanted.
Paul’s thrusts are shallow at first, and for Martin, it isn’t enough. He keeps pushing back on Paul’s cock, trying to get the message across, but it’s not working.
“Damnit Paul, harder, come on,” he whines, and when he realizes he’s begging, he doesn’t even care. “You can go so much harder, fuck.”
Lucky for Martin, Paul is totally willing to fuck him harder. He pushes Martin’s legs up a little higher and watches Martin wrap his hands around the chain, pulling at it almost desperately. He thinks for a second about getting the key and letting Martin go, but Martin would have said if he wanted his hands free, so Paul leaves it.
Martin is surprised how different sex is when you don’t have the use of your hands. He wants to touch, wants to pull Paul’s hair and scratch at his back, his fingers are itching for all of that. Next time though - because holy shit there’s going to be a next time. He rests his head back against the pillow and lets himself just feel for a minute, then realizes that he can feel some very familiar sensations and knows that it won’t be long now.
“Fuck, Paul, I’m really fucking close,” Martin mutters, and he doesn’t even know if Paul caught that, but somehow he seems to know anyway. Paul gets a hand around Martin’s dick and strokes. It’s barely half a dozen strokes later and Martin comes, pulsing in Paul’s hand. Martin moans in probably what is way too high of a pitch for it to be anything but hilarious, but Paul isn’t laughing.
Paul feels Martin push back against him harder than before, and he barely gets a chance to say “shit, Martin, I’m-“ before he comes too, thrusting in one more time and stilling. They both sit there for a minute, breathing hard, and then Paul leans forward, kissing Martin and licking into his mouth. Martin leans into the kiss, then winces slightly when he realizes how sore his shoulders are.
“Fuck, shit dude, sorry,” Paul apologizes. He leans over to grab the key, smoothly unlocking the handcuffs and tossing them on the nightstand. Paul pulls out, feeling just as disappointed as Martin sounds when he does. The condom gets tossed in the vague direction of the garbage can (fuck it, they’ll take care of it tomorrow), then Paul and Martin get under the blankets.
“So, uh,” Martin says, clearing his throat. “We can do that again. Right?”
“Marty, baby, we can do whatever the fuck you want if it’s that good.”
“You sure you want to say that?”
“Yeah, why?”
Martin grins. “Because I’ve kind of got some ideas and I think you’d be interested…”