lee_fallon | PSL - Chance Encounter

Lee's been in Darrow now about a week and a half, and he's been to every bar in the city limits, met all of the owners, and offered to tailor each of their wine lists. He wasn't getting paid for any of this, but based on the amount of money in his bank account, his monthly stipend, and the cost of rent, he didn't really need money to get by day to day. And he certainly didn't need to save up for anything.

He still hasn't bothered to see a doctor. He feels like he probably should, just so someone in the city (besides his dear friend Susan) knows what was going on with him. But he'll get to that later.

Today he's out for a run. His running shoes arrived in the mail yesterday, and he's been itching to get his pulse up. He never feels as alive as he does when he's out on the street, feet pounding against the pavement, sweating freely, breathing hard. Sex is a very close second, but nothing beats the adrenaline rush of a good, hard sprint.

He doesn't have a route yet, just sort of turning left and right at intersections with no rhyme or reason. He's planning on doing six miles today, using the app on his phone to track his progress; so far he's just over four miles, maintaining something close to an eight minute mile pace, nice and respectable.

But then, turning a corner, he stops, abruptly enough that he nearly stumbles. It's been a few days since he last saw Connor, his last glimpse when Connor slipped out of his apartment. He'd thought about calling a few times, just to check on him, but for some reason Lee had always changed his mind.

Here he is now, walking down the street, late afternoon sun lighting up his face. Lee's thought about him a lot, about what it had been like to be with him, but also worrying about him, all that sorrow filling him up, sending him on a self-destructive path. He looks good, right now, not happy really but not falling into himself like he had been a few nights ago.

He can't make himself say anything, just stands and watches Connor walk his way on the opposite side of the street. He's breathing heavily from running, covered in sweat, and his heart is pounding, but some of that has to do with seeing Connor again. More than he's willing to admit even to himself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lee moves to join Connor on the bed, sitting beside him and watching the line of his throat when he drinks. He licks his lips.

“So good,” Lee agrees, reaching out to touch Connor’s knee, tracing his fingertips along it. “Being tied up, did you like that?"

"Yeah," says Connor, immediately. "I could have taken a little more. I knew one guy who liked to push really hard." He takes a sip of the water. "It's good."

Lee nods, and he thinks he’d like to try it, if he has the chance. He might not, which is one of the only things that frustrates him about being as sick as he is, having to remember he has an expiration date that’s a lot closer for him than it is for most people.

“What do you mean by push really hard?” he asks, watching his fingers move on Connor’s skin.

Connor lies still and lets Lee touch him, enjoying the brush of his fingers over his exposed skin.

"You were really concerned with how comfortable I was. It's not supposed to be about me." He smiles. "He used to like putting me on display."

Lee hears what Connor says and he understands, but he doesn’t think he could ever be unconcerned with someone else’s comfort, in sex or otherwise. Maybe it’s a flaw or just a limitation as far as something like BDSM goes, but he feels like pain should be approached in the right way, a careful way. He takes a breath.

“Did you like that better?” he asks.

Connor thinks about that for a moment, idly running his fingers through his hair.

"Not better," he says. "But I could have taken more."

He gets up off the bed and fetches his phone, coming back to sprawl alongside Lee. "I've probably got pictures."

Lee watches Connor go, and he tries to mentally prepare himself for what Connor’s going to show him. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy porn, he does, but this is a bit more personal than that. He reminds himself that Connor’s just a guy he’s hooked up with twice, that there’s nothing here but amazing sexual chemistry. They don’t have feelings for each other, and there’s absolutely no reason for Lee to feel jealous or inadequate.

Connor unlocks his phone and pages back through the pictures, eventually finds the one that he's looking for. If you didn't know it was him, it wouldn't be obvious from the picture, which was taken from behind. He's on his knees, wrists bound over his head, legs bound bend. There's a rope looped around his balls, snugly pressed into the cleft of his ass. He looks it for a long moment and then offers the phone to Lee.

Lee looks at the photo, and he immediately admires the composition of it, the care taken with the ropes and knots. This is obviously something the person who did it has learned, because Lee couldn’t reproduce it if he wanted to. It’s a nice picture, though. Connor looks really good in it.

“Talented guy,” Lee says, handing the phone back to Connor. “What did he do with you, after he tied you up like that?"

"Made me really sorry that I said yes," says Connor, grinning as he sets the phone aside and stretches a little, getting comfortable. "I'm not sure how long he made me wait to come but it felt like a freaking lifetime."

Lee smiles, because for all of Connor’s words to the contrary, he’s sure Connor loved every second of it. Maybe it’s because Lee’s life is so short these days, or maybe it’s because he’s never really been a fan of waiting, but orgasm denial isn’t something he’s ever much enjoyed himself.

“Did those ropes hurt?” he asks, curious, detaching.

"Uncomfortable, maybe," he says, idly tracing his fingers around his wrists. "The one around my balls hurt if I leaned wrong. Or when he tugged on it."

Lee nods, and he can imagine how that might feel. He’s worn cock rings before, but he’s never been at anyone else’s mercy the way Connor’s describing now. He thinks he’d like to be, but it’s one of those desires he’s hung up now, something he should have done when he had the chance.

“And he got off on that? Having you tied up that way, having to do whatever he said?"

"Yeah," says Connor, nodding, turning his head so he can look at Lee as they talk. "I mean, he fucked me pretty solidly too. And had me suck his dick."

Lee nods again, and he can’t imagine anyone would be able to resist fucking Connor, no matter what their other interests were.

“It sounds pretty hot,” Lee says, and he’s not lying, it does. He knows it’s not something he’d ever be able to reproduce, but he has a feeling if it’s something Connor really wants, he can probably find someone here who can.

"Yeah," he says, nodding, reaching out one hand to graze his fingers against Lee's belly. "But what we just did? Super hot too."

The touch is comforting, and Connor’s words are too. Lee’s sure he’s broadcasting, and he really should try to stop. The last thing he wants is to bring Connor into his dark spaces. Theirs is a situation of mutual pleasure and nothing more.

“Not too bad for a first attempt,” he replies, turning his head to look at Connor beside him. “And improvised tools."

"Damn straight," says Connor, grinning, rolling onto his side to study Lee's profile. God, he's handsome. "Bet we could do better in a second try."

Lee blinks at him, smiling slowly. “Are you asking me to tie you up again tonight?” he asks, and he’ll do it if that’s what Connor wants, but there’s a part of Lee that hopes he doesn’t. He’s not sure he can concentrate on it again, for one, especially knowing how much better it can be done. And he still doesn’t have anything really serviceable to use to do the binding, unprepared as he is for it.

"You don't have to tie me up again," says Connor, tracing his fingers up and down the stretch of skin between Lee's navel and the start of his public hair. "But you liked treating me like that. I could tell."

Lee bites his lip and shifts his attention away from Connor’s eyes for a moment, feeling a little conflicted but knowing he can’t deny it. “I did,” he says, turning his gaze back to Connor’s. “I’ve never done anything like that before,” he admits. “I didn’t know I had that in me."

"Yeah, well, it suits you," says Connor, his fingers moving lazily. "And I'm pretty glad to bring that out in you."

“I’ve never told anyone about those things I said I wanted,” Lee tells Connor, closing his eyes and tipping his head to feel Connor’s touch. “You bring a lot out in me. It’s too bad I didn’t meet you until now,” he says with a quiet laugh.

"I'm totally staying so you can feel free to make up for lost time," says Connor grinning. He stretches his back, arching on purpose, trying to draw Lee's eye. "I'm at your mercy."

Lee turns to look at Connor beside him on the bed, lithe like a cat, content. If nothing else, he’s given Connor some peace tonight. He’s not going to ruin that by asking for things he knows Connor would rather not give him. He’s not prepared to tackle anything else on his list tonight, not logistically, though he has a feeling this might be his last shot.

“I’m in my head a little,” he tells Connor, being honest. “Help me get out of it?"