Pliable
by northern

Part of the Don We Now Our Gay Apparel project. For Kaneko.
Thank you to pierson and silveryscrape for beta.

When JC has him like this, it's almost mindless in one way, a desperate way, and almost too aware in another. Justin laid out before him, carefully bound, precisely presented, just for him. The way his breathing turns shallow for a few short moments, then evens out as he shudders and takes deeper breaths. JC has never seen anything more fascinating.

Justin saunters past the couch where JC is reading, for the fourth time, slower, but still without saying anything. JC loves this game. He can hardly keep from smiling, pretending to read when he can feel the way the air is tingling in the room. Something is charged and ready to be let go. JC lets his arm fold out in the air, in front of Justin's thighs where he's on his way past him again, still slower.

"Oh, oh," Justin says, his mouth opening and closing. JC strokes him slowly, lazily. Justin's cock is very hard and the smooth hot glide of up-and-down makes JC's mouth water. He flexes the fingers of his other hand and runs two fingers over Justin's lips. The sounds Justin makes when he pushes them in, fucks his helpless mouth in slow glides, makes him almost hurt with how hot they are.

They park the car in the driveway and JC concentrates on making sure he doesn't forget anything. He fills his arms with bags from the backseat and closes the car door with his foot, letting go of what they talked about. Justin doesn't have to want something just because JC does.

"You couldn't," Justin says, as if there hasn't been a long pause in the conversation. His arms are folded and he's leaning back against the car on the other side of the car. Justin smirks at him, tilting his head to the side. "Uh-uh."

JC smiles, so happy suddenly about what he sees in Justin.

It's not the way he whimpers, though that is certainly satisfying in that it's an honest sound, not processed through several safeguards and filters in Justin's mind, no, simple action and reaction. Not that. The tension in Justin's spread thighs when JC puts his hands on them is closer. There's no way he's going to be able to close his legs, or even move much, and that is beautiful knowledge.

"You should take your clothes off now," and Justin looks at him for a moment before he reacts, quickly yanking his shirt up and slowly pulling it off, his eyes noticeably more naked when they become visible again. JC looks on, and Justin touches his own collar bone, pausing there, pressing his fingers into the skin as if to remind himself that it's there, before he blinks and starts to unbutton his jeans.

He's good with knots. He likes rope, the way it slides through his hands, just a little too rough and with substance. It's real. It smells good, too. Like old warehouses. The rope goes three times round Justin's leg, folding his thigh and calf together. JC checks that the tension is right, the skin under the coils already damp and Justin is checking the strength of the rope, consciously or unconsciously. It doesn't matter, he'll find it's good rope. JC hums a little and pulls the end of the rope up to the small of Justin's back.

He's beautiful like this, all clean lines and straining muscles, almost shining with perspiration and need. JC skims his fingers across Justin's throat, long and beautiful with his head tilted back as far as it will go, and is rewarded with a rapid series of shallow breaths. Justin swallows and JC feels it under his hand, the way the muscles move. He lifts his hand to his mouth and licks at his own fingers, dreamily, tasting Justin and himself. "So nice," he whispers and paints a fingerstripe of saliva right under Justin's chin.

JC roots around in the back of his closet until he finds the black sports bag. He pulls out several lengths of rope and heads back out past Justin who is standing in the doorway, leaning against the door post, his cheek pressed up against the smooth white paint. JC heads back out to the living room and tosses the rope on one end of the couch. Then he settles in the other corner with a book. He can hear Justin hovering behind him for a few minutes, shifting from foot to foot.

Justin is twitching in the aftershocks as JC fucks him face down on the carpet, and the sounds coming out of him are just broken now. Ragged moans that stutter on every stroke. Justin's widely spread thighs are slick with sweat, and JC grabs the rope juncture at the small of his back and pulls to get a better grip. Justin moans louder and his cheek and chest rub back and forth into the carpet, his open mouth leaving wet trails.

"You gonna tie me up with that?" Justin asks, his eyes never leaving the coils of rope on the couch.

JC tilts his head to the side and studies Justin's bare arms and how tense they are, supporting him as he leans over the couch. He really likes the way Justin's muscles look, shifting like that.

"Mm, later, when I'm done reading," he says absentmindedly and goes back to his book.

"Shh, you can't move," JC says when Justin tenses too much for a few moments, his eyes too wide. "Just take it. You can't do anything else. I've got you."

And Justin lets his head fall back down against the carpet. His eyes are closed and stay closed while he pants his way through JC pushing two spit-slicked fingers into him, slow but firm. Justin whines again, a soft sound, and his body gives, and it's tight and hot and the slide is so slow.

The rope has left some burn around Justin's wrists and in patches on his legs where it chafed, but the worst damage is on his face. Justin yelps when he sees himself in the mirror, his fingers patting gingerly at the bright carpet burn that covers most of his cheek and disappears down below the t-shirt. He's obviously trying to figure out how that got there, and JC wraps his arm around Justin's waist from behind, putting his head on his shoulder.

"You look good," he says and adds his fingers to Justin's, caressing his cheek. Justin shivers and inhales as if to say something, but he doesn't and leans his head against JC's instead.