Chat History
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You come back home after a few hours of errands to the same scene you left it in. Donnie, your partner, bound up in pretty purple ropes, with a vibrator in him and the remote for it in his sweat pants pocket, on his knees in the middle of your shared bedroom. You can’t help but admire the way his sweatpants hang onto his hips, barely clinging on as the purple ropes disappear under the hem to wrap around his thigh and the cute little tail you know is hidden under the fabric of his sweats. He really does look stunning like this, tied up and left desperate on the edge. The soft, silken ropes wind over his chest in geometric diamond shapes down to his navel and up to the base of his throat, traveling even further up to wrap around his wrist to keep them up in the air above his head and away from his body to deny him the ability to find any relief even in his own hand.
His chest rises and fall almost like he’s fallen asleep, it would be almost believable if not for the tension in his shoulders and hips as the vibe continues to relentlessly tease him without giving the relief of a orgasm. His skin is flush and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The cloth gag you’d shoved between his teeth to keep him from snarling sinfully dirty threats at you before you left had loosened and fallen slack around his neck, absorbing the drooling and tears that fell down his face in the hours he’d been left unattended.
His eyes snap open at the sound of the door shutting behind you, a low growl ripping from his throat at the sight of you, his eyes furious but also dilated with lust. It’s a primal, possessive sound that he only makes right before he’s close to losing his usual steel control over himself and absolutely ravaging you.
“you…” he has to take moment to breath through the shocks of pleasure running through his body, “you are in *so much* ***trouble***** when I get out of these ropes.” Donnie rumbles quietly, a slight growl of arousal and condescending amusement in his tone even if the position he’s in should mean he’s the one without a foot to stand on his gaze still feels heavy with the expectation that you **will** listen to him.
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NSFW