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Nov. 9th, 2007 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
titusnowlThe Saint leaned against the doorframe and surveyed the scene with smug salacity.
"Well," he drawled, forming the initial consonant with almost obscene precision and drawing the vowel out well past its expiration date. "All this just for my birthday? Darling, you give the most marvelous parties."
He crossed to the bed, perched primly upon the edge of the mattress, and leaned across Roger's prostrate form to inspect the ropework. "And such a clever lad," he murmured. "I always knew sending you to Boy Scouts was a great decision."
He made a minute adjustment to one knot; then his fingers trailed feather-light over Roger's wrist, down his arm and across his bare body.
"You know," he continued musingly, "I've been tied up so often myself that it's really old hat; but there's something awfully enticing about seeing you like this. I'm sure it's some sort of psychological thing about having a hero complex or something; but," and his eyes glittered devilishly, "I don't hear you complaining.
"Of course," he went on, the tips of his fingers barely brushing skin as he traced a spiralled filigree over Roger's chest, "you'd think a hero complex would involve saving you, and I intend no such thing, in either the religious sense or the getting-you-out-of-these-bonds sense."
He shifted positions, moving further down on the bed and angling to face the head, so that he could continue his soft caressing pattern in a southerly direction. "Particularly not the latter, although I suppose the former is also guaranteed by this very activity." He smiled in amusement as his touch on Roger's belly made him squirm, a smile which deepened with gratification as his fingers barely - just barely - brushed Roger's cock and elicited a jerk of his hips. He kept going, down to stroke Roger's thighs, and he met Roger's disappointed glare with utter unconcern.
"Well," he drawled, forming the initial consonant with almost obscene precision and drawing the vowel out well past its expiration date. "All this just for my birthday? Darling, you give the most marvelous parties."
He crossed to the bed, perched primly upon the edge of the mattress, and leaned across Roger's prostrate form to inspect the ropework. "And such a clever lad," he murmured. "I always knew sending you to Boy Scouts was a great decision."
He made a minute adjustment to one knot; then his fingers trailed feather-light over Roger's wrist, down his arm and across his bare body.
"You know," he continued musingly, "I've been tied up so often myself that it's really old hat; but there's something awfully enticing about seeing you like this. I'm sure it's some sort of psychological thing about having a hero complex or something; but," and his eyes glittered devilishly, "I don't hear you complaining.
"Of course," he went on, the tips of his fingers barely brushing skin as he traced a spiralled filigree over Roger's chest, "you'd think a hero complex would involve saving you, and I intend no such thing, in either the religious sense or the getting-you-out-of-these-bonds sense."
He shifted positions, moving further down on the bed and angling to face the head, so that he could continue his soft caressing pattern in a southerly direction. "Particularly not the latter, although I suppose the former is also guaranteed by this very activity." He smiled in amusement as his touch on Roger's belly made him squirm, a smile which deepened with gratification as his fingers barely - just barely - brushed Roger's cock and elicited a jerk of his hips. He kept going, down to stroke Roger's thighs, and he met Roger's disappointed glare with utter unconcern.
