| Current mood: |  sleepy |
| Current music: | Tomoyasu Hotei - Battle Without Honour |
Nine Hours of Sweet Torture - Part Three
You're all evil. I'm supposed to be in bed, dammit!
*Pauses, listens to muses* No, being 'in bed' with the two of you does NOT count!
And then, standing quietly at the foot of the bed, was Ducard, as though he’d been there all along. “You are so beautiful when you struggle,” he said.
Bruce clenched his buttocks tightly to prevent an involuntary jerk of his hips at Ducard's dark, soft, rasp. There was such a blend of menace and seduction in that tone; a tone that succeeded in making every muscle in his body seize up with desire.
Ducard had taken the time to remove his belt and gloves, and was peeling the last thin shirt from his sweat soaked body. The combination of cold, exertion, and clinging wool had left his skin pink and damp. Bruce bit his lip slightly, not quite able to resist looking over that magnificent, hard body that was too often concealed under thick layers of black or sharply tailored suits.
Propping one boot up on the end of the bed, Ducard drew out the dagger concealed within. The blade was still frosted over. It steamed in the warmer air - getting even warmer by the minute, Bruce thought swallowing - and Ducard stroked the damp blade thoughtfully for a few seconds before he eased forward onto the bed. He locked eyes with Bruce, towering over him, his knees placed either side on Bruce's thighs. Then, with movements so deft Bruce barely registered them, he slit apart Bruce's shirts and placed the icy blade to his stomach.
"Ah!" Bruce threw his head back and thrust upward, feeling the ropes crushing his ribcage in the next moment. He took a deep breath and tried to relax, to ease the tension, but it wasn't easy. Not now the tip of the dagger was dancing lower, leaving cool trails of water, tickling the just-visible creases between his thighs and hips before Ducard laid the blade flat again, sliding it under the ropes - more painful pressure - until the freezing tip was caressing Bruce's aching nipple. And then the other. Afraid to move, Bruce was holding his breath and Ducard was watching him with dark, predatory pleasure.
Ducard began unbuckling Bruce's belt, and brought the dagger down to nudge the fabric over Bruce's hips. No longer cold, but it still tickled as the steel edged lower, and lower. Bruce finally slipped, his hips jerking in response. He bit back a hiss as the cold drops of condensation quivering on his abdomen went scurrying over his skin, jumping again as the water ran into his navel.
"Sensitive here, I take it?" Ducard smirked as he circled the area with a fingertip. He rolled down to rest his body on his elbow, throwing his legs over Bruce's. "That's one found. Shall we see how long it takes me to find all the others?"
Bruce made an incoherent sound as Ducard leaned down and hungrily licked the large droplet from his navel.
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phurie_dae) wrote in ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}
batslash,
