FIC: ST RPS -- Pretty Piece of Flesh

[the_deep_magic]

Title: Pretty Piece of Flesh
Author: the_deep_magic
Pairing: Pinto
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6,686
Warnings: D/s, mentions of spanking/flogging, bondage, needleplay
Disclaimer: not real
Summary: Chris wants to test his limits.
A/N: This is an auction prize (forgive me, I can’t remember which one) for medea_fic, as well as sixth in the Toy Box series (though it can stand on its own) and a fill for my “piercing/needleplay” square in Kink Bingo.  Ok, so I’m multitasking a little.  Title and cut text from the song by One Inch Punch.  Further notes at the end.

They talk about this stuff.  How can they not?  It’s not as though they stop being Chris and Zach once the toy box comes out, and unlike Las Vegas, what happens in the bedroom does not always stay in the bedroom.   Zach surreptitiously checks Chris’ bruises and welts while the other man is busy cooking.  Chris teases him about being a mother hen until Zach spanks him lightly with the spatula.  Sometimes when they’re lying on the couch, if they’re too tired to fuck but it’s still too early to go to bed, they talk about how the new riding crop felt, how sore Zach’s shoulder gets afterwards if he’s not careful.

But for Chris, the hardest thing in all this – harder than keeping quiet when Zach paddles him, harder than holding muscle-cramping positions for what feels like days, harder even than waiting to come until Zach gives permission – is to ask for something.  When he’s in the scene, he can do the general begging thing, and he’s been bold enough on a few occasions to choose the toys for the night’s play.  But he’d take a paddle to the ass for hours before he’d sit Zach down on the couch in broad daylight and ask for something that Zach hasn’t even brought up yet.

It’s almost always Zach who initiates things, and Chris knows that’s not entirely fair to him, even though Zach seems to have an almost scary-good sense of what Chris needs and when.   But he’s not a mind reader, and there are some limits Zach just hasn’t pushed.  It’s not that Chris is afraid – he knows that he’s not going to be met with horror or disgust if he asks for something, as long as it’s not on the Absolute No Go list, which they figured out early on.  But still, something about the act of asking, putting it into words…

Because Chris is into the pain.  Like, really into it.  He tries not to analyze it too much, dissect it in his head or link it back to some weird childhood experience, but something about physically hurting, his whole consciousness focused on the pain… it’s freeing.  It takes him out of his head in a way that nothing – not even his one-time-only, never-again experiment with coke at that one girl’s party – ever has before.

And he wants more.

Not that Zach isn’t adept with the toys they have at their disposal, and not that they both haven’t figured out what kinds of pain Chris likes and doesn’t like.  But he knows there are whole worlds of sensation out there that they haven’t even touched – not because Zach doesn’t want to, necessarily, but because he doesn’t seem to think that way.  He’s certainly creative in getting Chris out of his negative headspace, Chris has no complaints there, but within a set of his own limits that he and Chris haven’t really sat down and discussed.

Cuddling in bed after a particularly headboard-pounding, athletic-but-non-scene fuck is probably not the best time or place to bring it up, but that’s how it happens.  Zach is nuzzling into the sweaty crook of Chris’ neck, all post-coital affection, murmuring, “Mmm, that was good.”

“Yeah, it totally was.  And I want more.”

Zach laughs.  “Baby, in case you forgot how this works, you’re gonna have to give me some recovery time.”

“No, I mean…  Not now,” Chris splutters, face already starting to turn red.  “When we do our… other thing.”

Chris feels the moment Zach gets it, because he goes very still.  Then he pulls back carefully, arm still draped across Chris’ chest to look Chris in the eye.  “More of what?”

“Stuff.  I… things.”  Chris’ mouth can’t seem to get the words out.  “I want to experiment a little more, try to push our limits.  My limits.”

Zach narrows his eyes in confusion.  “Meaning… what exactly?”

“Pain,” Chris finally spits out.

The silence in the room is awful, and Chris has to fight not to squirm with Zach’s body still pressed against his.  But Zach hasn’t moved away, so that’s a good sign, right?

“So you want more… pain?” Zach asks slowly.

Chris can’t help his frustrated grunt.  “That’s what I just said.”

Zach, thank god, is patient, but he does put a little more distance between them on the bed so they can look at each other.  “Did you have something specific in mind?”

“Not, um…” Now Chris can’t even look at him – he fixes his eyes straight on the ceiling.  “I had a few… ideas.”

“So you are thinking of something.”

“Well, yeah, but I mean, it’s not something we have to—”

“Christopher, I need you to stop dicking around and tell me.”  The timbre in Zach’s voice is edging very close to his Dom voice, and that pushes the word out of Chris’ mouth.

“Needles.  I was thinking needles.  Maybe.  It’s a different kind of… I mean, I know it’s not quite like paddles and floggers and stuff, and I know that there’s a whole new set of, like, safety considerations, but I think if we—”

A gentle hand grasps his chin and turns his face toward Zach, who is now about a foot away from Chris on the bed and propped up on one elbow.  His face is distressingly unreadable, his voice even and calm.  “Are you talking about piercings?”

“No.  Well, yes, technically, but not the permanent kind where you wear a ring or a stud or a— Just, like, temporary piercings.  Needles that come out at the end of the scene.”

Zach’s mouth tightens, but his eyes don’t leave Chris’.  “You want me to stick needles in you?”

Chris nods in what he hopes is an encouraging manner.  “Just through the surface of the skin.  The needles would be completely sterile.  It’s just… a different kind of pain from the other stuff.  And I think I might like it.”

“Chris…”  Now Zach does glance away, and Chris’ heart starts to sink in his chest.  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Why not?  It’s not that different from what we’ve been doing.  It’s just another kind of pain.”

“Yes, it is,” Zach says sharply, though if Chris isn’t mistaken, Zach seems almost embarrassed.  “Or at least it… feels different.  And like you said, there are a lot more precautions to think about when you break the skin.”

“But you do break my skin sometimes, with the flogger or the belt.”

“Chris, that’s happened maybe once, and it’s more like an abrasion, not… it’s not like blood pours out or anything.  And when it looks like I’m about to break the skin, I stop.”

“So the blood is the problem?  Because I was reading that as long as you don’t—”

“No.  Well, it might be.  I can’t say that the thought of making you bleed appeals to me.”

Chris gnaws on his lip, confused.  “But we do stuff like this all the time.”

“But it’s not…”  Zach is really getting frustrated now – he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.  “Maybe you don’t see a difference.  But I do.  Purposefully shoving needles in you is just… I don’t know if I can do that.  I don’t know if I can hurt you in that way.”

And that’s when it hits Chris – Zach’s not really a sadist.  He definitely loves to dominate in the bedroom and takes enormous pleasure in what he does to Chris and makes Chris do, but to him the pain must be almost incidental, Chris thinks.  Zach enjoys that the paddle makes Chris whimper and beg, not necessarily that it causes him pain. 

Chris hadn’t even thought to separate the two in his mind – for him, the submission and the pain are linked, even if Zach goes heavier on one than the other on a particular night.  And maybe there’s a flair, a certain type of drama that goes with a flogger or a belt or a bare hand brought down hard on the skin that’s missing in a quiet little needle poke.

“Hey,” Chris says gently, reaching out for Zach’s hands.  “It was just a suggestion.”

Zach’s still not quite looking at him.  “Well, it’s obviously something you’ve been seriously thinking about.”

“I think about a lot of stuff.”

“How, um.  How important is this to you?”

Chris closes his eyes, kissing each of Zach’s palms in turn.  It’s an odd feeling – he’s usually not the one doling out the comfort – but he can practically feel the tension draining out of Zach’s body through the mattress.  “If you suggested something you thought you’d like, but I wasn’t crazy about the idea, would you make me do it?”

“Of course not.”

“Samesies,” Chris says, smiling a little ridiculously to lighten the mood.  “I love what we do.  And there are other things to try.  We never did get that paddle with the spikes on it.”

Zach gasps, exasperated.  “That thing was ridiculously overpriced, and it looked poorly made anyway.  And if you think I’m breaking out the tweezers to dig metal spikes out of your butt, you are dead wrong.”

So the subject is tucked neatly away for now; Chris tries not to let any disappointment show.  Because he’s not disappointed, not really.  Zach didn’t say it was wrong or weird – he just set a limit, same as Chris would do if Zach brought up, like, making him wear spiked heels all day.  It’s just not something he’d be comfortable with.

But at the moment, Chris is very, very comfortable with rolling on top of Zach, mashing their mouths together in an artless kiss that just gets Zach to squirm under him in the most… stimulating way.  He might just get more of something tonight after all.

&&&

Still, it’s not like Chris can just stop fantasizing about it, the quick, burning sting of a needle.  He feels a little guilty the first time, during a wank in the shower that has to be fast if he wants to make his call time.  It gets him there pretty damn fast.  And then Zach has him bound and is scratching and tweaking and pinching him all over, the very tips of Zach’s nails bite sharply into the skin, and it makes Chris twitch and leak a fat drop of precum onto his belly.  Zach makes a soft sound that lets Chris know it didn’t escape his notice.

It’s a rough session – Zach is so merciless with the belt that Chris has to call “yellow” for a slowdown twice, but when they get into the right rhythm and Chris into the right headspace, it’s perfect.  A raw burning suffuses his belly and thighs, and every impact of the thick leather is like an electric shock to his system.  When he’s finally allowed to, Chris thrusts into Zach’s grip and shoots hard, body curling in on itself against his bindings.

Zach unfastens Chris’ wrists and ankles from their under-the-bed restraints, gently as always, and tenderly smoothes Chris’ hair back from his sweaty forehead, telling him how good he is, how beautiful and perfect.   He gets a cool washcloth to lay over Chris’ forehead, and another to very carefully wipe up the cum that has spilled on his raw skin.  After he’s finished applying various creams and ointments, he takes the cloth from Chris’ forehead, and he’s smiling hopefully.  “How do you feel?”

Chris moves his joints, feeling the familiar post-bondage soreness like an old friend.  When he stretches his neck and looks over at Zach, he notices the half-hard bulge in Zach’s jeans.  “You didn’t come?”

“Huh-uh,” Zach says, helping Chris shift off the sweat stain he made in the sheets.  “Just wanted to watch you tonight.”

It’s not unheard of for Zach to go without, particularly after a rough scene when he knows Chris is exhausted and his own hands are tired.  And it makes even more sense paired with Chris’ realization about Zach and pain.  But still, something about it doesn’t sit right with Chris.  Especially when Zach strips off and slides into bed next to Chris, palm brushing very, very lightly over his handiwork on Chris’ hip to feel the warmth, and asks, “Was it good?”

Chris frowns.  He can’t remember Zach ever asking that before.  Maybe he has – it’s not like Chris is in the clearest frame of mind afterward, but the note of uncertainty in his voice is very unusual.  “Yeah, it was good.”

“Was it, um…”  Zach pauses, lightly stroking a finger up Chris’ spent and sensitive cock.  “Was it enough?”

Oh, okay.  So that’s what this is about.  “Zach, were you paying attention there at the end?  Did you miss the part where I came so hard I almost pulled something?  It was awesome.”

“Good, good,” Zach says, sounding genuinely relieved.  “Because you said you wanted more, wanted to test your limits.  I didn’t know if the slowdowns meant ‘too much, too fast’ or…”

“No, it was actually just right,” Chris says, and it was.  From the start, Zach’s always been able to read Chris better than anyone else, whether in the bedroom or knowing what he wants for dinner.   Chris would question it, but he’s too busy enjoying it and trying to respond to Zach the same way.  “You worked me up really nicely.” 

“Oh, okay,” Zach says, sounding relieved.  “Good.”

“I didn’t…” Chris starts, not particularly wanting to have this conversation now, as it’s kind of harshing his afterglow, but it’s important.  “I never meant to imply that there was something missing.”  He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, relishing the burn of his skin and the warmth of Zach beside him.  “I love what you do to me.  It’s perfect.  It’s just what I need.”

“Good,” Zach says again, sounding a little more confident, and Chris feels the light brush of lips on the swell of his shoulder.   “Oh, and you totally owe me an orgasm later.”

&&&

The next time, the toy box isn’t anywhere in sight, but Zach’s got a necktie in each hand and a devilish grin on his face.

“Feeling nostalgic, are we?” Chris sighs, already relaxing back into place on the bed.  They’re not doing this because Chris needs it tonight – they’re just doing it because he wants it, because they both want it.  It’s a totally different feel, easing into a scene, compared with the times Zach catches Chris being pissy and beats it out of him.  It takes Chris longer to get into the right headspace, but it usually makes for a good, slow, hard session that leaves Chris (and the marks on his skin) glowing for days.

So he spreads his arms willingly as Zach fastens each wrist to the bedpost with a tie – the right with one of Zach’s plain black skinny ties, the left with a lovely patterned tie that Zach never fails to pair with precisely the wrong suit.  And that’s the great thing – he keeps wearing these ties out to events, even after they’ve used them in the bedroom.  Chris has stopped mocking Zach for paying ridiculous amounts of money for “quality clothing” when he can get on the internet and, with just a few clicks, see pictures of Zach waving and shaking hands of the adoring public while wearing (after a good dry cleaning) something that was stuffed in Chris’ mouth as a gag just last Thursday.

He’s a little surprised when Zach brings out an actual blindfold, rather than using another tie.  Zach must see his surprise, because he says, “I know you can peek out from under the tie.  For this, I want you in the dark.  Completely.”

Chris’ heart beats a little faster at that – Zach has a plan tonight.  Not that Chris minds at all when Zach improvises, but it must be said that he is a hell of a planner.   Chris eagerly tilts his head up for Zach to slip the blindfold over his eyes, then feels Zach slide a pillow beneath his head.  “Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

A dark laugh that makes Chris’ cock twitch.  “Not for long.”

And then… nothing.  Chris hears footsteps going out the bedroom door and barely holds back a groan.  Zach might not be a sadist in the technical sense, but he knows how much Chris hates to wait, and he manipulates that impatience every bit as much as he manipulates Chris’ body.  Of course, there is the fact that he’s never made Chris wait more than about fifteen minutes, because Zach is a horny bastard himself.

So Chris tries to relax, feel the light burn in his shoulders at being spread so wide, and sink into his mind.  He’s naked, of course, his cock still resting soft against his thigh, but it begins to swell ever so slightly as he imagines what Zach has in store for him tonight.  Not likely the belt – the belt tends to be spontaneous, as does the flogger.  The crop, now that’s a little more deliberate, but rarely comes with this sort of ceremony.  Chris would think spanking with a leather glove – they’ve done that twice and both times he nearly went fucking insane – but Zach’s tied him face up.

Alright, no more thinking.  Just feeling.  Feeling the softness of the blanket beneath his body, the cool of the air against the front of his body, the total vulnerability that still makes his abs clench a little with anxious excitement.  He breathes deeply and tries to let go of thought, of expectation.

Still, Chris can’t help but have his remaining senses roused when he hears footsteps reenter the room.  They pause for a moment at the foot of the bed, then pad easily around to the side, where Zach methodically sets a series of items down on the nightstand, none of which make a distinctive enough sound for Chris to identify.

“You’ve been good tonight, Christopher,” Zach says, and Chris can practically hear the wicked smile curling at the corner of his mouth.  Perhaps something new tonight, like the last time Zach was in a playful mood and brought a fistful of kitchen implements into the bedroom.  That rubber spatula made a prolonged reappearance, and Chris will never look at the whisk the same way again.

Chris is so distracted by the thought that he’s only brought back to the present by Zach twisting his nipple.  Hard.  And not letting go.  Chris fights his urge to squirm, but can’t help the shocked and only slightly pathetic whimper that makes it out of his mouth.

“But not paying very close attention, I see,” Zach says, finally releasing Chris, who gasps in great lungfuls of air, the residual ache of Zach’s fingers still there every time his chest rises.

“Sorry,” Chris pants.

“You will be,” Zach says mysteriously, and his voice has lost some of that playful edge.

Things start in familiar territory – Zach mapping Chris’ body possessively with hands and mouth, placing bites and pinches along the way.  But he goes easy on Chris’ chest, belly, and thighs, though – usually his favorite destinations.  Chris dutifully gasps and moans throughout – he’s not faking, not by a long shot, but Zach is sure taking his sweet time working Chris up.

Then Zach swallows down Chris’ cock and Chris forgets to think at all.  It doesn’t last long, but then again, it usually doesn’t happen this early, either.  Maybe Zach is trying to throw Chris off balance; if that’s the case, it’s certainly working.  A delicate scrape of teeth up the underside and Zach’s mouth lets Chris’ cock free to bounce hard and wet off his belly.

Without another word, Zach maneuvers off of Chris, off the bed entirely, and Chris turns his head in the direction of the rummaging sounds.  Now Chris’ heart is starting to beat fast with anticipation, his ears listening hard for any clues.  And he gets them – the double snap of latex gloves being applied to each hand.  They haven’t done latex before; this should be interesting.

He feels one gloved hand slapping his thighs apart.  “Spread your legs, Christopher.  That’s a good boy.”  He also hears a packet being torn open, assumes it’s a condom, and is surprised Zach wants to fuck this early on. 

So Chris expects the slightly cold wetness, he just doesn’t expect to feel it on his inner thigh, starting in small circles and swirling outward atop the tender flesh.   When the area is covered, Zach blows on it lightly, then Chris hears the tearing of another packet and the same sensation on the other thigh.

That’s about the time the scent reaches his nose – the acrid sterility of an alcohol swab.  It takes him a few seconds to put the pieces together.  Tied down, latex gloves, sterile swab…

Suddenly he’s panting, his heart speeding up until it’s about to burst through his chest.  “Zach,” he moans, desperate for it to be true.  “Zach.”

He gets his cock slapped lightly with the back of Zach’s hand.  “Be still, Christopher.  If you can’t remember anything else tonight, be still.  And keep breathing.”

Chris thinks he should actually cool it with the breathing for a while or he’s going to hyperventilate.  He purposefully calms his breath, partially so he can pay attention to what Zach’s doing.  Chris hears the tearing of another packet, much smaller this time.  “Did you know the larger the gauge number, the thinner the needle?” Zach asks rhetorically, his voice quiet but strong.  “I learned that recently.  A navel piercing, for example, generally requires a 14-gauge needle.”

He pinches a small amount of skin on Chris’ thigh between his fingers and thumb, and Chris stops breathing altogether.  But Zach laughs.  “I thought I’d start you off with something quite a bit smaller, though.  A nice 23 gauge.”  He pokes the pinched skin very, very lightly with the tip of the needle.  “And what did I tell you about breathing, Christopher?”

“Sorry,” Chris squeaks, trying to find a happy medium between panting and not breathing at all.

“I want you to take a slow, deep inhale, hold it for three seconds, then exhale.  Do you think you can do that for me?”

Chris nods, almost beyond the point of speech.  The skin between Zach’s fingers is quickly going numb, so Chris concentrates on slowly filling his lungs with air; one, two, three; letting it—

In one smooth motion, Zach pushes the needle all the way through his skin. 

Chris yelps, tossing his head back, but the rest of his body staying rigid.  There’s a line of burning pain shooting through the inside of his thigh, and it’s perfect.  His abs clench, his dick rock-hard against his belly, and in order to keep breathing (like Zach said), every exhale is a soft, desperate moan.  He’s left to luxuriate in the sensation for god knows how long before Zach reaches down and slowly twists the needle in its place.

Chris is so worked up he yowls and has to freeze completely in order to keep from thrashing on the bed.  The twisting stops and he feels a warm gloved hand on his knee.   He knows what Zach’s waiting for.

“Good.  ‘s good.  Green light.  Keep going, please.”  Chris hasn’t heard his own voice that broken in a long time, and all spatulas and leather gloves considered, that’s saying something.

He half expects the twisting to resume, but Zach pinches up another fold of skin, slightly lower than the first, and says, “Same as before.  Breathe in, count to three, breath out.”

This time, Chris knows what to expect, so it’s not quite as intense, but it’s still like the needle is shooting endorphins directly into his bloodstream.  A third needle quickly follows below the second and Chris feels Zach shift back on the bed, imagines him examining his handiwork.  He tries to imagine, too, what it looks like – the skin around the needles feels tight and swollen, just like his cock, which is alternately softening slightly with the pain and growing back to full hardness with each rush of adrenaline.

And because Zach is a bit OCD, three more needles follow in roughly the same place on Chris’ other thigh.  Here Zach pauses again, tweaking and tapping needles at random to make Chris cry out, and Chris has the strange feeling of being tuned like a violin.  He would laugh if he weren’t too busy trying to anticipate Zach’s next move.

Zach is being unusually quiet, so Chris doesn’t expect the wet hand that wraps around his cock.  It’s still covered in latex, but also lube – a completely new combination of sensations, and when he tries to thrust up into that hand, the skin of his thighs stretches and pulls and makes him both cry out in pain and leak drops of fluid onto Zach’s glove.

“Easy,” Zach says, his voice a little less taunting than it normally would be.  His strokes are hard and slow and Chris digs his fingers into the ties binding his hands.  He forces his hips back down to the bed at lets Zach pump him at his own pace, focusing on the stinging burn in his thighs.  God, it’s good, and he feels the tension start to coil in his gut…

Then Zach’s hand is gone, with the sound of pulling latex that makes Chris think Zach is changing into new, lube-free gloves.  “Where to next, Christopher?” Zach asks.

Chris opens his mouth to speak, but honestly, he can’t think of anywhere that he wouldn’t want them.  Well, he can think of two places, but he’s pretty sure Zach’s not going to go anywhere near there.  Not this first time, anyway.  “Anywhere,” he gasps.

“Really,” Zach says, his voice taunting again, “anywhere?  God, you are such a delicious little pain slut.”  His gloved hands lift Chris’ cock and Chris instinctively wriggles away.  That and a bit lower would be the two places. 

Zach just laughs.  “Relax, Christopher, I’m not going to start jamming needles in your dick.  Not today, anyhow.  But here…”  He moves Chris’ cock aside and strokes across his belly beneath the navel.  “Here might be nice.”

It’s the same procedure – cold alcohol swab, breathe in, breath out, needle placed horizontally below his navel.  But though Chris had expected more pain on such a tender part of his body, he actually feels less.  Zach lets him sit with the sensation for a few minutes, and Chris can feel it every time he takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t approach the ache still burning in his thighs.  “Do you—”  His voice is an embarrassing croak in his own ears.  “Do you have a… a lower gauge?  A thicker needle?”

Zach makes a choked sound and Chris doesn’t quite know how to interpret it.  But his voice is surprisingly steady when he speaks.  “We could try a 22 gauge.  Or a 21.”

“The 21,” Chris gasps.  Bigger is better, right?  “Please.”

Zach hesitates for a second, and Chris is reminded how reluctant Zach had been to do this in the first place, how lucky Chris is that he’s doing it at all.  He’s about to open his mouth to say whatever gauge is fine when Zach says, “You always were a bit of a size queen, Pine.  Fine, the 21 it is.  It’s going to hurt.”

That’s the goddamn point, Chris thinks, but when Zach pinches up more of his flesh, a hot spurt of fear runs through Chris’ system.  Will it be too much?  He breathes in, holds a little longer than three, but when he starts to let it out, Zach faithfully pushes the needle through and oh, it’s not too much, it’s just right.  He cries out, an uncontrolled, high-pitched sound, and gasps, “Another one.  Please.”

“Yeah,” Zach says breathlessly, a rare break in his dominant persona, but Chris barely notices it as he prepares himself for another needle.  It feels like another 21 gauge from the force of the puncture, but this time Zach takes his time, and though it must take less than a second for the needle to go all the way through, it feels like an agonizing eternity.  Together, the three of them in his belly – again, in a neat little vertical row – below his navel create a gloriously painful sensation that intensifies every time Chris takes a deep breath.

By now Zach is obviously having a hard time keeping Chris’ hard, leaking cock out of the way, so he carefully lets it lie to one side of Chris’ belly.  From his “research” on the internet (that he totally did not jack off to – he waited until afterwards), Chris knows the needles are safely capped at one end in color-coded plastic, and he makes a mental note to, firstly, thank Zach later for his care, and secondly, move as little as possible.

“One more place,” Zach says, the firmness back in his voice, “and we’re going to use 25 gauge needles for this one.”

Chris quickly translates that in his head, and damn, that means a thinner needle, but then he feels the cold wetness of the alcohol swab circling his left pec, around and across his nipple, the antiseptic smell sharp in his nose.  Oh shit, he doesn’t know if he can take this.  Doesn’t matter how small the needle is, if Zach’s planning on—

“Relax, Christopher,” Zach says, obviously picking up on Chris’ panic, keeping up a steady motion with the swab long after it’s really necessary.  “I’m not going to pierce your nipples.”  But there’s an undercurrent of dark humor there.  “Much as I might be tempted.”

That relieves Chris somewhat, but he doesn’t have much time to feel relieved before Zach is blowing lightly on the wet skin, drawing his nipple to a tight, aching point on his chest.  But Zach doesn’t touch it, just tears open another swab and repeats the process on the other pec, starting in a wide circle this time and spiraling in to the nipple, which by then is as hard as its twin.

“I’m going to put one needle on either side of each nipple,” Zach says softly.  “Four more total.  You okay with that?”

Chris nods dumbly, barely able to spit out, “Green.”

Zach starts on the inside of Chris’ right pec, pinching up skin so close to Chris’ nipple that he wonders if it’s going to hurt any less than the real thing.  But Zach doesn’t tell Chris to breathe in right away, just holds the skin in a tight pinch, numbing it a little.  “You’re doing so beautifully, Christopher.  You should see yourself, all trussed up and full of needles.  You’re the hottest pincushion I’ve ever seen.”

That makes Chris laugh a little through his nose, barely moving his chest because of Zach’s hand, and without warning, Zach pushes the needle through.

Doesn’t matter that this one’s smaller than all the others, the sting of it is the sharpest so far, and when Chris gasps for breath, it burns mercilessly.  His head starts to feel light, floaty, on the edge of a subspace he’s only felt a few times.  From somewhere far away, he hears Zach says, “Okay?” and he lets out an mmm, then surrenders to the feeling totally.

The second needle stings going in, but only going in.  After that, it’s just pure sensation, no pain or pleasure to it, just feeling, in his chest and his belly and his thighs.  After a few minutes, he feels another spark of sensation on the other side of his chest, followed he doesn’t know how much longer by a second.  Each one sends him a little higher, a little further away from his body, and he’s floating, looking down on himself, only instead of being tied to the bed in his room, he’s stretched across a gust of wind, body splayed out on its own and feeling every molecule of air that rushes by.

He comes down a little when he feels a firm hand on him, pumping his cock in a hard, steady rhythm, floats a little higher when he feels a sharp tug at a point on his chest, and now Chris is dancing in the air.  He doesn’t know how; all he knows is there’s a beat and his whole body is moving to it without moving: his lungs, his heart, the blood in his veins.   But this song has an end, and he’s rapidly approaching it, but it’s impossible to be disappointed in that while he’s still in the beat, completely ready when the time comes to burst out into throbbing points of light that get scattered joyfully into the wind.  As they scatter, he still hears the faint pulse of the beat, always there in the background, even when the dance is over.

The next thing he knows, there’s a strong hand stroking his hair – yes, okay, he has hair, that makes sense – and Zach is murmuring, “Chris, baby, can you hear me?  It’s time to come back.  It’s over now.”

There’s a slight tinge of worry to Zach’s voice, so Chris figures he’d better learn to work his mouth again.  “Mmm, back.”

He hears a gusty sigh of relief.  “Good, good.  You’re so good Christopher.  So good.”

“That was…” Chris tries, looking for a word and finding none.  “Something.”

“You went deep that time,” Zach says, his voice sounding somewhat amazed, and he’s still stroking Chris’ hair.  “Wasn’t sure you were coming back.”

Chris opens his mouth to say that he’ll always come back, but then he realizes there are at least a dozen needles in his skin, and what comes out is, “Ouch.”

“Oh, shit,” Zach says, “you’re probably feeling— I should probably get these out right away and get you cleaned up.”

“Wait,” Chris says, even as the pain starts to resurface as what it is: pain.  “I want to see first.”

Zach doesn’t say anything, just removes the blindfold and tenderly props Chris up with a pillow.   He can’t strain up too much because of his bound arms and because it pulls at the needles in his chest, but yes, the skin is as red and tightly swollen as he imagined, in tiny three-runged ladders on his belly and thighs.  There’s also the tiniest bit of blood at the place where the needle exits the skin – he’s not quite sure how to feel about that, how to process the sight of his own blood after an experience like that.

He relaxes back on the pillow.  “Zach?”

“Yes.”

“I have needles in me.”

“Thirteen of them, yes.”

“Would you be so kind as to remove them?”

Zach chuckles.  “You came out of that pretty fast.  I’d be delighted to remove them.”

After quickly changing gloves once again, he goes in reverse order, taking the needles out of Chris’ chest first, covering each with a fresh piece of gauze as he presses gently and tugs them out one by one, dropping them into a double-bagged Ziploc.  The slide out produces another rush of endorphins, something like relief, though each location still stings somewhat fiercely at both places where the needle broke through the skin.

Once they’re all out, Zach goes for the ties on Chris’ wrists.  “Don’t move much,” he says sternly, though he’s not in Dom mode anymore.  “I still need to cover them.”

Chris brings his arms back down to his sides, flexing his tingling fingers as Zach methodically checks under each piece of gauze before applying Neosporin and a bandage.  The ones on his chest bled the most, but Chris is surprised at how little blood there is, and is able to relax a bit better as Zach tends to him.

When the last wound on his thigh is covered, Zach rubs Chris’ side warmly.  “How’re you doing?”

Chris smiles and stretches, managing not even a wince even though it pulls against his fresh wounds.  They’ll heal quickly and mostly painlessly, but for right now, it’s a nice little echo of the sensation that took him so high.  “Never better.  What made you change your mind?”

“I thought about it some more, did some research.  Got to be honest, the idea kind of grew on me, knowing how badly you wanted it.”

“Thank you.  I really appreciate that.  Now take your pants off and fuck my mouth.”

Zach looks startled at the change of mood for less than a second, then his pants are off and he’s stroking himself to full hardness as he kneels carefully over Chris, feeding Chris his cock.  Chris sucks eagerly, feeling what must be dried precum under his tongue.  Ah, so Zach was getting off on it, too.  Yes, Chris thinks, and brings up a hand beneath Zach’s body to rub firmly at his taint.  After that, it’s not long before Zach is shooting into his mouth, body curling over Chris as Zach moans and tightens his fingers just shy of painfully in Chris’ hair.

They end up lying next to each other, Chris still on his back, with Zach having pulled the sheet and blanket up over both of them when Chris got a slight case of the adrenaline-crash shakes.  Chris can tell by the way that Zach is pressed against his side that he wants very badly to cuddle Chris, but also doesn’t want to aggravate his wounds.  Chris does the best he can, wrapping an arm under Zach and letting Zach lay his head on Chris’ bony shoulder.  It can’t be comfortable, but Zach doesn’t complain.

After a few minutes, Chris shifts to lying on his side, which only hurts a bit when he moves.  The motion lightly drops Zach’s head back to the pillow and Chris joins him on it, far enough away that he can look into Zach’s eyes but close enough that he can reach out and tangle his fingers with Zach’s.  He knows the smile on his face must be twelve different shades of goofy right about now, but he feels so good that he doesn’t care.  “You were good at that,” Chris says sweetly.  Anything that will encourage this to happen again is a good thing, and it also happens to be true.  “Really, really good.  Are you sure you haven’t done that before?”

Instead of laughing like Chris expects, Zach just shrugs.  “I did practice a little.”

“On what?” Chris asks, shocked.

“An orange, to start.  Then me.”

“You?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“My thigh.  Not… not on the inside like I did to you, but on the top.  Not supposed to hurt as much.  And I only used the 25 gauge.”

Chris is agape.  “But… you hate needles.”

Zach shrugs again, blushing in the most adorable way.  “I had to be sure I knew what I was doing.  And besides, I only did it, like, twi—Oof!”

Chris should probably be more concerned that he may have knocked the breath out of Zach by shoving him on his back and practically jumping on him, but he hasn’t kissed Zach in ages – seriously, it’s been, like, an hour – and he can’t not pin Zach to the bed with his weight and stick his tongue in Zach’s mouth.  He holds Zach’s face gently, a careful counterpoint to the way he’s sprawled heavily atop him.  Yes, it makes his needle wounds hurt, but it’s totally worth it.  Also, there’s the whole masochist thing, which helps with that.

“You,” Chris says between kisses.  “Are the sweetest.”  Kiss.  “Boyfriend.”  Kiss, nip.  “Ever.”  Kiss.  “And the cutest.”

Zach laughs, wrapping his arms around Chris gingerly as though that would make up for the fact that Chris is crushing himself atop Zach.  “I don’t think ‘sweet’ and ‘cute’ are what a Dom is supposed to be.”

“I said boyfriend, not Dom,” Chris says.  “You’re an awesome Dom, too.  But when you’re not being him, you’re kind of adorable.”

Zach pretends to try and push his face away – but doesn’t try very hard.  “Ugh.  I’m going to have to be meaner to you the next time we do this.”

Next time, Chris repeats in his head, elated.  He said ‘next time.’ 

A/N II: While I’ve tried to be fairly realistic, this story does not fully take into account all the risks and other considerations of needleplay and other forms of sex play that break the skin.  Not that I think anyone would take a fic as an instruction manual, but… don’t do that.