5' 3"
Morgan looked so confused as if he genuinely didn't understand why Ethan had brought him to a hotel room or how this evening was likely to end.
"Like, do I really need to take my clothes off?"
The question broke the silence of the suite with such absurd sincerity that it practically bounced off the walls and smacked Ethan in the face, making him grimace in irritation. Did he rush things? Should he have given Morgan a few more days? Or maybe he needed to slow things down right now? No. Stopping now would ruin the atmosphere. Without it, the magic of the room would fade within minutes. After soaking in the beauty around him, Noah would slip right back into the hollow state he'd been trapped in before. Ethan intended to drown him in an overwhelming mix of unfamiliar luxury, sharp physical sensations, and shameless indecency. It seemed to him that this was the only way to drag all the poison out of Noah: by burying him in emotions until he choked on them.
"Of course," Ethan replied patiently, setting the remaining coils of rope aside on the narrow wooden table and keeping only the unwound black rope in his hands.
"You didn't bring anything else…?"
Morgan was probably referring to the kimono Ethan had given him last time. Or at least something similar. But the rope patterns Ethan intended to weave tonight would look far better on bare skin. At least, that was what Ethan kept telling himself. That it was only for aesthetic reasons, not because of how badly he wanted to get Noah naked.
"You don't need any extra layers tonight," Ethan assured Morgan, running his fingers along the rough texture of the rope.
"It's just… kind of…" Noah dragged a hand over the shaved back of his head, visibly flustered. His gaze darted toward the far corner of the room. The flush spreading across his neck crept lower beneath the collar of his sweater.
"Kind of what?"
"Embarrassing."
"Still?"
"Well… yeah."
"It's funny to hear from the guy whose dick's already been in my mouth," Ethan remarked. Morgan groaned, covering his face with both hands.
"God, why do you always say things like that with such a completely straight face?"
"What's the point in avoiding the truth?" Ethan shrugged. "So, are you taking your clothes off, or would you rather reschedule Ethan Thomson's psychotherapy session for a more suitable time?" he asked. "If this feels wrong right now, that's fine."
Ethan tried to sound gentle, but judging by Morgan's reaction, Noah heard it more like, "Unless you're too scared." Ethan couldn't think of any other explanation for what happened next. Noah impulsively, and clumsily, pulled off his warm dark-green sweater and tossed it straight onto the floor, although the suite contained more than enough furniture to throw clothes on instead. He got rid of his T-shirt with the same determined look in his eyes. His resolve began fading at the jeans and completely vanished at the underwear.
"Can I keep these on?" he asked, tugging lightly at the waistband before letting it snap back against his skin with a sharp smack. Ethan didn't immediately realize the question was directed at him. The same way Noah had been mesmerized by the suite's interior earlier, Ethan was now staring at him, suddenly realizing that when they'd been together before, he'd been too nervous and rushed to notice half the details. The constellation of moles scattered across Noah's flat stomach and the faint freckles dusting his shoulders. Skin so pale and thin that the web of veins beneath it showed through easily. The blue-green tips of his hair were brushing against his long neck. And the birthmark… Ethan remembered it randomly and realized he'd never properly looked at it. Before their first time together, Noah had never been fully naked in front of him. And that night, Ethan had paid far more attention to Morgan's reactions than to his body itself.
"Can I interpret your silence as a 'yes'?"
Ethan's silence was an absolute 'no.'
"If it makes you more comfortable, you can keep them on for now. You can take them off once I start the lower harness," Ethan offered as a compromise. Noah nodded and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering slightly despite the perfectly comfortable temperature in the room.
"Sit on the bed," Ethan said, nodding toward the truly royal bed. The second Noah turned his back to him, Thomson's eyes dropped to his ass immediately. Duncan mentioned the left thigh. Could the birthmark peek out from beneath the underwear? No such luck. The underwear definitely needed to come off. As soon as possible.
"What?" Noah asked, glancing back at Ethan before following his gaze. His confused frown was almost comical.
"Nice ass, Morgan."
"Oh, stop…"
"I'm serious," Ethan smirked, folding the rope in half and making a small loop. "And turquoise really brings out your… eyes," Tomson added dryly, though it was obvious he didn't refer to them. Noah rolled his eyes dramatically, plopped down onto the bed, and folded his arms in front of himself in a failed attempt to shield the turquoise underwear from Ethan's view. Obviously, it didn't work. Ethan pulled up the harness pattern on his phone, skimmed over it, made sure he still remembered the sequence correctly, and then walked toward Morgan. Toward the skinny, fragile, vulnerable boy whose mere existence awakened something instinctive in Ethan—the overwhelming need to protect him.
"Well then… shall we talk?" Ethan suggested, touching Noah's chin and brushing his thumb across his lips.
"About what?" Morgan asked, lifting his eyes to Ethan and then switching to the rope in his hands. There wasn't a trace of fear in Noah's expression. Only curiosity and faint impatience.
"About what you've been feeling lately," Ethan explained, leaning so close that their lips ended up barely a breath apart. Just as expected, Morgan leaned in immediately, hoping for a kiss. But Ethan, easily anticipating the reaction, pulled away a moment before their mouths could meet, leaving only the warmth of his breath against Noah's lips. Ignoring the disappointment that flashed across Noah's face, Ethan pressed the doubled rope against his chest and looped it over his right shoulder toward his shoulder blade. He threaded the loose ends beneath Noah's left arm and through the loop, tightening the first restraint into place. Once the simple structure was complete, Thomson pulled the rope tighter, making sure Morgan could feel the twisted fibers pressing into his sensitive skin, restricting his ability to breathe normally.
"I'm upset, obviously," Noah muttered and swallowed loudly. He tried not to show how affected he was, but the goosebumps spreading across his skin and the hardening of his nipples betrayed him completely.
"That's all?" Ethan could have adjusted the rope from where he stood, but instead he deliberately braced one knee on the bed between Morgan's legs and leaned in as close as possible before shifting the loop from Noah's shoulder blades to his neck. It was almost strange how effortless closeness with Noah had become. Though only with him. Still, for Ethan, that was more than enough.
"What else am I supposed to feel?" Morgan shot back coldly. The sharpness in Noah's tone made it clear the conversation irritated him. This was most likely due to other thoughts buried underneath—thoughts he had no intention of expressing aloud.
"Something intense enough to make you scream after Nicole that she was a fucking bitch," Ethan reminded him, pulling the rope downward in parallel lines beside the loop already binding Noah from his neck to beneath his left arm. Second turn. Third. Fourth. Fifth. Ethan didn't rush. He aligned ropes carefully, tight and even against one another. The black rope contrasted beautifully with Noah's pale skin. Before making another wrap around his neck, Thomson moved Noah's hair aside carefully so he wouldn't catch any strands by accident. In those moments, he allowed himself the small indulgence of brushing the back of Noah's neck or trailing his fingertips lightly over the top of his spine. Morgan reacted exactly the way Ethan expected him to, by shivering, blushing, and trying to close his spread legs instinctively. The last he was unable to do because Ethan's knee was still firmly resting near his crotch.
"It was just… I don't know…" Noah muttered. "I'm ashamed."
"Of what?" With the sixth turn, Ethan slightly changed the rope's path, guiding it beneath Noah's chest instead of above it before bringing it back toward his neck and aligning it with the other tight loops restraining Morgan's fragile body.
"Of saying that."
"But you were right."
"No, I…" Morgan faltered. "I don't want to be that kind of person."
"What kind?"
"The kind who screams insults at someone's back."
"You have every right to do so," Ethan whispered near Noah's ear before giving a light kiss beside his earlobe. Morgan exhaled sharply and tried to close his legs again.
"It just doesn't fit in my head that everything happened like this…" Noah's words came out distractedly. He was speaking rather on autopilot, far more absorbed in Ethan's hands than in the conversation itself. "In a good story, the villain is supposed to have a clear motivation." Ethan's fingers traced over his protruding ribs. "But in my case, it's all just nonsense." The featherlight touches moved to his back. "So what am I then? A victim of circumstance? I hate that. It makes me pathetic. And I don't want to be a victim." Ethan's knee pressed more firmly against Noah's groin. "Honestly, I think it would be easier if I actually had done something wrong."
"We're not in a good story, Morgan," Ethan said, running his tongue slowly along the shell of Noah's ear. "Human life has never been known for good stories," he assured him, tightening the ropes further. "Justice doesn't always win. And not everyone gets what they deserve. Good people get crushed under the wheels of drunk drivers who walk free afterward and spend another ten years living happily. Pretty terrible story, right? No karma. No God. No destiny. You couldn't sell meaningless bullshit like that in a movie. But is it real? Oh, absolutely. More often than you'd like to think. Rapists, murderers, thieves: how many of them destroyed the lives of people they didn't even know? And how many are still walking free because of corruption, loopholes, money, connections? You don't want to know."
Ethan let the loose ends of the rope hang down Noah's back and stood up from the bed.
"Have you read Mindhunter: Inside the FBI's Elite Serial Crime Unit?" he asked, returning to the wooden table for a second coil of rope. He didn't manage to find rope in a sea-green shade. Apparently it wasn't a very popular color. He could've ordered some online, but the delivery time didn't fit Thomson's plans. So he'd settled for classic red instead.
"Oh, I've heard of the show!" Noah nodded.
"The show?" Ethan blinked. "They made a series based on the book?"
"Yeah. I never watched it, though."
"Why not?"
"They canceled it after season two without finishing the story because the ratings were low, even though the reviews were really good. But it's apparently pretty… dark."
Ethan uncoiled the red rope, folded it in half like the first one, and returned to Morgan.
A show about real-life serial killers was dark? What a surprise. They probably should've turned it into a comedy instead.
"The book's interesting. But what matters here isn't the book itself but why it was written."
Ethan intended to settle back into the same position as before, but Noah regained freedom of movement and had already pulled his knees together.
"Legs," Thomson nodded toward Morgan's thin thighs.
"What about them?"
"Spread them."
"You could just climb onto the bed and—
"I was comfortable where I was. Spread them," Ethan insisted. Noah immediately flushed, glanced away in embarrassment, and obeyed. Tonight, his helplessness was his own choice. He submitted because he wanted to, not because Ethan forced him to. Ethan's knee settled back onto the mattress and pressed naturally against Noah's groin. There. Much better. Now they could talk.
"So, about to the book," Ethan continued casually. "Two FBI agents—John Douglas and Robert Ressler—and researcher Ann Burgess became pioneers in criminal profiling. Their work focused on narrowing down suspects by analyzing the psychology of unknown offenders. At first, plenty of people in the FBI thought their research was ridiculous. But do you know why they eventually had to risk their reputations and pursue it anyway?" Ethan threaded the loop of red rope beneath the outer wrap of the black one, brought it over the second loop, then slid it under the third. He wove one rope meticulously through the other. "Because of the motivation you mentioned," he continued. After threading through all the wraps, Ethan left the red loop resting near Noah's throat and switched to the loose ends again. "By that time, the FBI had realized they were facing a whole new kind of crime wave. Before, criminals usually killed for revenge or harassed their victims out of passion. By the seventies, however, everything had changed." Thomson tightened another section carefully. "Serial killers started appearing everywhere. Sure, they'd existed before, but they were treated like isolated anomalies throughout history. By the seventies, they'd become almost routine. Dennis Rader. Edmund Kemper. Jerry Brudos. Charles Manson. Do you know what all of them had in common?"
"They killed people…"
"Yes, but not just that. Manson, for example, never actually killed anyone himself. He gave orders. But that's beside the point…" Ethan said. "Motivation, Morgan. Their motivations completely contradicted normal human logic. Every one of them was deeply fucked in the head," Ethan said at the end. Discussing serial killers right now was probably a little strange. Ethan had originally been aiming for something closer to a romantic atmosphere. But first, Noah needed to understand that the feelings he kept suppressing were perfectly normal and that he had every right to let them out. "And Nicole isn't exactly mentally healthy either."
"You're putting her in the same category as Kemper?" A humorless smile tugged at Noah's lips. "He chopped his mother's head off and violated the corpse afterward."
"So?" Ethan shrugged. "Nicole's fixation on you looks a hell of a lot like the obsession people like that tend to develop," he assured Noah. Thomson guided the loose red ends beneath Noah's right arm and wrapped them behind his back. Now he needed to mirror the same number of turns on the right side with the red rope that he'd already made on the left with the black one, carefully weaving one into the other. Oddly relaxing work, accompanied by a conversation about mentally unstable people.
"Just because Nicole didn't cut anyone's head off and fuck it doesn't make her better," Ethan scoffed. "So stop looking for loopholes for her. Stop waiting for an apology like it would magically change anything. And stop trying to find explanations for her behavior inside yourself. She's just a mentally ill piece of shit who doesn't deserve your sympathy. She needed someone to blame for what happened to her brother. She picked you. Do you think it was because of the letter? I don't. I think even if Nicholas had never written anything, Nicole still would've found someone to blame. Anyone but herself. It could've been someone else. The neighbor's daughter. Or some classmate Nicholas barely knew. The fucking mailman. And she would've ruined their life instead of yours. If that had happened, would it make you think of her differently?"
Noah flinched when Ethan secured the third turn and pulled the ropes tighter than necessary. It was a surprisingly effective way to snap Morgan back to reality.
"I just…" Noah faltered.
"Just what?"
"Well…"
"Well?"
"It's unfair!" Noah burst out suddenly.
"Yes."
"I didn't do anything wrong!"
"Exactly."
"And she spent years pretending to be my friend while secretly enjoying the fact that I was miserable! Why do I keep trying to justify her?" Noah burst out. "Because if everything is really the way you say it is, then…" His voice trembled. "It's hard not to dream about her dying a dog's death!" Tears welled up in his eyes. He tried to wipe them away, but Ethan stopped him.
"Keep your hands on the bed," he said.
"But… I…" Morgan sobbed. "This whole thing…" he mumbled, still trying to suppress emotions that had finally found a crack and were now spilling out uncontrollably. "I hate all of this!"
Ethan smiled. Morgan had finally surrendered. Thomson brushed a finger along Noah's cheek, wiping away a trail of tears only for another one to immediately replace it. The redness around Noah's eyes made the blue-green of his irises seem even brighter.
"And even though it's over…" Noah continued, "…it still feels like she won! Like she got exactly what she wanted!"
"That's not true."
"The rumors aren't going anywhere. They'll follow me for the rest of my life!"
"So what? People can think whatever they want. Your happiness shouldn't depend on their opinion."
"But it does, Ethan! Most of these students are going to graduate! Some of them will end up important someday! I'm obviously going to run into people from college again eventually! And when that happens, they'll remember all the shit from back then. It'll start all over again! It's a fucking vicious circle I can't escape!"
"It won't happen," Ethan assured him. Now he was pressing soft kisses against Noah's wet cheeks before pulling him gently into an embrace. However, the hug served another purpose too, securing the loose ends of the rope into the main pattern. Either Noah didn't notice that, or he simply didn't care. His palms remained on the bed. Instead, he buried his face against Ethan's neck and let out a shaky breath.
"You can't guarantee that," he murmured, letting hot breath out against Ethan's skin.
"And yet I'm still going to try," Thomson smirked quietly as he finished the harness. Then he pulled back slowly to look over his work. Nice. The sight of Noah in tears added a particular sharpness to the image.
"Too tight?" Ethan asked, slipping a finger beneath the rope running under Noah's chest and "accidentally" brushing against his nipple. Noah shivered.
"Uhm, no… Everything's fine," he answered unsteadily.
"I think you're still holding yourself back. You need to cry it out. You'll feel better afterward."
"That won't change anything," Noah shook his head. "All I've done this whole time is cry. I'm pathetic."
"Don't say that," Ethan sighed. "You're starting to blame yourself for everything again," he murmured, brushing his hand over Morgan's stomach and slowly trailing his fingertips lower. "You need to get rid of that disgusting habit."
The stretched turquoise fabric became damp with precum. Morgan could keep crying and remain in a miserable state of mind, but it did nothing to lessen the arousal wrapped tightly around him. Ethan gently rubbed the wet tip through the thin fabric with his thumb, then lifted his finger away to see a sticky translucent strand follow after it.
"I thought… you didn't want to have sex with me anymore," came the muffled confession. Without moving his hand away from Noah's cock, Ethan leaned down and lightly bit his neck.
"And how come such a brilliant conclusion appeared in your head?" he whispered, deliberately brushing his lips against Noah's ear.
"Well…" Morgan — truly a good boy to the core — kept his hands planted on the bed, fingers clenched tightly in the soft beige bedspread threaded with gold. "Last time you turned me down."
"You were completely falling apart back then. It was almost the same as sleeping with someone drunk at that point. You couldn't think straight enough to understand what you actually needed."
"In any situation, there's only going to be one thing I need…"
"You don't look like someone obsessed with sex."
"I'm not talking about sex," Noah barely managed to say. Familiar red blotches spread across his neck and chest again. "I'm talking about you."
The barely audible confession hung in the air, echoing over and over in Ethan's ears, intoxicating without alcohol. Last time, Thomson held himself back. He was afraid he could hurt Morgan. The thought kept circling in his mind that he might do something wrong, something that would lead to irreversible consequences. Today, he wasn't afraid. So, Ethan finally did the thing he'd wanted to do ever since that first day in the campus cafeteria, when he'd sat staring at Noah's back. Sliding his fingers into Morgan's thick hair, Ethan grabbed it and pulled sharply, forcing Noah's head back, before dragging his tongue from the hollow at the base of his throat, over Adam's apple, all the way to his chin. A quiet moan disappeared into a heated kiss. Tonight, Ethan had no desire to control himself. He intended to enjoy the night to the fullest.
Thrown off by this sudden emotional intensity from Thomson, Noah kissed him back hesitantly. Either he was afraid that too much enthusiasm might make Ethan lose control completely (which, honestly, was a real possibility), or Morgan was simply too overwhelmed by everything happening to think about anything else.
The kiss lasted far too long because Thomson simply couldn't bring himself to pull away. His lips had started to tingle. His jaw muscles were beginning to ache. And still Ethan couldn't stop, thoroughly exploring Noah's mouth and answering every attempt to kiss him back with another overwhelming wave of forceful intensity.
"I told you to keep your hands on the bed," Ethan finally broke away only to put Noah back in his place after catching him clutching at the waistband of his jeans. Not so fast, Morgan.
"Why do you need these rules?" Noah breathed out, still trying to undo the stubborn button above Ethan's zipper. He failed. His hands were shaking too badly.
"I don't want you shredding my back to pieces again," Ethan huffed. That was partially true. Noah immediately flustered and pulled his hands away. Thomson traced his fingers along the rope pattern, rested his palm against Morgan's center of the chest, and pushed him gently down onto his shoulder blades. Noah didn't resist when Ethan lowered his other knee onto the bed and nudged him closer to the center of the mattress. Settling more comfortably between Noah's spread legs, Thomson leaned over him, bracing one hand against the mattress beside his head.
"Put your hands behind your back," he instructed, catching Noah's unfocused gaze.
"You could just tie my hands," Morgan's voice dropped lower, threaded with unmistakable arousal.
I could? Or you'd like me to?
"I could. But not this time," Ethan smirked. Tonight, he'd set two rules for himself. First, no complicated ropework; otherwise, Morgan might end up exhausted before they even got to anything more intimate. Second: he wasn't going to restrict Noah's movements during sex yet, because he still thought it was too soon for that. Even if Morgan was offering ideas himself, things could still go wrong once the shibari turned into something more.
Without protest, Noah slipped his hands behind his back. That openness and that willingness to submit made Thomson want to find the limits of what Noah would allow him to do. But again, not tonight.
Ethan slid one hand from the inside of Noah's knee along the underside of his thigh up to his buttock. His fingers brushed against the thin fabric of the underwear before slipping carefully beneath it. Morgan moaned quietly even though Ethan had barely touched the sensitive skin. Then again, the reaction could've just as easily been caused by Ethan's other hand, which had never stopped stroking Noah's penis through the fabric of his underwear. Ethan sat back on his knees and pulled Morgan so he could feel Thomson's erection pressing directly against his ass. The barrier of clothing only made the tension worse, driving the arousal higher and higher. Due to their difference in height, Ethan couldn't quite reach Noah's lips in that position, so instead he bent down and ran his tongue over Noah's hardened right nipple, one hand slipping beneath the tight ropes cutting across Morgan's underarm while the other continued stroking him through the thin turquoise fabric.
"Eth…Ethan," Morgan mumbled incoherently.
"Mmm?" Thomson didn't even notice he'd started grinding lightly against Noah, acting on what he actually wanted. The whole thing felt like an absurdly good dream, one that had nothing in common with the reality Ethan usually lived in—the kind that constantly weighed him down and swallowed him whole. Everything felt better with Noah. The coffee from some diner. The autumn weather. And Thomson himself.
"Wa…wait! St…stop! Mnh…if you don't move your hand away!..." Morgan never finished. Ethan felt the growing tension in Noah's body and, instead of slowing down like Morgan wanted him to, sped up. The fabric was already soaked through with lube, so Ethan's fingers were sticking and slipping against it. One more movement, and his palm felt another rush of thick warmth. Noah let out a soft, trembling moan, then suddenly pulled his hands out from beneath his lower back and buried his face in them. A shaky sob followed. Ethan brushed the sweat from his forehead and slowly leaned over Noah.
"Is everything okay?"
"Y-yeah! I just… I don't know…"
Morgan was crying harder than before. The knot of emotional tension inside him was rapidly unraveling. Too many conflicting feelings tangled together, spilling out in a messy mix of pleasure and bitterness.
"Hey…" Ethan murmured, taking Noah gently by the wrists and taking his hands away from his tear-stained face. "That's normal. We'll keep fucking until you cry it all out."
"Huh?.. Wha—"
A knock on the door made both Ethan and Noah flinch at the same time. Their order had arrived. Such bad timing!
"Jesus fucking Christ," Ethan muttered through his clenched teeth as he slid off the bed, trying to calm himself down. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Walking around with a hard-on was a special kind of torture. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, trying to settle both his pulse and the tension below his waist.
The knocking came again. Bastards!
"One second!" Ethan snapped, heading for the door.
5' 8"-5' 9"
Morgan had mixed feelings. Everything around him put on so much pressure yet felt strangely pleasant. The beautiful tapestry, the enormous bed, the ornate molding—the whole room was filled with objects of luxury so much that they left him breathless. Morgan felt himself dissolving into it all: into the walls, the imagery, the atmosphere, the faint scent of Ethan's cologne, and the softness of the mattress beneath him. It felt like every object in the room carried its own history, and Noah suddenly wanted to become part of it. And with that came fantasies Noah had never had before.
He saw a royal court. Private chambers. He was a prince. Why shouldn't he be? Ethan, meanwhile, was a grim knight who had just slaughtered an enemy before Noah's eyes—a man foolish enough to threaten the king's son. Out of gratitude for being saved, Noah would ask the knight what reward he desired. A castle, perhaps? Land of his own? A position governing one of the kingdom's great cities?
"I choose you," the knight would say. Ethan would remain bold and insolent no matter what world he belonged to. A difference in status would never intimidate him.
"Me?" the prince would ask in outrage and disbelief, seated by a towering window overlooking the vast lands of the kingdom. "How dare you?!" The words would leave proud lips, even if somewhere deep inside he'd fluttered. His gaze, already drifting over the knight's polished armor and the mask concealing the lower half of his face, would inevitably meet those dark gray eyes that tolerated no refusal.
"I saved your life," the knight would say, never lowering his gaze the way everyone at court did. "That means it belongs to me now."
"You've mistaken palace halls for a circus… and my chambers for a brothel?" Noah would've grown into an arrogant prince. All his life, no one had denied him anything, and every reckless whim had been indulged.
"Why not?" the knight would reply with a smirk. "It is whispered the prince isn't particularly selective about who ends up in his bed."
Noah shook his head sharply, forcing the fantasy away before the uglier parts of reality could fully weave themselves into it. He pushed himself upright and stared down at his underwear. He thought he looked ridiculous. Rubbing his face with both hands, Noah realized the violent storm raging inside him had finally settled. He'd never imagined an orgasm could leave someone in tears. But the feeling had been overwhelming enough to tear through the dam holding back months of stagnant emotions, leaving everything to flood out at once. Well, he couldn't undo what had just happened.
Noah heard the door lock behind him. Ethan rolled a two-tier bar cart into the room. Bottles of wine clinked together on the lower shelf beside a bottle of water, glasses, and a wide bowl overflowing with fruit. The top shelf held appetizers, cheese, honey, and a large plate of fresh berries.
"I didn't order anything substantial without you," Ethan said calmly, as if the air between them hadn't been crackling moments ago. "You can tell me when you get hungry."
"Okay," Noah replied with a nod, still staring at his underwear. Walking around with almost no clothes on didn't seem like the best idea. But the thought of being completely naked still embarrassed him. His insecurities wouldn't let him do what he wanted.
"You'll have to take them off anyway," Ethan informed him, as if reading his mind. Another coil of black rope appeared in his hands. "The second harness will make it impossible for you to take your underwear off after I'm done," he said in the same indifferent tone. "Though…" A switchblade appeared in Ethan's hand. "I could always use this instead. But then tomorrow you'll have to leave without any underwear on."
Noah quickly pulled off his underwear and tossed it onto the floor as far away from himself as possible, then drew his knees to his chest and cowered. God, this was humiliating.
"Maybe I should shower first," Morgan mumbled into his knees.
"Don't be ridiculous." Ethan grabbed Noah by the right ankle, lifted his leg, and pulled it toward himself until Noah's knee pressed against Thomson's stomach. His hand slid easily along the inside of Noah's thigh, leaving cold marks against skin still hot and sticky with lube and sperm.
"I'm still embarrassed," Noah breathed out. It would've been easier if they'd just started having sex again. But Ethan intended to keep tying him up, which meant physical pleasure wouldn't distract him from the flaws Noah saw in his body. Ethan would see everything clearly, without hormones blurring the edges. That somehow felt far more intimate and far more exposing. Morgan just couldn't make himself relax because of it.
"Okay."
For a second, Noah thought Ethan had given up. He was wrong. Noah really needed to remind himself more often how stubborn Ethan could be once he decided he wanted something. Letting go of Noah's leg, Thomson returned to the bar cart. For someone who didn't drink, he uncorked the bottle of red wine with surprising ease and poured some of the dark burgundy liquid into a glass. A rich fruity aroma spread immediately through the room.
"If it's that hard for you to relax, drink," Ethan held the glass to Noah.
"You said it's better for someone to stay sober during a shibari session," Morgan reminded him, though he accepted the glass gratefully and inhaled the sharp, velvety scent of the wine with obvious pleasure.
"That's true. Which is why I'm only allowing you one glass."
"Allowing me?" Noah raised an eyebrow. "How long before you ask me to start calling you Master?" he teased before taking a sip.
"You can start right now," Ethan replied with a smile, picking the rope back up. Noah would've answered with another joke, but instead he stared down at his drink in stunned confusion. He had never tasted anything like it before. Morgan was nowhere near a sommelier, but even he could appreciate how extraordinary the wine was. The blend of fruit and woody notes felt almost unreal, as if it had expanded the limits of what his tongue could even perceive.
"Wow!" was all Noah managed. "What kind of wine is this?"
Ethan picked up a small card attached to the bottle.
"Château Latour, 1990," he read. "Born in an exceptionally hot year, this wine possesses remarkable depth of flavor and a lingering finish with high levels of sweet, velvety tannins." He glanced at Noah. "Do you know what tannins are?"
"I have no idea," Noah shrugged.
"Me neither," Ethan snorted, tossing the card aside. "Finish your wine already so we can start," he urged.
"I feel like wine like this isn't supposed to be drunk quickly," Morgan muttered.
"You're allowed."
Do I really have Master's permission? Noah joked in his head, smiling faintly at his own wit.
The wine wasn't just delicious; it was surprisingly strong, too. Or maybe it was because Noah hadn't eaten anything since morning and had already spent days emotionally exhausted. Either way, the result was predictable: one glass was enough to leave him pleasantly lightheaded. He still understood perfectly well what was happening and could feel the ropes pressing into his back, neck, and chest, but most of his anxiety had faded into the background. In its place came a much more welcome open-mindedness.
"Okay, I'm ready," he announced, handing the empty glass back to Ethan as he got off the bed.
"Excellent." Thomson smiled, openly dragging a sharp, unapologetic gaze over Noah's naked body.
Ethan stepped close, wrapped the doubled rope around Noah's waist, and tied a complicated knot while leaving a large loop hanging loose. Thomson was so focused on the harness itself that Noah's nudity barely seemed to register to him. Or at least he looked completely unaffected. In contrast to Morgan, who felt as though he was burning alive from the inside out. The loose ends of the rope brushed over a sensitive spot once or twice, and that alone was enough to kick the entire horrible machine of arousal back into motion. Noah inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. The ropes restricting the upper part of his chest suddenly felt even tighter, feeding the very thing Noah was trying desperately to suppress.
Ethan adjusted the rope so the loop tied at Noah's stomach slid lower against the base of his spine. Then he threaded the loose ends from Noah's lower back down between his thigh and groin before wrapping them around his leg and pulling them back toward his stomach. The pressure between his legs increased. So did the agitation. By the time Ethan repeated the same thing on the other side, Morgan had already given up trying to fight his body.
"Okay, wait…" he breathed, stepping back instinctively. Ethan raised his left eyebrow.
"Now what?"
"I just…" Noah faltered, trying to calm himself down unsuccessfully. "I don't understand how you can do something like this and not feel anything!"
"What do you mean?" Ethan frowned. "Why the hell would anyone do anything if they got nothing out of it?" he scoffed.
"Yeah, but I…" Noah dragged a hand through his hair nervously.
"Oh." Ethan really had been too focused on the rope. "So that's what this is…" he drawled with a smile. "Well, you're just going to have to endure it." He tugged on the rope still clenched in his hands, and Noah unwillingly stumbled right back toward him.
"Jesus Christ, I can't just stand in front of you like this!"
"Why not? I'll take it as a compliment."
"Ethan, this is too much!"
"No."
"Can I have more wine?"
"And the answer is still no."
"What if I call you Master?"
"Morgan… no," Ethan replied, though this refusal sounded noticeably strained.
"Ugh! If you were a book character, you'd definitely be the villain," Noah declared.
"Oh, absolutely," Thomson agreed without hesitation, pulling Noah closer until barely any space remained between them. "Makes me wonder who you'd be, then."
"The village idiot."
"I don't know any stories where villains would fuck ordinary village idiots," Ethan murmured, lightly dragging a finger along Noah's cock from base to tip. Noah barely managed to swallow the moan threatening to escape him. Ethan's thumb brushed over the slit, catching a clear bead of precum before slowly smearing it across the tip.
"Oh my God, just finish the harness already," Noah groaned pleadingly.
"As you wish." Ethan nodded and turned his attention back to the ropes. Noah's erection genuinely didn't seem to bother him. Ethan wrapped the rope around Noah's hips once more, then a third time. With every pass, he created intricate interwoven patterns that bloomed across Noah's sides and stomach like ornamental designs. Even from his angle, Noah had to admit it looked beautiful. If only Ethan would stop brushing against places he absolutely should not have been touching, everything would've been perfect.
"There it is," Ethan said from behind Noah as soon as Tomson stepped behind his back to secure the entire structure.
"There what is?" Noah asked immediately.
"Your birthmark."
"Do I have a birthmark?" Morgan sounded genuinely surprised.
"Right here."
Noah felt Ethan's finger glide along his left thigh.
"It's faint. You wouldn't notice it unless you were really looking."
"Oh… Well. Okay."
"Looks like a stretching cat."
"Mm-hm. Great."
"You're reacting kind of strangely to this."
"Ethan, I genuinely don't give a single fuck about marks on my ass right now!" Noah snapped.
"Easy. Patience," Thomson drawled before leaving a kiss on Noah's neck. Then Ethan began walking around him again, adjusting the ropes wherever he felt they weren't sitting quite right. "How does it feel?"
Jesus Christ, just fuck me already…
"It's fine."
"Does it hurt anywhere?"
"No."
"What about here?" Ethan asked after moving behind him again and pressing against the ropes between Noah's thigh and groin. This time Noah went dizzy for reasons that had nothing to do with the wine. Ethan slipped a finger beneath the rope, and the flood of sensation nearly made Morgan choke on his own breathing.
"Can I take a picture?" came the whisper directly against his ear.
"Mhm. Yeah. Sure," Noah mumbled. In that state, he probably would've agreed to anything.
5' 3"
Ethan crouched beside the bag and exhaled slowly. Outwardly, he still appeared calm, but the occasional tremor in his hands betrayed his tension far better than his expression ever could. This was insane. He didn't expect anything close to this effect. He didn't even consider the possibility that all of this would hit him so hard. Desire layered over desire layered over desire… that was the closest thing Ethan could compare it to. He'd wanted to draw emotions out of Morgan but somehow ended up doing it to himself instead. He'd hoped to help Noah relax. Seduce him. Make him stop thinking about anyone or anything in this room besides Ethan. Instead, the opposite had happened. With every turn of rope and every knot tied, Thomson sank deeper into Noah Morgan, focusing on him so much that, for fleeting moments, he genuinely forgot there was anyone else in the world besides the two of them.
Ethan pulled a Polaroid camera from the bag and turned it over slowly in his hands. He hesitated because he knew that the second he looked back at Noah, his thoughts would narrow around him all over again. It was indeed insane.
Noah stood beside the bed, covering the most obvious proof that being tied up had been more than enjoyable for him. He wore nothing but rope. He looked exposed. Flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Ethan had to keep pulling himself back, forcing unpleasant memories to the surface for the first time in his life in a deliberate attempt to cool himself down. And for the first time ever, those memories barely affected him. At first, they did but not anymore. Now even the worst moments from his past did absolutely nothing. The sight of Noah Morgan erased every terrible thing that had ever weighed Ethan down. And that was both wonderful and terrifying. Thomson had never thought he was capable of becoming so dependent on another person, yet somehow he'd sunk into his feelings up to the crown of his head without even noticing—at least not until the two of them ended up alone together in this damned room.
"Lift your chin a little," Ethan asked, framing only the upper rope harness in the shot. Noah obeyed, and Thomson took the first picture. The moment the photo slid from the Polaroid camera, Ethan took another from behind him.
"Can I photograph the lower harness too?"
"Well… uh…" Noah hesitated. Which meant no.
"Alright. Then maybe I can just capture the side pattern so nothing too explicit ends up in frame?" Ethan offered.
"Yeah. Okay."
Click.
"And your stomach."
"Okaaay."
Click.
Click.
Click-click-click.
"Ethan."
"What?"
"I think that's enough," Noah exhaled, carefully taking the Polaroid from Thomson's hands. "I've been walking around naked in front of you for half an hour now. Maybe you could finally do something about it?"
Shaking himself free from whatever trance the photography had put him in, Ethan swallowed hard.
"Yeah… probably."
"Just let me put this away first," Noah said, gesturing with the Polaroid as he headed toward the serving cart. Ethan didn't move. It felt like the ropes tightening around Noah had somehow bound Ethan with invisible restraints.
The sound of a bottle being uncorked broke the silence.
"You're not allowed to drink any more," Ethan pointed out, finally forcing himself to move and turn toward Noah.
"Just a little," Morgan promised, already walking back toward him with a glass in hand. Ethan opened his mouth to read a lecture about how dangerous alcohol could be in a situation like this but never got the chance to start. A sudden shove to the chest caught him completely off guard. Before he could react, Ethan collapsed backward onto the bed, and by the time he regained his bearings, Noah was already straddling him. The wine nearly spilled across the blankets from the abrupt movement. Noah really hadn't poured himself much. But still…
"I'm tired of being the only naked person in this room," Morgan declared with unexpected boldness as he grabbed the hem of Ethan's shirt and shoved it up to his chest. A second later, Ethan felt cool liquid splashing across his skin. Dark red wine streamed from the center of his chest down the pale skin of his stomach, tracing the subtle definition of muscle there. Noah bent down without shame and began licking the wine directly off him. At this point, Morgan had clearly lost himself. Judging by Ethan's reaction, he'd followed right after him, being overwhelmed not so much by the sensation itself as by the sight of Noah flushed with heat and openly licking wine from his body. The sweet scent of fruit flooded the air. Noah's tongue slowly traveled lower, toward Ethan's navel. Throughout all of it, Morgan still held the wineglass loosely in one hand, seemingly planning to repeat the same trick somewhere else besides Ethan's stomach this time. Ethan didn't dare stop him, even if the smell of alcohol itself wasn't particularly appealing to him. Noah slid from the bed onto the floor and rose onto his knees before undoing Ethan's zipper. Cool liquid spilled over his erection, mixing with sweat and precum. The sharp contrast in temperature hit Ethan hard, and the effect only intensified the moment Noah's cool lips closed around the tip of the penis and slowly slid lower. A muffled groan escaped Ethan through clenched teeth as he fell back on the mattress. His heartbeat rattled through him like rapid drumfire. His entire body felt like a raw nerve. Noah's hot tongue moved slowly but deliberately. His lips swallowed Ethan with shameless enthusiasm. It couldn't last long. Ethan simply didn't have the physical strength left to make the moment last even a second more.
"Fu—" Ethan exhaled, pinned to the bed by a sharp, almost painful orgasm that tore his mind apart for a second.
"Huh…" Noah sounded dissatisfied. Morgan swallowed and licked his lips. "I didn't think it'd happen that fast…"
"Well, excuse me," Thomson shot back irritably, sitting upright on the bed. "I'm not exactly made of steel."
"You look like you are," Noah replied playfully before finishing off the rest of the wine in one swallow.
"You talk too much, Morgan." Pulling his shirt over his head, Ethan grabbed Noah by the back of the neck, yanked him forward roughly, and licked the dark red drops from his lips.
"Then make me shut up."
What a filthy provocation.
Obviously, Ethan took the bait without hesitation.
Practically jumping off the bed, Thomson pinned Noah to the floor with a long, deep kiss. Without breaking away for even a second, he fetched from the pocket of his jeans some condoms and lube he'd stashed there earlier. Of course he'd considered the possibility that things might end up like this. Just… not quite like this.
Noah let out a quiet moan when Ethan slid two fingers inside him at once—more from surprise than discomfort. Ethan began covering his neck and chest with scattered kisses, occasionally leaving pale reddish marks behind. The mingled scents of wine, sweat, semen, and the citrus oil Ethan used on the ropes spun together into something intoxicating.
"Oh, f-fuck…" Noah gasped. Right. Ethan remembered exactly where nature had gifted Morgan with especially dangerous sensitivity, and now he shamelessly took advantage of it. "God… shit… ngh…"
Ethan suddenly felt Noah's fingers clutch against his back, which was probably an instinctive, rather than deliberate, move. Pain scattered across his skin in familiar lines. Thomson stopped immediately.
"Noah," he breathed, startled by the tremor in his own voice. "Hands."
"Ah… sorry," Morgan managed, lowering his arms to the floor and crossing them above his head instead. After a brief hesitation, Ethan pressed the hand supporting his weight directly over Noah's crossed wrists to prevent any further accidental damage. Eventually Noah would still get the opportunity to touch Ethan's back again. But Ethan would rather that happen later, at a point where he simply wouldn't care anymore.
His careful exploration of Noah Morgan continued. Pulling away from the kisses, Thomson studied Noah's face intently. At first Noah looked embarrassed beneath Ethan's stare. Then defiant. But after some breaking point, Morgan was twisting impatiently beneath Ethan instead. Maybe Thomson had put in a little too much effort, because the moment he switched his fingers with his cock, Noah immediately pushed himself toward it, practically trying to impale himself upon Ethan.
"Jesus Christ, easy," Ethan exhaled, struggling to steady him.
"How exactly could this get any easier?"
"Morgan," Thomson hissed irritably, "stop being reckless." He deliberately flicked Noah on the nose with the sobriety coin hanging from his necklace. But on the next swing of the pendant, Morgan caught it between his lips, then leaned up toward Ethan and pushed it into Thomson's mouth through another kiss.
After that, they stopped talking. They were only burning each other with kisses; their bodies responded instinctively to each other's movements. They whispered each other's names; the skin felt sticky from spilled wine. They were drunk on each other.
5' 8"-5' 9"
Noah had already come several times in a row. And every single time afterward, he broke down crying again. He probably looked insane, but Morgan couldn't do anything about the flood of emotions no matter how hard he tried. Ethan, however, never made him feel ashamed of it. He simply kept kissing the tears from Noah's cheeks, whispering soothing nonsense against his ear…and then rolling on another condom.
Tonight, Ethan wasn't nearly as gentle as he'd been their first time together. And Noah loved it. He'd already had more than enough tenderness and care. He was tired of feeling weak and useless. What he wanted now was overwhelming passion sharpened by something almost animalistic. He wanted to feel desperately desired and surrender himself to that feeling completely. That was exactly what Ethan gave him. The only problem was that Noah's body, as it turned out, wasn't built to be fucked endlessly. His back already ached. His legs trembled violently from strain. His lips burned from kissing. The ropes dug into his skin hard enough to leave it burning.
Noah arched his back and buried his face into the pillow, no longer concerned about how obscene the position itself looked. He was drowning in sensation, deafened by his own heartbeat, by his ragged moans, by the rhythmic smacks of Ethan thrusting into him again and again. Noah clung desperately to the pillow, his entire body shaking from waves of pleasure, caught in a strange mixture of total vulnerability and absolute trust.
"Ethan…" Noah barely recognized his own hoarse voice. "The ropes… too much…"
"Yeah… it's probably time… to get rid of them…" Thomson breathed out between uneven breaths. Noah could feel sweat dripping from Ethan onto his back. He could feel Ethan's hot fingers gripping his hips and feel the same unbearable heat of Ethan's cock inside every time he pushed deeper, driving Noah closer and closer to madness.
Ethan stopped for a second to reach for the knife still tucked into his jeans pocket. The cold blade touched Noah's burning skin, but the sensation didn't frighten him. He knew with complete certainty that there was nothing to fear with Ethan. Using the knife, Thomson hooked the first rope and turned the blade so the dull side pressed safely against Noah's skin while the sharpened edge sliced through the restraint. The sudden release of pressure was immediately followed by another thrust. And the sensation that followed was almost indescribable. With every movement, Ethan cut through another rope, and alongside the overwhelming pleasure pulsing through Noah's body came something unexpected — lightness, freedom, and a crushing wave of release spreading through every muscle.
By the time Ethan reached the ropes binding his upper body, he was gripping Noah tightly by the hips. Now Morgan barely understood what was happening. He was crying. Gasping for air. Crying again. Trembling from pleasure so intense it bordered on pain—and still not wanting any of it to end.
5' 3"
Ethan stepped out of the campus building and looked up at the sky swallowed by heavy clouds. He needed to get to Morgan's place before the rain started. As he headed toward the parking lot, Thomson found himself wondering what he should get Noah for his birthday. There were only two days left, in which Ethan somehow needed to come up with not one gift but two.
Almost a month had passed since Nicole was busted. The rumors had finally ended. The pathetic remnants no longer seemed to matter to Morgan anymore, and Ethan was grateful. The two of them spent more and more time together now: studying, visiting Noah's grandmother, or even attending NA meetings. Tulsi insisted Ethan's progress was undeniable, and honestly, he agreed. During one visit to Duncan at the hospital, he'd even allowed himself to remove his mask in front of him. Smith had nearly had a heart attack.
Though Noah still remained the only person Ethan could comfortably be around without gloves or a mask. Their chaotic sex life was partly responsible for that. By now, Ethan had learned several things: Sex in a car was wildly uncomfortable… though admittedly interesting. Having sex on top of a car looked far more impressive. The bed in Ethan's room was objectively better, but Noah's room still felt cozier. And sex in public was a terrible idea that absolutely should not be repeated, because after they'd almost gotten caught, Noah sulked at Ethan for three straight days.
Most of the students had already gone home for Christmas break, leaving the campus strangely empty and quiet. Ethan crossed the nearly abandoned parking lot toward his car, one of the few vehicles still left there. He pulled his keys from his pocket and—
Something felt wrong. Like some buried instinct had suddenly started ringing alarm bells inside his skull.
Over the past month, Ethan was too relaxed, so his reaction was slower. He didn't turn around in time.
A sharp burst of pain at the back of his head made him stumble before collapsing onto the asphalt.
"Well…" a familiar voice reached him through the haze of rapidly fading consciousness. "I told you I'd get to you eventually…"
The voice grew quieter and quieter.
"…you stupid little chihuahua."