/the chair/

"Your hair feels cold."

"I washed it a little while ago…there, is that tight enough?"

Gateau tried to move his arms. "I can't move."

"Good. Have you guessed why you're here?"

"Do you need a reason?"

"I always have a reason." Marron stepped back and looked at his handiwork. It had taken him hours to weave the words and symbols into the leather that first time, and he was always needing to touch them up, it seemed…they were always clean soaked with sweat after each session. It had also taken him awhile to tie Gateau to the chair—it always did. Marron liked to try different things…sometimes he'd crisscross the straps to concentrate power in certain places, sometimes he wanted them to be tighter and sometimes looser. Often, he would stop and ask Gateau to stretch his arm or his neck as far as it would go…then he would make adjustments. When he was finally satisfied, he always stepped back to look at what he had done. Gateau couldn't very well complain about that…could he. It was what he had begged for so many times, after all.

Right now, Gateau was looking down. It annoyed Marron, and he put his hand under Gateau's chin, rather roughly jerking it up.

"I don't understand this shyness. …Don't you want me…to look?"

Gateau was silent, but his eyes blazed with defiance. Marron wondered if he guessed what an aphrodisiac that was…but he didn't betray his arousal. He merely narrowed his eyes as if displeased. "What a look! You deserve everything you're about to get."

"And why is that." Something between a growl and a whisper.

"Don't pretend to be so innocent…I saw you earlier today. Those girls—"

"Oh, not this again. I told you—"

"And I told you, you're not allowed to do that anymore. I don't want anyone else to see you…like this." Marron's voice dropped on the last two words.

"Look, I can't help it—"

"—And are you a child, that you cannot control your impulses?" Marron glared at Gateau while he undid the buttons of his robe. He shrugged out of the sleeves and let the top half fall around his waist. His sash still held everything else in place. "If you're going to act like a child…someone should punish you like a child."

"That's a bald lie. You wouldn't do this to a kid. Or are you more messed up that I thought you were—" Gateau's words were cut short by a slap to his face. Marron drew back and watched impassively as Gateau's chest began to heave with barely suppressed rage. He hated being slapped, and Marron knew it.

"Beautiful," Marron whispered, mocking him. Gateau gritted his teeth.

Marron leaned forward, resting his forehead against Gateau's. He felt the veins underneath, throbbing. Ah, he was good and mad now. It was time. "Bite my tongue off…I dare you," Marron said, almost inaudibly. Then he bent his mouth to Gateau's.

Gateau moaned as Marron let one cool hand snake down his chest, criss-crossed with straps, and then lower…somehow, no matter what Marron said or did, he always found him ready…

Gateau's hands clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed, behind his back. He couldn't spread his legs any further or move against Marron, and it was maddening. Marron broke the kiss and looked down at his contorted features for awhile, not stopping the steady movement of his hand. Finally, he asked, "How do you want me to do it today? I have to do it…so you'll remember…"

Gateau's eyes made a few false starts before they opened all the way. "Nnnh…teeth…"

"What was that?"

"…..please…"

"Well. I can do that, I suppose, since you ask so nicely. But…I'm going to do it where they can all see…if you break your promise again…so you'll have to be better next time, won't you?"

"…essss…."

"Good." Marron let his face slide down Gateau's body until about midway down his stomach. He found a sensitive spot…

"HNNNN…!"

"You should have thought of that…when you were showing off for those girls…" Marron's voice was muffled as he sucked Gateau's skin against his teeth, hard, harder. In the end, there was a large blue-black mark slightly above Gateau's waist, to the left of the navel. Marron nodded grimly. It would last at least a week, possibly two. He would not heal it, or let anyone else heal it. Gateau had to remember…

Gateau looked down at Marron, panting with desperation. God, how could Marron still be breathing so softly…Marron calmly looked up at him, then abruptly stopped moving his hand and slid off Gateau's lap. He walked away, leaving Gateau aching there, then turned around.

"What do you want?"

"…you…"

"I…what? What do you mean?"

"I want you, God, Marron…"

"You want me…? Funny, you could have fooled me earlier today." Marron's jaw was set, and he crossed his arms sternly over his naked chest. Inside, he was seething at the sight of the man in front of him, naked and helpless…but Gateau didn't have to know that.

"…don't care about them…just…want…you…" Gateau was fairly pouring with sweat now, struggling madly to get out of the chair. Marron's lip curved with amusement and his eyebrows raised slightly. The symbols held. Gateau could do nothing…nothing without him.

Marron savored it for one more moment and then swiftly undid his sash. Sometimes he let Gateau see him and sometimes he didn't. Today, he stepped out of his clothes and left them there on the floor, coming and sitting on Gateau's lap again, still holding the sash. He playfully let the sash slide up Gateau's body, so that the silk made him shudder. Then he placed it over Gateau's eyes. Gateau violently shook his head.

"No, please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I want to see, want to see…!"

Marron paused and lowered the sash a little, smiling at Gateau beatifically. "Now Gateau, do you honestly think you've been good enough for that?"

Gateau looked at him helplessly, then closed his eyes…defeated. Any answer was a trap.

Marron's lips parted slightly and he let the sash slip to the floor. Gateau opened his eyes again, momentarily surprised. Another moment, and his eyes were shut tightly and he was moaning again, as Marron grasped him and guided him in, head down, hand clamped on his right shoulder.

After that all pretense was gone. Marron's face lost all composure and he let every passion to the surface. He burned and moved and gasped against Gateau, as Gateau watched and felt and was overcome in turns by Marron and by his own body.

The end was always the same. Marron's choked cry. Gateau's harsh, low sounds…Marron, weakly making the gesture that loosed the straps. Both of them, falling to the floor, two ragdolls tangled together. Gateau stroked Marron's cold hair, and Marron sleepily reflected that tomorrow…it was his turn in the chair.