Alfred bucks against him as much as he can with Ivan's large hand on his thigh, pushing him back and pushing hard into his skin. His ass is bare, but hot, red with marks from Ivan's hand (almost as red as his cock.) He wants to spread his legs further, grind himself into Ivan's lap for relief since Ivan gives him none, but he can't move much more with his pants around his thighs. He doesn't care if he rips them in two, he wants more, so he moves and bucks and tenses his thighs but with a simple No from Ivan he stops.
"This isn't your time to play, Alfred."
And he knows, but he never listens. His hands are already tied behind his back with Ivan's black tie and his wrists are a little sore from the tight knot, but it'd stopped him from touching—himself and Ivan.
Alfred whines in response, bites his lip, whimpers, but Ivan doesn't indulge him. (Alfred's used to getting what he wants the moment he asks and he hates Ivan a little right now. He hasn't touched his cock, hasn't kissed him, just digs his hands into Alfred's skin, scratches him, spanks him until he's red.)
Alfred wants to bury his face in to Ivan's neck, kiss and lick and bite, but as he scrapes his teeth against pale skin Ivan runs a hand through his hair and pulls, sharp and quick.
Cocktease is what Alfred hears, low and rough in his ear with another angry pull on his hair.
He can't help but smirk.