The handcuffs are new.
Yuri's used to it being either a scarf or his own belt that binds his hands together, that loops up and around and ties him to the bed headboard. Now chains clink against the bedposts as metal digs lightly into the skin of his wrists, and despite the black fuzz and clear modifications, Yuri can tell they're official, imperial-issued knight handcuffs.
"Are they okay? Chafing anywhere?" Estelle gazes down at him from the side of the bed, stripped down to bra and panties, lips pursed with concern. "We can go back to the scarves if you want."
Yuri experimentally tugs at the bonds. They don't hurt him, no. But in a way, the cuffs almost remind him of harsher times when the slammer was his second home: the clink of metal around his wrists after a fight with the knights, and the haphazard treating of wounds, and the dark dreariness of his cell.
But that feeling subsides soon enough, because Yuri can feel the touch of Estelle in these cuffs. He can feel the kindness in the smooth felt and soft leather lining the wrists, the protectiveness in the few layers between harsh metal and delicate skin. The handcuffs are restrictive, and distinctly more intense than usual, but they're way more comfortable than they could have been. He can feel how much effort Estelle must have put into preparing them.
"They're fine," Yuri assures, tossing her a gentle smile. "Thanks."
"Good." Estelle beams, then pulls something out from behind her back—a black blindfold, he soon realizes—and holds it out towards Yuri. "May I?"
Yuri swallows hard. This is also new.
But after a brief moment, he nods, and Estelle takes that as permission enough. She slips the cloth over his eyes, and Yuri shifts to accommodate her, inhaling sharply as the band snaps tight around his head and the world goes completely dark.
"Can you see?" Estelle asks.
Yuri shakes his head. "Not a thing."
"Good." It sounds distinctly more wicked this time.
Yuri's heart starts thrumming in his ears, pulse quickened from anticipation for whatever Estelle's got in store for him. With his sight gone, everything else seems heightened: the sudden dryness in his mouth, the ominous rustling sounds of Estelle rummaging through her bags, the cold air brushing over his bare chest, the heat that's already beginning to pool beneath his boxers.
Estelle hasn't even done anything besides bind and blind him, yet already he's aroused.
The rustling stops, and Yuri can feel Estelle shifting her weight onto the mattress right beside him, her hands tucking something behind his ears. Yuri furrows his brow; it feels almost like a…hairband?
"Wait, what's that?"
"Oh, nothing," Estelle answers, but Yuri doesn't miss the way her voice rises slightly in telltale pitch. Clearly it is something—probably another surprise that she'll use later to torment him.
And she will torment him, now that she's managed to render him this defenseless. Sure, Estelle is the sweetest person Yuri's ever met, but that doesn't mean she'd pass up the perfect opportunity to drive him up the wall.
It's what he agreed to, after all.
Estelle doesn't even warn him before getting started, abruptly pinching at his nipples and making him yelp in surprise. He instinctively strains his arms but is only met with a harsh clank of resistance, and Estelle hums, clearly amused, as she continues to tweak the nubs gently between her fingers. Yuri's head rolls back with the force of a pleasured grunt, and eager teeth take the opportunity to scrape over his vulnerable pulse, a tongue licks a wet path down to his collarbone—where Estelle bites down, startling Yuri into letting out yet another cry.
She laughs into his skin, still sucking at the spot. Yuri doesn't need his sight to know that's definitely going to leave a bruise.
Once Estelle's done marking her territory, her mouth pulls away with a quiet pop, and she slides herself smoothly down his body. Her fingers release his nipples to skate past his ribs; her lips trail soft kisses along his chest, his stomach, his hip, until she's nipping at the band of his underwear. The mere proximity sends a fresh wave of heat racing between Yuri's legs.
But when her mouth leaves his skin, Estelle just…stops. She sits motionless in her position on his lower legs, her hands perch steady on his hips, her fingers lie idle even as they remain hooked into the hem of his boxers. She's stalling, leaving him in the literal dark, clearly trying to mess with him by making him shiver from suspense and denial—and damn her, it's working.
"Es-telle…" Yuri groans in complaint, as heated anticipation transforms into a cold but aching want. In an attempt to spur her into action, he halfheartedly kicks his legs beneath her—but Estelle just bounces atop him, giggling as if it were a fun ride.
"You're always so impatient, Yuri. We really need to work on that."
Yuri scowls.
Estelle laughs again, but she finally obliges his unspoken plea, slowly tugging his boxers down until he's freed. His cock twitches at the chill, already half-hard even though she hasn't touched it once yet—but finally, Estelle does, curling her fingers in a gentle squeeze. Yuri's breath catches in his throat, and Estelle starts pumping her hand in the beginnings of a steady rhythm: up-down, up-down, up-down…
Then her hand is gone, and Yuri is left cold and aching once more. He groans again, and starts irritably bucking his hips.
"Do you want me to just stop, Yuri?" Estelle says it like a threat, a sugar-sweet warning, a pointed reminder that he is not the one in control.
Yuri catches himself and swallows hard, shaking his head.
"Then have patience," Estelle chimes, and forces him to do so by slowly, tortuously taking her time sliding his boxers past his hips, his legs, his feet. Once he's entirely bare before her, Estelle's weight leaves the mattress entirely, and it takes every ounce of self-control Yuri possesses for him to hold his tongue as familiar bag-rummaging rustles float to his ears.
Estelle's back on him in a minute, breath washing warm over his crotch as lips kiss the base of his shaft. A fingernail sliding along his balls is enough to have Yuri arching his hips up, and Estelle eagerly takes him into her mouth, swirls her tongue over the tip of his cock, sucks and sucks until blood is rushing straight to both his heads. Heat builds within his core, manifests itself as bursts of light behind his eyelids—and against the dark night that is the pure black blindfold, Yuri sees stars.
She's got him nearly on the ropes, he can feel his cock standing almost fully erect…and just when Yuri thinks he's approaching the brink, Estelle retreats again. Yuri grits his teeth, clenches his trapped hands into fists that struggle valiantly but futilely against the handcuffs; he lets out a frustrated cry not unlike that of a petulant child—but it quickly dissolves into a surprised squawk when suddenly, Estelle brings in something else.
Whatever it is is soft and light and a little bristly, brushing along his length in rapid strokes that tickle as badly as they set his blood on fire. Yuri's breathing instantly goes ragged, and his throat bubbles up with noises he can scarcely recognize as his own when they escape out his mouth.
"Shit!" Yuri gasps. "S-shit, what the hell is that?!"
Estelle giggles, voice lilting and beautiful but oh so wicked as she singsongs, "Na na naaaaa~." Yuri recognizes that tune, oh, he knows exactly what she's doing now, and though he tries to yell in protest, it comes out more a pitiful whimper.
Dammit, using a cat teaser for that is so. not. fair.
"You little—!" he starts, but isn't able to continue as giggles rise up his throat, trickling out in the form of hiccups mixed with moans. His cock twitches from the stimulation, spirits, his entire body is twitching; his toes are curling from the stress and his sweat-lined skin slides slick against the sheets. In desperation, Yuri abruptly twists his hips, stuck at some weird crossroads between trying to roll away from the sensations and trying to buck up into them at the same time.
"So squirmy," Estelle tuts laughingly. She shifts her weight, tightens the grip of her thighs around his knees, and, to his chagrin, successfully holds him down. "Perhaps next time I should invest in some leg restraints as well."
Yuri nearly dies at the thought, because he can't stop her as is and she's already driving him crazy. She slides the teaser down his shaft, still taunting na na naaaaa; she traces a path along his balls that forces him into a fit of combined laughter and pleasure and agony. His every nerve is electric, his whole skin is hypersensitive; when Estelle digs her thumbs into his hipbones, even that is horribly ticklish, and he spasms helplessly with squeals of breathless anguish.
His hands are tied and he can't buck her off, so his only line of defense is his own strained voice. In the spaces between laughs and moans, Yuri forgoes muttering half-baked curses in favor of gasping please please please please—but through the combination of tickling and titillating, torture and pleasure, Yuri's not even sure whether he's begging for mercy or for more.
He doesn't realize how painfully hard he's gotten until Estelle pulls away, and Yuri whines because that's not even a tease anymore so much as it is just plain evil. He's right there but she's denying him for the fourth time, playing him like a fiddle, crawling forward on her knees to simply trail that little demon toy over his chest.
"You're cute," Estelle murmurs into his ear, nipping at the lobe as the bristles sweep infuriatingly along the other side of his neck. Her weight shifts on the mattress, and Yuri gasps as unmistakable soft heat gently grinds down on his cock, their groins separated only by the thin, wet silk of Estelle's panties. "You're so cute, Yuri."
"Estelle…come on…" Yuri whimpers, voice hoarse with need, hands trembling in the cuffs. "Please, dammit, please—!"
"I know," Estelle cuts him off, dropping the cat teaser and crawling back to finally, finally grasp his cock again. "You've more than earned it."
Estelle strokes and rubs and pumps, and she doesn't stop until Yuri's tumbling over the edge, all the built-up tension fleeing his body alongside his gratified scream. In the night of his blindfold, the stars explode into galaxies as he comes, and when Yuri eventually descends from space, Estelle's hand is gone and his thighs slide slick with the aftermath.
He's still panting breathlessly when Estelle's fingers grab at the blindfold, pushing it up his forehead so that it sweeps back sweaty bangs. Light floods his vision so suddenly that Yuri has to blink a few times before he can actually see again, and Estelle's smiling face is the very first thing to greet him. Yuri's arms instantly jerk with the urge to embrace her, but the chains catch and clang in protest, and Estelle giggles as she tells him to wait a moment.
She wipes her visibly sticky hand on the bedsheets and licks her fingers as clean as she can get them before reaching for a small silver key placed on the bedside table. Yuri watches her reach over his head, hears the click of the key turning, and then the tension in the chains is gone, and his hands slip out of the cuffs to lie limply on either side of him. After a minute, Yuri sluggishly brings them together to glance at them, then starts rubbing at his wrists—they're a bit red but otherwise unmarred, and they're sore, but in the best possible way.
"Are you okay?" Estelle asks, glancing concernedly at his wrists. Her hands are already outstretched towards him, clearly ready to unleash healing artes at any moment if need be—and Yuri answers by snatching up her own wrists (ohhhhh, how great it feels for his hands to be his again) and yanking her down on top of him.
He fists one hand roughly into the hair at the back of her head, reels her in to smash his lips against hers. Estelle gives a muffled noise of surprise but doesn't resist as Yuri kisses her desperately, insistently, only ever yanking back to briefly catch his breath before quickly swooping right back in.
"You're horrible," Yuri tells her the first time his lips leave hers.
"Awful," he says the next.
"Cruel." She smirks into his lips after that one.
"Goddamn fucking amazing."
Estelle hums against his mouth in a way that tells him she's pleased to hear it.
Yuri, finally satisfied, pulls away entirely, and Estelle shifts to accommodate him as he pushes himself up into a sitting position against the headboard. He reaches up to the blindfold on his forehead, tries to yank it entirely up and over, but it catches on something. The headband from before, Yuri realizes, and he narrows his eyes as he snatches the obstacle off and brings it down for a closer look. Upon seeing what it is, Yuri groans aloud, and Estelle gleefully claps her hands together amidst peals of laughter.
"Cat ears," Yuri grumbles, turning the item over in his hands. "Ohhhh, I am gonna get you for this one."
Estelle beams with what looks like pride. "I wish you could have seen yourself. You looked positively adorable in them."
"Mmmmm," Yuri hums noncommittally, before quickly sliding the cat ears onto Estelle's own head. "You know, I think they look better on you."
Green eyes blink at him twice before twinkling playfully. "Mrrow?" Estelle purrs as she brings a curled hand up to her mouth, licks the back of it purposefully—and Yuri flushes all over again. Dammit, she knows how badly the cat-girl routine gets him going.
So Yuri snarls, and shoves her by the shoulders to push her down onto the mattress. He meets little resistance, easily straddling her hips and pinning her hands down, and Estelle simply smiles up at him like she was expecting this. Hell, she probably had planned it from the very start, the clever little minx.
"Now then," Yuri growls, delighting in her gasp when he slides his hand beneath her already soaked panties to curl a finger inside her. "I do believe it's your turn."