Lionel is not opposed to trying things in bed to please a lover. For instance, when Myrtle pulled some chocolate topping out of a side table drawer, he was more than happy to pour it all over her and caress her with his tongue...and vice versa. It was fun, albeit sticky, but fun nonetheless. If it would make things more pleasurable for the both of them, who is he to object?
So when Bertie suggested they do *this*, he decided to give it whirl, as long as Bertie promised to be gentle since he was a bit older than the king and would need some time for his muscles to get used being tied behind his back as his top half rested on the ever-plushy pillows on the king's bed.
Bertie ties off the knot efficiently. It's the Naval training coming through.
"It's honestly the only thing it was good for."
Bertie quirks a smile and Lionel allows his imagination to wander: Bertie trying up naughty cadets and having his wicked way with them is far more arousing than he had anticipated it being. He groans softly when his prick rubs against the bed.
"I-impatient tonight, dear?"
He drops a kiss to the doctor's neck.
"Yes, well, you're the one who's free to move."
His wrists strain at their bindings.
"I shan't keep you waiting any longer," Bertie promises.
He liberally applies olive oil to himself and to Lionel, carefully taking his cues from his friend, frightened of hurting him when all he wants is to make him feel good. He assumes he's doing this right when Lionel trusts back on his fingers.
Bertie lines himself up before slowly edging his way in. It feels so good around his cock and he moans deeply in Lionel's ear.
"You're so tight. God, I could finish right here like this," he mutters, biting Lionel's ear lobe, pulling a gasp from him.
His hands strain to grasp Bertie, but the twine holds fast. A fact that is endlessly frustrating.
After a bit more teasing, Bertie begins to thrust in earnest now, earning moans of delight each push forward and each drag back. He then pulls nearly all the way out before slamming all the way inside him. He comes hard when Lionel shouts:
"Fuck's sake, Bertie, God!"
His wrists yank apart as far as they can go in yet another futile effort to pull free, the thin rope cutting into the tender flesh there. He fleetingly thinks that he shall have to start wearing long sleeves until the bruises clear up or things will look exceedingly suspicious to the boys; Myrtle already knows about their arrangement...
Bertie pants heavily, head resting on Lionel's back. He loves it when he gets him to talk dirty in bed. Lionel lets Bertie know that he's taking a bit too long to rest by rocking back and forth a few time, alighting the king's over-sensitized body on fire.
"I didn't forget about you, love," Bertie coos, reaching a hand around to grab Lionel's heavy prick and stroke it until Lionel is burying his head in his pillow because the feeling of Bertie touching him is so completely overwhelming. He spills copiously over Bertie's hand and whimpers like an injured things when Bertie continues stroking him even after he's come, until he begs him to stop the pleasure-pain it brings.
Bertie deftly undoes the knot and gasps when he sees the damage he's done to his friend. Lionel rolls over and pulls his wrists to him, rubbing each of them to get the feeling back. He winces is pain.
"Oh dear, should I fetch some antiseptic or some ice for you? That was dreadful of me," laments Bertie, making as if to jump from the bed and run naked through the halls until the items could be procured.
Lionel stops him.
"I'll be alright, love. You'll just have to make it up to me."
He lies back and stretches out. He looks exquisite, and Bertie can't resist and lies on top of him.
"And how shall I do that?"
He kisses Lionel's throat.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something."
