The blade edge of the knife licked Julian's palm, drawing a trickle of blood and a sharp gasp. Then the pain was gone, and Asra pulled back, that insufferably alluring smirk curling the corners of his mouth at the sound Julian had uttered.
"Is that all?"
"That's all I… need," Asra grinned. "Why? Were you hoping for something more, Ilya?"
Asra leaned in again, his quirked lips a breath away from Julian's blushing face. Asra knew what Julian wanted - had known for some time. Julian knew he knew. Always Asra had talked of his affection for his apprentice, brushing Julian's clumsy approaches aside with a laugh that cut deeper than any knife. But here, tonight, something felt different.
His voice rose from his tight throat as a whisper. "Damn you, Asra, you know what I want."
"Oh Ilya, believe me, I do."
Asra's left hand rose to the back of Julian's head, balling tightly in his dark hair. Julian's eyes closed as his head was pulled forward roughly, desperate for Asra's mouth on his own, but his lips were met with a flat plane of cold metal. His eyes flew open.
"Now now, do you think I'll let you have it just like that? Do you really think I want this as much as you do?" Something frightening crossed the magician's face as he twisted his wrist, then drew the knife's point down to bisect Julian's Cupid's bow. Julian tasted iron as fresh hot blood ran into his mouth and down his sharp chin, dripping to the floor. The pain and the tension stirred something inside him, and he knew Asra noticed.
"Put your hands flat against the wall." Asra lowered his blade to Julian's throat, playfully running its spine across his Adam's apple before lowering it to the collar of his white shirt, now spattered with a few crimson drops. "Now stay very still. Are you ready?"
Julian nodded wordlessly, too dizzy with want to worry about the fate of his clothing. With short, sharp slices, Asra cut the buttons from the shirt, never once breaking eye contact to look at what he was doing. Fear gripped Julian, mixing with the knife's sting and the arousal in a heady cocktail of hormones. As the last button dropped to the stone floor, Julian's shirt fell open revealing his broad, chiseled chest and the rapid thumping of his heart.
Asra stepped back, his gaze cruising excruciatingly slowly up and down Julian's panting form. "Do you want this, Ilya?"
Julian nodded furiously, past the point of shame at his desperation.
"I said, do you want this, Ilya? Let me hear you say it."
"Yes! I do! Please!"
Asra stepped forward, one foot between Julian's, their bodies almost flush, his hand at the taller man's throat.
"What do you want? Tell me you want it! Tell me what you want!"
"Gods! I want you to hurt me! I want you to get me off! I want you!"
"That's what I thought."
Asra was quiet again, calm and collected, moving serenely. He raised his hands to Julian's clavicle, digging in his fingernails above the bone and scraping downward. Red welts followed his elegant fingers down to the waistline of Julian's pants, creeping just below the fabric and stopping abruptly.
"Turn around, face the wall." As Julian spun on the spot, Asra snatched his shirt, dropping it to the ground. "Hands behind your back." A moment later, Julian felt the rough touch of hemp rope looped expertly around his wrists. As he registered the tug and tightening, teeth closed on the skin of his neck. "Gah!" Julian exclaimed at the sudden sensation. Asra giggled. The teeth clenched and then dragged away, only to close again on his shoulders and then scrape at his upper back. All the while he felt nimble hands restrain him with a series of elaborate knots. Then the touches stopped.
"Asra," he groaned. "Please."
The hands returned to his throat, something clutched in one of them.
"'Asraaaa,' the magician mocked him. 'Asra, pleeeease.' Maybe you'd embarrass yourself less with this in your mouth." In front of Julian's eyes a gag appeared - a bit, like a horse might wear. "Yes," the tall man mumbled, barely suppressing a plea. Asra fastened the bar in his mouth with ease.
"If you want me to stop, you only have to stamp once. But… I doubt you will."
Julian nodded, acutely aware that his pants had become uncomfortable restrictive. Again he felt the fingernails claw across his back, now in strange, swirling patterns - runes of some sort? The hands moved around him, scratching his erect nipples and causing him to moan, and sometimes rising to his throat, pushing his chin up while Asra nipped at the taut skin on his neck.
A moment's pause, and Asra spoke. "It's only logical that I should be good with a cane. It's much like a wand, really." Julian squeaked and pressed his sweating body flat against the cold wall, bracing himself for the impact. He waited a long moment.
Then it hit. He yelled in pain, throwing back his head. He couldn't see Asra's sneer, but he felt it in the hot glow of the cane. A few seconds later, and another came. And another, marking a criss-cross of sadistic delight across his wide back. It was almost too much to bear. It was hard to tell how long it went on for, how many times the cane landed on his skin. Agony and arousal became indistinguishable and unbearable, until suddenly the strikes ceased.
"Impressive," Asra grinned. "You take it courageously. Perhaps that's enough pain for one day. But what do I do with you now?"
Julian let out a muffled grunt.
"How about…" Asra's hands landed on Julian's shoulders, spinning him back around to face him. Drool ran down the doctor's chin, his forehead was damp with sweat and he panted heavily. Asra, still fully-clothed, looked pristine. He pressed the doctor backward, flush with the wall again. A little blood oozed from the cut on Julian's face, and Asra swiped across his lower lip with the pad of his thumb, drawing a weak moan, then licked it clean.
Lazily, he moved closer to the taller man. Lips parted, he licked softly from his collarbone to the sharp angle of his jaw. He ran his hands over Julian's chest, gently now, pausing to stroke his nipples, and moved downwards, over his well-muscled stomach, back to the waistline, the lowest he'd touched. This time, he didn't stop. His palms crossed Julian's jutting hips, round the outside of his thighs, now moving together, towards his crotch, skimming just below his restrained cock, fingers almost brushing the outline. Julian whined, feeling the throbbing and needing so badly to be touched. Asra pushed all his buttons, knew all the keys to play him like some swelling, discordant danse macabre.
Asra made light work of his pants, pulling them down to the tops of his long boots, releasing, to Julian's relief, his touch-starved dick. He continued to tease with strokes and touches on his inner thighs, across his hips, and on his ass, until he could see Julian, on wobbling legs, could barely take it any more.
His long fingers wrapped around Julian's cock, pumping slowly at first, then faster, then thumbing the head and cupping Julian's balls with his other hand.
"Ah, ah, ah, agh, augh-"
"Come."
Julian orgasmed with a high-pitched moan, his knees almost giving him out, leaving him sliding down the wall behind him. Sitting on the floor, he took a while to regain his breath. Asra silently removed the gag and untied his hands, admiring his handiwork on the body of the man over a half-foot taller than him.
Eventually Julian shifted and stood, still shaking slightly from the intensity of what he'd just experienced. Asra stared at him inscrutably for a long moment, then glanced down.
"Well Ilya, you'd better clean up that mess."