Since so many of you asked for it…
Fetish, 11:00 p.m. (Sector 3)
He'd been restrained before.
At Manticore, restraints were common. If his multiple stints in Psy-Ops proved anything, it was that their billion-dollar killing machines were not to be trusted. Their wrists were cuffed, their ankles were cuffed, their heads were strapped to boards, and their torsos were secured with straps. On rare occasion, their necks were collared. On common occasion, they were given extra sedatives, powerful muscle relaxants, enough drugs to satiate a small phalanx of opiate addicts. They would not have free range of motion.
On solos, he'd become familiar with how to use restraints to his advantage. On group missions, they'd figured out how to get each other out of them.
In his own personal time, he'd had run-ins with types whose restraints were made of silk scarves, fuzzy pink handcuffs, cheap metal cuffs.
And at Fetish, Alec hung from cheap metal chains cuffed to his wrists, and waited for Max.
Luckily, he'd already found the Senator. He was in a VIP area with a few other business-suited men, ogling the women, presumably while waiting for their contact.
He heard the snap of the leather before feeling the surprising sting of it on his back. Apparently, Max was here. He hissed as she cracked the whip at his back a second time and tried to peek over his shoulder at her. "Max,-" he began.
A low, sultry voice interrupted. "Mistress Maxie," she said, her lips lightly touching his right ear lobe as she enunciated and elongated the Ms of her alliterative nickname.
A quiver rushed from his ear to his groin. A shy smirk grazed his lips. Game on.
She stood behind him and swept one hand around his side to his abdomen. She rubbed upward on the indented line which separated his muscles, then pinched his nipple and twisted it.
"Mistress Maxie," he nearly shouted, drawing the attention of a neighboring fetishist and his Dom. "Does that thing we discussed have ears or just eyes?"
He was trying to be vague, and she knew why. Logan had equipped them with the audio/video camera in hopes of catching the Senator and potentially using anything else to out him to police. The camera was small, and simply looked like an eye socket in the decorative skull belt buckle on Alec's belt.
Rising to her tip toes, Max let the ridge of her bottom teeth drag along his left ear lobe.
Alec growled, deep in his core, squeezing his eyes against the erotic abuse. He set his jaw and attempted to ask his question. "Mistress Maxie," he addressed, trying to turn his head to see her face.
The whip cracked against him again.
"Did I say you could speak?" she asked, running her fingertips over the reddening welt on his back.
It felt like a branding iron, burning hot, until she ran her tongue over it, cooling the burn and turning him on even more.
Christ, if she keeps this up…
He panicked, wondering how their somewhat tenuous friendship would be affected if she discovered how hard she'd made him (so far, his mind supplied), or what she'd do if she made him come right in those leather pants and then found out about it. A smirk crossed his face again.
Might be worth it.
He tried again. "I'm not the only one with ears," he said.
Max's tongue stopped, punctuating its sensual sweep with a hard bite at his shoulder.
He cried out in surprise and felt himself pulse at his lower extremities. He made another sound akin to erotic pleasure. "Okay, if you want there to be audio proof, then-"
Snap!
Her tongue danced up his back. "You're. Being. A Very. Bad. Boy," she said against his skin, between licks and bites.
"It's getting everything on tape," Alec protested. He liked the danger aspect, but he didn't want what Logan heard later to be public knowledge to be used in his 'Impeach Senator Romano' Crusade.
"Then stop talking, or I'll make you stop," she said.
Fuck, this woman is gonna kill me, he mused.
Still, his curiosity was piqued, and he opened his mouth again. "You of all people should know how unlikely, well, impossible, it is for me to stop-"
Crack! The whip hit him in the middle of his back, up toward the base of his neck.
It wasn't too far of a reach for her, in those Mary Jane Stilettos, to lick the new whip mark, until the tip of her tongue plucked at his barcode as playing piano.
"Fuck, Max," he whined, letting his head lean back.
"Mistress Max-" she began.
"Mistress Maxie," he corrected, beginning to feel very antsy, his adrenaline pumping, his libido pumping – everything was pumping and it made him want to do some pumping, too.
"Yes, Alec," she permitted.
"Can the audio be turned off?"
Max let the whip fall and placed both hands on his back, her warm palms rubbing up, then back down. "You didn't say the magic word," she teased.
"Please," he said, imagining the intolerably sexy look on her face.
Max's hands circled around to the front of him and pulled his body against hers, roughly. "That's better," she growled.
It certainly is, he thought.
She kissed and bit at his shoulder as she pressed her hands downward, over his pectorals, over his muscled abs, and plunged her hands into his pants, flattened fingers exploring until she felt hair.
Alec hissed disbelievingly when his Dom raked her fingernails over the tops of his thighs and downward. Her left hand felt the wiring at the battery pack strapped to his inner thigh and disconnected it from the battery, but the right hand brushed inward at the same time as the left and felt the smooth skin of his hard erection. Alec's eyes popped open. This was new for them and he wasn't sure what to say.
He knew the woman loved control. How could she not? She had saved up all of her aggression for this very event. What he hadn't known was how much he'd enjoy it. He'd joked about loving her brand of discipline; he just hadn't known he'd be telling the truth.
"No underwear, huh?" Max asked, warm palms tracing back up until he bucked his hips involuntarily against her soft, heavenly, punishing hands.
"Never, Mistress Maxie," he answered breathlessly.
Then her hands slipped out of his pants and she bent to pick up her whip. Circling in front of him, her smoky eyes drank in his sexy, heated stare. She stepped closer to him and placed her lips around his nipple. She teethed at the nub and he closed his eyes.
"Mistress Maxie, the Senator's over there," he whispered before grunting as her tongue swirled around the sensitive skin of his nipple. He wanted to watch her tongue, but the more it moved, the less control he had over simple brain function. She bit down rougher on his nipple and ran the edge of her teeth over his skin, upward a few inches. She gnawed on his pectoral, (accidentally? he wondered) breaking skin and drawing blood.
"Alec."
He opened his eyes to a pair of determined, chocolaty eyes piercing him. The tip of her pink tongue snuck out slowly as she pressed at the wound. She laid it flatly against his bloody muscle and lapped up the pinpricks of droplets.
Fuck.
He thought his heart was about to burst through his chest when he felt the sting of the whip on his ass. Gritting his teeth, Alec rolled his eyes out of pleasure and pain. He was getting harder as the minutes wore on, the idea of capturing the evidence Logan needed fading into the distance like a dissipating fog while Hurricane Max wreaked erotic havoc on his body.
He saw two men join the Senator and pleaded mentally, simultaneously, for their meeting to take forever so he could enjoy more of this night, and for it to finish quickly so they could take their party elsewhere. Work now, play later, his mind suggested.
"Mistress Maxie, the Senator's guests are here."
Her heavy-lidded eyes snapped wide open, the mention of the mission at hand pushing her lust away. "Where?"
He kept her eye contact and nodded his head to indicate the direction.
With a wicked grin, Max pushed her body flush against his, turned around while sustaining the skin-on-skin contact, and brought both arms up around his neck. The side effect of her movement gave Alec a front and center seat to peer down into her cleavage, which he happily did.
Unceremoniously, Max rubbed against him, eliciting a couple of deep growls.
Undoubtedly, she could feel what she was doing to him, and yet she kept up the charade. And if she kept rubbing up and down the front of him, he wouldn't be able to return the pants.
With a throaty grunt, Alec gritted his teeth again, his blood pounding in his ears. He glanced at the Senator and his guests, moving his hips to try to get the video evidence requested.
"Don't move, soldier," Max ordered. He wondered if she had mistakenly thought he was attempting to gyrate against her backside. "Or suffer the consequences."
Now that's interesting, he thought, wondering about her plan. "It's on my belt, remember?" he asked, but it was more a statement calling her attention to the fact that if she remained plastered to his front, all the camera would record is Max's hair or the small of her back, or –
Good lord. Alec felt Max melt down his chest, abs, thighs, until the curves of her buttocks bounced back up against his pelvis. She bent at the hip only, her body at a ninety degree angle. He stared hard, wishing those stupid restraints weren't there, and hoping the camera on his belt buckle wasn't catching any of her skin. Seemed she only wanted him to see it, feel it… touch it?
He tilted his head in a futile attempt to see just below her skirt to the soft skin of her rear end. He wished her heels had been just one more inch taller.
Peering over her shoulder at him as she kept up the bouncing motion, Max asked, "Did you get it?"
Of course, she was referring to the evidence they needed, but he was stuck in a dry-humping fantasy that just wouldn't end. And he didn't want it to. And what she was doing to him was driving him crazy with want. "Not yet," he answered, not realizing he had answered a question she hadn't asked.
He opened his eyes when he felt the absence of her warmth on his front. "Max?"
"Mistress Maxie," she corrected again, slapping the whip against her own hand. "And if you don't get it right, there will be consequences."
He was sure his pupils were entirely blown out by now, and he wondered semi-consciously if she would make him come with just her voice and words. "Mistress Maxie," he said, his tone full of begging.
"The Senator's gone," Max said, approaching Alec's standing form.
Alec looked behind her and finally noticed the Senator-sized absence. His acquaintances were gone, too. "Mistress Maxie," he began.
Her lust-ridden eyes drank him in and she tongued at her upper lip. "Yes."
"Did we get the footage?"
She leaned against him, the tops of her breasts pushing against his raw, marked, lipstick-stained chest. "We might have to watch the footage to find out," she admitted.
"Mistress Maxie, uncuff me so I can take you home."
Max pouted teasingly, dragging one hand's fingernails down his chest and slipping the tips just under the waist of his pants. "Mistress Maxie likes you tied up."
His head rocked back again. He took a deep breath, adopted a determined expression, gritted his teeth, and tried again. "Then uncuff me and we'll bring them home with us."
Her pupils dilated again, but she didn't move to free him. One eyebrow shot up in appreciation. She liked this side of him, too.
When he spoke again, his voice was low and authoritative. "Mistress Maxie, if you don't take these cuffs off right now, I won't take you home and make you scream until my neighbors call the sector police."
Max bit her lower lip and reached between the side laces and front panel of her skirt to remove the handcuff key.
