Sasuke-
We look at each other. He moves quickly into my personal space. I jerk away, bumping into my door while groping for my keys in my pocket. I hit my head in the process and curse in Japanese under my breath. The man I'm about to fuck, whose name I don't even know, looks--hurt? embarrassed? nervous? Why do I care? I fumble with the keys and after two attempts, fit the key into the lock. The man I'm about to fuck stumbles into my apartment before me. It's dark and cold inside and he trips and falls.
"Oof!"
"Nice to know you're so eager," I mutter, turning on the lights and heat after shutting and locking the door behind me. He crosses his arms and scowls from his position on the floor. I examine his appearance. His shoelaces are untied. That's how he tripped. "Your apartment is so clean...it looks like you wash the walls!" He has a very loud voice. "I do," I growl. "What's your name?" I ask before he speaks again. "It's um..." He pauses to think. "Francisco." Obviously not his real name. Guys I have one-night stands with always make up names. "Francisco, take off your shoes and socks. Put them near my front door." As he rushes to obey my command--a good indicator that he'll be an excellent submissive--I race into my bedroom and put the spray cans in their place, then fold up the beige burlap tote bag and place it in a lower desk drawer. I close it gently and wander to my front door, where Francisco is waiting. "What's your name?"
"I'll only tell you if I think you'll be screaming it." I remove the black beanie, place it on its hook in the wall and feel my black hair frame my face.

"My name is Sasuke."
He grins widely and nods confidently. "Hi, Sasuke."
I pull him towards me and kiss him aggressively. He doesn't respond out of surprise until after a few seconds when he calms down.

It's probably been awhile since he's had a boyfriend, or I hope he's not a virgin--his kisses aren't as skilled as I prefer. He pulls back sooner than I'm used to so he can breathe. "How long has it been?" Francisco (if that's his real name) asks me. The scars on his face are sexy, as are his unusually long canines, both upper and lower. I enjoyed running my tongue over them. He has excellent oral hygiene, which I also appreciate. His tongue is strong, but his technique could improve. Maybe he's better at blowjobs. "About...two and a half years." I will not explain how or why it ended. Francisco nods. "And you?"
"Six months."
I walk silently to the bedroom and turn on the stereo, to an Enrique Iglesias CD and a song of his, Ring My Bells, and place it on repeat. Francisco hesitates for a moment and bounds after me once he realizes what I'm doing. Once the door is shut, I yank off his shirt and he grabs at mine, reciprocating the action. We start on each other's jeans. If this seems crassly eager or classily sexy, I don't care. I want him. The clothes are in a messy pile on the floor near the bed. As I debate whether or not to crouch down and fold them, I glance at his boxers and smirk. They are neon orange and made of silk. They further my hypothesis that he's an undercover FBI agent. They probably make good enough money to buy silk underwear for every day of the week. The color doesn't surprise me either. It fits with his personality. I make my decision.

"Francisco." He looks at my eyes again. "Crouch down and fold the clothes neatly, then put them carefully into two piles according to who wears what." He does not question me but takes great care in obeying me. I wonder briefly what he thinks of my hemp cotton, dark blue boxers. "Good boy," I slide into the routine I've done so many times before. Never with an FBI agent, though. The job I think he has makes things hot and spicy.

"Get onto the bed. Spread your legs. Don't put your hands behind your head like that!" He quickly puts his hands by his sides, grinning mischievously.
I'll make sure to delay his orgasm as punishment.

One of the reasons I relish scenes so much is that I burn calories with the way I do things--I walk back and forth between the toy chest and my bed a lot. I prepare and use the toys slowly, which alwayhas irritated the hell out of my exes. But maybe this FBI agent (if he is one and I'm not harboring a delusion) likes things slow. Maybe he likes anticipating things. He might realize that this is all...about...me. He'd be the first. I open the toy chest and snatch the things I need. He needs them even more. I close the lid and advance to the bed. "Do you prefer lark knots or square knots?" I'm curious. He stares at the cieling, a slow smile slithering across his face. "I don't know what it's called in English, but the one that will bind my wrists together in a figure-eight." I knew it. "And don't bother with the two-finger rule."

"Too bad, I always do."
He protests heavily and I inform him that I don't fuck brats or men who disregard safety. He pouts childishly. It's mostly a facial expression--the black cotton clothesline ties his wrists to the bedframe and his elbows are by his ears. He can't cross his arms. I tie his ankles to the footboard posts, spreading his legs widely. He wriggles his toes and smiles. "C'mon, Don Sasuke, hurry up." I raise an eyebrow and continue my pace, fumbling slightly since I've been surprised. Francisco explains the name. "Don is...an honorific name for a man, a sign of respect, a compliment. Don Juan is a name most non-Latinos recognize. That's an example."
"Hn."

I move against him, on top of him. I cross my arms so my elbows dig into his shoulders. We look at each other's eyes yet again. "What do you want, Francisco?"
"I want you to dig your elbows into my shoulders a lot harder. Yeah, just like that! I need you to...keep moving your toes against my ankles like that," he mewls. "Slap me. Whip me. Tell me you just don't care. Pull my hair a lot...hard. I'm big on foreplay...blindfold me...I want to deep-throat you..."
I run my fingernails from his collarbone to his pelvic bone as hard as I can. "Ow, ow, Dios mio, you're intense." His chest heaves.
"Is that a yellow light?"
"No, it's a compliment. My yellow light is 'luz amarillo' and my red light is 'luz rojo.'"
I nod. "Good. I like a man who can safeword." I pull his boxers halfway down his legs before untying his ankles to fully remove the orange cloth from his body.

"Hey, Don Sasuke, can I try taking your boxers off with my toes?"
I'm sure my facial expression is priceless. God DAMN, I landed a creative bed partner. "Please, please," and he begins whining and begging. I slap him to shut him up. "Harder," he cries out.