And so – Ludwig, his beautiful, clever, kind Ludwig (his; his) within two minutes of walking in through the front door, a few strands of hair out of place from sensible endeavour and steadfast effort, his tie slightly loosened and his jacket slung over a forearm – is on his knees at Feliciano's feet, eyes wide and trained solely upon his lover's face, as naked as the day he was born.

"Good...good boy," Feliciano manages to say.

He is, he has to admit, a little surprised. He had thought that the other man would bluster, and stutter, and turn deep scarlet, dithering in the centre of the living room, lust and embarrassment and concern for the state of his carpets all fighting deep within his stomach –

But no. Instead, he has Ludwig – his, his good-looking, perfect Ludwig – before him, ready and willing, lips parted, silent and waiting. Feliciano takes his sweet time in trailing his gaze all over his lover's body; down the smooth, strong column of elegant white neck; over the submissive slope of those round, muscular shoulders; across those flat, defined pectorals he knows from experience are smooth and hard and taste just delicious, and down, down, down that toned stomach, which flutters beneath his eyes in anticipation of caresses, of kisses, of sharp smacks and rough bites...Feliciano's mind begins to wander.

"Ludi," he says, and smiles. "Ludi – I want to tie you up. Are you going to be a good boy and let me?"

Ludwig nods, his painfully blue irises not leaving Feliciano's own brown ones for even a second. "Yes."

"Ah, Ludwig is so good!" he says, happily, and it's true; not just for his partner's comfort. Ludwig is everything anyone could ever wish for, really. Sometimes, Feliciano wakes up in the morning before his blond companion (admittedly, not very often, but still – sometimes) and he just sits, propped up against a pillow, his hand resting against his lover's back, and he thanks God – over and over and over again – for the gift of Ludwig – and he wonders why a flawless man like his lover would ever even bother to look at somebody as clumsy and careless and silly as he is.

And yet – for whatever reason – he did. And Feliciano is eternally grateful for this.

"So good," he says, one more time, just for good measure, and runs his fingers briefly through Ludwig's hair. Ludwig's eyelids tip down; and the corners of his lips begin to quirk up.

"Ve – if it feels good, you should smile, si?" Feliciano says. "Properly!"

And his lover tries again for him. His second smile isn't much wider; but it's getting there.

Feliciano laughs. "Fetch me the rope, please," he says, and removes his hand from the other's scalp. "It's on the sofa."

He does as he's told, shuffling there and back upon his knees.

"Ah, good, so good!" Feliciano exclaims, upon being presented with what he asked for, and moves behind the other to secure his partner's wrists at the base of his spine. "This is good, si? Yes? It doesn't hurt, Ludi?"

"It's fine," says Ludwig; and he tips his head back a little, so that it brushes against the top of Feliciano's thigh. "It's good."

"Bene!" Feliciano bends to kiss him. "Oh, hey – if you – if you get scared, what will you say?"

"Red," says Ludwig. He doesn't even blink – doesn't even pause to consider.

Feliciano giggles. "Ohhh. You've been thinking about this, Ludi."

The other man blushes; but says not a word.

Feliciano moves away; sits down on the sofa, spreading his legs, just enough so that his lover, from his kneeling position on the floor can see the tops of his stockings; the swell in his underwear cushioned against his inner thighs. He lets a hand fall on top of his leg, and pats it, smiling happily.

"Ve...come here then, please!"

Ludwig moves towards him dutifully, hindered somewhat by the way his hands are tightly bound behind his back, the gaze which stretches and warms between the two of them never breaking or falling. Feliciano watches him intently, loving the strain of those strong muscles; the way Ludwig's eyes flash and yearn; and dim with something calmer, more appealing, more subservient. He is so gorgeous; so lovely, so perfect, and for a second Feliciano considers throwing everything he has done so far out of the window, and then himself at his lover, and just losing himself in that strong, delicious, body...he can practically feel Ludwig's legs knotting with his; their stomachs, smooth with sweat, dragging and sticking; a waist, toned and hard and hot rubbing incessantly between his loose, bawdy thighs, the jerk of tender hips, a breathy "I love you," his own or the other's – it does not matter.

He feels, suddenly, a warm puff of air against his leg – real, this time – and he realises he has just slipped into another daydream. Ludwig is on the carpet at his feet, between his shins, cheeks slightly pinked and eyes boring into his own.

"Ah!" Feliciano says, and tries to get back on track. He has to be really good at this, otherwise Ludwig won't want to do it again. "Good, Ludi." He reaches out, and runs his fingers through his lover's golden hair once more. "Good, good."

Ludwig pushes briefly into the gentle touch – then something strange comes over him, as the day and reality creep into those lovely eyes. He looks rather embarrassed, and falls still, his face expressionless; his gaze flickering between Feliciano's face and the floor, which seems to be growing more interesting to him by the second.

Well. This isn't so good. Feliciano sighs. He doesn't want his lover to feel embarrassed about things like this. He wants him to feel comfortable, and excited, and happy – not ashamed.

Ludwig sits still between his legs, jaw tightened, face flushed, just a little bit, apparently torn between pleasure and shame. Feliciano shifts forwards a tad, pushing his hips out and splaying his legs as he does so. Ludwig's blue eyes catch the movement – hold it – and, slowly, hesitantly, he cranes his neck, shuffling forth a little more, a little more, opening his mouth to wet his lips –

Feliciano likes a good blowjob as much as the next guy, but this isn't what he wants to do right now.

"Hey – no, no," he says, and his fingers curl and clench down tightly in his lover's soft hair.

The reaction is instantaneous. At once, Ludwig's whole body lurches; his shoulders round over, pitch forward, and Feliciano can chart the progress of the hot buzz of a shiver from the tips of the other's toes to the roots of that hair he holds so tightly in his hand. Ludwig tips his head back a little, his mouth falling open; and Feliciano sees the dark red stain that falls upon his pale, high cheeks – the desperate, pleading, upwards slide of his eyebrows, the snow-white crack of knuckles struggling to contain the sudden burst of pleasure pain pleasure –

"Ve...it's good, si?"

"Yes," says Ludwig, and it is not a word but a gasp, a whoosh of heated air. "Yes, yes, yes –" and he drags out and cries one last, plaintive "yes," as Feliciano's tanned fingers tighten their grip, pull harder...

"More?"

"Please, please –"

And Feliciano complies, smiling as his gorgeous lover's body is suddenly wracked with shivers, and whined yeses, and when, at last, he releases his stern grip on the other, Ludwig trembles, and slumps down, eyes hooded and darkened. He still shakes; and so Feliciano pats his thigh again, and pushes the back of the other man's neck carefully, tenderly, until he understands, and shifts forwards some more, and puts his head in his lover's lap.

Ludwig is so near, so warm, so beautiful with that lovely flush of blood blotching his neck and face and shoulders and chest – and Feliciano can feel his heartbeat, fast and shallow against his stocking-clad leg, and the quiver of those damp, pinked lips against his inner thigh...

"Ah, Ludi," he says, and traces the strong shape of his beloved's jawline, the dips beneath his sharp cheekbones, feels the flicker of long eyelashes...Ludwig is so beautiful, and he is all Feliciano's.

"Ludi," he says again, feeling somewhat overwhelmed with love and desire and respect and awe, "Ludi, you're – you're the best, you know that?"

For a moment, Ludwig does not move – Feliciano wonders for a brief moment if he should repeat himself; perhaps Ludwig didn't hear him? – and then he turns his head, his face upwards so he can look into the other's eyes, and gives him a strange half-smile that speaks of nothing but unending devotion and passion and – and gratefulness, or something – and Feliciano wants to give his lover the world, the whole entire world, and the oceans and mountains and deserts and forests, and all the loveliest cakes, and maybe some puppies too, if he wants them, though Ludwig says he can't look after any more than four babies, and Feliciano wonders what that means because he only has three dogs – and so he just leans over, and kisses him, and, as he pulls back, presses his lips against the other man's ear, and whispers, "Tell me what you want, Ludi."

Ludwig shivers again; and his body heats up; and he presses closer.

"Tell me what you want, ve," Feliciano repeats, softly, so softly, and he runs his hands through Ludwig's hair once more. "Tell me. How do you want me to touch you? Or do you want to touch me, hmm? What should we do, Ludi?" He smiles, and kisses him again. "Tell me, Ludi. I want to make you happy!"

Ludwig struggles, briefly.

"You have to tell me," Feliciano says, sings, softly. "Ve, I want to make it good for you too. You know I want to do everything for you!"

Ludwig presses his lips together, and nods.

Feliciano folds at the waist so he can put his mouth up close to the other's ear once more. "So you have to tell me, si? Si? I'm not as smart as you, Ludwig. You're so clever, you always know just what I want, and you always take care to make me feel so super, super good...but I'm not as clever as that, you know? I want to be, but the only way I can be is if you tell me what you like." He pauses, hoping that this has made sense to Ludwig. If only he can make his lover comfortable with talking about what he desires – maybe, just maybe they can make this thing work; make it a delicious, everyday delight.

Ludwig sits very still; and Feliciano thinks that maybe he is considering the question.

He moves closer again; whispers once more: "Come on, Ludi. Tell me, ve. Please?"

"I like," says Ludwig, suddenly. "I like –" and he swallows, and sucks a breath in, and looks downwards. "I, uh – I liked it last time...you know, when...when you hurt me." His eyes dart from side to side, before finally making that valiant effort to slide up towards Feliciano's face.

"Hmmm," says Feliciano, and strokes Ludwig again, like he is a big, cute kitty, and beams at him in praise. "That's good, Ludi...so how did you like it? When I hurt you? Which things did I do to you that felt nice, hm?"

"Uh," says Ludwig, who suddenly seems very distracted by the slight bulge in Feliciano's underwear, and so Feliciano reaches for the riding crop, and taps it almost absent-mindedly between his legs (and it doesn't feel so bad, really...)

Ludwig makes an odd sort of choking noise, like the air has very abruptly been forced in a short burst out of an inflatable object, and Feliciano just raises his eyebrows, feeling all of a sudden extremely sexy, and extremely aroused.

"That," Ludwig manages to cough out, as Feliciano's tongue begins its slow, tantalizing journey towards the handle of the crop. "I...I liked it when...with that."

"When what?" says Feliciano, and it is very hard to resist Ludwig right now, all pink in the face, and turned-on, and spluttering, and on his knees before him. "When what, Ludi? Tell me, please!"

"When you...when you – beat...me," Ludwig manages, at last, and instantly looks like he expects a smack around the head. Maybe Feliciano will do that later, if his lover asks nicely.

"Oooh," says Feliciano, "okay. What else? Tell me, or we won't be able to do it. And then I'd be sad," he adds, wistfully, and hopes Ludwig will tell him, because although the pornography he watched earlier has given him a couple of ideas, he still feels as though he needs a little guidance.

Ludwig takes another deep, deep breath, and mutters, "and when you – when you tied me up, uh...that – that was good."

"Oh! With the handcuffs?"

"Yes...well, wi-with anything, really. And, uh..." he pauses, and looks almost ashamed at asking for more, so Feliciano pats him, and smiles encouragingly. "And...and the – when you put the – the blindfold...and, uh. Yes."

He looks like his head might explode, thinks Feliciano, and he certainly doesn't want that to happen, and so he kisses Ludwig, on the mouth this time, and Ludwig returns the kiss eagerly – and when he pulls back, Ludwig follows him, so that when they break apart, at long last, Ludwig is raised up on his knees, hopefully leaning forwards, his lips wet and pink and slightly parted.

Feliciano's head is spinning a bit – it always does after kisses with Ludwig, because he's so warm, and he tastes so sweet, and oh, it's still so difficult to believe that Ludwig would want to kiss him right on the mouth...but he sees the look in Ludwig's eyes; that soft, shifting glaze that blurs in and out, in and out of focus...the veil is beginning to descend – just a bit – and Feliciano knows it is his job to be there for his lover when he falls under; when he sways, and goes numb, and pain and pleasure swirl into one hot, burning caress...

So he strokes Ludwig's hair one last time, and leans over to kiss his temples, one after the other, and, pausing beside his ear, says the thing he's been longing to say ever since he closed that laptop with a burning heat between his legs, and a wild floury of butterflies inside his stomach.

"Ve, Ludwig," he whispers, and Ludwig stiffens, presses close. "Ludwig – I want you to call me 'Master,' si?"

Ludwig's eyes darken and widen, and the mist descends again, faster – and as Feliciano stands, grasping the crop tightly in his left hand, and running it up his lover's chest, up his throat, over his chin, to his damp, desperate lips, he swallows, and whispers, "yes, Master."

And Feliciano reaches down, and taps the end of the crop between Ludwig's hungry thighs, and Ludwig sighs, and lets his head fall to his shoulder, and his eyelashes meet his cheek, and when, spying the other man's abandoned tie on the other side of the room, he says, "Ve, shall we put that blindfold on you now, Ludi?" Ludwig outright moans, and presses his cheek to the side of Feliciano's leg, and says, again, "yes, please, Master."