ORIGINALLY, I was going to credit the BDSM prompt for making this scenario spawn in my mind, and have the prompt be ‘please detail in a story how they came to be in a Dominant/submissive (for life) lovers’. Without further ado, here is the modern day, slight AU idea that jumped in my mind. Others, please feel free to fill as well. (Because this is my first attempt at writing sex!)
He folded the laundry, pulling it out of the dryer, swearing under his breath about having to bend over in such a short skirt. The lacy fringe teased his thighs, tracing over shaved skin and drawing his attention away from folding and hanging the dress pants. The g-string was sliding down in between his cheeks again, and with a sigh, he gave up trying to keep the string out. Bending down again, he snagged the last article, and hung the pants. Nothing seemed to need ironing, so he turned to head out.
Slamming the dryer’s door shut with his foot, he headed into the rest of the suite with the basket and hangars. The place was spacious, and nearly private, the building being high-class enough that few people actually bothered to live there. Many owned a place just for bragging rights, which made it the perfect ghost town.
Heading into the bedroom, he entered the wardrobe and hung the dress pants, before setting the shirts onto their respective racks. The room was done in light brown wood and creamy walls, a red border running around the room. Of course his lover would remind him exactly who he belonged to from the surrounding to his clothing to what he ate.
Oh, and there was the matter where he was Maestro. A smile quirked at his lips, reminding him of how much there was to his Maestro, a general lover of life, but exclusive lover to him. Maestro would be home soon from his business, and he personally wanted Maestro to come home to a wonderful sight.
Being a week from his Maestro was boring him. With how digitized the world had become, he could work entirely from home, and never leave. Of course, Maestro did take him out sometimes on dates, but otherwise, he stayed home. Standing, he turned to go prepare dinner in the kitchen. He mused on a light salad, with some penne pasta and soft serve gelato. He didn’t like meat, but Maestro did, so perhaps a side dish of chopped meat for the salad-
A hand came down on his wrist, tugging him into a spare bedroom. Spinning, he kicked out for the attacker’s shin, bringing up his other hand to block a grab for his other wrist, aiming to knock the grab aside and slam the heel of his palm into the intruder’s nose.
“Ah! Vieri!”
He stilled. It was Maestro. Scowling, he kneeled and gingerly touched where he had kicked Maestro in the shin.
“Idiota. I thought you would be coming home later and I’d have to completely redo our game room while disposing of a corpse before I got to see you.” He snapped. Some days his Maestro was an idiota. A lovable idiota, but still an idiota.
He looked at the leg, gently tugging the pant leg up to see the damage. His own foot hurt from the connection, but he ignored it to see to Maestro-
The leg he was examining- oh good, it didn’t look like it would bruise- suddenly shifted, pushing him down to the floor.
"Well,” Maestro purred, “when I saw what you were wearing, I decided that I would have my welcome home present first.”
The boot pressed against his chest, forcing him down for Maestro to gaze upon. The boot had been cleaned to a shine, the dirt on the bottom washed off long before entering the building. The cool feel of the rubber sole was felt through the cotton of the black shirt, the white lace framing his neck.
The boot trailed down his stomach, rolling over the slight plump that Maestro insisted he have, just enough to be a life of ease, not enough to be a health concern. The shoe caught in the hem of his skirt, before a flick of the ankle started to bunch the material up on the sides. The cool top of the shoe- leather, he realized from the texture, real leather- moved down his thigh, and onto the inside of his quivering thighs.
Re: BDSM Federico/Vieri part 1a/?
Without further ado, here is the modern day, slight AU idea that jumped in my mind. Others, please feel free to fill as well. (Because this is my first attempt at writing sex!)
He folded the laundry, pulling it out of the dryer, swearing under his breath about having to bend over in such a short skirt. The lacy fringe teased his thighs, tracing over shaved skin and drawing his attention away from folding and hanging the dress pants. The g-string was sliding down in between his cheeks again, and with a sigh, he gave up trying to keep the string out. Bending down again, he snagged the last article, and hung the pants. Nothing seemed to need ironing, so he turned to head out.
Slamming the dryer’s door shut with his foot, he headed into the rest of the suite with the basket and hangars. The place was spacious, and nearly private, the building being high-class enough that few people actually bothered to live there. Many owned a place just for bragging rights, which made it the perfect ghost town.
Heading into the bedroom, he entered the wardrobe and hung the dress pants, before setting the shirts onto their respective racks. The room was done in light brown wood and creamy walls, a red border running around the room. Of course his lover would remind him exactly who he belonged to from the surrounding to his clothing to what he ate.
Oh, and there was the matter where he was Maestro. A smile quirked at his lips, reminding him of how much there was to his Maestro, a general lover of life, but exclusive lover to him. Maestro would be home soon from his business, and he personally wanted Maestro to come home to a wonderful sight.
Being a week from his Maestro was boring him. With how digitized the world had become, he could work entirely from home, and never leave. Of course, Maestro did take him out sometimes on dates, but otherwise, he stayed home.
Standing, he turned to go prepare dinner in the kitchen. He mused on a light salad, with some penne pasta and soft serve gelato. He didn’t like meat, but Maestro did, so perhaps a side dish of chopped meat for the salad-
A hand came down on his wrist, tugging him into a spare bedroom.
Spinning, he kicked out for the attacker’s shin, bringing up his other hand to block a grab for his other wrist, aiming to knock the grab aside and slam the heel of his palm into the intruder’s nose.
“Ah! Vieri!”
He stilled. It was Maestro. Scowling, he kneeled and gingerly touched where he had kicked Maestro in the shin.
“Idiota. I thought you would be coming home later and I’d have to completely redo our game room while disposing of a corpse before I got to see you.” He snapped. Some days his Maestro was an idiota. A lovable idiota, but still an idiota.
He looked at the leg, gently tugging the pant leg up to see the damage. His own foot hurt from the connection, but he ignored it to see to Maestro-
The leg he was examining- oh good, it didn’t look like it would bruise- suddenly shifted, pushing him down to the floor.
"Well,” Maestro purred, “when I saw what you were wearing, I decided that I would have my welcome home present first.”
The boot pressed against his chest, forcing him down for Maestro to gaze upon. The boot had been cleaned to a shine, the dirt on the bottom washed off long before entering the building. The cool feel of the rubber sole was felt through the cotton of the black shirt, the white lace framing his neck.
The boot trailed down his stomach, rolling over the slight plump that Maestro insisted he have, just enough to be a life of ease, not enough to be a health concern. The shoe caught in the hem of his skirt, before a flick of the ankle started to bunch the material up on the sides. The cool top of the shoe- leather, he realized from the texture, real leather- moved down his thigh, and onto the inside of his quivering thighs.
“Did my pet not touch himself while I was gone?”