The Secret life of Roger Federer, and What Turns on Andy Roddick (12)
Title: The Secret Life of Roger Federer, and What Turns on Andy Roddick (12)
Author: Amber
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Roger Federer/Andy Roddick
Disclaimer: Not mine at all. I just borrow and play.
Author Note: It's been close to two years now, one of which this sat nearly done on my computer. I don't think it could have gotten done without favouriteyear giving me a beta and liroa15 getting me excited about fic and fandom again.
Andy walks through the door a smile’s already on his face. He’s got a whole week alone with Roger, and he’s going to do his best to make it as special, and as memorable as possible. Of course that’s more Roger's thing seeing as he’s the one in control, but he still he hopes Roger has some kind of plan. It would be even better if that plan included Marat. Though he's never going to admit to wanting Marat out loud. All the guilt from what he did to the other man was still in his head.
“Andy!”
He jumps at the sound of his name and quickly answers, “Coming! Wait where are you?”
“Right here,” Roger walks in from the den, holding Andy's collar in one hand with a half smile plastered on his face.
“Sir?” He freezes, saying it almost breathlessly, completely caught off guard.
“This week you're wearing your collar all the time.”
Andy swallows, and nods dropping to his knees. His cock twitches in his pants, and he knows that he could say no, but nothing in him wants to. Roger’s going to own him for the week. How is he supposed to argue with that?
“I packed up all your clothes. You will ask before doing anything I don't tell you to do. This is for real. Not a game, not a prolonged way to get off. If you understand, and want it, take off your cloths then come over here.”
Of course he wants it. They've been apart for over a week, and they never get any time alone anymore. His body and his mind are craving this, something more, something to solidify everything they've been through in the last year. How their relationship has grown.
He wants to go slow, take his time, pretend he's putting thought into what’s going to happen, but he can't. Andy just wants to know what it's like to live it. They've talked about it before, in the dark, Roger talking slowly and in a low tone as he rubs Andy’s body. The fantasy was always part of the aftercare. How he was so good, and that Roger wanted him ready all the time. That someday he was going to have it happen, to completely own him.
Andy wants it. He can't pretend that he doesn’t. So, his clothes start to come off piece by piece, being folded and neatly placed on the floor. He knows what happens if he doesn't do it right. No orgasm, it's happened enough, and he won't risk it today.
Soon he’s naked and back on his knees shuffling over to Roger, looking up hopefully.
“So you think you'll enjoy this?”
“Yes Sir.”
He looks up just as Roger sighs almost as if he wants him to say no. “Listen. We're never going to be like this full time. I might push you more than normal.”
“I understand Sir.” Andy quickly answers as soon as Roger pauses.
“You need to let me finish,” Roger says forcefully making Andy look down, “So you will be using a color system, like stop lights; red, yellow, and green. Stop. Slow down. Go. The safe word stops the week, colors just regulate actions. Now, do you understand?”
“Yes Sir, I understand.”
“Good boy,” Roger pauses and smiles, “if you stay a good boy you'll get Marat at the end of the week.”
“Get him how? Like this, or like me?”
“Andy. This is you.”
He nods slowly. Andy’s starting to find out that maybe he’s just a submissive, not that it wasn't an amazing thing. He’s learning about himself, and trying his best to own it. It isn't a bad thing, it makes him happy, that's what's most important. Behind closed doors with Roger is all about him, his pleasure, and his self awareness. It calms him down when everything seems to be too out of control. Beyond all that it cements them and made him realize just how good he really is with Roger. They are polar opposites, but that's how it works for them. They are just everything the other needs.
“Does it make you happy?” Andy asks without realizing it.
Roger just smiles a little, “come on and make us some lunch.”
Andy makes a face at his ignored question as he stands up, “what do you want?”
“A good boy,” Roger leans in kissing him softly, as he buckles the collar into place.
“What would you like to eat Sir?” Andy corrects, smiling, he is never going to be that good.
“Sandwiches and chips.”
Andy smiles directly at him and makes his way to the fridge. He has no idea how he’s become the chef, but he's okay with it. Roger's never cooked for them, except for that one time that ended badly,
“This isn't just about punishments, and withholding sex, or just sex in general. Not for me. It's about us, and I don't need a reason to spank, flog, whip or do anything else to you. I just have to want to.” Is Roger's delayed answer to Andy's question.
He has no idea how to answer so he wiggles his ass, and gets a low laugh from Roger.
“You know, I think I want dessert first. Put your hands against the counter and stick your ass out a little.”
Smiling Andy does as he's told and makes a mental note to answer Roger like that more often. He's hardly in position, legs spread, when a sharp sting on his ass echoes through the kitchen. He isn't sure exactly what's hitting him, just that it stings like nothing else. It's a sting he's learned to crave. Something he's been well trained to want and need.
“Almost.”
Andy hears it, but hardly registers the words. His eyes shut and he moans out. Then it stops, completely suddenly. He opens his eyes just in time to see the metal spatula hit the counter.
“What do you say?”
“Thank you Sir.”
“That's my good boy. It's going to be nice to have you raw and ready for me all the time.”
Andy nods a little slack jawed he pauses and tries to figure out what's going to happen next.
Later in the day, after lunch, Andy watches as Roger moves around the house. He has no idea what's going on just that something is about to happen. Roger is planning something, he always is. Not that Andy could argue with that, he just had no idea how the other man manged it. Roger really isn't the evil mastermind type; in reality Roger’s actually one of the sweetest, most romantic people Andy knows. He's often come home to a fancy take out dinner with his favorite foods and his collar waiting for him on his plate. It might not be the perfect idea of romantic that everyone else had, but it's his.
The best is always after they’re done. Roger lays him out, rubs all his sore muscles, and tells him how good, and amazing he is in a low tone that always lulls him to sleep. Maybe it’s more caring than romantic, but he loves it all the same. He really just loves everything about Roger, and their relationship. Well, there’s the way Roger breathes, opened mouthed, when he is sick, but that’s only happened three times in their relationship, he could ignore it.
He looks up then breaking his train of thought to see Roger walk by with two long, slight thick candles in blue and red.
“Roger?” He doesn't move or pause, and Andy makes a face correcting himself, “Sir?”
“Yes?” Roger stops and turns giving him a mischievous smile.
“Can I ask what you're doing?”
“Yes. You can.”
Andy laughs, “Well, what are you doing?”
“Getting candles.” Roger answers with a straight face and Andy can't hold back another laugh as Roger disappears into the bedroom.
Maybe Roger is going to try out his overly romantic side for once. Though candles and champagne accented with BDSM isn't really either of their styles. He can't think of another option though, not when Roger walks by again with an ice bucket Andy’s stolen from a hotel room.
He smiles to himself. He really should have known Roger’s not going to give anything away. Then again if Andy really cared he could probably figure it out himself. It just isn't worth it. The surprise and the moment everything clicking together is just too good. The panic and arousal in the moment is worth turning a blind eye to everything. Plus right now it’s just fun to watch Roger walk back and forth with that grin on his face.
“You coming?” Roger asks this time as he passes by.
Andy smirks, “I hope so Sir.”
“Cute.” Roger rolls his eyes and Andy can see that he's trying his best to hide his smile. “Up, let’s go.”
Andy stands smiling, he's pretty sure that he'll pay for that comment later, but sometimes he has to be himself irregardless of any consequences.
He's shocked when he walks through the door and no candles are lit, and there is nothing sticking out of the ice bucket. It's now that he starts to worry a little bit. He does love not knowing, but nothing could ever stop the sight apprehension from creeping into his thought process.
“I don't get it.”
“You don't have to. Lay down.”
Andy does as he's told feeling a little sheepish. He’s starting to regret thinking that he liked the nerves until Roger takes his shirt off. That's all the distraction he really needs. The want to get up and touch Roger normally clouds everything else, and this time was no exception. If he’s honest with himself, that’s the only issue he ever had. He likes contact, but being tied up, or told not to move didn't really allow it. He loves those rare times where Roger presses him into the bed, and takes him slowly. He loves it almost as much as the knot that was currently forming in his stomach.
Anticipation is quickly becoming his favorite thing.
“Tied and blind folded.”
The words tighten that knot, and Andy raises his arms for Roger, “good boy.”
From there everything just flows.
His hands are secured up behind his head to the posts of the bed with just enough slack to be comfortable. Then his legs are pulled apart and tied that way. That’s something new. Roger’s only done it once before, and that had been when they first started to play around with pain. That realization calms him down, and makes his body relax a little. Something new can't be that bad. It’s never been before. Not that he’s got a reason to be all that worried. Roger never pushes him too far. Roger knows him, and knows his limits. That itself is romantic in its own right.
He can't help but sigh as the blind fold goes on. He isn't worried anymore, but some kind of clue always helps. Seconds later he gets that clue from the smell and sound of a match being lit.
That's when everything clicks in his head. The candles and a match mean wax.
“I think when I'm done I'll decided if this is a punishment or not for the smart ass comment in the kitchen. You always like your punishments though.” Roger says in a low tone.
Andy can't answer, his body is to tense, waiting for the wax to hit somewhere, and he is nearly at the point where anywhere would be okay.
And it is okay.
The first drop lands on his stomach and moves downward till it cools. Then there is more, on his thighs, chest and even his shoulders. His body relaxes again getting used to the sensation of the hot wax. His body moves with it as each new drop hits, tiny moans escaping his throat.
“Fuck!” Andy suddenly yells out, arching up as a cold sensation hit his nipple.
“Excuse me?” The tone is low and followed by a hard slap to his hip.
Andy bites his lip and sighs, “sorry Sir it won't happen again.”
“Better not.”
Andy takes a deep breath and nods trying to figure out what had caused the cold feeling. He realizes what it is, as soon as the ice starts to melt, and trail down the sides of his torso. That's what the ice bucket was for, and he knows he’s going to be fine as long as everything stays far away from his cock. Then again, he doesn't have any say right now, and he doesn't want Roger to stop anything. So if it does, he can deal with it.
Sometimes, like right now as the wax starts again, dripping across his hip, Roger makes him feel things he’s never known he could or wanted to. That’s half the reason that he feels so safe. Roger knows him, and would never do anything to hurt him. It makes falling into the sensations that much easier.
“Good?” Roger asks while flicking off a piece of wax.
“Yes Sir.” Andy nods slowly.
The ice then circles around his nipples again before being followed quickly by the wax. Andy can't keep in the little noises, and he yelps as his body’s bombarded by opposing sensations repeatedly. His body shifts and wiggles away from the ice, and moves towards the heat. He can't think straight enough to control any of his actions.
“I love watching you move like that.”
Andy cocks his head straining to hear the candle being blow out. He whimpers as Roger's weight presses against him.
“I'm going to fuck you like this.”
All he can do is nod, “please Sir.”
Roger moves quickly to untie Andy's ankles, and puts his legs over his shoulders. In one slow motion he pushes into Andy's body. Andy knows he's trying to go slow, trying to make it last, but he doesn't want that. He doesn't need or want anything to be slow right now. This night isn't about slow. It's about feeling everything Roger wants him to, and right now he needs to feel more.
“Sir more,” Andy pants pleading.
Roger grunts as a reply, and he holds back for awhile before finally picking up his pace. It turns rough quickly. Rough enough that the rope on Andy's wrists is starting to cut into his skin, but he can't think about that. All he can really focus on is Roger moving in and out, grazing his prostate, driving him insane. The bed moving, his wrists being rubbed raw, all that doesn't matter right now. All that matters is Roger's body moving over his, creating just enough friction on his cock. Now all he needs is to to be told it's okay.
He hardly hears the words mumbled against his mouth, but he does, or at least he hopes he does because at this point he cannot control his body. Andy comes hard his whole body shaking slightly before going limp. He doesn't feel Roger come, but he does feel his legs being let down, and Roger's weight off of his body. He doesn't notice his arms being untied, or the blindfold coming off, Andy also doesn't notice when he falls asleep.
Andy wakes up later that night snuggled up against Roger's side, he moves and moans a little bit.
“You passed out.” Roger says flatly.
“Oh.” Andy doesn't move just nods a little. “Sorry Sir.”
“It's okay, I think I pushed a little to much.”
“You never do.” Andy smiles a little bit against the other mans skin.
“If you passed out then I did.” Roger says shifting so that Andy is flat on his back.
Andy shakes his head and winces when Roger's fingers touch his chest. He opens his eyes and looks down. There are light red trails over most of his body that he can see. “That's not so bad.”
Roger shakes his head and lifts up Andy's arm to show him a bandaged wrist. “This is though. It looks like you tried to kill yourself. I should have untied your arms too.”
“It's okay.” Andy can see the worry on Roger's face. This isn't even the furthest they've gone. “What's wrong?”
“You're such a good boy.” Roger leans down and kisses him. “I don't deserve you.”
“Yes you do.” Andy nods.
Roger laughs and kisses him again. “Remember you asked if this made me happy?”
“Yeah.” Andy nods and closes his eyes again just enjoying the feeling of Roger's fingers lightly tracing over his skin.
“I don't think you have any idea how happy you make me.” Roger says softly.
“That goes both ways.” Andy smiles a little bit.
“I know, but we're like this, and you don't care what I just did to you...”
Andy's eyes pop open, “maybe because I love what you just did.” He laughs. “You gave me what I wanted and I hardly had to ask for it.”
Roger just laughs at that.
“I don't care about my wrists Roger. I want more marks. I want some every day this week. I want them to last. You gave me exactly what I wanted, so I just don't give a fuck that my wrists are raw Roger so don't worry.”
“Excuse me?” Roger looks at him and reaches down slapping his thigh, hard.
“Sir. I don't care about my wrists Sir.” Andy smiles a little sheepishly and closes his eyes again.
“Go back to sleep, you've been a good boy today. Don't ruin it with your mouth now.” Roger says and Andy can feel him lay back down.
“Thank you Sir.”
“You're welcome.”
Author: Amber
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Roger Federer/Andy Roddick
Disclaimer: Not mine at all. I just borrow and play.
Author Note: It's been close to two years now, one of which this sat nearly done on my computer. I don't think it could have gotten done without favouriteyear giving me a beta and liroa15 getting me excited about fic and fandom again.
Andy walks through the door a smile’s already on his face. He’s got a whole week alone with Roger, and he’s going to do his best to make it as special, and as memorable as possible. Of course that’s more Roger's thing seeing as he’s the one in control, but he still he hopes Roger has some kind of plan. It would be even better if that plan included Marat. Though he's never going to admit to wanting Marat out loud. All the guilt from what he did to the other man was still in his head.
“Andy!”
He jumps at the sound of his name and quickly answers, “Coming! Wait where are you?”
“Right here,” Roger walks in from the den, holding Andy's collar in one hand with a half smile plastered on his face.
“Sir?” He freezes, saying it almost breathlessly, completely caught off guard.
“This week you're wearing your collar all the time.”
Andy swallows, and nods dropping to his knees. His cock twitches in his pants, and he knows that he could say no, but nothing in him wants to. Roger’s going to own him for the week. How is he supposed to argue with that?
“I packed up all your clothes. You will ask before doing anything I don't tell you to do. This is for real. Not a game, not a prolonged way to get off. If you understand, and want it, take off your cloths then come over here.”
Of course he wants it. They've been apart for over a week, and they never get any time alone anymore. His body and his mind are craving this, something more, something to solidify everything they've been through in the last year. How their relationship has grown.
He wants to go slow, take his time, pretend he's putting thought into what’s going to happen, but he can't. Andy just wants to know what it's like to live it. They've talked about it before, in the dark, Roger talking slowly and in a low tone as he rubs Andy’s body. The fantasy was always part of the aftercare. How he was so good, and that Roger wanted him ready all the time. That someday he was going to have it happen, to completely own him.
Andy wants it. He can't pretend that he doesn’t. So, his clothes start to come off piece by piece, being folded and neatly placed on the floor. He knows what happens if he doesn't do it right. No orgasm, it's happened enough, and he won't risk it today.
Soon he’s naked and back on his knees shuffling over to Roger, looking up hopefully.
“So you think you'll enjoy this?”
“Yes Sir.”
He looks up just as Roger sighs almost as if he wants him to say no. “Listen. We're never going to be like this full time. I might push you more than normal.”
“I understand Sir.” Andy quickly answers as soon as Roger pauses.
“You need to let me finish,” Roger says forcefully making Andy look down, “So you will be using a color system, like stop lights; red, yellow, and green. Stop. Slow down. Go. The safe word stops the week, colors just regulate actions. Now, do you understand?”
“Yes Sir, I understand.”
“Good boy,” Roger pauses and smiles, “if you stay a good boy you'll get Marat at the end of the week.”
“Get him how? Like this, or like me?”
“Andy. This is you.”
He nods slowly. Andy’s starting to find out that maybe he’s just a submissive, not that it wasn't an amazing thing. He’s learning about himself, and trying his best to own it. It isn't a bad thing, it makes him happy, that's what's most important. Behind closed doors with Roger is all about him, his pleasure, and his self awareness. It calms him down when everything seems to be too out of control. Beyond all that it cements them and made him realize just how good he really is with Roger. They are polar opposites, but that's how it works for them. They are just everything the other needs.
“Does it make you happy?” Andy asks without realizing it.
Roger just smiles a little, “come on and make us some lunch.”
Andy makes a face at his ignored question as he stands up, “what do you want?”
“A good boy,” Roger leans in kissing him softly, as he buckles the collar into place.
“What would you like to eat Sir?” Andy corrects, smiling, he is never going to be that good.
“Sandwiches and chips.”
Andy smiles directly at him and makes his way to the fridge. He has no idea how he’s become the chef, but he's okay with it. Roger's never cooked for them, except for that one time that ended badly,
“This isn't just about punishments, and withholding sex, or just sex in general. Not for me. It's about us, and I don't need a reason to spank, flog, whip or do anything else to you. I just have to want to.” Is Roger's delayed answer to Andy's question.
He has no idea how to answer so he wiggles his ass, and gets a low laugh from Roger.
“You know, I think I want dessert first. Put your hands against the counter and stick your ass out a little.”
Smiling Andy does as he's told and makes a mental note to answer Roger like that more often. He's hardly in position, legs spread, when a sharp sting on his ass echoes through the kitchen. He isn't sure exactly what's hitting him, just that it stings like nothing else. It's a sting he's learned to crave. Something he's been well trained to want and need.
“Almost.”
Andy hears it, but hardly registers the words. His eyes shut and he moans out. Then it stops, completely suddenly. He opens his eyes just in time to see the metal spatula hit the counter.
“What do you say?”
“Thank you Sir.”
“That's my good boy. It's going to be nice to have you raw and ready for me all the time.”
Andy nods a little slack jawed he pauses and tries to figure out what's going to happen next.
Later in the day, after lunch, Andy watches as Roger moves around the house. He has no idea what's going on just that something is about to happen. Roger is planning something, he always is. Not that Andy could argue with that, he just had no idea how the other man manged it. Roger really isn't the evil mastermind type; in reality Roger’s actually one of the sweetest, most romantic people Andy knows. He's often come home to a fancy take out dinner with his favorite foods and his collar waiting for him on his plate. It might not be the perfect idea of romantic that everyone else had, but it's his.
The best is always after they’re done. Roger lays him out, rubs all his sore muscles, and tells him how good, and amazing he is in a low tone that always lulls him to sleep. Maybe it’s more caring than romantic, but he loves it all the same. He really just loves everything about Roger, and their relationship. Well, there’s the way Roger breathes, opened mouthed, when he is sick, but that’s only happened three times in their relationship, he could ignore it.
He looks up then breaking his train of thought to see Roger walk by with two long, slight thick candles in blue and red.
“Roger?” He doesn't move or pause, and Andy makes a face correcting himself, “Sir?”
“Yes?” Roger stops and turns giving him a mischievous smile.
“Can I ask what you're doing?”
“Yes. You can.”
Andy laughs, “Well, what are you doing?”
“Getting candles.” Roger answers with a straight face and Andy can't hold back another laugh as Roger disappears into the bedroom.
Maybe Roger is going to try out his overly romantic side for once. Though candles and champagne accented with BDSM isn't really either of their styles. He can't think of another option though, not when Roger walks by again with an ice bucket Andy’s stolen from a hotel room.
He smiles to himself. He really should have known Roger’s not going to give anything away. Then again if Andy really cared he could probably figure it out himself. It just isn't worth it. The surprise and the moment everything clicking together is just too good. The panic and arousal in the moment is worth turning a blind eye to everything. Plus right now it’s just fun to watch Roger walk back and forth with that grin on his face.
“You coming?” Roger asks this time as he passes by.
Andy smirks, “I hope so Sir.”
“Cute.” Roger rolls his eyes and Andy can see that he's trying his best to hide his smile. “Up, let’s go.”
Andy stands smiling, he's pretty sure that he'll pay for that comment later, but sometimes he has to be himself irregardless of any consequences.
He's shocked when he walks through the door and no candles are lit, and there is nothing sticking out of the ice bucket. It's now that he starts to worry a little bit. He does love not knowing, but nothing could ever stop the sight apprehension from creeping into his thought process.
“I don't get it.”
“You don't have to. Lay down.”
Andy does as he's told feeling a little sheepish. He’s starting to regret thinking that he liked the nerves until Roger takes his shirt off. That's all the distraction he really needs. The want to get up and touch Roger normally clouds everything else, and this time was no exception. If he’s honest with himself, that’s the only issue he ever had. He likes contact, but being tied up, or told not to move didn't really allow it. He loves those rare times where Roger presses him into the bed, and takes him slowly. He loves it almost as much as the knot that was currently forming in his stomach.
Anticipation is quickly becoming his favorite thing.
“Tied and blind folded.”
The words tighten that knot, and Andy raises his arms for Roger, “good boy.”
From there everything just flows.
His hands are secured up behind his head to the posts of the bed with just enough slack to be comfortable. Then his legs are pulled apart and tied that way. That’s something new. Roger’s only done it once before, and that had been when they first started to play around with pain. That realization calms him down, and makes his body relax a little. Something new can't be that bad. It’s never been before. Not that he’s got a reason to be all that worried. Roger never pushes him too far. Roger knows him, and knows his limits. That itself is romantic in its own right.
He can't help but sigh as the blind fold goes on. He isn't worried anymore, but some kind of clue always helps. Seconds later he gets that clue from the smell and sound of a match being lit.
That's when everything clicks in his head. The candles and a match mean wax.
“I think when I'm done I'll decided if this is a punishment or not for the smart ass comment in the kitchen. You always like your punishments though.” Roger says in a low tone.
Andy can't answer, his body is to tense, waiting for the wax to hit somewhere, and he is nearly at the point where anywhere would be okay.
And it is okay.
The first drop lands on his stomach and moves downward till it cools. Then there is more, on his thighs, chest and even his shoulders. His body relaxes again getting used to the sensation of the hot wax. His body moves with it as each new drop hits, tiny moans escaping his throat.
“Fuck!” Andy suddenly yells out, arching up as a cold sensation hit his nipple.
“Excuse me?” The tone is low and followed by a hard slap to his hip.
Andy bites his lip and sighs, “sorry Sir it won't happen again.”
“Better not.”
Andy takes a deep breath and nods trying to figure out what had caused the cold feeling. He realizes what it is, as soon as the ice starts to melt, and trail down the sides of his torso. That's what the ice bucket was for, and he knows he’s going to be fine as long as everything stays far away from his cock. Then again, he doesn't have any say right now, and he doesn't want Roger to stop anything. So if it does, he can deal with it.
Sometimes, like right now as the wax starts again, dripping across his hip, Roger makes him feel things he’s never known he could or wanted to. That’s half the reason that he feels so safe. Roger knows him, and would never do anything to hurt him. It makes falling into the sensations that much easier.
“Good?” Roger asks while flicking off a piece of wax.
“Yes Sir.” Andy nods slowly.
The ice then circles around his nipples again before being followed quickly by the wax. Andy can't keep in the little noises, and he yelps as his body’s bombarded by opposing sensations repeatedly. His body shifts and wiggles away from the ice, and moves towards the heat. He can't think straight enough to control any of his actions.
“I love watching you move like that.”
Andy cocks his head straining to hear the candle being blow out. He whimpers as Roger's weight presses against him.
“I'm going to fuck you like this.”
All he can do is nod, “please Sir.”
Roger moves quickly to untie Andy's ankles, and puts his legs over his shoulders. In one slow motion he pushes into Andy's body. Andy knows he's trying to go slow, trying to make it last, but he doesn't want that. He doesn't need or want anything to be slow right now. This night isn't about slow. It's about feeling everything Roger wants him to, and right now he needs to feel more.
“Sir more,” Andy pants pleading.
Roger grunts as a reply, and he holds back for awhile before finally picking up his pace. It turns rough quickly. Rough enough that the rope on Andy's wrists is starting to cut into his skin, but he can't think about that. All he can really focus on is Roger moving in and out, grazing his prostate, driving him insane. The bed moving, his wrists being rubbed raw, all that doesn't matter right now. All that matters is Roger's body moving over his, creating just enough friction on his cock. Now all he needs is to to be told it's okay.
He hardly hears the words mumbled against his mouth, but he does, or at least he hopes he does because at this point he cannot control his body. Andy comes hard his whole body shaking slightly before going limp. He doesn't feel Roger come, but he does feel his legs being let down, and Roger's weight off of his body. He doesn't notice his arms being untied, or the blindfold coming off, Andy also doesn't notice when he falls asleep.
Andy wakes up later that night snuggled up against Roger's side, he moves and moans a little bit.
“You passed out.” Roger says flatly.
“Oh.” Andy doesn't move just nods a little. “Sorry Sir.”
“It's okay, I think I pushed a little to much.”
“You never do.” Andy smiles a little bit against the other mans skin.
“If you passed out then I did.” Roger says shifting so that Andy is flat on his back.
Andy shakes his head and winces when Roger's fingers touch his chest. He opens his eyes and looks down. There are light red trails over most of his body that he can see. “That's not so bad.”
Roger shakes his head and lifts up Andy's arm to show him a bandaged wrist. “This is though. It looks like you tried to kill yourself. I should have untied your arms too.”
“It's okay.” Andy can see the worry on Roger's face. This isn't even the furthest they've gone. “What's wrong?”
“You're such a good boy.” Roger leans down and kisses him. “I don't deserve you.”
“Yes you do.” Andy nods.
Roger laughs and kisses him again. “Remember you asked if this made me happy?”
“Yeah.” Andy nods and closes his eyes again just enjoying the feeling of Roger's fingers lightly tracing over his skin.
“I don't think you have any idea how happy you make me.” Roger says softly.
“That goes both ways.” Andy smiles a little bit.
“I know, but we're like this, and you don't care what I just did to you...”
Andy's eyes pop open, “maybe because I love what you just did.” He laughs. “You gave me what I wanted and I hardly had to ask for it.”
Roger just laughs at that.
“I don't care about my wrists Roger. I want more marks. I want some every day this week. I want them to last. You gave me exactly what I wanted, so I just don't give a fuck that my wrists are raw Roger so don't worry.”
“Excuse me?” Roger looks at him and reaches down slapping his thigh, hard.
“Sir. I don't care about my wrists Sir.” Andy smiles a little sheepishly and closes his eyes again.
“Go back to sleep, you've been a good boy today. Don't ruin it with your mouth now.” Roger says and Andy can feel him lay back down.
“Thank you Sir.”
“You're welcome.”