The Kidnapping of Donnie DuPre - birthday fic for emeriin
Title: The Kidnapping of Donnie DuPre
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Word Count: 2,549 (aprox.)
Pairings/Characters: Donnie DuPre/Rebecca Stone/Tacoma Narrows
Warnings: SO MANY. Kidnapping, blindfolds, gunplay, bondage, slapping, knifeplay, dirty talk, derogatory talk, threats, orgasm denial, blowjobs at gunpoint, scratching, death threats, roleplay.
Summary: Donnie wakes up tied to a chair, blindfolded, and quickly has a gun pointed at his head. So, y’know, a normal night for him.
Prompt: This kink meme prompt.
A/N: Very late birthday fic for emeriin. Happy belated birthday!
Donnie squirms, testing the ropes. They’re tight, not painfully so, but tight enough that there’s no give. He won’t be wriggling free this time.
A hand grabs at the bag over his head, yanks it off suddenly.
Donnie doesn’t scream, but it’s a near thing. He chokes back a yelp of fear with difficulty. There’s a blindfold over his eyes, he’s not sure why there was a hood too, but now he can feel the heat of a light source on his cheeks.
“Aw, he’s awake,” a woman’s voice says. She’s somewhere on his left. She giggles. “Caught ourselves a pretty one this time.”
“That we did,” a man’s voice now, deep, dangerous.
Donnie shivers.
“Cutie like him’s bound to have people looking for him, desperate to get him back,” the woman’s hand runs through Donnie’s hair, nails catching on his skin. “Wonder how much they’ll pay?”
“Whatever we ask them to, if we’re lucky,” the man makes a chiding sound at the back of his throat. “Don’t ruin him yet, we might get some money out of this.”
“You never let me have any fun,” the woman whines. “Just this once?”
“No,” the man says firmly. “We try to make the deal. If that doesn’t work out, then we can do whatever we like.”
The woman laughs.
Donnie is shaking now. Sweat is dripping down his spine and his palms are sweaty too, gripping the arms of the chair he’s been tied to.
“Well, I’m going to make the calls. You’d better hope someone on your contacts list is willing to pay for your safe return, Mr. … Dupree? DuPre?” the man snorts. “Whatever.”
Footsteps echo and a door creaks shut.
“He must not be too confident, if he’s leaving you alone with me.” Donnie can hear the woman’s grin in her tone.
He squirms, trying the ropes one last time.
“You scared? You should be,” the woman’s hands are on his shoulders, then around his neck, encircling his throat.
She’s not pressing down or squeezing, but it’s a pressure that Donnie feels every time he inhales.
“Your pulse is going like a little trapped rabbit,” the woman lets go of Donnie’s throat, takes a few steps away. “I wonder …”
She returns with someone cold and sharp. It scratches against Donnie’s skin. He stays very, very still. Even a shallow cut could be dangerous here, he doesn’t know where her knives have been.
“Please …” Donnie whispers, mouth dry, panic starting to set in.
“Did I say you could talk?” the woman doesn’t wait for a response. She slaps Donnie hard across the face.
Donnie whimpers, cringing as best he can in the chair. “I’m sorry … I’m sorry …”
“You know, I hate to do this, but if you’re not going to do as you’re told …” the woman rummages around and suddenly there’s something round and plastic pressing against Donnie’s lips. “Open wide.”
Donnie shakes his head. No. He’s already tied up, blind, at the mercy of two monsters, he can’t lose the right to speak too.
“Open wide, or I’m going to cut my initials into your chest.”
The calm, assured way she says it is what convinces Donnie to obey her. He opens his mouth.
He jolts when instead of the gag, it’s her fingers that are thrust into his mouth. Donnie takes a risk and slides his tongue over them, and when he hears her intake of breath he suckles them, sliding his tongue between her fingers.
“You little slut,” she breathes, without judgment or derision. “Fine … I won’t gag you … but you’re going to put that mouth to good use. When I say so, right?”
He nods, silent, still sucking on her fingers.
She withdraws them after a while, wipes them against his face.
The door opens.
“Babe, seriously? I was gone for how long?” the man sounds more amused than anything else.
“I got bored. And he’s so pretty. Can you blame me?” she asks.
“I really can’t.” The man sighs. “Well, looks like you had good instincts. Nobody’s willing to pay up. He’s all ours.”
“Really?” the woman’s voice takes on a high-pitched, excited tone.
“Lucky us, huh?” the man is closer now. “You about to gag him or what?”
“He’s got a good mouth, I decided not to waste it.”
“Really?” the man sounds intrigued. “And how did you find that out?”
She must show off her fingers because the man laughs, and the sounds of them sloppily kissing soon follows.
Donnie shifts in the chair as best he can. The way they’re talking about him like he’s not even there is … it’s terrifying but it’s also weirdly hot. He’s just a fun little distraction for them, something to be used for their own enjoyment.
“So, I remember you wanted to try the gun last time, right?” the man says after a few moments.
“Did I?” the woman sounds flushed and a little breathless.
“Yeah. Well, this seems like the perfect time. Especially if he’s got a great mouth.”
Donnie feels his blood run cold. No. He … they can’t be …
The metal of what can only be a gun barrel presses against his forehead.
Panic wells at the back of Donnie’s throat. He forgets that he’s supposed to be quiet.
“Please! Please no, please don’t, please!” Donnie babbles, squirming in the chair. His skin feels raw where the ropes are rubbing against his wrists.
“Shut up!” the man snaps. His slap hurts just as much as the woman’s had, catching Donnie on the other side of his face.
Donnie is stunned into silence momentarily.
“How about this, huh? We play a little game, and if you do well, you get to live?” the man laughs shortly. “I mean, it’s not like you can report our faces to the police. And we’ll make extra sure that none of our DNA gets left on you.”
“But I wanted to use the gun!” the woman protests.
“You’ll get to babe, I promise. But maybe you don’t need to fire it. You get what I’m saying?”
The woman makes a soft, pleased sound, a sort of purr. “I like this plan.”
“Great. So, Mr. DuPre … here’s the rules. No talking. When we tell you to do something, you do it. And … no coming without our permission.”
Donnie opens his mouth in shock, but then promptly closes it, restraining himself from asking any questions.
“He learns fast,” the man says appreciatively. “Maybe we won’t have to shoot him after all.”
“Don’t give up so soon,” the woman brings the gun back to Donnie’s face, presses it hard against his cheek, then dips it down and brushes it against his lips.
Donnie whimpers, but opens his mouth obligingly.
“Suck,” the woman barely has to order him before he’s doing his best, wrapping his lips around the barrel.
He imagines her finger resting against the trigger. One little slip and …
Donnie tries not to think about it. He tries to focus. Maybe if he does a good job with this, he’ll get to blow the guy next. Eating out the woman might not be perfect from his current position, but he could probably manage something if she wanted.
“Never thought I’d be jealous of a gun,” the man’s voice is hoarse. Donnie feels a stab of pride: his performance is getting the guy off already, and he hasn’t even touched him!
“You wanna try him?” the woman asks. “Now’s the time.”
“Yeah …” the man drags out the word, unbuckles his belt.
Donnie’s face goes red. The man grabs him by the hair, yanks his head down. His cock is already slick, and Donnie doesn’t have to be told to open up.
The man is bigger than the gun barrel, but he tastes so much better. Donnie focuses harder than ever, tries not to gag. Drool slides down the corners of his mouth. He imagines what he must look like, blindfolded, red-faced, bobbing up and down on his captor’s cock. His own cock twitches.
“Lucky,” the woman whispers.
“Fuck, he’s perfect …” the man groans.
Donnie blushes with pride.
“He’s hard,” the woman’s smirk is audible. “Got a few wires crossed, Mr. DuPre? Or do you meet all your dates like this?”
The man laughs. So does the woman.
Donnie is hard, and their ridiculing only makes him harder. He’s disgusting, sick, getting off on this …
… but better to enjoy himself a little than not at all.
“Hey, Mr. DuPre, you’d better swallow in a second, or the gun’s going back in your mouth and blowing out the back of your head.” the man moans and yanks Donnie’s hair so hard that tears spring to Donnie’s eyes.
Donnie swallows, but the man pulls out and gets some on Donnie’s face that he can’t quite manage to lap up.
“Now he’s even prettier,” the woman laughs, obviously delighted. “You mind if I take over for a while?”
“He’s all yours, babe,” the man pants.
The woman straddles Donnie, an impressive feat considering the chair’s shape. “Look at you, all prettied up for me,” she rakes her nails along his neck.
Donnie whimpers.
“Oh, don’t worry we’re going to have some fun too,” she squirms in place, getting into a good position. Then her hand is sliding under the waistband of his jeans and …
Donnie bites his lip to keep from screaming out.
“You like that?” she whispers, breath hot against his face. One hand is around his cock, the other is scratching at his neck and shoulders, scratching so hard Donnie’s half convinced she must be breaking skin, there must be blood dripping down his throat …
Donnie whimpers, trying to keep still and failing, squirming, hips barely managing to rise up with her weight holding him down.
“Yeah, you like that …” the woman huffs a laugh. “You know, I’m tempted to keep you … you’d be a lovely little pet, wouldn’t you? We’d keep you tied up back here, play with you after our jobs.”
Donnie moans, leaning forward and finding where the curve of her shoulder meets her neck. He doesn’t dare bite, doesn’t dare kiss, he can’t presume, but he can’t speak …
“No teeth, anything else is fine,” she says.
He licks her skin, suckles her, leaves a mark he can’t see, a mark he might never see. It’s worth it to hear her moan, feel her thighs clench against him. He isn’t certain, but he guesses that she’s wet. He wishes he could find out for certain, bury his face between her legs, have her refuse to let him up for air until she was satisfied …
“You’re close, right? Well remember, you can’t come until we say so.” she flicks at the head of his cock with her nail.
Donnie gasps out, eyes watering again. He’s so close, he can’t … she’s too good at this. He’s going to come and they’re going to kill him.
Donnie shakes his head, gasping and moaning, and they’re laughing at him. She squeezes and strokes and presses her body against his, and Donnie’s coming, hot and wet all over her fingers, and oh god he tried, he tried and he failed …
“Well that’s a shame,” she doesn’t sound all that disappointed though. “Babe, get me my gun, would you?”
Donnie whimpers, the most pathetic sounds he’s ever made, he makes them, pleasing wordlessly for his life.
“Now now, you knew the rules, and you broke them,” her fingers find his mouth again. “Clean me up before you go.”
Donnie opens his mouth and does, tasting himself on her fingers, it would have thrilled him a few minutes ago, now it just sickens him.
She ruts against him, rocking against his knee. One of her hands must be between her legs because she stiffens and shudders after a moment, moaning one long, single note.
“Fuck!” she sighs. “Guess you won’t be our pet after all. That’s too bad. I think I’m going to miss you.” She pulls out her fingers, Donnie’s mouth making an obscene wet sound around them. “Nice and clean. Well, goodbye Mr. DuPre, it’s been lovely getting to know you.”
The gun slides between his lips. He doesn’t bother resisting. This is what he deserves. What he’s earned.
At least he got them both off before they killed him.
The gun trigger clicks …
And the game is over.
Donnie slumps forward, the prop gun being pulled away and Rebecca clambering off of him. He’s panting, breaking out a cold sweat, and he feels vaguely ill.
“Hey, hey, Donnie, we’ve got you! You’re safe now.” Rebecca’s hands are on him, setting his clothes back in place, touching him softly and carefully.
“I’m gonna take the blindfold off now, ok?” Tacoma removes the piece of cloth, hands lingering in Donnie’s hair for a moment. Donnie leans into the touch, a faint smile on his lips.
“Are you ok? Did we do good?” Rebecca asks, quickly undoing the knots around his wrists. “I’m not sure my character’s motivations were entirely consistent, I hope that was ok?”
“You were both … perfect.” Donnie moans, closing his eyes momentarily. Tacoma’s left hand is still in his hair, and he wants to keep it that way. “It was better than I ever could have hoped for.”
They get him up out of the chair and onto the couch, wrap him in a blanket. Rebecca cuddles him while Tacoma brings over water bottles for the three of them. Donnie needs touch after an intense session, needs to know that they’re not going to leave him or be disgusted by him afterwards. He still has bouts of anxiety about that, even though Rebecca and Tacoma have assured him again and again that they aren’t disgusted with him.
“Did you really leave the room?” Donnie asks Tacoma, as he sips at his water.
“Nah, I just opened and closed the door.” Tacoma grins. “Like I’d miss seeing her play with you.”
Donnie blushes crimson and buries his face in the blankets.
“Hey, it was hot! Don’t worry about it. ” Tacoma wraps an arm around Donnie’s shoulders.
They sit there in silence for a while, sipping water and snuggling.
“Can I share something?” Tacoma asks.
“Yeah,” Donnie looks at him.
“I still don’t feel entirely comfortable with playing the Scary Black Man trope,” Tacoma glances at the floor. “Seriously, if it were anyone else asking … I probably wouldn’t do this.”
Donnie nods. “I mean, that’s not why I get off on it. I don’t even see either of you during the whole thing.”
“I know, but … it’s just …” Tacoma sighs. “It’s a type, I don’t like it, for obvious reasons.”
“Next time you wanna be the Harley Quinn type?” Rebecca asks. “We’ve established that I fit into the Joker costume, I am all for some crossplay -”
The conversation derails a bit from there. Donnie drifts off to sleep and wakes up as they’re trying to drag him into bed.
“Thank you so much. Both of you. I really … I appreciate it.” Donnie blushes and stares at the ceiling.
They cuddle up against him under the covers, and drift off to sleep.
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content
Word Count: 2,549 (aprox.)
Pairings/Characters: Donnie DuPre/Rebecca Stone/Tacoma Narrows
Warnings: SO MANY. Kidnapping, blindfolds, gunplay, bondage, slapping, knifeplay, dirty talk, derogatory talk, threats, orgasm denial, blowjobs at gunpoint, scratching, death threats, roleplay.
Summary: Donnie wakes up tied to a chair, blindfolded, and quickly has a gun pointed at his head. So, y’know, a normal night for him.
Prompt: This kink meme prompt.
A/N: Very late birthday fic for emeriin. Happy belated birthday!
Donnie squirms, testing the ropes. They’re tight, not painfully so, but tight enough that there’s no give. He won’t be wriggling free this time.
A hand grabs at the bag over his head, yanks it off suddenly.
Donnie doesn’t scream, but it’s a near thing. He chokes back a yelp of fear with difficulty. There’s a blindfold over his eyes, he’s not sure why there was a hood too, but now he can feel the heat of a light source on his cheeks.
“Aw, he’s awake,” a woman’s voice says. She’s somewhere on his left. She giggles. “Caught ourselves a pretty one this time.”
“That we did,” a man’s voice now, deep, dangerous.
Donnie shivers.
“Cutie like him’s bound to have people looking for him, desperate to get him back,” the woman’s hand runs through Donnie’s hair, nails catching on his skin. “Wonder how much they’ll pay?”
“Whatever we ask them to, if we’re lucky,” the man makes a chiding sound at the back of his throat. “Don’t ruin him yet, we might get some money out of this.”
“You never let me have any fun,” the woman whines. “Just this once?”
“No,” the man says firmly. “We try to make the deal. If that doesn’t work out, then we can do whatever we like.”
The woman laughs.
Donnie is shaking now. Sweat is dripping down his spine and his palms are sweaty too, gripping the arms of the chair he’s been tied to.
“Well, I’m going to make the calls. You’d better hope someone on your contacts list is willing to pay for your safe return, Mr. … Dupree? DuPre?” the man snorts. “Whatever.”
Footsteps echo and a door creaks shut.
“He must not be too confident, if he’s leaving you alone with me.” Donnie can hear the woman’s grin in her tone.
He squirms, trying the ropes one last time.
“You scared? You should be,” the woman’s hands are on his shoulders, then around his neck, encircling his throat.
She’s not pressing down or squeezing, but it’s a pressure that Donnie feels every time he inhales.
“Your pulse is going like a little trapped rabbit,” the woman lets go of Donnie’s throat, takes a few steps away. “I wonder …”
She returns with someone cold and sharp. It scratches against Donnie’s skin. He stays very, very still. Even a shallow cut could be dangerous here, he doesn’t know where her knives have been.
“Please …” Donnie whispers, mouth dry, panic starting to set in.
“Did I say you could talk?” the woman doesn’t wait for a response. She slaps Donnie hard across the face.
Donnie whimpers, cringing as best he can in the chair. “I’m sorry … I’m sorry …”
“You know, I hate to do this, but if you’re not going to do as you’re told …” the woman rummages around and suddenly there’s something round and plastic pressing against Donnie’s lips. “Open wide.”
Donnie shakes his head. No. He’s already tied up, blind, at the mercy of two monsters, he can’t lose the right to speak too.
“Open wide, or I’m going to cut my initials into your chest.”
The calm, assured way she says it is what convinces Donnie to obey her. He opens his mouth.
He jolts when instead of the gag, it’s her fingers that are thrust into his mouth. Donnie takes a risk and slides his tongue over them, and when he hears her intake of breath he suckles them, sliding his tongue between her fingers.
“You little slut,” she breathes, without judgment or derision. “Fine … I won’t gag you … but you’re going to put that mouth to good use. When I say so, right?”
He nods, silent, still sucking on her fingers.
She withdraws them after a while, wipes them against his face.
The door opens.
“Babe, seriously? I was gone for how long?” the man sounds more amused than anything else.
“I got bored. And he’s so pretty. Can you blame me?” she asks.
“I really can’t.” The man sighs. “Well, looks like you had good instincts. Nobody’s willing to pay up. He’s all ours.”
“Really?” the woman’s voice takes on a high-pitched, excited tone.
“Lucky us, huh?” the man is closer now. “You about to gag him or what?”
“He’s got a good mouth, I decided not to waste it.”
“Really?” the man sounds intrigued. “And how did you find that out?”
She must show off her fingers because the man laughs, and the sounds of them sloppily kissing soon follows.
Donnie shifts in the chair as best he can. The way they’re talking about him like he’s not even there is … it’s terrifying but it’s also weirdly hot. He’s just a fun little distraction for them, something to be used for their own enjoyment.
“So, I remember you wanted to try the gun last time, right?” the man says after a few moments.
“Did I?” the woman sounds flushed and a little breathless.
“Yeah. Well, this seems like the perfect time. Especially if he’s got a great mouth.”
Donnie feels his blood run cold. No. He … they can’t be …
The metal of what can only be a gun barrel presses against his forehead.
Panic wells at the back of Donnie’s throat. He forgets that he’s supposed to be quiet.
“Please! Please no, please don’t, please!” Donnie babbles, squirming in the chair. His skin feels raw where the ropes are rubbing against his wrists.
“Shut up!” the man snaps. His slap hurts just as much as the woman’s had, catching Donnie on the other side of his face.
Donnie is stunned into silence momentarily.
“How about this, huh? We play a little game, and if you do well, you get to live?” the man laughs shortly. “I mean, it’s not like you can report our faces to the police. And we’ll make extra sure that none of our DNA gets left on you.”
“But I wanted to use the gun!” the woman protests.
“You’ll get to babe, I promise. But maybe you don’t need to fire it. You get what I’m saying?”
The woman makes a soft, pleased sound, a sort of purr. “I like this plan.”
“Great. So, Mr. DuPre … here’s the rules. No talking. When we tell you to do something, you do it. And … no coming without our permission.”
Donnie opens his mouth in shock, but then promptly closes it, restraining himself from asking any questions.
“He learns fast,” the man says appreciatively. “Maybe we won’t have to shoot him after all.”
“Don’t give up so soon,” the woman brings the gun back to Donnie’s face, presses it hard against his cheek, then dips it down and brushes it against his lips.
Donnie whimpers, but opens his mouth obligingly.
“Suck,” the woman barely has to order him before he’s doing his best, wrapping his lips around the barrel.
He imagines her finger resting against the trigger. One little slip and …
Donnie tries not to think about it. He tries to focus. Maybe if he does a good job with this, he’ll get to blow the guy next. Eating out the woman might not be perfect from his current position, but he could probably manage something if she wanted.
“Never thought I’d be jealous of a gun,” the man’s voice is hoarse. Donnie feels a stab of pride: his performance is getting the guy off already, and he hasn’t even touched him!
“You wanna try him?” the woman asks. “Now’s the time.”
“Yeah …” the man drags out the word, unbuckles his belt.
Donnie’s face goes red. The man grabs him by the hair, yanks his head down. His cock is already slick, and Donnie doesn’t have to be told to open up.
The man is bigger than the gun barrel, but he tastes so much better. Donnie focuses harder than ever, tries not to gag. Drool slides down the corners of his mouth. He imagines what he must look like, blindfolded, red-faced, bobbing up and down on his captor’s cock. His own cock twitches.
“Lucky,” the woman whispers.
“Fuck, he’s perfect …” the man groans.
Donnie blushes with pride.
“He’s hard,” the woman’s smirk is audible. “Got a few wires crossed, Mr. DuPre? Or do you meet all your dates like this?”
The man laughs. So does the woman.
Donnie is hard, and their ridiculing only makes him harder. He’s disgusting, sick, getting off on this …
… but better to enjoy himself a little than not at all.
“Hey, Mr. DuPre, you’d better swallow in a second, or the gun’s going back in your mouth and blowing out the back of your head.” the man moans and yanks Donnie’s hair so hard that tears spring to Donnie’s eyes.
Donnie swallows, but the man pulls out and gets some on Donnie’s face that he can’t quite manage to lap up.
“Now he’s even prettier,” the woman laughs, obviously delighted. “You mind if I take over for a while?”
“He’s all yours, babe,” the man pants.
The woman straddles Donnie, an impressive feat considering the chair’s shape. “Look at you, all prettied up for me,” she rakes her nails along his neck.
Donnie whimpers.
“Oh, don’t worry we’re going to have some fun too,” she squirms in place, getting into a good position. Then her hand is sliding under the waistband of his jeans and …
Donnie bites his lip to keep from screaming out.
“You like that?” she whispers, breath hot against his face. One hand is around his cock, the other is scratching at his neck and shoulders, scratching so hard Donnie’s half convinced she must be breaking skin, there must be blood dripping down his throat …
Donnie whimpers, trying to keep still and failing, squirming, hips barely managing to rise up with her weight holding him down.
“Yeah, you like that …” the woman huffs a laugh. “You know, I’m tempted to keep you … you’d be a lovely little pet, wouldn’t you? We’d keep you tied up back here, play with you after our jobs.”
Donnie moans, leaning forward and finding where the curve of her shoulder meets her neck. He doesn’t dare bite, doesn’t dare kiss, he can’t presume, but he can’t speak …
“No teeth, anything else is fine,” she says.
He licks her skin, suckles her, leaves a mark he can’t see, a mark he might never see. It’s worth it to hear her moan, feel her thighs clench against him. He isn’t certain, but he guesses that she’s wet. He wishes he could find out for certain, bury his face between her legs, have her refuse to let him up for air until she was satisfied …
“You’re close, right? Well remember, you can’t come until we say so.” she flicks at the head of his cock with her nail.
Donnie gasps out, eyes watering again. He’s so close, he can’t … she’s too good at this. He’s going to come and they’re going to kill him.
Donnie shakes his head, gasping and moaning, and they’re laughing at him. She squeezes and strokes and presses her body against his, and Donnie’s coming, hot and wet all over her fingers, and oh god he tried, he tried and he failed …
“Well that’s a shame,” she doesn’t sound all that disappointed though. “Babe, get me my gun, would you?”
Donnie whimpers, the most pathetic sounds he’s ever made, he makes them, pleasing wordlessly for his life.
“Now now, you knew the rules, and you broke them,” her fingers find his mouth again. “Clean me up before you go.”
Donnie opens his mouth and does, tasting himself on her fingers, it would have thrilled him a few minutes ago, now it just sickens him.
She ruts against him, rocking against his knee. One of her hands must be between her legs because she stiffens and shudders after a moment, moaning one long, single note.
“Fuck!” she sighs. “Guess you won’t be our pet after all. That’s too bad. I think I’m going to miss you.” She pulls out her fingers, Donnie’s mouth making an obscene wet sound around them. “Nice and clean. Well, goodbye Mr. DuPre, it’s been lovely getting to know you.”
The gun slides between his lips. He doesn’t bother resisting. This is what he deserves. What he’s earned.
At least he got them both off before they killed him.
The gun trigger clicks …
And the game is over.
Donnie slumps forward, the prop gun being pulled away and Rebecca clambering off of him. He’s panting, breaking out a cold sweat, and he feels vaguely ill.
“Hey, hey, Donnie, we’ve got you! You’re safe now.” Rebecca’s hands are on him, setting his clothes back in place, touching him softly and carefully.
“I’m gonna take the blindfold off now, ok?” Tacoma removes the piece of cloth, hands lingering in Donnie’s hair for a moment. Donnie leans into the touch, a faint smile on his lips.
“Are you ok? Did we do good?” Rebecca asks, quickly undoing the knots around his wrists. “I’m not sure my character’s motivations were entirely consistent, I hope that was ok?”
“You were both … perfect.” Donnie moans, closing his eyes momentarily. Tacoma’s left hand is still in his hair, and he wants to keep it that way. “It was better than I ever could have hoped for.”
They get him up out of the chair and onto the couch, wrap him in a blanket. Rebecca cuddles him while Tacoma brings over water bottles for the three of them. Donnie needs touch after an intense session, needs to know that they’re not going to leave him or be disgusted by him afterwards. He still has bouts of anxiety about that, even though Rebecca and Tacoma have assured him again and again that they aren’t disgusted with him.
“Did you really leave the room?” Donnie asks Tacoma, as he sips at his water.
“Nah, I just opened and closed the door.” Tacoma grins. “Like I’d miss seeing her play with you.”
Donnie blushes crimson and buries his face in the blankets.
“Hey, it was hot! Don’t worry about it. ” Tacoma wraps an arm around Donnie’s shoulders.
They sit there in silence for a while, sipping water and snuggling.
“Can I share something?” Tacoma asks.
“Yeah,” Donnie looks at him.
“I still don’t feel entirely comfortable with playing the Scary Black Man trope,” Tacoma glances at the floor. “Seriously, if it were anyone else asking … I probably wouldn’t do this.”
Donnie nods. “I mean, that’s not why I get off on it. I don’t even see either of you during the whole thing.”
“I know, but … it’s just …” Tacoma sighs. “It’s a type, I don’t like it, for obvious reasons.”
“Next time you wanna be the Harley Quinn type?” Rebecca asks. “We’ve established that I fit into the Joker costume, I am all for some crossplay -”
The conversation derails a bit from there. Donnie drifts off to sleep and wakes up as they’re trying to drag him into bed.
“Thank you so much. Both of you. I really … I appreciate it.” Donnie blushes and stares at the ceiling.
They cuddle up against him under the covers, and drift off to sleep.