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The Rahmdom Kink Meme v. 1.0 (Posted here because I can't fix it to allow anon comments on rahmbamarama)
For those of you who haven't ever seen a kink meme (you are in for a treat), the instructions:
1- Choose a pairing.
2- Choose a kink. If you need some sort of reference, there's this list of kinks3- Your comment should be anonymous! All part of the fun ( Read more... )
For those of you who haven't ever seen a kink meme (you are in for a treat), the instructions:
1- Choose a pairing.
2- Choose a kink. If you need some sort of reference, there's this list of kinks3- Your comment should be anonymous! All part of the fun ( Read more... )
*
Stephen never got Rahm on his show. They met for dinner once after the Spina Bifida Roast, and Stephen was pretty sure at the time that Rahm was mostly angling to hang out with Jon Stewart again, merely using Stephen as a conduit (much as Stephen had tried to convince Jon to hang out with Rahm and coerce him into appearing on The Colbert Report). Rahm made pointed questions about Jon between bites of filet mignon, evaded all attempts to talk about Stephen's work, and deftly avoided any more journalistic questions Stephen felt brave enough to ask. Any time Stephen meant to press Rahm on a topic--FISA, Rick Warren, when Rahm had an afternoon free to visit New York again and maybe drop by Stephen's studio--he was distracted by Rahm's ankles brushing his own in a brief stretch or one of Rahm's strange, satisfied smirks, or his dorky, dorky laugh.
By the time the dessert, a cherry clafoutis, arrived, Stephen felt like he'd learned more about the chatty couple the next table over than he had about Rahm Emanuel. The man's life goals were quite literally an open book, but in person he was surprisingly cagey. They pushed the plate back and forth, and despite himself Stephen ended up eating over half, savoring the pleasant mix of tart fruit chunks and sweet juices diffused throughout each bite. Rahm talked him into another glass of wine, and they lingered long past two people with very little to actually talk about had any reason to stay.
Stephen was convinced that the entire dinner was a fluke, had no idea why Rahm had even invited him out while he was in town. Being invited back to Rahm's hotel room was even more confusing, but Stephen had several glasses of wine in him by that point, and he still hadn't quite given up on the idea of winning Rahm over. Rahm's slow, sharp smile only egged Stephen on. In the cab ride over, they leaned into one another, elbows and shoulders brushing, and Stephen attributed it to nothing more than the cold night and the warmth the alcohol had spread through his chest, the usual lack of normal social reserves he felt after a pleasant evening drinking just a little more than was wise. He certainly didn't expect it to mean anything, to lead anywhere when they rode the elevator silently up and Rahm pressed a firm, guiding hand to his lower back when they crossed the door's threshold.
Stephen Colbert was an oblivious moron.
Rahm had Stephen pressed against the door and his pants undone before it quite occurred to him what was happening. And then Rahm was kneeling on the cheap hotel carpet--and his thumbs were digging bruises into Stephen's bared hipbones--and his mouth was hot and wet around Stephen's dick--and Stephen couldn't bring himself to care that the evening was not quite matching up to his expectations.
It was over fast.
Stephen hadn't been deep-throated in years, and never with the brutal efficiency and harsh attentions Rahm brought to bear. Stephen scrabbled for purchase against the door, smacked his left wrist against the doorknob, his right hand against the door frame. His head thudded back against the metal, but Stephen hardly felt it, focused entirely on the pleasure being wrenched from his body and on trying not to choke Rahm as he came.
"What--" Stephen asked, voice scratchy, eyes still unfocused even as he released the door frame, hand cramping, "--What would you like me to do for you?"
"Undress and get on the bed," Rahm said. His voice was a wreck--it squeaked and broke a little around his words--but his expression brooked no disobedience. Still dazed, Stephen followed his directions.
Through the rest of the night, Stephen had no better grasp on the situation--found himself freely giving away what little control he had left, followed every order Rahm issued--but he couldn't bring himself to care.
*
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This was less fun when after thirty minutes had passed, Rahm still hadn't returned, and the wrinkles in the sheets under Stephen's body had made themselves uncomfortably apparent. By thirty-five minutes in, Stephen was squirming with discomfort rather than anticipation. By fifty minutes, he was staring moodily at the ceiling and rethinking ever letting Rahm tie him up again, and the right for cell phones to exist in the first place. He might have reconsidered if he could have reached his own and had someone to call who could be both discrete (unfortunately taking Paul out of the running) and wouldn't mock him mercilessly for months afterward (which meant Jon would have been nothing but a mistake). Either way, it didn't matter, because the decision was quite literally out of his hands.
When Rahm finally came back in, sliding his Blackberry into his pocket and stalking to the bed with no apologies on his lips, no contrition marring his expression, Stephen considered calling the whole thing off. Then Rahm smiled slow and sharp and sweet, the curl of his lips revealing white teeth that signalled less a gentle joy with the world and more a predator sighting an especially delectable-looking prey laid out wounded before him.
Then Rahm was bending down and Stephen had forgotten what he was quite so angry over in the first place.
*
It wasn't like Stephen considered himself to have lost any agency. Rahm had all the power in their relationship, but only because Stephen let him have it. Rahm could have cut it off at any moment by simply not calling Stephen, but Stephen never had to say yes. And if he said yes to dinner, he didn't have to say yes to walking Rahm to the taxi stand, to following him in and sitting too close on cheap vinyl seats, knees and elbows touching. He certainly didn't have to follow Rahm through glass doors and up several floors and into yet another bland hotel room important only for its locks and soft, sprawling bed.
Stephen might have been stupid at first, but he wasn't naive. He was making a choice every time he lay back and placed his wrists at the headboard for Rahm to tie, each time he agreed on their safe word.
He knew it couldn't last forever (knew with their careers it was a bad idea, one of their worst), but he didn't see why he shouldn't squeeze every lost second of pleasure from the time they had. When Rahm pressed palms and lips and strong fingers into Stephen's flesh, sunk his teeth into skin and soothed small wounds with gentle lips and tongue, his every action seemed to be an echo of Stephen's sentiments.
For now, Stephen stretched out and let Rahm's hands and the silk bonds support him; for now, he let go.
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thank you. ccc= ♥
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Merry Christmas to me.
I really enjoyed this, though. It was hot as shit, but also went deeper than that, y'know? I loved it.
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(What, tracking comments and catching people briefly logged in, what?)
Not that requesters are not also love. Glad you enjoyed it! ♥
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