Fanfiction: Liar Game -- Safe Word
Title: Safe Word
Fandom: Liar Game
Characters: Akiyama/Nao
Rating: M
Summary:He only has to say one word and he knows what will happen next: Nothing.
Warnings: Bondage and very light BDSM
Akiyama needs only to say one word, and she'll untie him.
If he speaks the one word that rests at the edge of his lips, tonight ends.
No matter the hours that Nao has spent learning to tie the intricate knots that now fasten him, wrists and ankles, to the bed, or the weeks or more of planning that she must have spent getting her courage up to try this idea of theirs, if he says the word, she stops.
No matter that she ambushed him today as he stepped out of the shower-the sensation of a silky cloth across his eyes and nose and tied tightly before he can say anything, or that suddenly robbed of his sense of sight, the pounding of his heart and the sensation of her hands on his wrists become the entirety of the world-one word and he regains his sight.
Only, to say that word would make him a fool.
When she kneels on the bed to tie his wrists to the bed, he can feel the crisp slide of satin against his cheek that doesn't belong the blindfold, the lightness of crisp lace, and he can smell Nao-a light touch of perfume, followed by an even lighter scent of his aroused captor herself, one that if he could see her, he might not notice when he'd be too busy appreciating the view of Nao in the short, body-hugging nightie that he knows she's wearing right now. When she moves down to tie his ankles, the satin follows her, always touching him, always giving him some clue about where its wearer is.
Nao's handiwork finds Akiyama securely tied to the bed. The satin disappears, leaving Akiyama cold, exposed, and alone.
“I have you right where I want you, Akiyama-san,” Nao whispers. “what should I do with you?” She lets a single gloved finger trail down his stomach.
He goes crazy trying to figure where it's going to go next. One word, he thinks. One word and he'll know what happens next: Nothing.
“Don't anticipate,” Nao's voice remains low, barely above the sound of his heart beating in his ears, “just follow me, believe in me.”
She knows, doesn't she? How difficult it is for him to follow, to not anticipate. Especially the anticipation, when Akiyama has never been so aroused in his life, even though that's the one area she hasn't even gone near. Funny how everything he thought essential to the process of physical arousal, a nice view, touches in the right place, become superfluous under the influence of nylon rope and a satin blindfold.
Silence fills the room, nothing but the sound of their breathing, and his heartbeat fills his ears. He hears every footstep she takes, the quick undoing of a zipper, the footsteps that come back, and the soft whump of something landing on the bed next to him.
He feels too, the ropes and the air on his skin. The weight that joins him on the bed. Too heavy to ignore, too light to be another person, even someone as small as Nao. What else does she have with her? A bag of tricks? A literal bag of tricks? Somehow even tied up and his paranoid brain on the edge of panicking, he snickers, just a little bit.
“Amused, Akiyama-san?” Nao asks. “Would you like to know what's here with me? Some of these toys are quite interesting.”
All he has to say, is one word, and 'interesting,' for all the pain and pleasure any of these 'toys' might cause, becomes irrelevant. “Yes,” is not that word, but he says it anyway. Not finding out what Nao plus those toys plus his body equals would be the worst possible outcome of this session. He can't have that.
Even if continuing means surrendering his precious control.
He can't see anything that she procures, but the always generous Nao shares with him plenty of information. His skin-unused to being touched by anything but a bar of soap, fabric, and the body of his lover, becomes educated-quickly.
Brief flickers of the polished wood, leather fringes, rubber tubing, thin bamboo dance across his skin. They send a message: If she wanted to, she could break her promise and hurt him easily.
She keeps her promise. No pain. Just texture.
“Very interesting, right, Akiyama-san?”
He gulps, and nods. “You won't...” He meant it as a declaration. It comes out a plea.
“No.” She punctuates that vow with a kiss on his cheek. His body, primed to feel rather that see, jumps at that innocent contact. If she notices, she gives no cue that Akiyama can perceive. She only returns to the play.
What Nao lets linger are the softer items. Feathers, both a single large one, and a group of tiny downy ones. So soft, so insignificant, except that each brush against his chest, stomach, arms, and legs puts his nerves on high alert. The satin of her glove too-he realizes belatedly that she only wears one glove-send ripples of excitement down through his spine.
Through her ministrations, he floats to the surface of his body. Akiyama Shinichi, whatever part of him keeps hidden and buried under layers of skin and muscle and logic, exposes himself to Nao. And she-with a tool he cannot identify by touch alone, except that it's metal, and it should hurt with those points, but it doesn't, not in the least when the rolls it over his awakened skin.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
His climax arrives suddenly, wave after wave of warm electricity, caused only through indirect stimulation, and signaled by nothing but a groan and the strain of the ropes holding against the full body trembles.
Nao returns to the feathers, bringing him slowly back to the bed, before she leans in and whispers, “I think we're done here, Akiyama-san.” The word remains unneeded, unused, even as it ends.
She undoes the blindfold first. The satin caresses his ear as it falls to the side of his head. So this time, he gets to watch Nao, illuminated in the warm lamplight, untie the ropes binding his wrists and ankles. The release of the pressure on his limbs and the rush of blood moving again adds to the euphoria he still feels.
“How was that, Akiyama-san?”
Words can't describe.
Nao, very angelic in white satin, curls up to him. His head goes to her chest, where he hears the pounding of her heartbeat, the raggedness of her breathing, and he feels through the hardness of her nipples, the betrayal of her body's arousal. Different sides, same coin, Akiyama thinks.
They stay like that for a while, their breath synchronized with the other, their hands exploring the other's body through the quiet rush.
“You...thank you.” Those are the words Akiyama can manage.
And then there's the word, the one that remained unspoken the whole time. “Trust.”
Fandom: Liar Game
Characters: Akiyama/Nao
Rating: M
Summary:He only has to say one word and he knows what will happen next: Nothing.
Warnings: Bondage and very light BDSM
Akiyama needs only to say one word, and she'll untie him.
If he speaks the one word that rests at the edge of his lips, tonight ends.
No matter the hours that Nao has spent learning to tie the intricate knots that now fasten him, wrists and ankles, to the bed, or the weeks or more of planning that she must have spent getting her courage up to try this idea of theirs, if he says the word, she stops.
No matter that she ambushed him today as he stepped out of the shower-the sensation of a silky cloth across his eyes and nose and tied tightly before he can say anything, or that suddenly robbed of his sense of sight, the pounding of his heart and the sensation of her hands on his wrists become the entirety of the world-one word and he regains his sight.
Only, to say that word would make him a fool.
When she kneels on the bed to tie his wrists to the bed, he can feel the crisp slide of satin against his cheek that doesn't belong the blindfold, the lightness of crisp lace, and he can smell Nao-a light touch of perfume, followed by an even lighter scent of his aroused captor herself, one that if he could see her, he might not notice when he'd be too busy appreciating the view of Nao in the short, body-hugging nightie that he knows she's wearing right now. When she moves down to tie his ankles, the satin follows her, always touching him, always giving him some clue about where its wearer is.
Nao's handiwork finds Akiyama securely tied to the bed. The satin disappears, leaving Akiyama cold, exposed, and alone.
“I have you right where I want you, Akiyama-san,” Nao whispers. “what should I do with you?” She lets a single gloved finger trail down his stomach.
He goes crazy trying to figure where it's going to go next. One word, he thinks. One word and he'll know what happens next: Nothing.
“Don't anticipate,” Nao's voice remains low, barely above the sound of his heart beating in his ears, “just follow me, believe in me.”
She knows, doesn't she? How difficult it is for him to follow, to not anticipate. Especially the anticipation, when Akiyama has never been so aroused in his life, even though that's the one area she hasn't even gone near. Funny how everything he thought essential to the process of physical arousal, a nice view, touches in the right place, become superfluous under the influence of nylon rope and a satin blindfold.
Silence fills the room, nothing but the sound of their breathing, and his heartbeat fills his ears. He hears every footstep she takes, the quick undoing of a zipper, the footsteps that come back, and the soft whump of something landing on the bed next to him.
He feels too, the ropes and the air on his skin. The weight that joins him on the bed. Too heavy to ignore, too light to be another person, even someone as small as Nao. What else does she have with her? A bag of tricks? A literal bag of tricks? Somehow even tied up and his paranoid brain on the edge of panicking, he snickers, just a little bit.
“Amused, Akiyama-san?” Nao asks. “Would you like to know what's here with me? Some of these toys are quite interesting.”
All he has to say, is one word, and 'interesting,' for all the pain and pleasure any of these 'toys' might cause, becomes irrelevant. “Yes,” is not that word, but he says it anyway. Not finding out what Nao plus those toys plus his body equals would be the worst possible outcome of this session. He can't have that.
Even if continuing means surrendering his precious control.
He can't see anything that she procures, but the always generous Nao shares with him plenty of information. His skin-unused to being touched by anything but a bar of soap, fabric, and the body of his lover, becomes educated-quickly.
Brief flickers of the polished wood, leather fringes, rubber tubing, thin bamboo dance across his skin. They send a message: If she wanted to, she could break her promise and hurt him easily.
She keeps her promise. No pain. Just texture.
“Very interesting, right, Akiyama-san?”
He gulps, and nods. “You won't...” He meant it as a declaration. It comes out a plea.
“No.” She punctuates that vow with a kiss on his cheek. His body, primed to feel rather that see, jumps at that innocent contact. If she notices, she gives no cue that Akiyama can perceive. She only returns to the play.
What Nao lets linger are the softer items. Feathers, both a single large one, and a group of tiny downy ones. So soft, so insignificant, except that each brush against his chest, stomach, arms, and legs puts his nerves on high alert. The satin of her glove too-he realizes belatedly that she only wears one glove-send ripples of excitement down through his spine.
Through her ministrations, he floats to the surface of his body. Akiyama Shinichi, whatever part of him keeps hidden and buried under layers of skin and muscle and logic, exposes himself to Nao. And she-with a tool he cannot identify by touch alone, except that it's metal, and it should hurt with those points, but it doesn't, not in the least when the rolls it over his awakened skin.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
His climax arrives suddenly, wave after wave of warm electricity, caused only through indirect stimulation, and signaled by nothing but a groan and the strain of the ropes holding against the full body trembles.
Nao returns to the feathers, bringing him slowly back to the bed, before she leans in and whispers, “I think we're done here, Akiyama-san.” The word remains unneeded, unused, even as it ends.
She undoes the blindfold first. The satin caresses his ear as it falls to the side of his head. So this time, he gets to watch Nao, illuminated in the warm lamplight, untie the ropes binding his wrists and ankles. The release of the pressure on his limbs and the rush of blood moving again adds to the euphoria he still feels.
“How was that, Akiyama-san?”
Words can't describe.
Nao, very angelic in white satin, curls up to him. His head goes to her chest, where he hears the pounding of her heartbeat, the raggedness of her breathing, and he feels through the hardness of her nipples, the betrayal of her body's arousal. Different sides, same coin, Akiyama thinks.
They stay like that for a while, their breath synchronized with the other, their hands exploring the other's body through the quiet rush.
“You...thank you.” Those are the words Akiyama can manage.
And then there's the word, the one that remained unspoken the whole time. “Trust.”