Villiers sat on the bed, staring at his hands. Well, to be more specific, the object in his hands -- two rings of shiny steel, held together by light chain
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Le Chiffre's hoping Villiers planned on telling him about his latest Bar purchase sometime soon, because it's a subject he'd really like to know about.
Either way, it doesn't matter massively, because he's been hiding away for the day and has made a rather successful attempt at coming back quietly. Mostly he's just being stealthy because Villiers isn't in the main room, and the assumption he might be asleep in the bedroom carries Le Chiffre there.
But now he's just leaning against the door frame to the bedroom, head tilted, arms folded, and a curious little smirk reaching his features. And silent, still very silent. Maybe he's been watching for a while. Or maybe not.
A few more seconds pass, with Villiers letting the cuffs clink in his hands. Double-lock police-issue -- despite all appearances, Villiers can admit at least a little experience in these matters.
Then, of course, he looks up, almost dropping the cuffs in his surprise. Because really, he was expecting Le Chiffre to come back later, when Villiers could be a little more prepared, and how can that man move so damn quietly?
As should be expected, there's a light flush at his cheeks after a few more moments. He does, however, make an effort to save face. "...so, you like handcuffs?" he says after a moment, holding them up dangling on a finger. He looks totally innocent with a teeny tiny hopeful sort of smile on his face.
That smirk of his is gradually growing, gaze following the slight sway of the cuffs as they hang from a finger, while he straightens up slowly to make an approach, almost giving him that look of a cat ready to pounce.
There's no pouncing quite yet though, just slow steps forward until he's standing right in front of Villiers. It's the perfect time to lean down and plant a kiss to his forehead, a devilish smile to his lips as his hands rest on the aides shoulders.
There's a good kind of nervousness settling at the back of his mind, the kind that makes him lick his lips unconsciously as Le Chiffre approaches. He shifts slightly, closing his eyes at the kiss, tilting his head back, opening eyes again to look up at Le Chiffre.
It's terribly tempting to reach out and touch, but their positioning, the warm, light weight on his shoulders, keeps his hands down and meekly in his lap. Cupping the handcuffs, fingers fiddling with the arc of steel. Despite that, there's still a matching smile gracing his lips.
"Seemed to fit, seemed to work," he answers. A pause. "I was hoping I'd be right."
"Clever boy.." Le Chiffre mutters back, inclining his head once again to steal a chaste, brief kiss from Villiers while his hands trace from shoulders down arms and creep towards the item in the aides possession.
And with lips almost touching Villiers' own, he adds with a hint of amusement, "But are you certain you should be allowing me anywhere near them?"
It's a reasonable enough question, considering the things Le Chiffre's been known to do with restrained victims. Not that Villiers was classed as a victim quite yet, but still, installing a bit of fear into partners was never a bad thing.
A shiver runs down his spine; light, gentle, raising his heartrate just the tiniest notch faster. Because there is no good reason, not even a single sane reason for that matter, that he should ever trust Le Chiffre with himself and restraints. Not a one.
So it's with easy simplicity that Villiers replies. "I shouldn't," he says, before leaning just that tiniest bit more to brush his lips against the other's, before his eyes close and those same lips curve into a smile, like the first night. "But why should that stop me?"
As Le Chiffre's hands trail downwards, Villiers uncurls his fingers from the cuffs. They're in the palms of his hands, ready to be taken.
Oddly enough, it's when people install that sort of trust into him that he actually tends to behave. Behave being a loose term for it, seeing as his version of behaving and the dictionaries version of it don't quite match up. But still, believing he's not going to do anything psychotic often means he won't. It's really just because he's very rarely trusted with anything that he savours it when he is.
When those cuffs are up for taking, they're taken from Villiers grip and into Le Chiffre's own, held in a hand while he responds, "I was hoping you'd say something like that."
A slight lean back to eye the other, and moments later there's an addition of, "Shirt off."
Within seconds, Villiers' hands are up at his collar, unbuttoning with practiced ease. He's eagerly obedient, if nothing else; and he shouldn't be trusting Le Chiffre, it goes against all logical reason and sanity, but he does nonetheless. Lord knows why. Perhaps the two are related.
When he's done, with the shirt tossed elsewhere for the moment, he scoops up the keyring with a finger and holds it out to Le Chiffre. A cheeky smile. "So, how do you want me?" he says lightly, teasing.
Convenient that he gets a hand held out towards him, because there's hardly any pause between when it is, and when he's snapping a cuff around that wrist. Only then does he take the keys, dropping them into a trouser pocket and giving an entirely innocent look towards Villiers.
"You'll soon find out," he returns, leaning down for another kiss, longer this time, rough and oddly assuring as he keeps a hold on the other end of the handcuffs. Make out now, the rest can follow soon.
There's only a slight reaction when Villiers' wrist is caught -- just a small movement of surprise, a stab of instinctual panic since he wasn't expecting the move -- but he recovers quickly, eyeing the keys. Innocent, right.
Although, he has to admit -- harsh metal against his skin feels ever so wrong, and that's certainly a nice feeling.
And when he's kissed, there's an approving little hum, his hands instantly moving towards Le Chiffre; one is caught, tugged at once, before moving to settle against Le Chiffre's own wrist. The other moves on to curl over a shoulder and loosely around Le Chiffre's neck, even as he scoots a little more off the edge of the bed.
Le Chiffre's glad there wasn't any choice of those fluffy handcuff sorts, because he'd be tearing the fluff off straight away. The whole point in this (in his eyes at least) is the the metal to skin sensation, the feel of them digging in and the restraint caused. The fun is entirely restricted if there's coloured fluff blocking half of it.
The kiss does have him distracted for a moment, tongue venturing forward briefly before he draws back with a slight reluctance, and then another step back to break all contact, releasing his grip on the cuffs for now. It's at that point that he shrugs his jacket off, tossing it carelessly aside while he turns his attention to unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves.
"'course," he answers easily, before sliding back more towards the middle of the bed, tucking his legs neatly under him. There's a hint of training in that move, if Le Chiffre should care to notice it, of things long since passed but still fondly remembered. Hence the experience in these matters.
Villiers fiddles idly with the open cuff as he waits, tracing fingers over the hinge and exposed ratchet. And wonders, because perhaps this sort of thing has happened to one of Le Chiffre's victims before. Except under much more distasteful conditions, he suspects. At the very least, Le Chiffre seems to know what he's doing.
It's the obedient manner in which Villiers carries himself that has Le Chiffre smirking lightly towards the other, reaching a hand up to fiddle with the knot of his tie and slip it off, flinging it to the bed. He might find a use for that later. That done, he unbuttons the first few of his shirt, giving him some appreciated breathing space, and shoes and socks follow before he moves onto the bed after Villiers.
Granted, he has some experience in restraining victims and making them beg, but this sort of thing's all a bit new to Le Chiffre. He's always had quite the talent for making things up as he goes along though.
Shifting forward, he practically climbs onto Villiers, pressing him lightly down to lay back, lips trailing softly against his jawline as he does so. Not all orders need to be vocalised.
Villiers is nothing if not obedient; it's one of the things he takes pride in, despite the occasional accusation of being doormat-like, and it's useful at times. Like now.
The tie distracts him for a moment, though, as he considers it thoughtfully. Lots of things can be done with ties. Lots of nice and lovely things. But then, the bed shifts as Le Chiffre moves on it, and his attention is back on the other with a smile. And he moves to lie down as he's pushed, tilting his head back slightly once he's stopped. His hands also return to where they once were, tracing the edge of Le Chiffre's collar lightly and, admittedly, somewhat hesitantly. Perhaps they should have talked first -- he still has no idea how formal this will be.
While Villiers is thinking away, Le Chiffre's gradually kissing along his jawline towards his ear, tongue tracing across an earlobe before he mutters lightly, vaguely amused and managing to be sultry, "Are you sure about this?"
It's not easy to notice, but he's picked up on that hesitancy. Understandable really, considering it's new, different, and Villiers has picked an odd candidate to put his trust into.
Whatever the answer, it doesn't stop his hands from venturing down, already fiddling at Villiers' waistline, belt and buttons being dealt with.
See, Villiers is remembering things, carefully and slowly. Restraints and humiliation, asking for permissions and curling at the foot of the bed. He does bring down his hand more confidently against Le Chiffre's neck and nuzzling comfortably against his ear.
"Why wouldn't I be?" he says in return, before there's a slight heated blush. "I'm just not sure how..."
A pause. What's a good word to put here, nicely and delicately? Servile? That's a bit strong. It's not like they've done power exchange before, after all.
"...obedient you want me," he finishes after a few moments.
He moves his cuffed wrist into his field of vision, peering at it. Because the job's only half done, and it's only when there's restraint that he can let go, even if only a tiny bit, and that's when things get interesting.
Either way, it doesn't matter massively, because he's been hiding away for the day and has made a rather successful attempt at coming back quietly. Mostly he's just being stealthy because Villiers isn't in the main room, and the assumption he might be asleep in the bedroom carries Le Chiffre there.
But now he's just leaning against the door frame to the bedroom, head tilted, arms folded, and a curious little smirk reaching his features. And silent, still very silent. Maybe he's been watching for a while. Or maybe not.
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Then, of course, he looks up, almost dropping the cuffs in his surprise. Because really, he was expecting Le Chiffre to come back later, when Villiers could be a little more prepared, and how can that man move so damn quietly?
As should be expected, there's a light flush at his cheeks after a few more moments. He does, however, make an effort to save face. "...so, you like handcuffs?" he says after a moment, holding them up dangling on a finger. He looks totally innocent with a teeny tiny hopeful sort of smile on his face.
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There's no pouncing quite yet though, just slow steps forward until he's standing right in front of Villiers. It's the perfect time to lean down and plant a kiss to his forehead, a devilish smile to his lips as his hands rest on the aides shoulders.
"Whatever gave you that idea, my dear?"
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It's terribly tempting to reach out and touch, but their positioning, the warm, light weight on his shoulders, keeps his hands down and meekly in his lap. Cupping the handcuffs, fingers fiddling with the arc of steel. Despite that, there's still a matching smile gracing his lips.
"Seemed to fit, seemed to work," he answers. A pause. "I was hoping I'd be right."
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And with lips almost touching Villiers' own, he adds with a hint of amusement, "But are you certain you should be allowing me anywhere near them?"
It's a reasonable enough question, considering the things Le Chiffre's been known to do with restrained victims. Not that Villiers was classed as a victim quite yet, but still, installing a bit of fear into partners was never a bad thing.
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So it's with easy simplicity that Villiers replies. "I shouldn't," he says, before leaning just that tiniest bit more to brush his lips against the other's, before his eyes close and those same lips curve into a smile, like the first night. "But why should that stop me?"
As Le Chiffre's hands trail downwards, Villiers uncurls his fingers from the cuffs. They're in the palms of his hands, ready to be taken.
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When those cuffs are up for taking, they're taken from Villiers grip and into Le Chiffre's own, held in a hand while he responds, "I was hoping you'd say something like that."
A slight lean back to eye the other, and moments later there's an addition of, "Shirt off."
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When he's done, with the shirt tossed elsewhere for the moment, he scoops up the keyring with a finger and holds it out to Le Chiffre. A cheeky smile. "So, how do you want me?" he says lightly, teasing.
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"You'll soon find out," he returns, leaning down for another kiss, longer this time, rough and oddly assuring as he keeps a hold on the other end of the handcuffs. Make out now, the rest can follow soon.
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Although, he has to admit -- harsh metal against his skin feels ever so wrong, and that's certainly a nice feeling.
And when he's kissed, there's an approving little hum, his hands instantly moving towards Le Chiffre; one is caught, tugged at once, before moving to settle against Le Chiffre's own wrist. The other moves on to curl over a shoulder and loosely around Le Chiffre's neck, even as he scoots a little more off the edge of the bed.
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The kiss does have him distracted for a moment, tongue venturing forward briefly before he draws back with a slight reluctance, and then another step back to break all contact, releasing his grip on the cuffs for now. It's at that point that he shrugs his jacket off, tossing it carelessly aside while he turns his attention to unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves.
"Get on the bed, my dear."
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Villiers fiddles idly with the open cuff as he waits, tracing fingers over the hinge and exposed ratchet. And wonders, because perhaps this sort of thing has happened to one of Le Chiffre's victims before. Except under much more distasteful conditions, he suspects. At the very least, Le Chiffre seems to know what he's doing.
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Granted, he has some experience in restraining victims and making them beg, but this sort of thing's all a bit new to Le Chiffre. He's always had quite the talent for making things up as he goes along though.
Shifting forward, he practically climbs onto Villiers, pressing him lightly down to lay back, lips trailing softly against his jawline as he does so. Not all orders need to be vocalised.
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The tie distracts him for a moment, though, as he considers it thoughtfully. Lots of things can be done with ties. Lots of nice and lovely things. But then, the bed shifts as Le Chiffre moves on it, and his attention is back on the other with a smile. And he moves to lie down as he's pushed, tilting his head back slightly once he's stopped. His hands also return to where they once were, tracing the edge of Le Chiffre's collar lightly and, admittedly, somewhat hesitantly. Perhaps they should have talked first -- he still has no idea how formal this will be.
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It's not easy to notice, but he's picked up on that hesitancy. Understandable really, considering it's new, different, and Villiers has picked an odd candidate to put his trust into.
Whatever the answer, it doesn't stop his hands from venturing down, already fiddling at Villiers' waistline, belt and buttons being dealt with.
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"Why wouldn't I be?" he says in return, before there's a slight heated blush. "I'm just not sure how..."
A pause. What's a good word to put here, nicely and delicately? Servile? That's a bit strong. It's not like they've done power exchange before, after all.
"...obedient you want me," he finishes after a few moments.
He moves his cuffed wrist into his field of vision, peering at it. Because the job's only half done, and it's only when there's restraint that he can let go, even if only a tiny bit, and that's when things get interesting.
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