(Arrow) Bound To Ask, Ask To Bind
Title: Bound To Ask, Ask To Bind
Fandom: Arrow
Pairing: Diggle/Oliver/Lyla
Rating: R
Words: 615
Notes: Bondage. BDSM. Threesome. For All Bingo, prompt "bondage", Multiamory March, and a prompt at comment_fic.
Summary: Pinned down by choice - by the ties, by their eyes.
There are half a dozen ways Oliver could get out of this, but all of them would hurt. And that’s the point of tonight: he doesn’t want to hurt, doesn’t want to get out of this, doesn’t want to get away.
He’s naked, his weight balanced between his knees and his upper torso and his face. His arms are folded and bound behind his back, forearms tied together, his hands touching his opposite elbows. It pulls at his shoulders a little, not enough to burn or ache but just enough to make him feel it.
“How you doing, Oliver?” Diggle asks. Checking in, always looking out for him, always making sure Oliver isn’t biting off more than he can chew.
He tugs at the restraints lightly, just to feel them hold firm. “More,” Oliver whispers, and this is the only time, the only place he can let himself sound so needy, so vulnerable.
Lyla’s hand strokes over the back of his neck, her thumb pushing down against his hairline, grounding him when he starts to shake. “We’ve got you, Oliver,” she promises, and he concentrates on evening out his ragged breathing as she and Diggle move around the bed.
It’s Lyla who wraps two solid straps around Oliver’s chest, the thick material pressing in at the top and bottom of his biceps, keeping his arms held more securely. Diggle’s the one who ties Oliver’s ankles, using the longest of the spreader bars, securing it to the foot of the bed frame.
They both fasten the collar around Oliver’s neck, the buckle cool against his skin.
The collar’s chain is attached to the headboard by Lyla, and it’s Diggle’s fingers that slide between the leather and Oliver’s throat, checking the fit. Oliver swallows, the bob of his Adam’s apple pushing against Diggle’s knuckles.
It’d be harder to get out of this, and more painful than before. It’s possible they could find a way to tie Oliver down completely, to leave him helpless, and a part of him would love that. But having the knowledge that he could get out of the bondage if he needed to is the only thing that lets Oliver allow this for himself.
And he needs it, he needs it so much.
“I think he’s good,” Lyla says, her fingers settling over the back of Oliver’s thigh.
“Yeah, I think he is,” Diggle agrees, and in Oliver’s peripheral vision he can see Diggle slide an arm around Lyla’s waist, admiring their handiwork. “So how do you want to take him apart tonight?”
Lyla’s fingernails dig into Oliver’s skin, making him squeeze his eyes shut, his breath catching all over again. “I’ve got some ideas,” she murmurs, her nails dragging higher, leaving stripes of heat in their wake. “I’m sure between the two of us, we can tire him out.”
Diggle laughs softly. “Quiet that noise in his head.”
Oliver can’t help his quiet groan. He knows he’s blessed just to be invited into their bed, but the fact that they’ll do this for him when he asks is something he can’t even fully express his gratitude for. They can take him apart, they’re the only people he’d trust to try it; together they’ll fuck his worry and responsibilities away, until the mission and the city fade and all that’s left is Oliver.
Lyla palms his ass, spreading him, and Diggle’s fingers trace a path down Oliver’s cleft. “You ready for us?”
Oliver nods as much as he can, the movement pulling his forehead across the sheets. He’s ready to be theirs, always is, and the bonds feel the perfect shade of tight around him, holding him steady so he won’t tremble apart.
Fandom: Arrow
Pairing: Diggle/Oliver/Lyla
Rating: R
Words: 615
Notes: Bondage. BDSM. Threesome. For All Bingo, prompt "bondage", Multiamory March, and a prompt at comment_fic.
Summary: Pinned down by choice - by the ties, by their eyes.
There are half a dozen ways Oliver could get out of this, but all of them would hurt. And that’s the point of tonight: he doesn’t want to hurt, doesn’t want to get out of this, doesn’t want to get away.
He’s naked, his weight balanced between his knees and his upper torso and his face. His arms are folded and bound behind his back, forearms tied together, his hands touching his opposite elbows. It pulls at his shoulders a little, not enough to burn or ache but just enough to make him feel it.
“How you doing, Oliver?” Diggle asks. Checking in, always looking out for him, always making sure Oliver isn’t biting off more than he can chew.
He tugs at the restraints lightly, just to feel them hold firm. “More,” Oliver whispers, and this is the only time, the only place he can let himself sound so needy, so vulnerable.
Lyla’s hand strokes over the back of his neck, her thumb pushing down against his hairline, grounding him when he starts to shake. “We’ve got you, Oliver,” she promises, and he concentrates on evening out his ragged breathing as she and Diggle move around the bed.
It’s Lyla who wraps two solid straps around Oliver’s chest, the thick material pressing in at the top and bottom of his biceps, keeping his arms held more securely. Diggle’s the one who ties Oliver’s ankles, using the longest of the spreader bars, securing it to the foot of the bed frame.
They both fasten the collar around Oliver’s neck, the buckle cool against his skin.
The collar’s chain is attached to the headboard by Lyla, and it’s Diggle’s fingers that slide between the leather and Oliver’s throat, checking the fit. Oliver swallows, the bob of his Adam’s apple pushing against Diggle’s knuckles.
It’d be harder to get out of this, and more painful than before. It’s possible they could find a way to tie Oliver down completely, to leave him helpless, and a part of him would love that. But having the knowledge that he could get out of the bondage if he needed to is the only thing that lets Oliver allow this for himself.
And he needs it, he needs it so much.
“I think he’s good,” Lyla says, her fingers settling over the back of Oliver’s thigh.
“Yeah, I think he is,” Diggle agrees, and in Oliver’s peripheral vision he can see Diggle slide an arm around Lyla’s waist, admiring their handiwork. “So how do you want to take him apart tonight?”
Lyla’s fingernails dig into Oliver’s skin, making him squeeze his eyes shut, his breath catching all over again. “I’ve got some ideas,” she murmurs, her nails dragging higher, leaving stripes of heat in their wake. “I’m sure between the two of us, we can tire him out.”
Diggle laughs softly. “Quiet that noise in his head.”
Oliver can’t help his quiet groan. He knows he’s blessed just to be invited into their bed, but the fact that they’ll do this for him when he asks is something he can’t even fully express his gratitude for. They can take him apart, they’re the only people he’d trust to try it; together they’ll fuck his worry and responsibilities away, until the mission and the city fade and all that’s left is Oliver.
Lyla palms his ass, spreading him, and Diggle’s fingers trace a path down Oliver’s cleft. “You ready for us?”
Oliver nods as much as he can, the movement pulling his forehead across the sheets. He’s ready to be theirs, always is, and the bonds feel the perfect shade of tight around him, holding him steady so he won’t tremble apart.