Fic: "Checkmarks On Bedposts" (bandom)
I needed a break from my big bang fic tonight and so I pulled up the file helpfully titled "domestic kinksters." Which is a bit from a world where Pete and Mikey are longtime live-in kinky boyfriends.
Contains restraints and spanking with a crop. Thanks to anoneknewmoose for encouragement and read-over. ♥
Things Pete likes to come home to:
1. His dogs
2. Dinner in a form that he doesn't have to cook
3. Mikey, any way he can have him
4. Mikey's collar sitting on the table inside the front door, a silent signal that if he's into it, it can be one of those nights.
Pete really, really loves those nights.
He picks up the collar and runs the leather between his fingers as he walks to the living room. Mikey's sitting on the couch reading a magazine, the dogs lying across his legs. "Hey," Pete says, rolling the collar into the palm of his hand and kissing Mikey on the forehead. "What's up?"
"You know. Another day closer to the sweet embrace of death."
"Awesome." Pete kisses him again, the tip of his nose this time. "Fifteen minutes?"
"Mm." Mikey smiles, scrunching his nose a little when Pete kisses him a third time. "Put the dogfood in their dishes?"
"On it." He detours to the kitchen and fills the dishes, leaving them up on the counter, then goes back to the bedroom. He sets the collar on the bed and strips down to his boxers, tossing his work clothes toward the closet. The toys are all stashed in the bottom drawer of the nightstand, the ones he wants right up on top.
He can hear Mikey out in the kitchen now, and the click of the dogs' nails on the tile. He gets the condoms and Astroglide from the top drawer and sets them out where they'll be in easy reach, and then it's the weird in-between minutes of waiting, trying to get himself into the right headspace while he listens to the little domestic sounds of Mikey out in their real-life world, feeding the dogs and putting them in their kennels and telling them to be good. While your other dad is fucking me into the mattress, Pete adds in his head, rubbing his hands on his thighs. Don't wait up for us, kids. Seriously.
He hears Mikey's footsteps coming down the hall now and takes a deep breath, holding it in his chest for a moment and then letting it go, breathing out everything and focusing on what comes next. On the door swinging open and Mikey stepping inside, his eyes going right to Pete's face, expectant and beautiful. Pete nods once and Mikey closes the door behind him, then puts his hands behind his back and bows his head, waiting for instruction.
"Undress," Pete says, licking his lips in anticipation. Mikey strips down fast, not bothering putting on a show; when Pete wants that, he asks for it. Right now he just wants Mikey, naked and his.
Mikey's obviously eager to comply. He gets down to his skin and puts his hands behind his back again, wrists crossed. Pete walks a slow circle around him, admiring the lines and angles of his body and his pale, unmarked skin. They've both been busy lately, no time to play. Apparently Mikey's been missing it.
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Pete trails his hand along Mikey's shoulder, grinning as he sees Mikey bite his lip to keep from reacting. Quoting movies when Mikey isn't allowed to respond is on the unwritten "not fucking fair" list.
He grabs the collar from the bed and slides it against Mikey's neck. "On your knees."
Mikey sinks down and tilts his head back, baring his throat. Pete has to stop, clenching his hand tight around the buckle. Mikey is so fucking gorgeous that it freezes him in his tracks sometimes.
"That's my boy," he murmurs, fastening the collar in place. Mikey hums softly, tilting his head back further and then letting it fall forward, his chin to his chest. Pete knows he's reveling in the feel of the leather, the press of it against his throat, and he indulges him with another minute for that while he goes over to the toys on the bed.
When he looks back, Mikey is watching him, eyes fixed on Pete's hands. "Are you ready?" Pete asks, making his voice stern and cool. Mikey nods and shifts his weight from side to side, eagerly. "Answer me."
"Yes. I'm ready."
"Come here."
Mikey crawls across the floor to him, and it's an inherently awkward movement but also one of the sexiest things Pete has ever seen. He's never going to figure out how that works, and he doesn't care.
He runs his fingers through Mikey's hair, then tangles them in the strands and tugs roughly. "Hands and knees." Mikey obediently drops forward and Pete takes the leash from the bed. Something like half of their furniture has been modified for use in scenes; it's easy to snap the leash to Mikey's collar and tie the other end to the heavy ring on the bedframe.
Mikey pulls back against it, testing the hold, and Pete smacks him across the ass. "Stop it."
"Or what?" Mikey's tone is teasing and hopeful, but it's still sassing back, so Pete smacks him again before he answers.
"Or I'll just go read a magazine and you can sit here and think about your behavior."
"Will I have to write an essay?" Mikey glances back over his shoulder, smiling and a little flushed. Pete rolls his eyes and drags his nails down Mikey's spine, smiling back.
"You didn't tell me you wanted schoolboy and headmaster. That's a whole different plan with different props, you know."
"I love you," Mikey says, breathlessly sincere. Pete spanks him one more time, then presses a kiss between his shoulder blades before grabbing the spreader bar from the bed.
"Knees wider." He gets it buckled in place, holding Mikey's ankles wide apart so the rest of his legs follow suit, leaving lots of pale, delicate skin exposed. Pete traces his fingertips over Mikey's inner thigh, grinning as he squirms against the restraints. "Tickles?"
"Yes," Mikey mutters through clenched teeth. "I'm calling a foul on tickling, just so you know."
"Yeah, yeah." Pete pinches instead, hard and fast enough that Mikey gasps and jerks his head, tugging against the leash again. "Easy."
"I know you are, but what am I?"
"That should be the other way around, shouldn't it?" Pete stands up and grabs the leather riding crop from the bed. It's the last of the items he took from the drawer. Go time.
He steps around behind Mikey again and runs the crop down the line of his back, giving him a minute to center himself. Mikey takes a deep breath that shudders on the exhale and ducks his head, closing his eyes tightly. Pete brings the crop down in a firm smack across Mikey's ass without waiting for another sign.
Mikey goes quiet when he takes a beating, which Pete didn't understand for a long time; to him, the sharp sound of an impact on skin should be accompanied by yelling, cursing, begging, some kind of struggle against what you're being asked to take. Mikey sinks into it, not offering much more than a gasp or a low, choked moan. It freaked Pete out, when they were first getting started. Now he knows better, knows this is Mikey's way and he's got his own role to fit into it.
"C'mon, baby," he says, making three deft, quick strokes in a circle on Mikey's left buttock. "Let me hear you." The next hit is sharp and directed and right on the pale flesh of Mikey's inner thigh. He whimpers and surges forward, curling his head lower toward his chest as his legs jerk, trying and unable to close with the bar in the way.
"Louder," Pete says, reaching down and scratching gently at the back of Mikey's neck, right along his hairline where it's already growing damp with sweat. "I want to hear my good boy."
Mikey swallows hard and gasps at the next impact, his head arching back this time. "P-please."
"Please what?"
Another two smacks, fast, and Mikey's shoulders quiver from the effort of holding himself up. Pete steps back, giving him a minute to breathe, and swings his own arm in a slow arc, loosening the muscles.
"Please," Mikey says finally. "More."
"How much more, baby?"
"All of it. Everything." Mikey's voice is thick and hoarse, hungry, and Pete feels the familiar dark surge of smug satisfaction. This is his, all of it, he gets to do this, he gets to take everything. Him and nobody else. Mikey lets him and nobody else take as much as he wants, and Pete loves him so much he can't even breathe, sometimes.
He leaves a pattern of welts on Mikey's ass and thighs, bright red and gorgeous, only two or three deep enough to last more than a day. Mikey's gasping and writhing, pushing back against Pete's hand when he runs it over the marks to feel the heat of the abused skin. "Good," Pete breathes, kissing the curve of Mikey's hip. "God, you're so good, baby."
"Thank you," Mikey mumbles, resting the top of his head against the bed and taking deep gulps of breath. Pete tosses the crop to the floor and kneels down to undo the restraints on the spreader bar. Mikey struggled against them enough that pale marks are left on both of his ankles. Pete rubs them gently, laughing a little.
"Let me get the padded ones, dude."
"Don't like the padded ones." Mikey's voice is still half a mumble, but he manages to sound pissy enough that Pete turns his head and kisses his hip again. "I like these ones."
"You bruise yourself with these."
"Seriously? For real?"
Pete laughs out loud, moving up closer to unsnap the leash from Mikey's collar and pull him into his lap. "I love you so much, Mikey Way."
"I love you too." Mikey rests his head on Pete's shoulder and takes slow, careful breaths. "Are we going to have sex now or in the morning?"
"Which would you prefer?"
"I'm going to trade you in for a huge, toppy dom who actually makes decisions."
"Hey." Pete kisses his cheek and the edge of his mouth. "You know I would just stand outside your bedroom window until he got weirded out and left."
"Yeah." Mikey nods and takes another breath, then sits up a little. "Sex in the morning, I think."
"Okay." Pete kisses his mouth carefully and gets to his feet, helping Mikey up bit by bit while he catches his balance. "C'mon, into bed."
He gets Mikey stretched out on his stomach and grabs the ointment from the drawer, tripping over the spreader bar on his way back to the bed. "Put the toys away or we can't play with them anymore," Mikey mumbles into the pillow.
"In a minute. Bossy." Pete tends to the welts and tosses the ointment down to join the mess on the floor. He lies down next to Mikey, closing his eyes and snuggling up to Mikey's warmth. Post-playtime cuddles are the best.
Mikey nudges him in the ribs. "I love you."
"Mm. Love you too."
"This is an I love you but." Pete opens his eyes a crack and waits. "I love you, but you need to go let the dogs out of their kennels."
Pete groans. "Why..."
"Then it's your problem if Pig cries all night and we get another noise complaint from 3B. That's all I'm saying."
"You are a terrible submissive."
"You knew that when we shacked up, dude." Mikey snuggles down deeper into the blankets, smiling as Pete hauls himself out of bed. "You knew that when you met me."
"I was under the impression I could reform you."
"Nope."
Pete shuffles out to the kitchen, waving vaguely at the dogs when they start complaining about being locked up for so long. "Yeah, yeah, your lives are so fucking difficult. C'mon, kids, let's all go to bed."
They scramble off down the hall like a herd of buffalo, and just as noisy. Pete mouths "suck it" in the direction of 3B and follows, waiting at the side of the bed until they're curled up in their places by Mikey's feet before he climbs in and slides his arm around Mikey's waist.
Yeah, he really, really loves these nights.
The Dreamwidth copy of this post has
comments. Comment there or here, as you like!
Contains restraints and spanking with a crop. Thanks to anoneknewmoose for encouragement and read-over. ♥
Things Pete likes to come home to:
1. His dogs
2. Dinner in a form that he doesn't have to cook
3. Mikey, any way he can have him
4. Mikey's collar sitting on the table inside the front door, a silent signal that if he's into it, it can be one of those nights.
Pete really, really loves those nights.
He picks up the collar and runs the leather between his fingers as he walks to the living room. Mikey's sitting on the couch reading a magazine, the dogs lying across his legs. "Hey," Pete says, rolling the collar into the palm of his hand and kissing Mikey on the forehead. "What's up?"
"You know. Another day closer to the sweet embrace of death."
"Awesome." Pete kisses him again, the tip of his nose this time. "Fifteen minutes?"
"Mm." Mikey smiles, scrunching his nose a little when Pete kisses him a third time. "Put the dogfood in their dishes?"
"On it." He detours to the kitchen and fills the dishes, leaving them up on the counter, then goes back to the bedroom. He sets the collar on the bed and strips down to his boxers, tossing his work clothes toward the closet. The toys are all stashed in the bottom drawer of the nightstand, the ones he wants right up on top.
He can hear Mikey out in the kitchen now, and the click of the dogs' nails on the tile. He gets the condoms and Astroglide from the top drawer and sets them out where they'll be in easy reach, and then it's the weird in-between minutes of waiting, trying to get himself into the right headspace while he listens to the little domestic sounds of Mikey out in their real-life world, feeding the dogs and putting them in their kennels and telling them to be good. While your other dad is fucking me into the mattress, Pete adds in his head, rubbing his hands on his thighs. Don't wait up for us, kids. Seriously.
He hears Mikey's footsteps coming down the hall now and takes a deep breath, holding it in his chest for a moment and then letting it go, breathing out everything and focusing on what comes next. On the door swinging open and Mikey stepping inside, his eyes going right to Pete's face, expectant and beautiful. Pete nods once and Mikey closes the door behind him, then puts his hands behind his back and bows his head, waiting for instruction.
"Undress," Pete says, licking his lips in anticipation. Mikey strips down fast, not bothering putting on a show; when Pete wants that, he asks for it. Right now he just wants Mikey, naked and his.
Mikey's obviously eager to comply. He gets down to his skin and puts his hands behind his back again, wrists crossed. Pete walks a slow circle around him, admiring the lines and angles of his body and his pale, unmarked skin. They've both been busy lately, no time to play. Apparently Mikey's been missing it.
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Pete trails his hand along Mikey's shoulder, grinning as he sees Mikey bite his lip to keep from reacting. Quoting movies when Mikey isn't allowed to respond is on the unwritten "not fucking fair" list.
He grabs the collar from the bed and slides it against Mikey's neck. "On your knees."
Mikey sinks down and tilts his head back, baring his throat. Pete has to stop, clenching his hand tight around the buckle. Mikey is so fucking gorgeous that it freezes him in his tracks sometimes.
"That's my boy," he murmurs, fastening the collar in place. Mikey hums softly, tilting his head back further and then letting it fall forward, his chin to his chest. Pete knows he's reveling in the feel of the leather, the press of it against his throat, and he indulges him with another minute for that while he goes over to the toys on the bed.
When he looks back, Mikey is watching him, eyes fixed on Pete's hands. "Are you ready?" Pete asks, making his voice stern and cool. Mikey nods and shifts his weight from side to side, eagerly. "Answer me."
"Yes. I'm ready."
"Come here."
Mikey crawls across the floor to him, and it's an inherently awkward movement but also one of the sexiest things Pete has ever seen. He's never going to figure out how that works, and he doesn't care.
He runs his fingers through Mikey's hair, then tangles them in the strands and tugs roughly. "Hands and knees." Mikey obediently drops forward and Pete takes the leash from the bed. Something like half of their furniture has been modified for use in scenes; it's easy to snap the leash to Mikey's collar and tie the other end to the heavy ring on the bedframe.
Mikey pulls back against it, testing the hold, and Pete smacks him across the ass. "Stop it."
"Or what?" Mikey's tone is teasing and hopeful, but it's still sassing back, so Pete smacks him again before he answers.
"Or I'll just go read a magazine and you can sit here and think about your behavior."
"Will I have to write an essay?" Mikey glances back over his shoulder, smiling and a little flushed. Pete rolls his eyes and drags his nails down Mikey's spine, smiling back.
"You didn't tell me you wanted schoolboy and headmaster. That's a whole different plan with different props, you know."
"I love you," Mikey says, breathlessly sincere. Pete spanks him one more time, then presses a kiss between his shoulder blades before grabbing the spreader bar from the bed.
"Knees wider." He gets it buckled in place, holding Mikey's ankles wide apart so the rest of his legs follow suit, leaving lots of pale, delicate skin exposed. Pete traces his fingertips over Mikey's inner thigh, grinning as he squirms against the restraints. "Tickles?"
"Yes," Mikey mutters through clenched teeth. "I'm calling a foul on tickling, just so you know."
"Yeah, yeah." Pete pinches instead, hard and fast enough that Mikey gasps and jerks his head, tugging against the leash again. "Easy."
"I know you are, but what am I?"
"That should be the other way around, shouldn't it?" Pete stands up and grabs the leather riding crop from the bed. It's the last of the items he took from the drawer. Go time.
He steps around behind Mikey again and runs the crop down the line of his back, giving him a minute to center himself. Mikey takes a deep breath that shudders on the exhale and ducks his head, closing his eyes tightly. Pete brings the crop down in a firm smack across Mikey's ass without waiting for another sign.
Mikey goes quiet when he takes a beating, which Pete didn't understand for a long time; to him, the sharp sound of an impact on skin should be accompanied by yelling, cursing, begging, some kind of struggle against what you're being asked to take. Mikey sinks into it, not offering much more than a gasp or a low, choked moan. It freaked Pete out, when they were first getting started. Now he knows better, knows this is Mikey's way and he's got his own role to fit into it.
"C'mon, baby," he says, making three deft, quick strokes in a circle on Mikey's left buttock. "Let me hear you." The next hit is sharp and directed and right on the pale flesh of Mikey's inner thigh. He whimpers and surges forward, curling his head lower toward his chest as his legs jerk, trying and unable to close with the bar in the way.
"Louder," Pete says, reaching down and scratching gently at the back of Mikey's neck, right along his hairline where it's already growing damp with sweat. "I want to hear my good boy."
Mikey swallows hard and gasps at the next impact, his head arching back this time. "P-please."
"Please what?"
Another two smacks, fast, and Mikey's shoulders quiver from the effort of holding himself up. Pete steps back, giving him a minute to breathe, and swings his own arm in a slow arc, loosening the muscles.
"Please," Mikey says finally. "More."
"How much more, baby?"
"All of it. Everything." Mikey's voice is thick and hoarse, hungry, and Pete feels the familiar dark surge of smug satisfaction. This is his, all of it, he gets to do this, he gets to take everything. Him and nobody else. Mikey lets him and nobody else take as much as he wants, and Pete loves him so much he can't even breathe, sometimes.
He leaves a pattern of welts on Mikey's ass and thighs, bright red and gorgeous, only two or three deep enough to last more than a day. Mikey's gasping and writhing, pushing back against Pete's hand when he runs it over the marks to feel the heat of the abused skin. "Good," Pete breathes, kissing the curve of Mikey's hip. "God, you're so good, baby."
"Thank you," Mikey mumbles, resting the top of his head against the bed and taking deep gulps of breath. Pete tosses the crop to the floor and kneels down to undo the restraints on the spreader bar. Mikey struggled against them enough that pale marks are left on both of his ankles. Pete rubs them gently, laughing a little.
"Let me get the padded ones, dude."
"Don't like the padded ones." Mikey's voice is still half a mumble, but he manages to sound pissy enough that Pete turns his head and kisses his hip again. "I like these ones."
"You bruise yourself with these."
"Seriously? For real?"
Pete laughs out loud, moving up closer to unsnap the leash from Mikey's collar and pull him into his lap. "I love you so much, Mikey Way."
"I love you too." Mikey rests his head on Pete's shoulder and takes slow, careful breaths. "Are we going to have sex now or in the morning?"
"Which would you prefer?"
"I'm going to trade you in for a huge, toppy dom who actually makes decisions."
"Hey." Pete kisses his cheek and the edge of his mouth. "You know I would just stand outside your bedroom window until he got weirded out and left."
"Yeah." Mikey nods and takes another breath, then sits up a little. "Sex in the morning, I think."
"Okay." Pete kisses his mouth carefully and gets to his feet, helping Mikey up bit by bit while he catches his balance. "C'mon, into bed."
He gets Mikey stretched out on his stomach and grabs the ointment from the drawer, tripping over the spreader bar on his way back to the bed. "Put the toys away or we can't play with them anymore," Mikey mumbles into the pillow.
"In a minute. Bossy." Pete tends to the welts and tosses the ointment down to join the mess on the floor. He lies down next to Mikey, closing his eyes and snuggling up to Mikey's warmth. Post-playtime cuddles are the best.
Mikey nudges him in the ribs. "I love you."
"Mm. Love you too."
"This is an I love you but." Pete opens his eyes a crack and waits. "I love you, but you need to go let the dogs out of their kennels."
Pete groans. "Why..."
"Then it's your problem if Pig cries all night and we get another noise complaint from 3B. That's all I'm saying."
"You are a terrible submissive."
"You knew that when we shacked up, dude." Mikey snuggles down deeper into the blankets, smiling as Pete hauls himself out of bed. "You knew that when you met me."
"I was under the impression I could reform you."
"Nope."
Pete shuffles out to the kitchen, waving vaguely at the dogs when they start complaining about being locked up for so long. "Yeah, yeah, your lives are so fucking difficult. C'mon, kids, let's all go to bed."
They scramble off down the hall like a herd of buffalo, and just as noisy. Pete mouths "suck it" in the direction of 3B and follows, waiting at the side of the bed until they're curled up in their places by Mikey's feet before he climbs in and slides his arm around Mikey's waist.
Yeah, he really, really loves these nights.
The Dreamwidth copy of this post has
comments. Comment there or here, as you like!