Micah flagged down a taxi while saying, "You got cash?"

"With what pockets, my asscrack?" Alistair said, which earned them a laugh from a group of partygoers heading down the street. Alistair rolled his eyes and shouted after them, sarcastically theatrical, "Thank you, thank you, I'm here every fucking night."

Micah rolled his eyes, fishing around the pockets of his bulletproof vest. The taxi was pulling up, and Alistair tugged Micah's hand down by the wrist.

"Relax, I've got cash. Get in," Alistair reassured, popped open the back door, and gestured Micah inside.

Alistair followed him in as Micah was giving the driver Alistair's address. The door shut and, in the quiet, overly-air freshened car, Alistair leaned close to say, "You memorized my address but don't text me back?"

"Shut up," Micah said, "I didn't even save your number."

"Oh? Is this to prove I'm not special."

"Maybe."

"To me or yourself, because it's starting to sound like yourself."

Micah put his hand on the door handle despite them being in full momentum and taking a corner. "Do you want me to leave right now? Because I will."

"I relent. I relent."

At Alistair's place, Micah kept his hands to himself and disappointment close to his chest. He'd caved—so easily as well—and wished he would regret it faster so that he could leave the elevator and never speak to Alistair in a sexual capacity again.

Everything Alistair and he had shared at the party was too much for Micah's small, sore heart to store and relinquish. There was only so much space, after all, and he recognized a part of it being carved away by Alistair's constant presence on his mind.

Alistair swiped his keycard and pressed the button up. When he stepped back under the fluorescent light, Micah stared at Alistair's somewhat warped reflection on the door. In between knots and ropes, Alistair's skin was pink. Smudged lipstick marks.

Micah glanced away, but only found further evidence waiting for them in Alistair's bedroom.

He'd only seen the bedroom from an intentional distance but now, the walls were occupied. Specifically by an industrial metal bar with manacles hanging from either side. What appeared to be a leash was chained to the middle. The bed was made and donned a textured white comforter and pillows.

It was simple, but all Micah could do was stare at the cuffs. They were padded with red silk.

All the while, Micah knew Alistair was watching him. He kept his expression purposefully cool, indifferent, and only broke to gesture toward the headboard and say, "Figures you'd like chaining people up."

Alistair crossed his arms. "It goes either way. Last time I was chained up."

Micah reached for him fast—rather than aiming for Alistair's arm, though, Micah went for his crotch. Alistair jerked his hips away, which gave Micah the perfect opportunity to catch the flow of fabric normally covering his modesty.

He wound Alistair's crotch cloth around his palm and yanked. "Tell me about it after," Micah said even as Alistair's mouth collided with his to feel the words on Micah's tongue with his own.

Alistair dragged Micah along the side of the bed. They knocked into the nightstand where Micah pushed incessantly against him, forcing Alistair to sit back on the wood with Micah between his legs with the cloth lifted and exposing all of him.

"You went—" Micah said as Alistair's hand found its way into the nightstand drawer, "commando?"

"As if I'd let you be the only commando," Alistair said, and before Micah could insist he was wearing underwear, he put the entendre together.

He leant away, rolled his eyes, and said, "That was horrendous."

Alistair uncapped the lube with a cocky grin and said, "I dunno. Thought it was pretty great."

The nightstand didn't support the surface area Micah needed (and wanted) to prep Alistair, so he seized Alistair under the thighs and intended to carry him. He might have managed it, too, if Alistair's tongue wasn't so goddamn distracting and down Micah's throat.

He fell on top of Alistair, flattening him to the mattress with a curse. Alistair swore—the bottle was open and spilling, so Micah seized it (harder than he should have) and caught the excess lube in his opposite hand. He capped the bottle and threw it aside without a care.

One foot on the ground, Micah used the other to leverage one of Alistair's legs aside. There, with glaring intensity, Micah swore the reddish rim around the base of Alistair's cock was not, in fact, an STI.

"It's just lipstick," Alistair sighed, contentedly, "and she's clean, too."

Micah resisted, however feebly and unsuccessfully, to think, You already have regulars? This was immediately followed by, Of course he would. Everyone he fucks is probably tripping over themselves to have their numbers saved by him.

Through all of this, Micah hesitated a bit too long.

Alistair pushed up onto his elbows and said, "I have an appointment tomorrow morning if you—"

The words were caught by Micah's lubed-up hand cupping Alistair beneath the balls. He let the lube seep around his fingers before ever delving lower.

A low groan unleashed itself from Alistair's throat as he whispered, "I'll take that as a 'no'."

"Is this okay?"

Micah intentionally crooked his finger to massage the nub of Alistair's prostate the second Alistair opened his mouth to say, "Yes." All that came out was a feathery, "Ah—"

It was then that Micah determined he'd lost all control. His sanity flew out the window after promptly fisting his cock with lube-slicked fingers that had just been, seconds prior, inside Alistair's ass. His free hand was still ensnared by the fabric of Alistair's slutty and impossibly-revealing robe-dress-skirt thing.

Micah had decided he didn't care what Alistair was wearing aside from those lipstick stains.

He shoved his cock inside and yanked Alistair toward him with his fingers hooked around the ropes harnessing Alistair's upper thighs. He felt the tension in Alistair's legs upon impact and how, seconds later, he relaxed into Micah's grip with a slow, steadying breath.

With a breath of clarity, Micah decided he ought to say, "Hope you don't mind, but I'm gonna use you for a sec."

"A second? You can last longer than that," Alistair said, though he'd be eating his words.

Micah leant back, both feet flat on the ground now, and pistoned his hips against Alistair's with enough force that each thrust was accompanied by the clack-clack-clack of his thighs meeting the meat of Alistair's ass. Whoever had tied the shibari required praise, as Micah's purchase on Alistair's hips never slackened.

It was a fucking dream. Why hadn't he ever thought to learn shibari before? And how this particular number emphasized the tapering of Alistair's waist... Micah could do nothing but stare at the heart shape of Alistair's ass, the taunt, lean muscles in his thighs, and how the black silk ropes crossed it all to a 'T'.

Micah pressed a knee once more to the mattress, rolling close against the fiery, red skin of Alistair's thighs where the lube hadn't reached—after all, Micah had kept Alistair's legs too high for gravity to help the lube get there.

He hitched Alistair's legs around his hips and mounted the mattress and Alistair in kind. With one hand, he fisted the bar of rope down Alistair's naval where the center of his hips was secured. Leant back on his knees, Micah could get a full picture of himself seated inside Alistair. The way his puckered rim resisted every extraction, pulled, and sucked Micah back in...

More importantly, however, was Micah's now-free hand come to toy with Alistair's pink and leaking dick. He dragged his thumb along the lipstick ring, though it didn't smear. It was fully stained.

He leant further up, abandoning Alistair's cock in favor of inspecting the other lips peppering facets of exposed skin between rope. He licked and sucked at the one near Alistair's nipple, though the pigment didn't alter. It just turned scarlet from Micah's teething.

God, he was close.

Micah rolled his forehead along Alistair's collarbone as Alistair's head tipped back in pleasure. He returned his hand to Alistair's dick but just as he intended to stroke him to completion, Micah unraveled.

It was an unexpectedly long high.

Micah vision spotted—that hadn't happened in a while, so he blamed it on being dehydrated. The rest, however, he could only blame on sheer, unadulterated horniness.

"Fuck," he said, "I came."

Alistair was just as breathless. "Yeah, I felt that."

There was a reason Micah was so insistent on controlling his orgasms, and it was for this simple fact: an unfortunately long refractory period.

Micah sunk his head lower as he slid, slowly, painfully, from the mattress. With his knees on the ground, arms dragging Alistair to the edge with him, he found himself face-to-face with Alistair's beautiful, lipstick-stained dick.

"Fuck," Micah groaned again.

"It's fine. I can wait," Alistair said.

"Yeah, two hours?" When Micah looked up, Alistair had found his way up to his elbows to stare down at Micah. "I have a weirdly long refractory period and I'm not into pillow talk."

If blinks were audible, Micah swore he heard Alistair's. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

They fell into mournful silence as Micah leant his elbows into the mattress on either side of Alistair's knees and let his head hang between them. After a moment, Alistair pulled his legs up and collapsed, diagonally, across the mattress.

"Maybe it's like sneezing. You're not supposed to hold it in."

"It is not like sneezing—"

"You hold it in all the time. No wonder your refractory period's worse than a wait at the DMV."

Micah snickered into his arm, pathetically, and said, "Fuck you."

"I've had shorter waits at the ER."

Micah got up on the mattress to smack him. Alistair shielded himself with his arms, laughing, as Micah seethed, "Fuck off! It's not that funny."

"Well now I have plenty of time to share the gruesome details of my last conquest without your dick distracting me," Alistair said, voice low, languid, and husky like some erotic audio book narrator with a faux British accent.

Micah glared down at him. He slumped onto his ass, half-sitting, and said, "It is pretty distracting. That and your cuffs are pretty distracting, too."

"Have you ever used cuffs before?" Alistair asked.

Micah gave him a droll stare, rolled his eyes, and went on. "Anyway. So you were chained up or something."

Alistair settled with his hands behind his head, his dick completely erect and in Micah's face. Micah wanted to backhand it but figured he wouldn't be let into Alistair's apartment again if he did that, so he kept his hands to himself.

The idea was incredibly tempting, though.

"It's not really a lifestyle thing of mine, but I sometimes dom for people. You know what that is, right?"

Micah was already mocking him. "'It'S nOt ReAlLy A lIfEsTyLe ThInG,' says the guy with a bar full of chains industrially mounted above your headboard."

Alistair twisted fully to grin down his nose at Micah and said, "You're such a fucking brat, holy shit."

"I'm not a fucking brat, alright."

Alistair returned to his comfortable position, only to tip back again just to grin smugly at Micah before continuing. "I got a few club recommendations from people I know in Arizona. Most of my hookups come from munches, and I met this chick there and—"

"Hold on. So you pause to make sure I know what a dom is but not what a fucking munch is? Isn't that offensive to lesbians or something?"

After Alistair was revived from dying of laughter, he explained, "A munch is a nonsexual group outing or whatever. Like, dinner or a bar."

"Whatever."

"No, not 'whatever.' Munches are a fucking delight."

"Can you just get to the part where you're chained up? I didn't need to know all this."

"This is something you and munches don't have in common."

"What?"

"The delightful part."

Micah made a show of aggression getting up to grab a pillow to beat Alistair to death with.