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walk a thousand miles to fall down at your door
pete/gabe, ~15k, nc-17
“orgasm denial. Preferably with play around it, like, ‘come now and not for another week, or wait and get more sex later.’” - [livejournal.com profile] gala_apples
summary: “only one of us gets to come tonight. you choose who.” pete asks every night and gabe thinks he knows better than to put his pleasure before his master’s, but after two weeks of that same question every day, gabe is pretty sure he’s going to explode. total power exchange, orgasm control, crossdressing, rimming, body worship, dominant masochism, punishments, leashes, sex toys, domestic service- if you can think of it, it’s here.
author’s notes: thank you to everyone who read parts of this fic before i posted it, aka everyone i know who's kinky or ships pete/gabe: notably [livejournal.com profile] cereselle, which is quickly becoming a pattern. also this is the longest fic i’ve ever written by quite a lot and i’m so proud of it and kjfhcvei please leave a comment if you read i’m dying here okay.
square for kink bingo: worship

When Pete speaks it's so quiet that Gabe probably would have missed it over both their hard breathing and the ringing in his ears if their lips hadn't been pressed together in that open, intimate but distracted non-kiss they do during sex. Gabe feels Pete's mouth move, feels his breath as he suddenly rasps, "Stop."

Gabe pushes all the way inside him and holds there, cock throbbing. He pushes up on his elbows a little, watching Pete's face with a fucked-drunk slack jaw, sweat from the beating and fucking dripping into his glazed eyes as he waits for further instruction. "Pull out, sir?" he clarifies, but Pete just shakes his head, breathing hard as his mouth pulls into an open smile.

Pete's hands curl from Gabe's shoulders, scratching over the sore skin the flogger left, to the back of his collar, fiddling with the buckle. Gabe hovers, pulsing, trying to fight back the animal urge to push in and out again, to get that friction back. Pete's knees lift, adjusting himself under Gabe, looking over his face with that familiar affection and appreciation that makes Gabe remember that he has face muscles and smile again. Pete drags the knuckles of one hand from the damp curls in front of Gabe's ear down his jaw, cradling his face.

"Only one of us gets to come tonight," Pete informs him in a gentle voice, and Gabe twitches his hips just a little with the shock of how hot that is, balls lifting and fists curling and cock jerking, buried in Pete's ass. Pete's fingernails dig into the back of Gabe's neck in response to the movement but they relax when Gabe relaxes, obeying the orders not to move.

"You choose who," Pete whispers, eyes flicking from Gabe's eyes to lips to eyes to lips again.

Gabe's face is still glazed with a smile when he reverently breathes back, "You, sir," practically before the last words are out of Pete's mouth. Of course, of course, of course Pete, of course Pete before himself- the thought of giving that to Pete makes his cock throb again and Pete's lips twitch into a smile he bites away almost as soon as it's there. Gabe stares at the aftermath of that smile, and Pete rewards his good choice by letting him have it back. Pete spreads his legs wider as he grins, his big teeth bared in honest, unselfconscious pleasure, hooking one forearm around the back of Gabe's neck.

"Fuck me till I come," he says, his free hand sliding from Gabe's jaw to his collar to his clavicle to his chest. He thumbs at a nipple but mostly just rests there on Gabe's smooth skin, rubbing flatly. "Then stop."

"Yes, sir," Gabe breathes, and he draws out slowly till just the head's inside and then slams in all the way. Pete's head rolls back with an "ah!" and Gabe's grins never falters, his eyes fixed on Pete's face. Gripping handfuls of the sheets to steady himself, Gabe works his hips mechanically and smoothly and quickly to bring Pete close, closer, closer, all the way.


The next day Pete wears panties under his jeans- he let Gabe see when they were getting dressed in the morning, smiled at him, and when Gabe had said, "Oh?" Pete had said, "You were good last night. You get a reward." He'd shrugged, pulled his t-shirt on, smiling as his face popped through the neck hole. Satisfaction for having pleased him heated Gabe's chest up, and Pete climbed into his lap and sat sideways, legs kicking off the edge of the bed. Gabe sits up against the pillows as they kiss, fresh toothpaste in their mouths, the socks Gabe had been putting on forgotten by a pillow.

Gabe doesn't fixate on it exactly, but when he has a moment to himself all day and lets his mind wander, it lands back on Pete in those tight red undies, the thin, elastic synthetic fabric clinging to his ass and pushing his package up, lifting his balls and cupping his cock perfectly. Gabe's mouth literally waters at the thought of Pete holding his head still and fucking his throat in those panties so he makes himself stop, focuses on his immediate surroundings so he doesn't get hard before he gets home. The final drive back to his loft ends up taking forty minutes, and he finally, finally lets his brain follow through on all those tempting images after a day of trying to tune them out: his Master in a little red stretchy triangle of fabric just for him to enjoy, the meaty round tempting swell of his ass under the bikini-cut briefs and how Gabe will be allowed to bury his face in it, bite and lick and suck his way in. Pete knows how much he loves those damn panties. He has a semi when he parks, not quite hard but filling out his jeans with a flush. His shoulders roll with the song he's singing under his breath as he unlocks the door.

When Pete finally comes home, Gabe's collared and so hard. He knows better than to get off without Pete's explicit permission, but there are no rules against him teasing himself now and again. He'd come home, showered, daydreamed, stroked himself full and firm, then let go and stood under the spray for a moment. He'd cranked the tap off, since he could just as well torture himself with light touches without wasting water, and toweled off. Flopped on the bed, Gabe had collared himself and let his hands wander, feeling the raw skin of last night come alive against the bedspread as he brushed just his fingertips over the head of his cock, thinking of sucking Pete's scent out through the material, his open mouth around Pete's spandex-and-nylon clad balls until he hears the jingle of keys in the hallway outside his apartment.

He crawls to the front door as soon as he hears it even though he's allowed to walk if he wants to, his erection bobbing against his stomach. Pete grins like an idiot when he sees him and laughs, "You slut," as soon as the door's closed, and Gabe's smiling stupidly and hooking his fingers in Pete's belt loops before Pete even gets his jacket off or his keys away, nose crushed to Pete's fly for a deep inhale. His eyes are closed but he feels Pete's fingers card through his hair and then disappear as Gabe's hands wrap around Pete's tiny hips, nuzzling the zipper and turning his face up to his Master. Pete chuckles, "Fuck, Gabe," as his jacket falls to the floor, and Gabe's hands slide up under Pete's flannel, pushing it out of the way so he can worship his belly, wet lips messily slipping over Pete's tattoo.

"Gabe," Pete repeats firmly, "Down." He's obviously still amused even as he orders him away, but Gabe falls away in an instant. He kneels back on his heels and smiles up at his boyfriend dumbly.

"Let me get settled," Pete says, and bends down to kiss him. Gabe's lips are still wet from Pete's belly and the kiss is slippery, warm, grateful. Pete reaches down and cups a hand along the underside of Gabe's cock, gripping it like a tennis racket or a flogger. Gabe hums happily and spreads his legs but Pete gives it a light smack and pulls away. Gabe gasps as the kiss is broken, looking up at Pete in honest awe.

"I know, I know, you're a desperate slut and you can't last another second without me, yeah, yeah," Pete mumbles fondly, pocketing his keys finally and grabbing Gabe's leash from the coatrack under Pete's wool jacket.

"How was you day, sir?" Gabe chirps.

Pete leashes Gabe by the D-ring on his collar. "Bebe was in a shit mood. All the lyrics came out unnecessarily emo." Gabe crawls behind him as Pete leads him to the kitchen and hops up on the counter, grinning. "And then I came home to this. You didn't come, did you? I don't have to ask."

"No, sir," Gabe replies with military fervor, slipping Pete's sneakers off his feet to massage them through his Pokemon socks, one hand on each. Pete sighs and Gabe kisses one of his big toes, trying to look cute and patient even though he's been hard for nearly an hour and verging on it for forty minutes before that.

"Good boy," Pete says, shaking his leash so the ring jingles. "I'm hungry as fuck, so make me some peanut butter toast, okay? And then we'll se about your reward."

"Yes, sir," Gabe chirps back.

Pete plants a sock foot on Gabe's cock and balls while he eats his toast, pressing and massaging although Gabe is under orders to be quiet and not so much as twitch. His eyes stay on Pete the whole time, breathing hard as Pete replies to some Twitter messages, licks peanut butter off his fingers and calmly crushes Gabe's balls with his heel. His eyes water but he stays like a statue, firm and silent.

"Bedroom," Pete says, bending to clip the leash off Gabe's collar as he shoves his phone in the pocket of his jeans. "Get the dishes first."

Pete leaves.

Gabe stands, lifting the plate and glass and sweeping them to the sink, swirling water over them and before he sticks them in the dishwasher and follows Pete to the bedroom. He sinks to his knees at the door. Pete's sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Undress me," he says. Gabe doesn't think there are words in the world that could make him a happier man.

He starts with the buttons on the bottom of Pete's flannel, working his way up to his neck. Pete holds his arms out, wrists up, so Gabe can get the bottoms on his cuffs, and Gabe kisses the centre of his both his palms before he opens them. Pete shrugs the shirt off and Gabe permits himself just a second to take in Pete's shirtless, perfect chest and trim waist before he doubles over to peel Pete's socks off and kiss his feet. Pete's toes slip from Gabe's hands and hit the floor, then his heels, and then Gabe looks up to find him standing. "Jeans off," he directs, and Gabe's face is right at his crotch, mouth watering. There's a dramatic pause. "Panties on."

Gabe's heart races, his cock throbs, his face breaks into a smile that vanishes barely a moment later, replaced by a slack-jawed amazement when he opens Pete's zipper and sees the lace waistband it had been hiding. It's dipped in the centre where Pete's cock stretches the material. Pete's barely hard at all but Gabe is cool with that, loves the round swell of his filling cock and balls behind the nylon, loves watching his erection grow till the head juts out, red and leaking. He gets the waistband down around Pete's thighs and helps him step out of each pant leg, resisting the desire to follow that smell and bury in Pete's crotch immediately. If it were up to him, he'd have had Pete's cock in his mouth not two minutes after he'd walked in the door. But it's not up to him, and Pete loves teasing almost as much as he loves Gabe.

Pete's hand comes down, finger sliding up the inside of his thigh and following the crease of his hip, tapping his package temptingly as Gabe stares, kneeling, hands pressed to the floor so he doesn't fucking lose himself and throw Pete on the bed to get his tongue in his ass. Soon, he knows, because unless he's being punished Pete is happy to let Gabe do what he likes as long as Pete's pleasure is his goal and Gabe is sufficiently wound up. Most nights Pete might take forty minutes to tease him, but ultimately let Gabe worship his body how he likes, with his fingers and mouth and cock. So Gabe holds back. When Pete's ready, he'll be allowed to go to town on that ass for sure.

It doesn't take long for Pete to get ready. He yanks Gabe's head back by a handful of curls and grinds against his cheek and jaw, groaning with the satisfaction of raw possession as much as from the friction. Gabe's hands curl around the back of his knees and Pete drops his grip on Gabe's hair and smacks him in the face. Gabe looks up from the shock to see Pete's ass, round and split with those skintight red diagonal streaks, the bow on the back bouncing with each slide forward as Pete crawls across the bed away from him. He grabs a pillow, tucks it beneath his hips, and looks back over his shoulder at Gabe to say, "Worship me."

Those are magic words for Gabe more than for Pete. Pete didn't even say it for a long time but that's how Gabe felt when he sunk to his knees in front of him and that's what tumbled out of Gabe's mouth when he was deep, deep under and Pete made him beg- let me worship you, let me worship your ass, let me worship your cock, let me worship your hands and feet and knees and throat and mouth, let me worship you with my tongue and eyes and cock and hands and pain and come, let me worship you. And soon Pete had picked up on it, whispering it to Gabe as he pulled on his shoulders till Gabe hit his knees, snapping it as a command with as much force as the slap that accompanied it, mumbling it into his mouth as encouragement when they fucked.

So when Pete says it now, it's got force behind it, hitting Gabe in the chest as he crawls forward, cock bumping the corner of the mattress as he climbs up and buries his face in Pete's ass with a warm exhale into his crack through the fabric that makes Pete shiver and grunt. He presses against the resistant elastic, licking up that line over and over again until it's wet and when Gabe opens his eyes to glance up at Pete, he has his face hidden in his arms. Gabe groans with delight and smiles as his hand slips between Pete and the pillow, cupping his balls, fingers split around the thick root of his cock.

"Move the- ahhhh," Pete sighs, spreading his legs and pushing his ass up. Gabe is in heaven. "Get the panties out of the way, slut, let me feel your tongue- mmn," Pete manages as Gabe obeys, tugging the panties down with two hooked fingers and tucking them under the swell of his ass, big enough to keep them there, and licking one long wet slow stripe up his crack as he massages his Master's balls. Pete groans and grinds into Gabe's hand and Gabe stills for a moment, letting Pete fuck himself back against his flat tongue, sliding around. Then Gabe points his tongue and aims so that when Pete fucks up the tip slips inside him, and Pete exhales shakily and tenses. He's still as Gabe licks in and out, groaning messily, cock leaking against the bedspread.

"That's right, fuck me," Pete whispers, dark and obviously only half there mentally. Dirty talk is Gabe's thing, really, and when Pete does it it sounds like he lifted it from a skin flick half the time, but it gets to Gabe anyway. He can tell that it only comes out when he's driving Pete crazy, that it's the only thing that comes to Pete's mind when Gabe is making him feel so good that his thoughts get shallow. "Fuck me with your tongue, slut, I can feel you moaning like a whore, yeah- You're- you're fucking- you're hungry for my ass, aren't you?" Gabe tries to fuck deeper, rolling Pete's balls up against his body, jaw beginning to ache from opening wide so his tongue could stick out. "Do you want to taste my cock?" Pete rasps, and Gabe groans in response, loud and desperate, hips fucking flatly against the bed at the thought. Pete groans into the pillow and reaches back with a blind hand to bat at Gabe's face till he moves away. A string of saliva stretches between Gabe's lip and Pete's entrance and snaps to land in a stripe that leads to the edge of the wet panties. Pete pulls them up over his ass again, grabbing the pillow under his hips and sticking it under his head as he rolls over.

Gabe stares at the sight he's been granted, Pete's cock flushed nearly as red as the panties, his balls cupped close to his body by the band of fabric that ran between his legs.

"You wanna taste?" Gabe nods dumbly, lifting his eyes to Pete's. Pete's smile is absolutely obscene. "Go for it," Pete says, and on impulse alone Gabe scoots back, slides his legs and torso off the bed and drags Pete right down to the edge by the hands curled around his thighs and buries his face in his crotch all in one smooth motion. Pete yelps and then calms when he realizes what Gabe was doing as Gabe's tongue starts to wet the nylon over his balls. Gabe is kneeling on the floor now, eyes closed, relishing every lick, and Pete laughs out loud in delight and grinds up against his face.

When the panties are dark with a four inch wet spot in the middle, Pete mumbles, "Stop, get the lube," and Gabe retreats from between Pete's thighs to get the lube standing on the nighttable. Pete's stroking himself a little when Gabe settles back into place and says, "Two fingers in my ass. Make it hurt." Smiling with sick delight, Gabe slicks his fingers up and presses two fingers in, feeling Pete's ass twitch around him, resisting the intrusion. Pete's back rolls with the stretch of two fingers- he groans and flops back to the bed as Gabe watches, and then reaches down to push Gabe's face back into his crotch with a mumbled, "Suck me." Gabe spreads his fingers, feeling Pete swallow a dry sob, and flicks just the tip of his tongue against the underside of Pete's head.

"Oh-ho-ho fuck," Pete cries, an arm tossed over his forehead as Gabe's tongue flicks around the places where the skin is thinest, more than happy to just sit and be Pete's sex toy- if Pete wants to go slow and tease himself, if he wants it to hurt, Gabe can do that for him. His fingers move slow, muscles straining against Pete's sphincter to open him, biting the inside of his thigh before smoothly taking him a couple inches deep mouthing around him, working his tongue. Pete thrashes against the bed, hands in Gabe's hair then balled by his ears then in his hair again like Pete doesn't know what to do with them. Gabe moans, smelling him, tasting him, grinding against the mattress frame just for some contact. His fingers move faster in Pete's ass, fucking him hard, making him gasp on every push.

Then, suddenly, Pete yanks him off by his hair. Gabe groans, fingers still working in Pete's ass till Pete reaches down to and touches Gabe's hand and he pauses, deep inside, fingers curled.

Pete sits up a little, smiles at him. Gabe smiles back obliviously, unsure why they're smiling or why they've stopped.

"Okay," Pete says, tightening his grip on Gabe's hair and rubbing his balls through the damp fabric like he's trying to make himself look more delicious. "Only one of us gets to come tonight," he breathes, and Gabe tries hard not to look disappointed. He loves making Pete come of course, but usually he's allowed to come as well, if not inside Pete than at his hand or under his supervision. Two days in a row is a little bit frustrating. He licks his lips as Pete watches his face and says, "You choose who."

"You," Gabe breathes. Disappointed or not, his mouth is watering for more of Pete's cock- his throat isn't even sore yet. The humiliation of denying himself doesn't even sink in. His mind is too focused on pleasing Pete, sunk deep into that comfortable place where the only thing that matters are Pete's moans, Pete's smile.

"Slut," Pete laughs, and sits up all the way to pull Gabe's head back, pinch his nipple, kiss him. Gabe gasps at the pain, fingers involuntarily curling in Pete's ass. They moan together and Pete throws himself back again and says, "Keep going," and immediately Gabe's fingers are pounding, smothering himself with Pete's whole cock in his throat until he absolutely has no choice but to pull back for a moment's breath. He pinches the inside of Pete's thighs with his free hand and rubs his ass around his own fingers. Pete pulls his hair, sobs, moans, bites out his name until Gabe chokes on the sudden swell of Pete's cock as he comes, pulling back so Pete can see it, jerking him onto his tongue.

When Pete's done he doesn't swallow, just licks his messy lips and eases his fingers out of Pete's ass from under the panties, watching Pete's cock twitch as it shrinks against his stomach. Pete sits up and strokes his face looking dazed and panting and says, "Let me see," and Gabe looks up with an open mouth, showing Pete his own come.

"Happy?" Pete breathes. Gabe nods, holding Pete's eyes until Pete pets his forehead and whispers, "Alright, swallow."

He gets Gabe on the bed on his back, reaching down to run one finger up and down the veins on Gabe's cock, sitting beside him just to look. "Do I get my reward?" Gabe asks, his throat sore and his pulse still quick. Pete smacks his cock hard, grinning. Gabe gasps and snaps his knees shut.

"Panties were your reward, you ungrateful douchebag," Pete says, slipping down to lie along Gabe and curling against his side. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, sir," Gabe breathes, nuzzling Pete's collarbone and scooping Pete into his arms to hold him close. He feels tightly wound but Pete is all limp and liquid against him, pooled into Gabe's chest in a post-orgasmic blissful haze that's kind of infectious. Gabe relaxes, squeezing and feeling Pete's spine bend with it, completely pliant, and sighs.

Pete doesn't want to nap, as it turns out, just wants to cuddle, so they lie on top of each other, Pete dragging his fingertips up and down Gabe's chest as he gets some strength back and Gabe gets control of himself and waits his erection out. The denial's okay. It's kind of hot. It keeps him in his place.

Pete tells him he was good and patient and he'll get to eat his ass again before bed, and they watch Mad Men with Pete in Gabe's lap until dinner, Pete's finger hooked securely in the ring on his collar.


Pete is up half the night of course, but Gabe wakes up after a nice ten-hour conk-out to find Pete still in bed with him, scrolling through his Google reader on his laptop. When Pete notices that Gabe's eyes are open, he gives him a good morning kiss and tells him to brush his teeth. Gabe grumbles good-heartedly but obeys, dragging his lazy ass to the bathroom for his morning routine and a shower.

Pete must hear the spray because he steps into the bathroom before Gabe even has a chance to shampoo his hair. Gabe sees him step out of his boxers through the frosted glass and opens the door for him. Pete's arms come right around Gabe's waist immediately, popping up on his tip-toes for a kiss. It's wet and slick and lovely, Gabe's back protecting their faces from the worst of the water.

"Can I wash you?" Gabe asks, pouring a handful of cruelty-free organic bodywash into his hand. Pete kisses his shoulder and nods and Gabe goes to work, starting with his chest and arms and then Pete turns around, leaning against the shower wall so Gabe can start on his back. Gabe runs his hands over the raised scar tissue on Pete's back tattoo, the one that fucked up, working the bubbles up and holding onto Pete's hips. He gets down on one knee to wash Pete from the ankles up next so his hips are last, kissing his thighs as he lathers his ass, his perineum, his balls and cock.

Pete tells him to stand and rinses off. He's not hard at all. They kiss under the water again a little bit just to have something to do and Pete washes Gabe's hair for him on his tip toes, braced by Gabe's hands on his hips.

In bed again not ten minutes later, Pete's fingers are wrapped loosely around Gabe's cock, Gabe's wrists bound to the headboard and his nipples trapped in little flat clamps. Pete alternately moves fast and slow, crushing Gabe's balls in his fist, pulling on them when he gets too close to coming. When Gabe's sweating so much he pretty much needs another shower already, Pete rubs his thumb over the tip of Gabe's cock and Gabe groans with urgency- he's too well-trained to ask to be allowed to come, and Pete will tell him he can if he wants Gabe to, but that doesn't mean that holding back is easy. Pete slaps the insides of his thighs, his face flicking between distant neutrality and a satisfied smirk that makes Gabe's heart race and balls tighten.

Pete smacks his cock and goes right back to stroking it, his fist wet with lube and precome. "You wanna come?" he asks idly, looking bored and disconnected. Gabe groans, lifts his hips and pants, "Please."

Pete looks thoughtful and switches hands. One finger of his wet hand slides into Gabe's ass without warning, curling till he hits Gabe's prostate. Gabe grunts, tossing his head back and grinding his ass back against the bed like it'll do anything to stop Pete from working his cock over from every possible angle. "Please!" he barks, knowing better than to close his legs.

"Well." Pete rubs Gabe's prostate and works his fist loosely, slowly around Gabe's cock. A smirk grows on his face, delighted and terrible. "Only one of us gets to come today, baby-" Gabe groans miserably, and if he had the energy to be sassy he'd finish Pete's sentence along with him because he damn well knows the end, "-and you choose who."

Gabe chokes back a sob and grinds against the bed like it'll get Pete away from his ass, like it'll make this bearable. It won't. Pete's hands are relentless.

He surrenders. "You."

Gabe's eyes are pressed closed but he feels Pete's reaction. Suddenly there's two fingers in his ass and Pete's weight is shifting on the bed, spread out and between his legs. Gabe winces, prepares for whatever's coming, and sobs dryly when Pete's wet lips and teeth sink into his thigh, hip, cock.


When Pete unties him Gabe is shivering and presses himself to Pete's side, curled up fetal. Pete had been kind this time, depending on one's view of kind, and promised that before they were done he'd hurt Gabe's cock till his erection died. Sure enough, Gabe wasn't hard anymore, but he was shaking, clinging, breathing fast and shallow, and he could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.

He has to be at the studio in an hour. It's only downstairs, but he's honestly not sure if he'll recover in time.

Pete sits with him and whispers sweet comforting things to him until his breathing slows, but he's still weak and he's still visibly upset. Pete makes him some yerba mate, his favourite, and sits in his lap while he drinks it, stroking his face between sips and joking about fashion designers and record labels and expensive shoes and anything besides how Gabe hasn't come in three days and his future isn't looking rosy right now. He's not perfect. It's hard. He'll take it, but he can only put on the show of the dutiful slave for so long. Gabe tries hard to be perky anyway, eager for whatever Pete will give him. But has a right to be peeved, doesn’t he? As long as he obeys anyway. Maybe that's the lesson in all this anyway, being peeved and learning to deal with it.

"Look, can I speak freely or whatever?" Gabe says, resting his now-cool tea against Pete's knee, abruptly changing the subject.

Pete kisses his neck and sits up to face him. "Duh." He rubs his hand up Gabe's hip to his face, cradling his head.

“This- like, this me-or-you thing, is this like, forever?" he asks, and Pete's thumb slips across his lip and presses inside his mouth. Gabe’s tongue flick at it absently, accustomed by now to Pete regularly invading his space.

"No," Pete says. His smile is blinding, his eyes crinkled. It's his shenanigans face, his trolling face, his mischief face. Gabe smiles back despite himself, but he knows he's in deep shit now. "Just till you get the answer right."

Well, what the fuck.


So the next day when Pete pulls his cock out of Gabe's mouth with a wet sound and asks, Gabe looks up at him from the floor where he's bound on his side croaks, "…Me?"

Pete fists his cock and looks at him for a long moment. Gabe's heart speeds up with fear and anticipation and mostly fear, oh God suddenly fear, as it dawns on him that that was not the right answer. Pete stands, finds some clothes, reluctantly dresses. Gabe watches from the floor, hands behind his back, the back of his thighs blotchy with handprints, squirming.

Pete doesn't do sexy punishments. If Gabe is going to get treated like shit and abused, that's a treat for him and they both know it, and Pete loves nothing more than reminding him of it. When he's punished, he doesn't get a spanking or anything they'd normally do for fun. His punishments are long, boring and uncomfortable, or they're fast and incredibly brutal, too brutal, leaving him crying and gasping and begging for forgiveness. When Gabe gets punished, he remembers not to make the same mistake again.

Pete pulls his shirt on and walks over to Gabe on the floor, standing over him and kicking him in the ribs with his heel. Gabe groans, closes his eyes, whispers, "Sir, I'm sorry, I just thought- the right answer-" and Pete bends down to smack him in the face and flatly orders, "Shut up."

Gabe is silent. Pete goes to the toy drawer and pulls some items out and Gabe actually needs a second to gather the courage to roll over and see what they are. He sees clamps and his ball crusher and their biggest dildo and the switch that he loves and hates at the same time. The switch he doesn't see often. Pete's usually happy to work with his hands and some cuffs and Gabe's enthusiasm, but Gabe has some stuff that he'd bought before they were together for tops that liked weapons more, less hands-on methods of breaking him down, and the occasional boy he'd taken home for the evening and topped himself. Now the switch mostly gathers dust except for when Pete's feeling really sadistic.

Pete tightens the crusher around his balls first, leaving Gabe gasping and sobbing with the effort to keep his knees spread so Pete has easy access. Then he closes four clamps on the underside of his cock and two more on his nipples, and a final one on his septum so his eyes water. Gabe stays obediently silent except for the occasional moan or grunt of distress.

Pete puts the head of the dildo in his mouth and orders him to count the blows. Gabe's jaw is stretched by the things girth and he's panting wildly as Pete rolls him onto his stomach, planting a hand on Gabe's bound wrists to press them into the small of his back. Gabe's head is twisted to keep the black dildo in his mouth, and he twitches and sobs and writhes with each of the ten blows Pete gives him. The clamps tug on his cock and nipples as he rubs them against the carpet.

With a switch, ten is more than plenty.

Pete fingers his ass open afterwards silently as Gabe hiccups and groans. The blunt head of the dildo is unbearable – it’s big and flat and Gabe shakes with the effort of getting it inside. He doesn’t get fucked with more than a finger or too, usually- Pete prefers bottoming and although on occasion Pete’s been known to stuff one in before he rides him, the dildos mostly gather dust with the switch. Especially this one. It’s just too big to be comfortable.

Pete leaves the cuffs on his wrists but opens the lock that connects them so Gabe’s hands are free. “Move,” he says, grabbing Gabe by a handful of hair. Gabe scrapes himself to his knees and follows, breath hard as Pete drags him across the bedroom floor. The crusher gets twisted between Gabe’s thighs and he falters in his crawl, forcing Pete to pull his hair to keep him moving.

He opens the closet door and pushes Gabe in.

“Alright, so come if you want to,” Pete says, and twists the clamp on Gabe’s nose painfully so his eyes water all over again. Gabe wants to beg for forgiveness, he wants to kiss Pete’s feet, he doesn’t want to sit in this closet covered in clamps, throbbing with pain.

The door closes. Gabe’s ass twitches around the dildo in the dark.


Gabe doesn’t know how long goes by until the door opens- probably not much longer than half an hour because Pete’s impatient and knows better than to leave the clamps on for very long. It feels like eons.

The light is blinding for a second before his eyes adjust. The pain of the clamps coming off is always worse than when they’re on, and Gabe gasps and says, “Sir, I didn’t touch-“ and Pete silences him with a slap to the face.

“No talking,” he says, and then stands up to his full height, the cane already in his hand. He releases the pressure on the crusher and Gabe can’t hold the groan in behind his bitten lips. “Show me your ass.”

Gabe gets on his hands and knees obediently. Pete gives him another ten blows and then lifts Gabe’s balls in his palm. Gabe pants, “Sir, please!” and Pete says, “Another word and I’ll give you ten instead of five.”

Gabe is silent. He stares at the floor, ass stinging, balls tight with fear.

Were Gabe free to beg, at this point all he’d be asking for would be to be immobilized for this part of the punishment. The fight-or-flight instinct is hard to control as the first blow hits- Gabe wants to scramble away or at least close his legs, anything to avoid another sting like that. Tied up at least he’s only receiving the pain, not fighting his own need to escape.

Pete doesn’t give him that relief.

After the five to his balls, Pete stands in front of Gabe and Gabe just focuses on breathing, unclenching his fingers from the rug. When he looks up Pete’s just looking down at him, smiling, and Gabe feels so small and unworthy for every having tried to chose his enjoyment over Pete’s- he bends, kissing Pete’s ankles and the tops of his feet in silent apology. He feels a hand on the back of his neck after a moment and lifts his head, kissing Pete’s wrist too.

Pete leads him back to the closet and this time Gabe goes willingly. He has nothing but time to soothe his aching ass and balls in the darkness.

When Pete finally opens the door a second time, he says, “Okay, boo, your punishment is over,” and Gabe floods with relief and kisses Pete’s feet again, sliding his lips up Pete’s leg to his thigh and wrapping his arms around his calves, the tattoo of his own stupid face, kneeling.

“I didn’t come, sir,” Gabe breathes, pressing his cheek to Pete’s hip so he’s breathing right over the crotch of his jeans. “I waited, I saved it- if only one of us gets to come today, please let me have the privilege of letting it be you.”

“You didn’t come?” Pete asks, honestly surprised.

Gabe looks up and smiles. “Um, it’s not like that was an environment particularly conducive to boners,” he laughs softly, hooking his fingers in Pete’s belt and looking adoringly up at him.

“Oh,” Pete says, a hand resting in Gabe’s hair to pet him fondly. He looks at the bed.

Gabe smiles, nuzzling Pete’s crotch and even nipping gently at the stitching of Pete’s pocket. “So can I?” he asks again.

“Huh?” Pete says, looking down at Gabe suddenly. He’d been thinking. “Oh, you want- Okay, not now,” he says, smiling at him. “You know, punishing you sucks? I’m all alone in here.” He closes a fist in Gabe’s hair and tugs with gentle affection. “I’m tired. Wait, here- bend over.”

The dildo. Thank God. Gabe feels the whole heavy length of it shift inside him when he bends over and Pete slips it out slowly- Gabe feels every inch of it leave him, feeling hollowed and collapsed in its wake. Pete sets it on its base so it doesn’t mess up the carpet and drags Gabe a few feet over so it’s not right in their faces when he gets down on the floor with him, lays Gabe’s head against his chest. Gabe curls an arm around his hip and kisses his sternum and collarbone gently.

“Order in?” Pete suggests. Gabe feels his voice in his ribcage.

“Sounds good,” Gabe answers. His ass is still flexing like it has something to wrap around but there’s nothing. He takes deep breaths, eyes closed.



“If the right answer isn’t ‘me’ or ‘you’, y’know-“

“You’ll get there,” Pete says, and it’s probably supposed to me reassuring but it leaves Gabe as confused as ever.


Pete lets him make up for his bad choice that night by letting Gabe go down on him again, and this time he finishes down his throat and declares Gabe officially his good boy again with a satisfied sigh. Gabe goes back to saying ‘you’ the next day- it may not be the right answer but it doesn’t seem to be the wrong one.

Some nights Pete asks right when one of them is on the edge- other times, he asks Gabe right when they wake up, settled sweetly in Gabe’s arms before anything sexy starts. Sometimes Pete leaves him hard, sometimes he pushes Gabe’s pain tolerance to the limits until his erection sags. Gabe isn’t sure what’s worse. And he doesn’t actually think about sex any more than he used to- it’s not like he was allowed to touch himself before under this weird new rule of Pete’s, and he’s used to holding back during sex. He does know thought that when Pete does let him come eventually, whenever that will be, they’ll probably both drown in it, oh my God.

A week passes. Pete bothers him at in the studio downstairs during the daytime, pawing at him while they try to write until Victoria throws a wadded tissue she’d been using to fix her make-up at him on Thursday and says, “Pete, look, you guys get off on getting each other all worked up in public or whatever, fine, but we’re trying to work.”

“You are the worst boss ever,” Gabe agrees, beaming at Pete and feeling both relieved and disappointed when he slides off his lap.

“I am the best boss ever,” Pete corrects. He gives Gabe a kiss and says, “You need anything, coffee or the second opinion of a genius for example, I’m upstairs.”

Gabe stays in the studio late- partly he likes working with Ryland like this, partly because it’s no sweat to go home when he gets tired, and partly because going home is torturous and Gabe appreciates the break. It’s not like Pete’s trying to be bad to him- their lives are pretty much exactly the same except Gabe doesn’t come during sex. It’s really the thought that makes things hard, not that Pete teases, really.


Saturday night, Gabe wakes up to find the hall light on. When he sits up to fumble for his cell to find that it’s 4:11 in the morning, he also finds two new texts from Pete.

3:43 AM
if i could give you only one command for your whole life that youd have to obey and never ask you to do anything else it would be dont ever leave me, and thats the only thing i cant ever command you to do

3:46 AM
haha fuk why cant you delete txt messages someone should invent that cmon steve jobs get on it

The door to the bedroom’s open and Pete’s not in bed.

Gabe rubs his eyes and goes to the bathroom, rinsing his mouth of the bitterness of morning breath. He grabs a t-shirt and wanders out to check the house. If Pete’s not home he’ll text him and go to bed, but if he’s home Gabe wants to find him.

Pete’s in the kitchen looking sad at his can of Mountain Dew. He’s in a hoodie, hood up, palms hidden in his sleeves. Gabe surprises him by walking in and Pete’s eyes pop, and then he smiles tiredly, gesturing at the open space beneath him on the floor with a smooth sweep of his hand. He’s tucked his toes up behind the legs of the chair.

“Soda?” he offers. His voice is still gravelly from sleep and his dream journal is open in front of him. Gabe shakes his head and drags his matt over, sinking to his knees with his head in Pete’s lap, looking up at him with a sleepy smile.

“I love you,” Gabe says happily. He can’t guarantee he’ll be with Pete forever, because people change and shit and Gabe’s changed too many times in his life already to see anything as permanent, but right now, right here, he is so stupidly in love with Pete that Pete’s worries about Gabe leaving him are almost fun to deal with. Pete gets himself worked up into panics late at night or when they’re apart for tour and travel, like Gabe’s been pissed at him and he’s about to reach the tipping point and walk away. Gabe finds a bittersweet joy in reassuring Pete now and again that he’s as totally, madly, wildly in love with him as he’s ever been.

“You got my texts,” Pete grumbles, obviously already humiliated by them. He looks at his lap and Gabe leans in a little, running his hands up Pete’s thighs to rest on his hips. Gabe nods and scoots up to Pete’s side so he can nuzzle his stomach.

“I love you I love you I love you,” he repeats, and Pete pushes the dream journal off the edge of the table and nudges it towards Gabe, then tucks his knees up to his chest.

Since Pete had gotten on these new meds, he’s started dreaming again. His New York therapist suggested that a dream journal would help him feel more in control of things when he woke up and also help him understand the dreams later.

The most recent entry reads:

Another dream that Diego never brought the Saportas to the US. Not a night terror like last time I had it, just a bad dream. This time Gabe was young like 16-17 and I had this knowledge, not like a voiceover but it’s not like I was there, it was like watching a movie, that in Uruguay in the dream gangs were really common, and Gabe being so so loyal and looking for adrenaline rushes and danger like he is made him a perfect for gang initiation. He was skateboarding with some other guys in his gang and in the dream skateboarding was really dangerous (I don’t know why, maybe it was illegal or maybe they were just really likely to get hurt doing it, idk) and then this other gang showed up and I didn’t see it happen but I knew that he died and when I woke up I thought about him dying or if he never came to the US and I never knew him.

When Gabe closes the book, Pete’s watching him with his tired brown eyes from behind his bare knees. Gabe kisses his toes and says, “I’m here, Pete.”

“I know.”

“You wanna come to bed?”

Pete doesn’t look any more relaxed but he nods anyway, slipping down onto the floor with Gabe for a kiss and some contact.

“Can I carry you?” Gabe asks gently, his arms around Pete’s waist.

Pete’s teeth show up, finally, smiling against Gabe’s chest. “Piggyback,” he says softly.

“Anything,” Gabe answers. He hauls Pete up off the ground and sets him on the chair again, crouching down so Pete can climb onto his back.


In bed, Gabe’s just drifting off again when Pete whispers, “Gabe?”

“N’uh?” Gabe answers, letting his hand wander up and down Pete’s side comfortingly.

“If I ever make- If I ever go too far and you don’t want to do the stuff I tell you to, you’ll tell me, right? You won’t just let it bottle up, right?”

Gabe’s eyes open halfway in the dark. Pete’s still in his hoodie because he’s a little freak and hoodies are like emotional armor for him, and his eyes and fixed on Gabe’s free hand, the one resting on his belly and not around Pete’s waist. Gabe raises it, cupping his cheek.

“Is this about not letting me come?”

Pete wriggles up a few inches so his mouth is pressed to Gabe’s neck. “Is that dumb?”

“No.” Gabe rolls onto his side so they’re facing each other, Pete’s little cold toes bumping against Gabe’s calves. “But it’s also not something you have to worry about.”

Pete’s hand curls against Gabe’s chest, bunching the front of his t-shirt. “Really?” he says. Gabe feels his voice against his lips. They kiss and Gabe couldn’t say who initiated if he tried.

“Pete, you runt, you know if you tried to make me do something I didn’t want to I could pin you in like two seconds. If I was dead-set on a fucking orgasm I could hold you down and jizz on your face.” Gabe chuckles, tugging Pete close and holding him tight for another kiss. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He’s too tired to think of anything more comforting than I love you I love you.

Pete’s kisses stay shallow, pawing at Gabe’s face. “Don’t ever let me make you unhappy, okay? Promise?”

Gabe rubs Pete’s back affectionately. “You make me so happy. Jizz or no.” he chuckles and nips Pete’s lip.

“I’m serious, don’t ever let me. That’s an order.”

Gabe tucks Pete’s head against his shoulder and kisses his ear. “Yes, sir. Now go to sleep.”

“I love you too,” Pete says, reaching up to hook a finger in Gabe’s collar.


Sunday morning they shower together and Pete’s hands stay on Gabe’s chest and waist, but Gabe gets pretty hard anyway just from washing Pete’s hair and kissing him.

Pete sighs dramatically when they’re toweling off, giving Gabe a once over and a wistful smile. “What,” Gabe says, and Pete hesitates, then walks over to kiss him sweetly.

“I’m trying really hard not to make this harder for you than it has to be, but I miss your cock so much,” Pete mumbles, and Gabe’s erection grows taller against his stomach despite himself. Pete eyes it, his hand slipping a few inches down Gabe’s hip. “Can I touch it?” Pete asks, and Gabe’s heart is speeding up.

“Hey, it’s yours,” Gabe reminds him gently, praying he will and praying he won’t.

“I know, I know,” Pete says, sliding his fingers up a vein on the side, dragging them along Gabe’s slit. Gabe backs up a step till his ass hits the bathroom counter, gripping it for support. “It’s one of those don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone things, I guess, um, like I hardly ever sucked your cock except as a reward and now that I’m trying to make this easier and be a little more hands-off unless it’s like, to get me off, all I can think about is how your cock tastes.” Pete closes a fist around the tip and rests it there, thumb capping the head. “And the stretch in my throat, and how nice it would be to be kissing you while you come into my hand- uh, I’m being mean again, sorry.”

Pete’s hand retreats. “Take a cold shower, then let’s get lunch,” he says, already grabbing his towel and leaving the room. Gabe’s cock is throbbing and his heart is thundering, fingers cramping from his grip on the edge of the counter. He doesn’t miss Pete licking his own thumb as he leaves, tasting whatever he could from Gabe’s cock. Fuck.

Gabe closes his eyes for a minute and just stands there, willing his cock to stop jerking, willing those mental images Pete gave him away. Whatever the right answer is, he better fucking figure it out fast.


That night Gabe tells Pete that if he wanted to he could suck Gabe’s dick and Pete perks up at the possibility, but Gabe safewords after two minutes because he knew if he went a second longer he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

“Mmm, I think that earned you a reward, boo,” Pete mumbles as he crawls up Gabe’s side a few moments later once he’s realized that Gabe feels safe and isn’t about to panic, curling beside him on the couch. Pete takes safewording seriously, especially since Gabe hasn’t done it since before he signed their contract and was formally collared.

“Wha-?” Gabe pants in the aftermath. Getting a reward for receiving a blowjob is not how this system usually works, let alone for safewording out of a totally fucking vanilla scene because he doesn’t have the self-control to obey orders.

“I told you that you didn’t have to do that because I knew how hard it would be for you, and you offered it to me anyway,” Pete mumbles against his ear, peppering his temple and cheek with little kisses. “God, I wanted that so badly. That’s the kind of above-and-beyond service that earns good boys rewards, don’t you think?”

“Thank you, sir,” Gabe breathes, smiling and turning his head to catch Pete’s mouth. He might be a backwards-thinking whack-ass headcase, but Pete is a great dom and Gabe is so grateful to have him. “Thank you.”


part two

Date: 2011-06-17 02:47 am (UTC)
jedusaur: A hockey stick with the paddle wrapped in rainbow-colored tape next to a puck, lying just above the blue line on a rink. (killjoy!Gabe)
From: [personal profile] jedusaur


Date: 2011-06-17 08:32 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] gala-apples.livejournal.com

No title

Date: 2011-06-21 04:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pingback-bot.livejournal.com
User [livejournal.com profile] jedusaur referenced to your post from No title (http://jedusaur.livejournal.com/23202.html) saying: [...] or this [...]


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