Chapter 3

He feels Thorne guide one wrist into the restraints, then the other, anchoring his arms a comfortable distance in front of him. Julian isn’t totally restricted—he subtly moves each arm side to side, confirming that the cuffs only keep him from pulling his hands back to touch himself or interfere with whatever Thorne chooses to do.

Thorne’s tongue flicks out to press against the sore skin he’s been sucking.

**“Fuck…”**

Thorne unlatches from his throat with a slick sound that goes straight to Julian’s dick.

“Color?”

“Green,” Julian breathes, widening his stance where he’s perched on his knees.

Thorne lays one more kiss over that bruised spot before he pulls away, cold air hitting Julian’s back. “Mmn. Get on all fours, then. You might have to scoot up a little.”

Julian exhales slowly and does as he’s told, maneuvering onto his elbows and knees and shifting until he’s comfortable and there isn’t any strain on his muscles. His cock hangs between his legs, embarrassingly stiff, proof of how desperate he is for this.

“Good, just like that,” Thorne purrs. Julian hears the **snap**of a glove, the familiar pump of the lube bottle. “I know you’re a little worked up, but you’ll need to stay away from the edge for this. If you feel like you’re getting too close, just tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” Julian chokes out.

He shifts a little and hears the crinkle of plastic underneath the dropcloth.

The first touch of warm, slick fingers at his hole makes Julian jump. Thorne makes a quiet noise and strokes his bare hand over Julian’s hip, drawing slow, lazy circles at his entrance with the gloved one. Julian groans and drops his head, letting it hang in between his shoulders as Thorne applies just the tiniest bit of pressure, not enough to push inside but enough for Julian to crave it.

Julian has no fucking clue how he’s going to stay away from the edge. Every other time he’s been in this position, either with a partner or by himself, the end goal has always been to come. How is he just supposed to ignore years of experience?

Then Thorne slips two long fingers inside him and Julian forgets to be worried.

**“Hmnngh…”**

Thorne makes a quiet nose and curls his fingers, pulling them out slightly so that they’re comfortably nestled against Julian’s prostate. Julian whines at the feeling, cock dripping. It’s sooner than he’d normally be touched there, and more direct. It does strange things to Julian’s belly, the way it feels almost **clinical**, the way Thorne has isolated his touch to his sweet spot.

“There you go, Julian.” Thorne begins to circle his fingertips gently, pulling another whine from Julian’s chest. “Don’t let it build into anything. Just focus on the feeling of your whole body.”

He moves his fingers in a little circle again, and again, varying the pressure as he moves them until he finds an obscene rhythm that seems to satisfy him. It’s not something that Julian’s ever experienced before.

“Ugghhh,” Julian groans, rolling his hips unconsciously.

“Shh, stay still,” Thorne whispers, tightening his grip on Julian’s flank. “Make sure you’re breathing… and, I know it’s difficult, but try to relax, hm?”

Julian attempts to at least push the tension upward, away from where Thorne’s touching him; he makes a conscious effort to relax his pelvis at the same time as he flexes his fingers, curling his hands into fists and tugging on the cuffs. Thorne has shifted to half-circles, focusing on one side of his prostate and then the other, back and forth, back and forth, the sensation deep and visceral.

Inescapable.

Julian bites his lip and fails to hold back a whimper, his dick drooling precome onto the dropcloth. “Fuck—oh, **fuck…”**

His own breathing is loud in his ears, panting in the echo chamber of Thorne’s room, even louder than the squelch of Thorne’s fingers inside him. Thorne rubs his thumb over his hip and Julian scrabbles to grip onto the flimsy cloth covering the bed, desperate for something to hold onto.

The focused stimulation is quickly doing what it normally does: pushing Julian toward orgasm. He cracks one eye open and peers underneath his body, watching his cock sway and jump as Thorne massages his prostate. His fingers aren’t even that deep but it feels like he’s touching Julian’s very core, probing and pushing as he works Julian higher and higher.

“Eliii,” Julian whines, eyes fluttering closed again as he tries to keep his pelvis relaxed. “Ugh, it’s—oh god—”

He feels himself clench involuntarily at the measured patterns Thorne is drawing with his fingers. It’s as if Julian’s body is slowly slipping out of his control, muscles jumping at random as Thorne pets firmly over the little gland. He’s never had prostate stimulation this **focused**before; it’s getting hard to tell if he needs to pee or if he just really, really needs to come.

“Don’t clench up,” Thorne reminds him, voice low.

Julian groans, rocking forward to try to get away from the relentless pressure inside him. If he relaxes, he’s worried he’ll—he’ll—

**Smack!**

Julian jolts at the sudden hit, a panicked noise escaping him as Thorne curls his fingers then spanks him again.

“What did I say about staying still—”

“Stop-stop-**stop**, gonna come,” Julian gasps, back bending and squeezing his eyes shut tight. His hands try to flash back, to grab the base of his dick to hold back or touch himself, he’s not sure. They don’t go far though, chains catching and sending Julian awkwardly chest first into the bed. He feels Thorne’s fingers go still and concentrates with all his might on holding back. “S-sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Thorne murmurs. His hand returns to Julian’s hip, soothing; something loosens in Julian’s chest. “Thank you for telling me. You did what I asked you to, so don’t apologize.”

Julian grins stupidly against the dropcloth, still trembling. Thorne’s fingers feel heavy inside him, sitting right up against where he’s most sensitive.

“Plus, that was partially my fault. No matter how many times I see it, it always surprises me just how much of a masochist you are.”

It’s followed by a quick pinch to Julian’s inner thigh that sends him gasping.

**Shit.**Julian’s dick twitches and he squeezes around Thorne’s fingers as his blush returns full-force. Thorne’s quiet chuckle seems to invade all his senses. It’s embarrassing how fuzzy his head gets whenever Thorne talks to him like this, when he treats him like this.

“You have to try to stay still, though,” Thorne continues, petting the small of Julian’s back soothingly as he starts to rub careful fingertips over Julian’s prostate once more. “The more you move around, the more mixed signals you’re sending your body.”

Julian sighs, trying to gather whatever small scraps of his resolve haven’t already crumbled. He can do this. He can be good. He surrenders completely to Thorne’s relentless fingers as he lets his body go limp, a groan leaking out of his throat.

**“Eli…”**

The pressure is all encompassing, but softer when Julian stops fighting it. Without his muscles tensed, Julian finally stops feeling like he’s swimming against the tide of his own pleasure. It feels somewhere between embarrassingly detached and uncomplicatedly good for a while. He feels himself getting more and more hazy.

After a few more moments, Julian feels his abs start to twitch, then his thighs. It’s involuntary this time, and unrelated to the usual feeling of his lower half tightening in preparation to go over, or to resist it. These are just spasms, almost like the ones he occasionally feels right before he falls asleep, completely unconscious. Julian curls his fingers tighter in the drop cloth as Thorne shifts a little closer, plastic crinkling under his knees.

The sounds Julian is making are truly shameful but it doesn’t **matter**—the only thing that matters is not coming. He can’t let the feeling swell, can’t let it take root. Julian’s doing it, but he’s starting to feel strange and almost unfamiliar sensations blossoming between his hips. Thorne keeps going, too, one steadying hand on his tailbone as he insistently palpates Julian’s sweet spot.

“Pl-please…”

Thorne makes an amused noise. “Please what?”

Julian doesn’t know. Pressure is building right behind the base of his dick, a familiar heaviness that’s always brought intense pleasure once Julian’s been good enough. He’s babbling now, begging just for the sake of it because something in him is that desperate. He just needs to be good.

The pressure has become overwhelming. It doesn’t feel exactly like an orgasm, or an edge, but even though it’s unfamiliar, Julian suddenly realizes he’s not going to be able to hold it back. He lets out a sound like a sob at the realization, his body slipping away from him.

“Ugghh—**fuck—”**

Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come don’t come don’t come—