Summary: "He plays better when he's turned on," Greta explains, as if that made any sense whatsoever. "And he's going to shut up and stop complaining about it if he doesn't want to be punished."
Warnings: D/S, pegging, double penetration, cock rings (
Author's Note: Written for gpbandom; sorry it's late. Title is from the Velvet Underground's "Venus in Furs."
Disclaimer: Don't own, didn't happen, don't google yourself.
Chris is acting weird. They're recording his bass tracks, and while nothing's wrong with his playing, he seems distracted--biting his lip, shifting from one foot to the other, sometimes shaking a little. Patrick asks him more than once if he needs a break, but Chris just shakes his head and goes on playing.
Greta comes in to check on their progress, and Patrick overhears the two of them arguing. Chris asks her softly, "Please, can I--"
"No," Greta replies. "You agreed to this, so now you have to deal with it."
Chris looks like he might cry. "But I didn't realize it would be so--"
"Chris, what have we discussed?" Greta cuts him off sternly. "We don't talk about these things in front of other people." She jerks her head in Patrick's direction. Chris bows his head and mumbles an apology, and that's the end of it.
Patrick stops her on her way out of the studio. "What was that about?"
She shakes her head. "You don't want to know."
"Yeah, actually, I think I do."
"You really, really don't," she says, smiling a little condescendingly. "Trust me."
"You can tell him," Chris says, approaching them with his head still down. "I don't mind."
"Fine," Greta sighs. "He's wearing a butt plug."
Patrick blinks. "Um. What?"
"He plays better when he's turned on," Greta explains, as if that made any sense whatsoever. "And he's going to shut up and stop complaining about it if he doesn't want to be punished."
Patrick...doesn't know what to say to that, really. He clears his throat. "Okay." He gestures back towards the recording booth. "Shall we?"
Patrick is driving home that evening when his cell phone buzzes. It's an unfamiliar number. "Hello?"
"Hey, um. It's Chris."
"Oh, hey. What's up?"
Chris's voice sounds tremulous, nervous. "Greta wants to know if you want to join us tonight."
The bottom drops out of Patrick's stomach. "You mean...?"
"I--god, I don't know. This is awfully sudden."
"You don't have to if you don't want to, but...I really want you there. We both do."
Patrick makes up his mind. "Okay."
"Really? I mean, are you sure?"
"Great. Come by our place at ten?"
Greta meets him at the door when he arrives and leads him to her room. Chris is already naked on the bed, on his hands and knees, waiting.
"Ground rules," Greta says. "One, you don't talk, or do anything else, without my permission. Two, you do everything I tell you to. Three, you'll need a word."
Patrick says the first thing that comes into his head. "Magnolia."
Greta nods, satisfied. "You'll say that if what we're doing is too much for you. Fourth, and most importantly, you don't come until I say you can."
Patrick nods. Greta reaches over and slips off his hat. "You'll be good at this, I think," she muses. "You know how to follow orders." She drops his hat on the floor. "Strip." As soon as he's naked, she grabs something from the bedside table and presses it into his palm. "Put this on." It's a ring of black rubber, silicone maybe, about an inch and a half in diameter. "So you don't come too soon," Greta explains. He rolls it onto his cock. He's hard already, just from the way she's been talking, her authoritative voice and posture.
Greta goes over to the corner, slips out of her clothes, at puts something else on. The straps of the harness stand out darkly against the creamy paleness of her hips. The dildo is purple, which Patrick would find slightly ridiculous if it weren't for the heaviness in the air.
"He's been very good today," Greta says, walking over to Chris and stroking his hair. "Mostly." Chris whines softly as her hand glides over his back and down to his ass. She presses a finger into him and beckons Patrick over. "I've been preparing him," she says. "He should be almost ready." She takes Patrick's hand and guides it toward Chris's ass.
Indeed, Chris is already wet and open. Greta takes her hand away, leaving Patrick's fingers inside him, and grabs a bottle of lube. She slicks up the dildo, then Patrick's cock, and positions herself at Chris's entrance. "You too," she says, "come on." She pulls Chris's hair a little. "He's such a slut, he can barely feel it unless there's two."
Patrick presses into him, slowly, alongside Greta. She places a hand on his lower back, guiding him. Chris sobs and pushes back against them. It's tight, almost unbearably so. Patrick can barely stand it.
Greta rolls her hips, bracing one hand against Chris's waist. She's golden in the soft light of the bedside lamp, her hair cascading down her back. Her breasts are full and luscious, her neck a smooth, curved line, and Patrick is dying to touch her. She's breathing steadily, in contrast to Patrick and Chris, who are both panting and whimpering.
"Touch him," Greta orders. "Not too fast, though." Patrick wraps his hand around Chris's cock and strokes him lightly. Chris keens softly and bucks into his hand. Greta admonishes him, "Don't be greedy." Chris stills himself, trembling.
"Do you want to see him come?" Patrick nods. Greta's hand joins his on Chris's dick. "Come for us, pet," she whispers, and Chris falls apart, crying out and shaking and collapsing onto the bed.
Patrick bites his lip as Chris seizes up around him. Even with the cock ring, he's not sure how much longer he can hold out. Greta takes hold of his hips and guides him backward, away from Chris. She steps off the bed, takes off the strap-on, and turns to face Patrick.
"Now, what shall I do with you?" She touches his face, brushes her thumb over his lower lip. "You've got a very pretty mouth," she observes. "I think...yes, I'd like to feel it on me." She nods toward the bed. "Lie down on your back." He lies down, and she positions herself over him, kneeling above his head with her thighs parted. "Chris, hold him down."
Chris climbs on top of him and takes his wrists, pinning him to the bed. Greta hovers over him, just barely close enough for him to reach. He slides the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips, just tasting. She hums appreciatively and crouches down a bit, placing herself within reach of his lips. He plunges his tongue into her cunt, swirling it in circles. She grabs a handful of his hair and pulls. He wants to tell her to go easy--it's not like he needs to lose more of it--but he's not the one calling the shots here.
Greta slides her clit in and out, fucking his mouth. Finally she holds it there, and he sucks it, swirls his tongue around it, and she comes, moaning loudly and pulling his hair until tears spring to his eyes.
"That was good," she murmurs, climbing off him. "You've been a very good boy." He smiles, happy to have pleased her. "Would you like a reward?"
Patrick nods. She orders him onto his hands and knees. Chris kneels behind him, already knowing what to do, but he doesn't bend down until Greta tells him to. He licks into the cleft of Patrick's ass, and Patrick shivers and pushes back against his face.
"Such a sweet boy," Greta whispers, stroking his neck. Her finger brushes against a sensitive spot behind his ear, sending a tremor down his spine. "I want to keep you." She tilts his chin up to look at her. "Would you like that? To be mine?" Patrick nods, leaning into her touch. "Do you want to come now?" He nods again, frantically. "Let me hear you beg for it."
"Please," Patrick whimpers. "Please, make me come, I need it, just--please...." His voice catches in his throat. Greta nods in Chris's direction, and Patrick feels his thumb and forefinger slipping the cock ring off. Then Chris's hand closes around his cock, and his vision goes white around the edges. He comes and comes and comes, splattering the sheets, wailing high and loud.
Patrick and Chris lie down side by side on the bed. Greta leaves the room and comes back with a damp cloth. The wetness is cool and soothing against Patrick's skin as she cleans him off. When she's finished, she lies down between them. "My boys," she murmurs, and it's the last thing Patrick hears before he drifts off to sleep.