2nd Drabble of November 2020

Hanzo slightly tests the bonds of the ropes. They are all sturdy and well-bound. He suspects he might be able to slip out of them if he really had a desire to do so, but he’d never be able to do it in any acceptable amount of time which is the whole point of the exercise.

He hears the low murmurs of the two men he is submitting to and lets it wash over him. Ground him. One of them reaches around from behind and curls his hand around his throat and the bottom of his jaw. It is enough to have his breath hitch, the brief possibility of biting and digging his teeth in deep flashing behind his forehead before he willfully has it sink back down into oblivion.

“Shhh. It’s alright. Damn, you’re tense.” A thick, calloused thumb slowly swipes against Hanzo’s perfectly groomed beard and the tight corner of his mouth as another smooth, deep voice murmurs: “Jack…”

The thumb stops its motion but the hand remains steadily holding on to Hanzo as the old man turns away and twists toward his partner to see whatever it is he is showing to him. Hanzo’s skin prickles with sweat. He wants to turn around and look but the blindfold is secure and doesn’t let a single spark of light through.

He is left with himself.

“Real nice pair of tits.”

Hanzo startles when the smooth voice speaks from in front of him. He hadn’t even heard the man move. He knows he is huge – just as big as Jack still holding his chin tipped up, palm blanketing his throat – but he moves like a shadow.

“I bet they’ll look even better with a few red welts…”

It’s the barest amount of warning he is allowed before something drips onto his chest just off-center. There is a second of weird signals cross-firing in his head and his hands curling around the arm rests of his simple chair tight enough to make the wood creak. When his brain finally settles on ‘hot’, he opens is mouth in a gasp and willfully relaxes all his muscles.

“There you go… the first time is always the hardest, isn’t it?” Jack murmurs sympathetically. “Gabriel. Give him another one.”

They’re both good Doms, Hanzo has chosen well – not that he has been thinking about that aspect particularly hard. He had simply enjoyed their aesthetics; those large muscles that could grab and lift and pull and put up a real fight against him.

He braces himself for yet another drip of wax, the first one already stiff and dried on his skin, but what he gets is the sharp cold of an ice cube pressed against his clavicle, a drop of water running through the valley of his pecs.

He must have cried out sharp like a bird because two deep voices are now shushing him. It hits him harder than he thought possible when he realizes that he might not have the control over his body that he thought he would have. His chest is heaving, heart beating fast – but he is not calling it quits.