Hemp by elmyraemilie [Reviews - 6]
- Text Size +

Category: CSI - Slashed > Gil/Nick
Characters: None
Rating: NC-17
Genres: None
Warnings: None

Summary: Gil has interests. He'd like Nick to share them, but that might be a problem this time.


Story Notes:
This story is part of the Las Vegas Gentlemen's Club universe, which began in the Threads series several months ago. It owes as much to a real person as it does to my fervid imagination: Many thanks to The Twisted Monk for allowing me to base the personality, and some of the appearance, of the character "Mr. Abbott" on his internet persona. The Monk's hand-conditioned bondage rope is inspirational, to say the least.

Of course thanks go to my beta, the ever-lovely Sara_Merry99. She pointed out one big fat problem and made a suggestion that allowed this to become a much, much better story. Thankies, hon!

Author's Chapter Notes:
Warnings: D/s, rope bondage, mild kink; roman a clef.

The Las Vegas Gentlemen's Club had become something like a home away from home. Nick gave up his membership at the big glitzy gym and Gil quit going to that place in the strip mall for a haircut; the gym at the Club was well suited to Nick's routines, and Gil liked their barber, who was the sub of one of the men he'd formed an acquaintance with early on. They ate lunch there (dinner for them, but who was counting?) a couple times a week. When Gil stopped to think about it, he realized he'd never had so many social contacts outside his profession as he did since they'd joined the LVGC.

He was leaving one afternoon, freshly shorn and with the pleasant tingly feeling that came with a close shave by a straight razor, when he passed Warren Tyler, who was posting a new schedule of events for the coming month.

"Mr. Grissom, how are you today?" Tyler gave him the smile that never failed to remind Gil of a well-fed shark.

"Very well. What's new on the schedule?"

"Some interesting items. We've got the regular monthly seminars and activities, of course. And Mr. Barcini is giving a party for his tenth anniversary with Michael; that will be quite an event."

"I'm sure it will." Barcini frequented the rooms that Gil and Nick had only ever seen on tour; Gil enjoyed teasing his lad in public, but sex was a private event as far as he was concerned.

"There's one thing that's going to be a real treat, though. Have you met Mr. Abbott yet?"

Gil thought back. He'd met so many people here; some of them were more remarkable than others. Abbott. "Oh, yes. He's about my height, black hair, good build?"

Warren smiled and arched a brow. "Yes, though that describes about half a dozen of the members."

"With a small v-shaped scar over his left eye and two moles on his right cheek."

The smile turned a little bemused. "That's him. Anyway, he's quite an expert on rope bondage. He's going to be doing an introductory seminar next week—one on Wednesday evening, and then a repeat on Saturday morning."

"Oh." Rope. Gil had not considered that; after the initial experiment with Nick's tolerances to different kinds of restraints, they'd settled on the cuffs-and-chain arrangement and not gone much farther. Rope would be a much different experience for both of them—sinuous, both literally and figuratively more flexible. He wondered what Nick would think of it. "Wednesday, you say? Let me sign up for that one. I'll have to check my schedule, but I think I'm free that evening."

XOXOX

Most of the classes at the Club were held in the dining room. It was still early when Gil arrived, so there were only a few people lounging at the tables. The track lighting had been turned to illuminate the raised platform at one side of the room; the rest of the lights were dimmed. The couches and low dining tables that usually covered it had been moved to one end, and a big square ottoman from the library squatted all alone in the center of the light, setting the stage.

Gil spoke to a couple people he knew on his way to a seat close to the front but off to one side. He hoped that from this angle he'd be able to better see how the rope was applied, how it was knotted, what skills were needed to make this work. He pulled out his notebook and a pen and laid it on the table beside him.

The kitchen door opened, and Tyler came in carrying a folding table. He set it up at the base of the platform next to the stairs and spread a cloth over it, then walked back out the way he'd come in, holding the door open to admit someone carrying a large green bag, like a laundry sack. This man set his burden on the floor with a muffled clank. He began to unload it, making a thin blond parody of Santa Claus as he placed coils of rope on the white cloth.

The appearance of the rope startled Gil. He'd been thinking of clothesline, or macramé cord, or the stuff they'd cut from one of their vics last summer. This was an entirely different sort of rope: a dark rainbow of reds and blues and several shades of taupe, smooth double helices bundled into figure eights. His fingers itched to touch it, but he stayed in his seat; he'd wait for more information before he gave in to his curiosity.

There were a couple dozen people now, singles and couples, settling at the tables on the main floor. The hum of conversation was punctuated by greetings called from table to table, but when the side door opened once again, the sound muted. Mr. Abbott moved over to the display table, where the slender Santa Claus was putting the finishing touches on an arrangement of metal objects. Abbott planted a kiss on his assistant's cheek and ran a proprietary hand up his spine. They exchanged a couple words and another kiss, then the blond slipped out the door while Abbott climbed the stairs to the platform.

"Good evening!" He surveyed his audience, smiling from one side of the room to the other. "How're you doing?" He didn't wait for any reply. "We're going to demonstrate some basic rope technique tonight. Can any of you tie a knot?" There was general laughter, and Abbott shook his head. "I wasn't kidding. Can anyone here tie a knot?" He squinted past the spotlights. "Dave, you can. Jack can attest to that." Jack grinned and nudged his top. "How about the rest of you?"

No one said a word. Gil leaned forward in his chair.

"All right then. As always, let me start with the rock-solid basics. Safe, sane, consensual. I know this club supports that fully, or I wouldn't be a member, but I want to repeat it. Your partner's welfare is in your hands the second you start wrapping that rope around them. Never, ever leave a bound person alone, even for a couple minutes, and always have a pair of these on hand." He reached to a holster on his belt and pulled out a pair of EMT scissors. Gil made a note.

The assistant returned, wearing a pair of light colored biking shorts and nothing else. He carried a number of coils of deep violet rope onto the platform and laid them to one side, sorting them out and straightening them. Abbott stepped up and wrapped an arm around him, drawing him into the light. "Some of you know Alan; he's going to be my uke tonight." He leaned over and whispered in Alan's ear and got a pleased smile in reply. Then, with his hand on the small of the man's back, he guided him to stand in front of the ottoman.

"We'll start with a single column tie. I'm working with a thirty-foot piece of four millimeter hemp; you can order the four millimeter in any of our regular colors, or we can work out a special dye run if that's what you want." Gil quirked an eyebrow and wrote, "sells rope? makes rope?" in the margin of his notes.

Some of the terminology was familiar to Gil from the Boy Scout manual he'd had when he was a kid. The application, however, was absolutely alien. He wrote rapidly, trying to sketch out the way the wrapped rope and knots looked so he had some reference other than his memory. The presentation was almost clinical, a friendly phys-ed teacher showing how to do a complex exercise; but as Abbott's hands wove and knotted, Gil found himself mesmerized. He'd been drawn into Abbott's web as surely as Alan, who now knelt on the padded ottoman, had been drawn into a methodical harness of violet hemp.

Precise diamonds of rope crisscrossed his torso. His pectoral muscles were outlined in such a way that Gil's gaze was pulled directly to his tight, hard nipples, and his navel had become an intensely erotic focus point. The two strands knotted and wove down until they pulled up tight between his legs, throwing the shiny spandex outline of his erection into high relief. Abbott commented, as he threaded the ropes, that strategically placed knots might add a certain something to that part of the pattern. Gil thought about rope, very soft rope, wrapped and tied around Nick's hard cock, snaking down to collar his scrotum, keeping him on edge through a long afternoon of play.

Now Abbott helped Alan turn to face away from the audience. Using another length of violet, he secured his man's hands to the back of the harness. His hands lingered on buttocks beautifully displayed in frames of rope, and he gave a sharp little smack to one cheek. The tense anticipation that had built in Alan's shoulders drained away and he leaned a little toward Abbott. Gil thought he heard a half-articulate sigh in the stillness. Abbott ran one hand along his uke's taut arms and with the other, tilted his face up for a kiss and a few quiet words.

Stepping back a little, Abbott broke the spell. "This is only half the process. Now you've got your someone all trussed up, and you've had your wicked way with them, you need to untie them. Bondage rope—good bondage rope—isn't cheap, so you're not just going to cut it off. The release is part of the scene. You're bringing your partner, and yourself, back to reality. Here's one way to start."

Gil continued to scribble notes, but that moment between the two men on the platform stuck in his memory. He wondered how Nick would have reacted to the demonstration; he wondered how he could communicate what he'd seen so Nick would want to try.

XOXOX

Nick knew he had changed since he and Gil moved their relationship into the place it now occupied. He knew he felt better, more confident, less afraid of his own fears, if that made any sense at all. But all the changing he'd done, all that had gone on between them, didn't mean that he was ready to dive headfirst into this new thing Gil was offering. He flipped the page in the notebook, trying to sort out the scrawled illustrations and make them go with the notes. He turned the notebook on its side, then back up.

"I don't know, Sir. Is this... Did he actually demonstrate this?"

"Hmm? Oh, no, I was...I was exploring other applications for a single-column tie, I guess."

Nick couldn't keep the little smile from his face. "Applications, hunh? You know, you're a terrible artist."

Gil sighed a long-suffering sigh, so Nick turned his attention back to the subject at hand. "I just...it's so hard to know, from looking at what you've got here. I mean, it must take a long time to get this kind of harness thing rigged up, but then what do you do with it? You say here that the guy tied his model's hands behind his back. I don't know if I can do it, Sir." It was Nick's turn to sigh. "I want to make you happy, you know I do, but I have to be honest—it's pushing the wrong buttons."

Gil tilted Nick's face toward him so their eyes met. "If you don't want it, we won't do it. You know that. I'm happy with what we have, and I'd be happy to entertain any ideas you might come up with. This was just something that caught my interest." He kissed Nick, a sweet, dry kiss, and took the notebook out of his hands. Nick's lips followed his, and they leaned back on the sofa, wrapped up in each other's arms. As Gil turned the TV on and brought up the TiVo menu, Nick let his mind linger on the notes he'd been shown. Maybe his problem was just a lack of information.

XOXOX

By the time Nick got to the LVGC on Saturday afternoon, the class was over. He was more than annoyed; his shift had finished, he'd gone home to his bed, but before he'd even gotten his teeth brushed, the phone rang and he'd had to go back into the lab. Now he was tired and he was grouchy, but he was determined to give this new thing of Gil's a fair chance.

As he started into the dining room, a couple was coming through the doorway; he didn't know them personally, though he'd seen them around the club, and they exchanged smiles. He noticed, as he would not have six weeks before, the slightly dreamy look on the sub's face, the possessive hand of the Dom around his shoulders. They looked pretty inspired and in a hurry to get home. Nick hoped he wasn't too late to catch the instructor who'd made that happen.

The room was empty, and the lights were dimmed except those trained on the platform. At its base stood a man neatly coiling a length of violet-dyed rope.

"Mr. Abbott? I'm Nick Stokes, Gil Grissom's partner."

Abbott's eyes went to the silver tag that rested at Nick's throat; he extended his hand, and they shook. "What can I do for you, Nick?"

Nick wasn't sure what the answer to that question should be; he barreled on anyway, hoping he'd be able to think of something while he was talking. "I'm sorry I'm late for your class. I got called back into work. Gil was here on Wednesday, and he was interested, but his notes were pretty hard to follow, and I..."

He was wasn't sure if he should be annoyed or grateful when Abbott held up a hand to stop his babbling. "Mr. Grissom spoke with me after the seminar. He felt that you might have reservations about this kind of play. Is that true?"

Nick licked his lips. "Yes, I guess you could say that."

"What part of it bothers you?"

Rope slipped into slow coils through blocky, capable hands. Nick couldn't seem to look anywhere else. "Um, I don't do well with having my movement restricted, I guess you could say. A couple years ago, something happened..."

Abbott was nodding, and as Nick drew a breath to tell the bare bones of the story, he spoke up. "That was you, was it, the incident in the garden center? I thought you looked familiar from somewhere besides the Club. It's easy to understand why you're not comfortable with being tied up. So why are you here?"

Because it isn't fair to Gil to make a decision based on my own fear. Because there's no real reason I shouldn't want this with him. Because right now, watching you tie a knot in that rope is turning me on something fierce. "Because Gil wants it, but he won't push me. It doesn't seem right to arbitrarily dismiss the idea. I thought more information might help."

Somehow, Abbott had gotten hold of his hand. Nick looked down in surprise; Abbott was holding the doubled center of another length of violet rope over his wrist. "Information is no substitute for experience, Nick. May I?"

Gil wasn't there; nobody was around. The club was in the empty doldrums of Saturday afternoon and he'd never met Abbott before in his life, not really. Nick's heart hit the accelerator. "I...What..."

"If I'm going to demonstrate a little rope work on your wrist, I require your permission. May I?" Nick yanked his startled focus away from the arrangement of wrist, rope and hand and looked up to see veiled amusement on Mr. Abbott's face. It was only a demonstration, just a little how-to by an expert here in a place where they were both well-known. For chrissakes, Nick, get a grip.

Still, his voice was a little shaky as he replied, "All right, but if I say stop, you've got to stop. You don't understand how it is with me."

"You're right, I don't. If you're at all uncomfortable, speak up and I'll stop immediately."

Abbott's voice was soothing. Like the color man on some bizarre sports channel, he provided hushed commentary for the action between them. The type of rope, the length of it, the diameter. How to take care so the ends of the rope wouldn't whip against the subject's skin or eyes. The weaving of the pattern and how other patterns would be used for different purposes.

Nick couldn't have said what Abbott's facial expressions were. The play of the dark rope over the pale smooth skin at the inside of his wrist was hypnotic; it felt secure, firm, soft but unyielding. Abbott's blunt-fingered hands were like Gil's in some ways, but the gold signet ring on the little finger and the curve of the thumb made clear that it was not Gil who carefully wove a pattern of violet cord around and around his arm.

He desperately needed to adjust his hardening cock, but he couldn't seem to move. Abbott wound the rope up his wrist, loop, wrap, loop, wrap; as he built the cuff, the line of knots marched straight as an arrow toward Nick's elbow. Nick's cock was throbbing, and his brain was chanting in time with his heart that Gil was at home, that these were not Gil's hands, that he was unreasonably turned on, that the long strand in Abbott's hands was very like a tether, but it shouldn't be Abbott holding that...

"Red!" When he drew a breath to speak, Nick discovered he was all but panting. "Red!"

He needn't have repeated himself. Abbott had dropped the rope and snatched the shears from his belt at the first syllable. "Are you all right?" he asked as the blades descended toward the neat, even pattern that enclosed Nick's wrist.

"No, don't cut it, no need to cut it, you just..." He was trying to catch his breath. "You just have to stop."

"Look at me, Nick." Nick raised his eyes from the gleaming shears that still threatened the pristine coils around his arm. "Are you all right?"

Swallowing hard, Nick nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay, it's okay." He reached up to touch the bands of rope with the fingertips of his free hand, then let it drop back to his side. "It's not what you think." He bent his elbow and his wrist; all motion was still available to him, without the least restriction. He could feel his pulse jumping against the hemp.

"I want to cut the rope off."

"No, honestly. You don't have to cut it. Go ahead and untie...untie it. I'm not going to pass out on you or anything. It was too much all of a sudden, that's all."

Abbott yanked a chair around from the closest table and levered Nick into it. "You don't mind if I insist you sit down anyway, do you?" He sheathed the scissors and began to undo his work. "Not everyone who thinks they're fine is really fine."

"You had this happen before?" Nick still felt as though he was at some distance from the room and the man who squatted in front of him, untying knots with diligent fingers.

"Not often, no, but once in a great while." He stretched his arm out to pull the rope free of another knot while his eyes traveled over Nick's face. "Your color isn't too bad. Can I ask what happened?"

"Well, I, ah..." Shifting in the chair, Nick tried for nonchalance; it didn't work. "I think I liked it a little too much."

Abbott frowned over his work. "Ordinarily, I'd say it wasn't possible to like rope bondage too much, but..." He trailed off as he worked at another knot.

"It wasn't the b...the rope, it was the circumstances." At the question on Mr. Abbott's face, he continued. "You're the wrong guy, you know? I'm just not comfortable with anyone but Gil." Nick felt a self-conscious blush slip onto his cheeks.

With a nod, Abbott finished the release of Nick's wrist and pulled up another chair. As he sat down, he said, "Everyone goes about this differently. Some people don't mind who does the tying as long as someone does it. Other people are more particular. Mr. Grissom is quite possessive, I suppose."

His open expression gave Nick the leeway to reply, "And so am I, if it comes right down to it." He sighed. "I've got all kinds of limitations going—afraid to be unable to move, don't want to be tied to anything, only one guy on earth I can even imagine coming at me with rope. Maybe this isn't going to work out."

"But think how it would feel to go out with Mr. Grissom, after he's knotted a harness of rope around your chest and your back and your belly." The erotic jolt his words caused must have shown on Nick's face, for Abbott continued speaking. "Maybe he'd add some extra little touches to keep you well focused on who you belong to while you're out in public. Soft rope, wound snug around you. He could grab the knots at the back through your shirt to guide you in a dark theater aisle. Perhaps he'd run the tail out over the waist of your trousers, so he could tug at it beneath the tablecloth in a busy restaurant. You'd be very much at his command, wouldn't you? But very free, your movement unfettered. Do you think you could enjoy that?"

Nick rubbed the back of his neck, buying time to think, and the movement of his arm let air ripple across the slight furrows left by the rope. "Yeah. Yes, we might both enjoy that." Blowing out a hard breath, he said, "What kind of kit would you recommend for a couple raw beginners?"

XOXOX

All the way home, Nick found himself running his fingers over the faint ridges left behind on his forearm once the rope had been removed. Beside him on the seat was a large package containing two bundles of six millimeter rope, a length of four millimeter, and a book on basic rope bondage. Gil should be up by now, and since they both had Sunday off this week, there would be time to talk about this new thing and maybe test out what Nick had purchased.

If a dispassionate stranger could wrap rope around his forearm and get Nick hard in the process, he could only imagine the things that Gil would do with what was in that bag.

He called out a "hello" as he toed his shoes off by the door.

"Up here, Nick."

Bag in hand, Nick went up to the study. Despite the bright afternoon sunshine outside, Gil's face was illuminated by the desk lamp in an otherwise dark room. The heavy curtains at the window were closed.

"You're turning into a vampire, aren't you." He bent and kissed Gil on the cheek, and leaned into the arm that circled his waist.

"What? Oh, it's just such habit, I guess. I'm used to being in the dark, so I don't think about opening the curtains. Besides, I can see more clearly with the light focused like this." The chair creaked as he turned it away from the desk. "Are you just getting home from the lab?"

Nick told the story of his fractured day in a couple sentences. When he got to the part about talking with Abbott, he hesitated. "Can you take a break? I want something to eat before I take a nap."

Gil shot him a curious look, but he nodded and turned off the lamp. When they were settled at the kitchen table, Nick with reheated leftovers and Gil with a cup of decaf, Nick said, "I thought about what you said the other day. About the rope thing."

With an inquiring expression, Gil sat his cup on the table. Nick went on. "It didn't seem fair to just dismiss your interest out of hand, you know? So after work this morning, I was going to go to the seminar to see if I could find out more about it. But like I said," he took a bite of meatloaf, "I got called back in. I didn't get there until the class was over."

"That's too bad, Nicky. I appreciate the thought anyway. Now that we know about Abbott, we'll have to make arrangements to talk to him another time."

"I did talk to him, actually." He chased a lima bean around his plate with his fork. "He was still there when I went in, so I introduced myself. He remembered you, and he remembered the thing with Gordon."

"Ah." Gil sipped. "I told him I thought you'd have some reservations about the rope, but I didn't say why."

"No, I mentioned it in a roundabout way, but he put two and two together. And he, um," Nick brought his wrist up onto the table where Gil could see it clearly, "He gave me a little demonstration."

Gil went quiet. He slid his cup to the side of the table and ran his fingers along the rope lines, now just barely visible on Nick's arm. Not raising his eyes, he asked, "He asked your permission first, I hope."

"Yes, Sir."

"And he was careful? You didn't feel pressured, no panic, nothing like that?"

"He was very professional, Sir." Nick shifted to grasp Gil's fingers. "He has hands a little like yours. Everything was fine for the first couple minutes, but then I guess I freaked out a little bit."

"My god, Nick, are you all right? What happened?" Gil was on his feet and coming around the table. Nick stood to meet him, grabbing the hands that reached out for him.

"I'm fine, fine, honest. He was great, ready to cut that rope the second I said 'red.'"

"You had to use the safeword? I'm going to call the club."

Clutching Gil's hands to keep him in place, Nick tried to pitch his voice to a reassuring tone. "Gil, no. No need to do anything like that. I no sooner had the word out of my mouth than he responded. He was absolutely terrific. It was me that was a little over the top. Come on, let's go sit down and I'll tell you about it."

They were settled on the couch in their usual places; Gil was running his fingers up and down Nick's arm in the quiet that followed Nick telling about his interaction with Abbott. Finally, he spoke. "I have to ask, Nick: taking all into consideration, are you okay with this?"

"Yes, Sir, I am. I was feeling kind of...insecure, I guess would be the word. Afterward, when I talked with Mr. Abbott, he proposed some, ah, variations in technique that might work just fine. If you were agreeable to them. It just has to be you. Nobody else."

Gil kissed him and stood; Nick got up too, and went to the kitchen to clean up the dishes that still sat on the table. He yawned as he turned away from the counter. Gil was waiting for him, his expression full of affection and that indescribable something that always gave Nick a little rush, made him aware of what they were to each other.

"We need to get some rest. We can talk about it a little bit before we go to sleep."

"Shall I bring the things I bought?"

"Yes, bring them along. I want to see what you chose to work with."

XOXOX

They talked for a while, then slept, too long to be a nap and not enough to be a night's sleep. When Nick woke a little past seven, he found Gil already up. They'd talked about trying some things with the rope. Gil was eager to see what it was like, and Nick wanted to see how it might go when it really was his man tying the knots.

It was Gil's turn to cook; they had chicken and rice, a dish that his mother taught him to make when he was a teenager. Nick put a salad together, and they ate while they watched the episode of Heroes they'd recorded the previous week.

When the dishes were cleared away, Gil got out the rope and broke it out of its coils. Colored rope seemed more like an item for play as far as Nick was concerned, so he'd bought the longer lengths of heavier stock in midnight blue. There hadn't been any blue four millimeter, so he'd taken that in scarlet. Gil commented on the vivid contrast as he laid it out on the sofa beside him.

Nick went upstairs and took a shower; when he came back down he wore his collar and nothing more. Gil had settled on the couch with the instruction book Nick brought home; Nick put a pillow on the floor at his feet and reached behind him for the scarlet rope. Following Mr. Abbott's instructions, he ran it back and forth through his hands, feeling for rough spots and letting the oils of his skin soften it.

After a little while, Gil laid the book aside and took up the blue rope. He did as Nick was doing with the red, but draped his rope around Nick's shoulders as he passed it through his hands.

Nick shivered.

"Feel good, Nicky?"

"Mmmm. Yes, Sir." Nick looked down at his lap, where his cock was slowly filling beneath the tangle of hemp. Gil finished with the second length of blue, and held out a hand. Nick passed him the scarlet. "This seems quite different. It's the same material, right?"

"Same stuff, but the thinner gauge. Abbott says it's best for detail work."

"Tell me what that means."

"Um, not the whole body, I guess, but the face, or the fingers and toes, or the..." He trailed off when Gil took his hand and began to wrap scarlet lines around his fingers. "The cock and balls."

"Hmmmm." It was a pleased sound, edged with anticipation. "We'll have to see how that works." He began to coil up the rope, unwrapping it from Nick's hand as he went. "Gather up the blue, my lad, and let's go upstairs."

XOXOX

Nick was standing in the center of the spare bedroom with his fingers laced behind his head. Gil often put him in this posture, then ran his hands over Nick's body, something between an inspection and a caress. This time, he was trailing the rope along Nick's skin, tracing the goosebumps it left behind with his mouth. "You seem to have gotten over some of your hesitation."

"Y-yes Sir. When it's you, it's...it's different."

"It's only ever going to be me, my lad." He brought the ends of a piece of blue together, then found the doubled center, the bight. Cocking his head on one side, he considered, then went behind and wrapped the doubled rope around Nick's chest beneath his arms. There was a cinching feeling in the center of his back, and then the rope was passed back around the front, this time just below the nipples.

After a couple passes, Gil walked around to the front and took Nick's chin in his fingers. "Are you all right, Nicky?"

"Yes, Sir." That faint floating feeling was sneaking up on him; the warmth of Gil's fingers, the sound of Gil's voice, everything "Gil" contributed to it. It was that relaxed, accepting place that he could never imagine gaining with anyone else. The secure feeling of the rope around his chest added a little tingle to the buzz. "I'm really, really fine."

Gil chuckled and kissed him, tasting his mouth thoroughly. "I'll agree to that." He backed away, looking over what he'd done. "I'm not sure this is going to work; the book showed a woman as a model." He pinched Nick's nipples and smiled. "You lack certain anchor points that might be critical."

He eyed the length of rope he had left. "Ah. This might do it." He disappeared, and Nick felt him tying a knot at the back of the harness. A hand holding the ends of the rope appeared between his legs, and Gil moved around to the front to bring the two ends up, one on each side of Nick's hardening cock. He secured them with knots around the bottom and top bands of rope, then looped the ends over Nick's shoulders to tie them to the upper wrap at the center of his back.

Dusting his hands, he walked around, running his fingers under the rope, checking the tension, looking at the knots.

Finally, he smiled and dropped a kiss on Nick's mouth. "That's very nice. How do you feel?"

Nick's heart had started pounding again; it was fear, but it was the same fear he felt before he kicked off into the wind in his hang glider. He licked his lips. "Like you've put me on display."

Gil chuckled and trailed his fingers over Nick's ribs. "No surprise there, my lad. You are certainly worth looking at. Can you walk across the room and back for me?" It wasn't far, maybe ten feet, but the rope rubbed and teased at him, pulling a little over the soft skin at the intersection of legs and torso. When he turned back, he was startled to find Gil right behind him.

He grabbed the harness and pulled Nick in for a kiss, rough and demanding. Nick leaned in, rubbing bare skin against clothing, feeling the rope catch against buttons and belt. Gil smiled against his lips and teased at his nipples, slid his fingers beneath the strands over his chest, then stepped away to sit down on the bed. Nick stood there gasping like he'd run for blocks.

"Come here and stand in front of me. Arms up again." Gil sat down on the bed and picked up the scarlet cord. He positioned the bight against Nick's pubic hair and began to cross and knot the strands, firm and steady, making his way up the length of his cock. "How does it feel?"

"Like..." Nick's whole focus was on that red rope and Gil's hands. "Like you're touching me everywhere."

Gil crossed and tied, crossed and tied. The rope was no tighter than a condom felt, but each loop was a separate small pressure; it seemed like every square centimeter of skin was sparking with sensation. When Gil finished, the trailing ends of the narrow red cord dangled from the tender spot just below the head of Nick's straining erection.

He grinned as he stood up and tugged at the rope. "Come on." Nick moved forward a step, and Gil moved away. "Come on. I've got you where I want you now." The grin turned evil. "One of these days, I'll lead you through the playroom at the club this way."

Nick's cock pulled back against the lead and he returned that wicked smile. He followed Gil around the room, lead gently by the rope that bound his sex, and stopped beside him in front of the mirror.

"See how good you look, sweet lad?"

He moved behind so Nick could see their reflection. Gil in everyday work clothes; Nick in rope, lines of blue over his chest and his abdomen, his nipples dark and tight, the red rope corseting his aching erection right up to its purple head, the leash end of it in Gil's hand where it rested on his hip. Against his ass, he could feel the hard ridge of Gil's cock.

Gil's hands were busy at his waist. In the mirror, he saw that the loose ends of red rope were being looped over the lower wrap of the chest harness. "Sometimes at work I think about you on your knees, or wearing the black drawstring pants, or spread out with the chain between your cuffs draped over your chest, and I'm instantly hard." Gil tied a knot in each end the red cord, pulling it taut, pulling Nick's cock up tight against his belly. "You're my constant temptation. Now I'll think about this, too." He bent his head to nibble along one shoulder to his neck. Nick leaned back against him, breathing hard, feeling his penis strain against the imprisoning rope. "Is it good, Nicky? All right?"

"I'm all yours, Sir." He pressed himself back against Gil and closed his eyes. "All yours."

Gil pulled him around by the harness and took his face in his hands, maneuvering Nick to the perfect angle for a kiss. He feasted on Nick's mouth, a hand in his hair and one on the ties to his cock. Nick had to get closer; he fumbled at shirt buttons and belt. "Mmmm...come on, Sir. I want to touch.."

With one hand wrapped in the rope over Nick's chest, Gil took a step back. "Good idea." He walked back to the bed and sat down. "Start with the shoes."

Nick knelt and untied the heavy boots, unlaced them carefully and set them aside. Socks next, and a quick rub to each foot, then up to open belt and trousers. Gil was not helping; it was a bit of a struggle to get the trousers down to his ankles and off. Every motion rubbed the rope over his chest and at the creases of his thighs. It was soft enough, but there was pressure; every bit of skin it touched seemed a little more alive to sensation. His cock ached and throbbed, pushing against the restraining loops Gil had knotted around it.

Gil's scent was luscious; he was right there, right where he could reach out and take that lovely fat cock in his mouth and make Gil moan. He looked up with a request in his eyes, but Gil shook his head no, and motioned him up onto the bed. "I want you up here where I can look at you, my lad."

Nick climbed onto the mattress and stretched out; Gil leaned over him, propped on one elbow. With the other hand, he tugged at one of the lines that ran between Nick's legs. "I was going to try a real harness—the diamond-patterned one. But you know, I really want to fuck you. And I just don't know if it's possible to do that in a full harness. This way," he tugged, and the rope pulled over Nick's ass cheek, "you're completely accessible."

Nick burrowed in to lap at a nipple. "Accessibility is good." He bit down just a little, and Gil slid a hand into his hair, easing him away.

"So it is." Smiling, he sat up and gave the harness a pull. Nick went with the leverage and wound up on his belly with Gil kneeling between his legs. Another tug, and he was ass up, face down, feeling as exposed as he could ever remember feeling.

"Beautiful. I do like this." The harness jostled him back and forth. He could feel the single strands of rope that passed over his butt cheeks biting a little bit into the skin. The rope tightened on either side of his sac; it felt like it was being pushed behind him. The familiar snick of the lube bottle was the only warning he had before a slicked-up finger pushed inside him, then another, and another.

He was rocking back and forth, partly to get more of those fingers, and partly to feel the rope against his skin. Gil had hold of the harness now, using it to maneuver him into position for entry. The long, slow slide of Gil's cock into his body was heaven, and he groaned with the pleasure of it.

"That's it, Nicky. Yeah. That blue looks good on you, you know it?" He released his grip of Nick's hips and grabbed the harness rope instead. "Look at this. I can move you, pull you back against my dick." Nick followed the pull and moaned again when his prostate took a direct hit. He tried again, sliding himself down Gil's cock, working to get that hit of white-hot pleasure. "Yeah. Like that. Move on me, sweet boy. Rock yourself on me."

Gil pulled Nick up onto his knees, and Nick struggled for balance until Gil wrapped his arms around and got him settled. They matched a rhythm between the thrust and rock of hips. The press of the rope around his body melded with the steady advance and retreat of Gil's cock inside him until Nick lost all track of place and time. He rested against Gil, moving together with him, his hands tracing the lines that trapped his red-wrapped cock.

A sharp bite to his shoulder brought him back. "Don't you touch. That's mine." Gil thrust again, a more demanding, harder stroke. "Can you come wrapped up like that?"

"I..." Gil pinched his nipples, and Nick stuttered to a halt.

"Can you?"

"Yes, I...ah! I think so"

"Can you come trussed up like this, Nicky? Tied up nice and tight, displayed, completely my own, right down to your dick?" Gil was whispering in his ear, breathy hisses punctuated with little nips. He found the cock ropes and gave them a tug. Nick jerked against him and sucked in a sharp breath.

"It's so sweet to be inside you. I've got you inside and out." He gave a long stroke the length of Nick's cock. The rippling sensation of the rope between Gil's hand and his skin was too much; Nick bucked up and came, pushing into the tight grip, crying out and shuddering. The steady thrust tripped and stuttered, and as Nick slumped forward onto his hands, Gil came with a shout.

They both rolled to the right and ended spooned together. Gil kissed Nick's shoulders, rubbed his belly, slid his fingers beneath the rope web. Finally, breathing back to normal, Nick turned to face his man.

"So, did you like it?"

Gil cracked him gently on the ass. "I'd think the answer to that was obvious. What about you? You seemed to deal with it well."

Nick rolled his eyes a little and got a smack on the ass in response. "Yeah. It's scary, but it's good-scary. It's nothing I ever fantasized about, but maybe that's the best part. Everything about this kind of bondage is new for me, and we can work it out together. As long as you're the one holding the reins, I'm willing to try."

He winced a little as Gil began to unknot the rope around his penis. "Sorry," he said as he peeled it away. "I want to get this off of you." He unfastened the last of it and dropped it over the side of the bed. "And the chest harness, too."

As he worked, Gil replaced each knot and loop point with a kiss. He frowned over the redness at Nick's groin. "You're going to have marks here. I don't like that. We'll have to find some other way to do this if your skin is that tender."

Nick looked down. "It doesn't feel too bad, Sir. Let it go and see if they fade or not. I, um..."

Gil raised his head from the kiss he'd planted on Nick's navel. "What were you going to say?" he asked.

"I guess I don't mind if it marks a little. I mean, it's kind of hot, really." He nestled into his usual spot wrapped up in Gil's arms; he knew without looking that Gil had that odd little half-smile on his face.

"Marks, Nicky? You like my marks on you?" The chuckle was a tiny bit on the evil side. "Let me give that some thought."

Nick smiled and pushed himself up to capture a kiss. "Don't think too hard, Sir. One adventure at a time."

XOXOX

It was one of their mutual evenings off, and Nick was lounging on a cushion by Gil's chair in the library of the Las Vegas Gentlemen's Club. He was wearing those black drawstring pants that Gil loved so well. Around his chest was a harness of blue hemp. Gil, as he spoke with one of the other Doms, toyed with the trailing ends of the rope.

"Mr. Grissom?"

"Mr. Abbott! It's good to see you. Pull up a chair."

"No, no, I can't stay." Behind him, Alan stood at attention; he was wearing what looked like a cross between a chiton and a kilt; a tattoo trailed down along his thigh below the very short hem. "We're due in the blue playroom in a few minutes. I just wanted to say hello." He looked down at Nick, who straightened his posture and smiled. "It looks like you've put the seminar to practical use. How has it worked out?"

"Well enough that we'll be joining you in the blue room this evening."

"Excellent. It's going to be a good party, I believe."

Gil said, "I'm glad you'll be there. If you have a moment later, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"I'll be happy to talk with you." Abbott took his sub's hand and turned toward the door. "See you there."

Nick leaned up to whisper in Gil's ear. At his nod, he called out, "Mr. Abbott?"

"Yes, Nick?"

"I never said thank you for the demonstration."

Abbott smiled. "My pleasure, Nick. I'm happy it worked out for you."

Nick leaned back, but Gil was standing. "Come on, Nicky. Ready to go?"

"Yes, Sir. Looking forward to it."