Chapter Text
He's not exactly surprised to see the other cars parked outside, but he does huff under his breath. It explains why Skizz was so insistent about 'No spoilers' and Jimmy showing up on time. It was definitely Etho’s idea. That kind of subtle atmosphere is basically his signature.
Knowing that he's being put on the back foot doesn't mean that it isn't working, and his face heats while he parks. The trunk is popped as a shadow passes over the living room window, and he gets out with a warm face, trying to think about nothing in particular. If he gets in his head this early he's going to mess up the schedule, and they've planned too much to ruin this—not helping. No pressure Jimmy, just perfectly regulate your emotional state while being manipulated by four experts or else you'll waste four people's time and almost two weeks of planning!
Light spills out over the lawn as the door creaks open "Thought so-BOYS!" Skizz's voice breaks the moment of angst, rushing down as Jimmy slings his bag over his shoulder and straightens up. "The star's arrived! Hey Jiggles, let me grab that for you"
The door stays open behind him but Skizz doesn't care, trotting across the lawn in a 'Kiss the Cook' apron to bundle Jimmy into a bear hug. His presence is so outsized that Jimmy always forgets that Skizz is a little shorter until moments like this where he can peer just over his head. The hug is warm and firm, and Skizz smells like a full kitchen. Its nice. After a second he pulls back and claps Jimmy on the back with a grin. A shape appears in the door, calling out.
"Let the poor guy in-"
"Impulse you fucker, your sabotaged me" Tango yells, further inside
"We had a bet on who got to you first." Skizz stage whispers, pressing one enormous hand on a shoulder and gently guiding him forward. His moment of confusion lets Skizz grab the strap of the duffel bag and lift it over his head as he keeps a hand just below Jimmy’s shoulder blade. He hadn't bothered wearing a jacket for the ten foot walk from the car to the house and he can feel the heat of the fingers sinking through his tee. An image of a sheep dog nudging a lamb comes to his mind. This image also fails to help him calm down.
"Uh, what's this bet exactly? Should I be worried?" He says, letting the unsteadiness show just enough in his voice to sound playfully (he hopes) nervous. Skizz and Impulse both chuckle, but Skizz's sounds friendly. Impulse laughs like there's a joke that Jimmy isn't in on.
"Nothing to worry about Jimmy" Impulse says in response, a little low, a little easy. Leaning against the door frame, almost blocking it entirely. "Did you hit any of the traffic?"
As he says it Impulse steps out onto the porch, turning his body to open the frame. Skizz slips around Jimmy, holding his bag and disappearing inside. The feeling of being herded strengthens, as Impulse smoothly steps back in front, blocking the way. It warms something in his gut, but it's also a little amusing. He quirks an eyebrow at the theatrics
"Not really. Just missed rush hour. I think there's an accident on 65 though, it looked like there was a backup off the exit ramp. You know you have to let me into the house before we can get started?"
Impulse laughs again and steps forward.
"You look good tonight, Jim." he says instead of actually responding. Jimmy is maybe two steps away on the porch but it must be too far because Impulse gets a double-handed hold on his hips to pull him in for a kiss. One arm wraps around as soon as he's close enough, Jimmy getting his own around the other man's thick shoulders.
Beer and beard, the lip contact switches to just under his ear and the arms around him lock completely. For a second Jimmy can't move, held perfectly in place.
"You smell good too" Impulse rumbles directly into his ear before dropping the grip on his hip and stepping around.
It's less that Impulse gets space between them and more that he moves to crowding Jimmy from behind, walking him into the house with hands guiding him by the shoulders. Okay. Okay they're really getting started already. He can handle this, he's done a lot more than let Impulse shove him around—thinking about that is not calming him down. The list of things that are not calming him down is getting longer by the second. He almost trips over the doorframe when he stumbles in the direction he's pushed but Impulse catches him with a quiet "Easy there" and pulls him upright into the front hall.
The door clicks shut, leaving them in an almost overbearing warmth that smells like bread and stew. The house is Skizz's, because it's the biggest and the best stocked, which means trinkets on the end table and a boot tray with a sign over top. ‘Wipe your feet you filthy animals!’ Handmade, and probably Skizz-made, because the lettering barely fits on the page. Jimmy gets only a brief glimpse of the homey interior before their third member stumbles into the room, yelling in the direction Skizz went and removing a pair of oven gloves
"I hope it burned, you cheating bastard-oh damn." Tango stops dead when he turns his head to see Jimmy, gripped in place by Impulse. His eyes widen slightly. For some reason the spirit of his grandmother possesses Jimmy long enough to wave a hand in greeting and say "Do you need help in the kitchen?"
"Don't you even think about it" Tango says, seeming to shake off his momentary surprise. "You're our guest tonight."
"Shoes" Impulse says quietly. Another push but Jimmy is actually allowed to walk to the boot tray under his own power. Impulse even releases his shoulders, although he's following close behind. Tango steps up for a peck on the lips but leans against the wall while Jimmy toes off the running shoes he's still wearing from earlier in the day.
"A guest can still help. " it's a bit like standing in a small closet, bracketed by the walls of men on both sides. "I didn't realize there was going to be dinner involved or I would have brought something."
"You brought the most important part!" Tango sketches a flourish in the air that circles Jimmy's entire being. "And it's not dinner, Skizz made dip and some snacks. Plus a couple light things for when you're harnessed up, we want you to have something too. You can have dip after."
"I'm perfectly able to eat dip in ropes" the indignation is hard to tamp down, even though its probably teasing. He's trying not to pout as he looks up into Tango's face, where his eyes keep flicking down to Jimmy's lips.
"Etho was toying with the idea of a collar, so I don’t know how viable that’s gonna be" Impulse reminds him from behind.
"He ended up deciding against it" he says, instead of thinking about what Impulse just said. "But I think I'll manage to survive without dip anyway."
"Aw, don't worry" Tango finally looks up from Jimmy's mouth but only over his shoulder to Impulse. It communicates something between them because the wall closes in behind and then Tango steps forward, reaching up with finger and thumb to cradle Jimmy's jaw. He inhales sharply, eyes locking onto Tango' s face. Smiling, very faintly, but staring intently. He licks his lips and watches the smile tick up a notch, curling into self satisfaction. "I think you'll have a great night no matter what."
Impulse slides a hand up his bicep and over to his collarbone, before drawing it across and laying a bar of muscle across his chest. Jimmy's hand hang by his hips while he decides whether or not he wants to completely roll over and take this. Normally he wouldn't mind but: "I thought Etho wanted me completely lucid before the rigging" he manages to get out.
"Hmm. I forgot how easily you drop" Tango lies, absolutely lies, with an evil little smirk like he doesn't know how close those long fingers are to closing on Jimmy's throat or how tightly Impulse is keeping him pinned. The shaky exhale he releases gets a click of the tongue from his grinning boyfriend.
"Well if Jim can't keep his head, we better get him straight to the main event. What do you think Impulse?"
"I mean I'm having trouble keeping my head too. Be nice to the guy."
"Yeah" Tango tilts him up, baring his pulse and removing his view of the other man. "God damn Jim, this is a good look."
"Thank you?" he manages, staring somewhat up at the ceiling. "You told me casual was fine, I really didn't think this was anything special."
"It's tight." Impulse says, rubbing a hand along the black fabric of the sleeve. "And it's making your arms look incredible. You wanna?"
"Yeah." Tango lets go, and Jimmy gets his head down in time to see Tango sink to his knees. He tries to look all the way down but
"Eyes up."
That low rumble from Impulse snaps his gaze down the hall, blushing properly now. They haven't even started and he's already useless. At least Impulse has enough mercy or common sense to not tell him that he's doing a good job. It means he stays embarrassed and hot under the collar instead of completely empty-headed as Tango takes his socks off. It sparks a shiver when Jimmy remembers why that's so important to do and a squeeze from Impulse, probably for the same reason.
"It's not a full suspension but the anchor point has to hold your weight, so we're gonna be in the living room" Tango stands up and pecks Jimmy on the cheek, obnoxiously loud. That bit of neutral contact feels weirdly good after so much manhandling. "Plus the kitchen is one door over, so you won't ever be out of reach. We're gonna take good care of you Jim." he looks up at Impulse again and nods before stepping back.
"So" Impulse starts, loosening his grip and once again moving him forward. Tango steps aside to follow them. "Pretty simple plan, but we're going over it one more time. I'm going to beat you on the soles, hopefully to bruises but you haven't done it before so we're gonna go slow. Once you're nice and aching, Etho is going to tie you standing in place with a spreader bar and harness. All good so far?"
The plan had seemed exciting when they were coming up with it. Great dirty talk. Right now it's making him light-headed with arousal. Impulse always wants verbal confirmation (and he has to stay lucid. He has to) so he agrees with "Yup. That's the plan. Free use afterwards." and even manages to mostly stay in a normal octave range.
"You're going to look so good Jimmy" Tango says, almost reverent. Impulse nods, bumping into Jimmy when he does so.
"We have a camera set up, which won't be saved onto anything until you've watched it and okayed it. But I want you to watch it. I want you to see how gorgeous you are, doll."
Pet names. They're on to pet names. Cool cool. Good.
"You said you didn't want to wait, but how are you feeling right now?"
He wants to get deeper, wants to sink under. But Etho (rightfully) won't do any kind of ropework with someone in an altered state of mind so he says "A few minutes to breathe or else Etho's gonna be mad at all of us"
Chuckles and they back away from him, slipping out of their persona like it's just an item of clothing.
"Sorry Jim" Tango says, leaning in for another peck on the cheek. "Let's cool off for a bit and then we can get started"
There's a much more relaxed shuffle into the kitchen, Skizz taking a look and visibly adjusting himself to the energy change. Etho is still out of sight, which is very Etho. He's not big on groups most of the time. Someone opens a bag of chips and pours it into a bowl, while they chat like this is just a dinner party. Skizz's dip is good, and there's some kind of baked brie in the oven because Jimmy is fucking the kind of men who bake brie for an orgy.
After maybe ten minutes he feels a lot calmer, which is funny because Impulse looks him over while mixing a pair of drinks and asks "Ready to start?" Kind of ruins his chill.
"Yup." Jimmy takes a pull on his soda, before handing it off to Tango. It's half-full but someone else will finish it. Impulse doesn't go back into touching range, but his gaze is very intent on Jimmy as he gestures them into the living room. The kitchen brackets the dining room and living room, letting them slip straight into the play space from the room. Of course the hall and kitchen door to the living room were both closed when they came in, (no spoilers) so Tango opens the entrance from the kitchen with a theatrical gesture. Jimmy holds for a second but Impulse tells him "You first." It was worth a shot. He walks in, trying to ignore the closing ranks behind him.
There are signs that they've converted the room to a sex dungeon for the evening, but it mostly looks normal. The big one is that the coffee table and rug are shoved off into the corner, and someone put a throw blanket on top of the TV. And the camera, sitting on said coffee table. And Etho lounging on the couch, scrolling his phone. He waves a hand before he looks up, sharply raking Jimmy over with his eyes.
"He good?" Etho asks one of the others. Jimmy misses the response, being pushed by Impulse again. He stumbles over his own feet and has to be steadied again.
"On the couch, face down. Feet up on the side" Impulse says, sounding completely unaffected.
There's talking around them and Jimmy risks a glance to see the other two, holding drinks and watching. He didn't think they'd watch but...well. He's not supposed to think, is he. It’s not until he’s halfway on the couch that he spots the ring hanging down from a chain mounted into the ceiling, and boy howdy does that make it hard to not get excited.
"Should I-" he starts. Impulse grabs him by the back of the head and turns him forward.
"On the couch. Face down. That's not a request, doll."
"Sorry" comes out and ah dammit. He's probably going to get another fucking conversation because they all overreact when Jimmy apologizes during a scene. Before that can start he gets onto the couch, hands and knees before folding onto his stomach. Not entirely sure what 'feet on the side' means but Impulse illustrates by grabbing an ankle and pulling him into position. The curve of the top of his feet lays almost perfectly against the arm of the couch, leaving his soles bare and upright to the room. And it's not about feet, it's about pain, but Impulse takes the moment to start checking them over, rolling fingertips into the meat of his arch and checking movement. It’s intimate in a way he’s not used to.
There's the sound of other people positioning themselves for the show as Jimmy stares red-faced into his folded arms.
"Do you want him restrained?" Etho asks, sounding curious.
"Jim's good with pain, so I don't think so." Impulse might as well be talking about his latest project " We're gonna try a few test swings and see. Everybody ready?"
"Got my drink, got the best seat, I'm all good!"
"Jimmy" at Etho's voice he turns his head, trying not to jump at how close the other man is. He’s crouching by the sofa. Wanted a front-seat view, apparently. "Eyes on me."
"Oh wonderful" he manages, somehow blushing harder. Jimmy is going to fall like a fucking rock if they make him bare his face while he's beaten. Etho smiles a little, like he knows why Jimmy got tense just there.
"It's not a full impact scene" he says quietly. "Just enough for a little spice. And if we need to take a break after, we will.”
That makes him feel a little better but he can't help the quiet anxiety that he's going to disappoint Etho. Another thing that he can never never never say out loud without a flock of worried boyfriends descending on him. Instead he goes with "I'll try, E. Whenever you're ready. I'm comfortable here"
"Well I don't think this is going to be comfortable for long" Etho says and sits cross legged on the floor as Impulse carefully presses the cane against the soft part of his foot. Just enough to be felt. Then he starts tapping lightly, getting him used to the touch.
Jimmy is not a stranger to pain, and neither is Impulse. They play hard together. This particular pain isn't one he's tried. They’ve talked about it, but the logistics have never fully worked out. This isn’t a scene he can just shake off when they’re done, someone else needs to be nearby in case he can’t walk. Which means Impulse would have to stick around and dance attendance on Jimmy for who knows how fucking long, and the thought makes him curl up with guilt. With four men in the room, two of them entirely focused on Jimmy it’s going to be a lot more spread out and okay that reminder is giving him stage fright but now Impulse is speeding up enough that the taps are sounding like slaps. Not more than stinging yet but enough to promise real hurt
"Eyes open" Etho reminds him. He blinks to look at the man next to him. It makes his chest tighten again, something pulsing low in his stomach. "There you are, handsome." a hand cards through his hair and Etho glances away to ask "You two having fun"
"Oh yeah" Tango sounds a little breathless. "Caning isn't always my speed but I do appreciate watching someone else do the work."
"Gee thanks" Impulse says.
There's a break in rhythm and Jimmy knows to brace himself for the first real hit. It lands hard, licking up across the palms of both feet. Another follows, right after.
He closed his eyes at the pain, more out of shock than anything else. He makes himself look back at Etho, almost flinching under the intense stare. He feels naked. Another hard hit, further up.
"How’d he take that?"
"Really good" Etho lifts a hand and rests it on Jimmy's hair, like he's petting a goddamn dog and they're not doing pet play, Jimmy has drawn the fucking line before—"You weren't kidding, our boy is incredible at this"
The praise laps at the edges of his vision. It doesn't help that Skizz adds "Hear that Jiggles? You're killing it. Top, did you want another drink?"
The next two hits drown out the response. Impulse says something after that, and a hit lands hard on a spot that's already tender. It goes fuzzy for a second, starting to hurt when nothing touches him, the skin warming the air around him and every hit drags that background ache up. The cane lands with a crack and it shines like white fire and he has to steel himself from shivering. His eyes are closed, but nobody says anything and he's starting to buzz with the pain, tuned to the key of every hit. It feels delicious
"Hey Etho, you sure you don't want a water or anything?"
"Yeah I feel like it'll just get knocked over right now"
He flinches right in time for the next hit. Its starting to go into that blue-hot sharpness when it lands, still warm and sore when it doesn’t. His back tenses but the next pain doesn’t come, the rhythm broken. As soon as his back unknots the line strikes down, driving a harsh exhale out of him. Then there's a touch on his calf, and he has to control the flinch again.
"You wanna swap?"
"Yeah just-"
He floats for a bit while people move around him. Nobody asks him for anything, or seems to be talking to him, letting him luxuriate in the warm pain radiating up his legs.
“Yeah that looks good Impulse, but check him first”
There’s a hand on his shoulder, heavy and grounding. He exhales hard, only a little shaky and opens his eyes. Impulse is there now.
“Hey there. One to ten, where you at?”
“Three” his voice sounds ragged, despite how silent he’s been the whole time. “How many was that?”
“About seven real hits, a couple lighter ones. You need a minute?”
It takes until this moment for Jimmy to finally internalize what it means that there are currently four tops in the room and they’re all keyed onto him. Sure, he had been intellectually aware up until this point but now that they’re past the point of no return, he has the dizzying feeling of eyes surrounding him. Etho is laying a hand on his ankle, and Tango is curled up with Skizz and he’s not just the sub he’s the centerpiece-
“Jimmy?”
“I need a minute” he closes his eyes, resting his head back down. Impulse lifts his hand, leaving a cold spot behind. Jimmy still has the self control to not chase the contact, and so he doesn’t.
“Want to take a look?” Etho asks, and Skizz makes an interested noise.
“Yeah! I still don’t think I have the stomach for it but I’m getting more of the appeal now. You look gorgeous, Jimmy.”
“Thanks” he mumbles into his arms. Someone ruffles his hair on the walk around. Chatter, conversation, art laid out to be admired. A light touch on his foot makes him tense, anticipating pain that doesn’t come.
“Oh those stripes are going to color perfectly.” Tango carefully traces a line across the arch of his foot. It makes his toes curl. Jimmy feels pleased to hear it, warm even past the pain. Impulse is good with the switch. He’s made art out of Jimmy plenty of times before, and there’s a part of Jimmy that’s glad that someone else can admire it. Even if its just a few swats on the foot, the praise is well deserved.
“Yeah” he can almost see the quiet pride on Impulse’s face. “I’m glad, there’s only so much research you can do to make sure you’re doing it right.”
“You two like to play with canes though. I’ve seen our boy come back all black and blue” its teasing, making Jimmy want to color at the memory of a particular night and being called a whore while fingers dig into bruises.
“Mm.” Impulse has a hand on his shoulder now, and Jimmy is happy to hide, pretending that he’s unaware of being their toy, that he can’t hear them. “I do. I’ll take a video if he’s okay with it. He’s really something else when he’s hurting for you. I’m glad you three are getting a chance to see it”
“You think I haven’t seen him hurting?” Tango asks lazily, and Impulse chuckles. “That’s fair. You aren’t normally much for impact play though.”
“Nah. But there’s plenty of other ways to hurt.”
“Okay kids. Stop playing with your chew toy.” Skizz comes to Jimmy’s rescue, holding something that clinks. “Here’s your drink. Jiggles, you want anything? Water?”
He shakes his head, exhaling and shifting his arms beneath him. “No. No I’m good. Do we want to keep going?”
“That’s up to Etho. You need a hand setting up?”
“Hold on” footsteps up his side and he resists the urge to burrow further into his arms, turning his head to peer out at Etho walking up. He doesn’t get down, laying hands on Jimmy again (he’s being touchy today) and asks “One to ten, how are you?”
“Three” he says again, adding “I’m good to move” Etho nods and grabs an arm to help him turn over.
Rolling over is completely fine until he moves his legs away from the couch arm where he’s laid on display and puts his feet down on the floor. The technical term is that it ‘hurts like hell’. He looks up at Etho, looming over him. The peanut gallery can be ignored, even Impulse was just the warmup for this part of the scene. Foreplay. Its him and Etho now.
Etho holds both hands out, waiting until Jimmy takes both. “Alright. Try standing”
He doesn’t quite have it in him to protest, or fight back. He braces himself and lets Etho take his weight and tip him onto his feet. It rapidly goes from ‘sore’ to ‘horrible’ before going back down to ‘ow.’
“Fuck.” he says, once he’s more or less upright. Etho grunts.
“What are you at now?”
“Maybe a-a seven. Six. A six.”
“Okay. Doing great Jimmy. I’m gonna try and move fast, but I need you to stay sharp until you’re secure. If you feel like you’re dropping say yellow.”
He nods, swaying a bit when Etho drops his hands. His feet are painful, but the sharp poke is muting down to a deep ache. Uncomfortable, but not hellish. Etho points at a spot on the floor and goes to grab his rope while Jimmy limps into place. Still facing away from the couch, even though the other three are still there. Etho doesn’t let him get away with that, immediately turning him as soon as he returns.
Its a lot worse when he can see them.
Tango meets his eyes, smirking and fuck. He took his shirt off at some point, unbuttoned his pants. Skizz isn’t far behind, Impulse is taking a long pull on an old fashioned, with his eyes half-lidded and Jimmy is still in jeans and a tee, but he’s swaying on his feet and swallowing hard at their eyes.
“Hey” Etho steps between him and them, holding a stretch of dyed rope. Blue and black gradient. “You ready to give them a show?”
No. Not at all. He’s so turned on he feels sick with it and they’re going to see it in his face.
Jimmy nods. Etho raises an eyebrow and he flushes. Verbal answers only. “Yes. I’m ready.”
He doesn’t actually know the precise details of the tie, only that Etho wanted him standing on beaten feet and tied upright. That rules out suspension, and if there’s already pain he probably won’t go for anything too strict. Hopefully. It doesn’t matter though. His opinion doesn’t matter.
Etho steps back from Jimmy. He turns his head slightly to make sure his eyes stay on Etho. A small sign that he’s present in the scene.
“Good. Eyes forward.”
Dammit. He looks forward, trying hard not to see anything ahead of him. The rising heat in his face betrays him. In the corner of his eye Etho steps out of view. He can feel his heartbeat in the soles on his feet, pulsing against the floor.
“Arms behind.”
He moves to do so, letting Etho makes adjustments. His arms are held at right angles behind him, but not grabbing each wrist. Any confusion about that dissolves when Etho straightens his left arm and then starts moving him like a doll. He ends up with the elbow folded up to frame his face while his hand lays down near the base of his neck. Etho circles his wrist and squeezes the bone. He lets go, gently reaches down and grabs the other, moving it into a mirror on the other side. And this is torture because nothing is keeping Jimmy there but the idle words of another man.
“Relax”
That’s the worst thing Etho could have said. It takes a second for Jimmy to even parse the order. But he does. Arms by the side, face no doubt an embarrassing red, and he’s been tenting his jeans for the last oh, twenty minutes?
The hands that slide up his hips under his shirt make him shiver, but as the shirt pulls up he lifts his arms, letting Etho slip it over his head.
“Back in position” he says, as soon as Jimmy is naked from the waist up. He puts his hands back where Etho told him to.
“Good.” is murmured, so quietly he doesn’t think anyone but them could hear it, except for the reaction it causes in him. Etho steps close on the left side, gripping Jimmy again.
He’s bare to them now, and he can’t stop his eyes flicking down at where Skizz is slowly palming himself. He smirks when he sees Jimmy watching and nope—he flicks his eyes up, focusing on the wall behind. His stomach feels very bare, arms up and nothing between him and the light.
“Shivering already?” Etho murmurs, and Jimmy closes his eyes. He can’t look. He can’t. “Are you cold? Or…” fingers trail up the back of his neck, drawing another shiver out of him. Etho chuckles.
“Thought so. Too much?”
The patronizing concern burns like whiskey, just as dizzying. Jimmy doesn’t respond but Etho grabs his head and forces him to turn. He opens his eyes, blinking away the blurriness.
“Is this too much?” he’s still smirking. Fucker.
“No.”
“You want me to keep going” Etho goads, and Jimmy winces again before saying “Yes. Please.”
At least he doesn’t have to look, but Skizz says “That was faster than I thought” in a voice that is probably meant to be quieter than it comes out.
“That’s why I wanted the pain” Etho says, putting Jimmy’s head back in place, realizing abruptly that he never moved his arms from their upright position through that entire conversation. Rough rope wraps around him. “He blushes when you tie him up, but when there’s pain he cries. Too well-behaved otherwise. I want him to struggle a bit”
“When have I ever cried in front of you” Jimmy braves, trying to get a little more control over the mood. Its wildly misplaced, considering that Impulse and Tango both view ‘torturing Jimmy’ to be a competitive sport, and he sees the look they give each other at his very, very, very stupid goading. He’s going to regret that.
“About fifteen minutes from now” Tango says, grinning. Jimmy isn’t looking at him but he’s grinning like a fucking shark, his tone is grinning. Etho doesn’t say anything, letting Jimmy dig his own grave while the rigger wraps a coil into position. “Or maybe less, I don’t actually have a good idea for how long its going to take.”
“It’s not a complicated harness, maybe ten minutes maximum. Jimmy, pull.” Etho finally speaks up, sounding distracted. “Nothing fancy. I know we didn’t want to spend too much time on prep. Besides the fun part-”
Etho taps a foot against Jimmy’s ankle to illustrate the fun part. He shifts his weight at the reminder. His feet do, in fact, still hurt. And it’s going to get worse over time, keeping him from the perfect behavior they’re going to demand from him.
“-The other long bit is going to be attaching him to the hardpoint.”
“You could have just strung it up ahead of time-”
“Yeah but I hate the way it looks” Etho, the world’s pickiest rope top. “I checked the weight, and it’s perfectly safe.”
Despite being half tied up with his elbows around his face like an asshole, Jimmy shares a fond look with Tango. That’s their Etho, neurotic about placement and yet even more neurotic about safety.
“You already drilled a hole in my ceiling what more do you have to do-”
“I need to make a column tie from that point or else its going to pull the harness wrong. I don’t want to hang him”
“Thank you for the mental image” Jimmy mutters, closing his eyes at the thought.
“You’re so chatty all of a sudden” he’s lightly smacked on the cheek with the words, and he sighs before opening his eyes obediently. No hiding tonight.
“You wanted me lucid.”
Etho ruffles his hair from behind, ignoring him trying to shake the touch off with a grumble. “Only for the first part. I want you to be able to tell me if I put pressure on a nerve point. Skizz you said you wanted to take a look at the tie?”
“Hell yeah dude.” Skizz bounces up, grabbing his drink off the end table. As he does so Tango leans over to Impulse and whispers something that makes the other man laugh. Jimmy shifts, squirms a bit, but forces himself to stop before it turns into a thing they’ll comment on.
“Is that going to fully restrain him—oh I see. There’s going to be a column running down the back of his neck.”
“Yeah, that’s whats going to keep him from just slipping out of it. It’s gonna be a little loose-” fingers tug at the rough band gripping his bicep “-otherwise he can’t wear it for more than an hour or so. I wanted to find something that keeps him well put but doesn’t block too much of the view. Behind the head harness seemed perfect-”
Etho keeps going, talking shop as he goes back to tying. Skizz interjects every few minutes with occasional questions or the clinking of ice cubes. Tango is leaning fully into Impulse’s side now, settled comfortably in place. Jimmy’s eyes catch on Impulse’s hand. He slung an arm over Tango and his fingers are idly playing with the seam of his shirt, close enough that he could almost bury his face in blond hair. They look amazing together and Jimmy imagines himself curled up in that heavy warmth, but the glancing touch of Etho tugging a rope breaks the spell. He inhales sharply and watches Impulse’s eyes zero in on him. A slow smile crosses the larger man’s face and he lets his gaze drift across Jimmy’s open chest. He wants to hide himself from that lecherous crawl, but that option is no longer on the table. Impulse leans over to whisper in Tango’s ear, not breaking his stare.
Etho tells Jimmy to pull again, and tightens something that slipped out of position. Now Jimmy can’t release his arms. Instinct has him shift in place, but nothing changes. He’s wrapped up tight. His hands curl as much as they’re able, gripping the rope wrapped around his palm.
“Oh that is nice. So now it’s just the ceiling hookup?”
“Legs first” Etho says, and Jimmy can’t stop himself from cursing under his breath. He gets a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.
“Everything off, yes?” Tango’s voice is low and rolling, lounging into Impulse like he’s a throne. Jimmy flexes his hands again when he looks.
“You warm enough bud?” Skizz says and the disconnect of being called ‘bud’ while he’s about to be stripped naked is enough to have him try to turn his head to look at Skizz. He bumps into his own arms, becoming even more aware of how ridiculous this pose is, and how fucking exposed he is.
“He asked you a question, Jimmy” is purred from Etho which at least puts this back in the context of sex and not...whatever that was. Caretaking? That’s for aftercare, this is for making Jimmy uncomfortable and then cum his tiny brain out.
“I’m good” he manages. Skizz says “Alright then” and fully smacks him on the ass as he walks back to the sofa. There’s a round of chuckles when Jimmy jumps, and it reignites the heat in his face. Fuck they could spank him like this, beat him blue, burn him, cut him, anything. It wasn’t in the original itinerary but if they changed their mind he couldn’t stop them—
“Jimmy.” Etho is kneeling, when did he start kneeling? Hands on thighs—oh. Etho is about to strip him. He loves to put on a show, doesn’t he.
After no one says anything for a second he figures he’s supposed to respond and says “Yes, Etho?”
“Stay out of your head until I tell you” Etho says, which is fucking unfair.
“Make it easier for me” Jimmy mutters out of a surge of petulance, and then winces. Fortunately the only thing that happens is Skizz saying “He’s got a point you know” and Etho squeezing his thigh with a smirk. At least if he’s looking down at Etho he can’t watch the others stare him down.
Etho doesn’t drag this part out (unlike the entire rest of it ), just unbuckling his jeans and pulling them to his ankles. Stepping out of the legs makes him hiss at the shock of pain, which is only going to get worse because oh joy, Etho actually lied about a spreader, of course he did. Insane, rope-obsessed shibari genius Etho has apparently set up anchor points in the floor, which explains why Skizz and him spent so much time together last week. Jimmy thinks about bolts and resale value, anything at all to ignore the burn as Etho pushes his right foot into position and begins wrapping the joint in a snug band of rope, holding him tight and safe. Right where they want him.
“You guys went all out” Jimmy rasps, trying another method of distraction.
“You’re worth it” Skizz says cheerfully. “And now you guys have to come over more often.”
“Aw Skizz, were we not giving you enough attention?” Impulse shifts on the couch as he talks, Jimmy can’t look at them or at Etho but that really just leaves staring into the middle distance on the floor for the few minutes where Etho isn’t able to put his head back into position. Hardwood. Pretty. Great flooring. Amazing flooring.
“Pull the foot towards me” Etho says and Jimmy pulls. He’s got maybe an inch of slack, before he locks into place. There’s a pat on the inside of his knee and fuck here we go. Last breath before the dive. Etho slides the other foot out with the steady care of an artist, careful to keep one arm on the inside of his thigh in case he loses balance. Jimmy fully closes his eyes, and thinks about flooring.
“I gotta say, whoever came up with this was a genius” ice clinking again, someone is walking out of the room towards the kitchen.
“Etho and I were talking about group scenes and I mentioned bastinado, since it takes so much more aftercare. He floated the idea of predicament bondage using the bruises, and Jimmy said he was interested. So its a group effort.”
“Other foot now, test it.” That’s both now, knees maybe shoulder width apart. Not crazy but enough that his cock is fully hanging between the frame of his legs and he can’t move away from the hand sliding up his inner thigh. When he tries to pull his leg it stays stuck. Tight in place.
“Almost done, you’re doing great.”
When Etho moves his hand the cuffs stay in place, hugging like the echo of his grip. Tighter than his grip. Snug. Jimmy is terrible with words at the best of times. It just feels nice.
“Last one. Can someone grab the chair from the kitchen?”
“A chair? Really? That’s better than just attaching the rope first?”
A hand strokes down the edge of Jimmy’s face, tipping his jaw. He opens his eyes at the silent command, looking back into Etho’s face. He can feel his stomach flexing with each breath.
“Its all about presentation” Etho says to Tango but he’s staring at Jimmy with satisfaction. I did this, his gaze seems to say, I made this.
Jimmy licks his lips. The pain is starting to blend into the rest of the discomfort, the shame burning down into heat. Wood scrapes as someone brings the chair and Etho drops him to circle behind and finish his work.
It’s quick. Something catches in the rope on the back of his neck. Then it pulls, hauling him up. Etho goes slow, waiting until he has to stand straight. Then he steps back, moving the chair to the side.
“Okay Jimmy. Everything feel alright?”
Its the only question anyone is going to ask and expect a real answer from him, so he takes the time to really think it over. No numbness, nothing is pinching, and even with the ache in his feet this stance is easy to hold.
“I’m good.” he admits. Across the room Tango lifts his drink to finish it. Etho puts both hands on Jimmy’s shoulders and raises his voice into a presentation cadence.
“And with that gentleman: he’s all yours. The loose end is the quick release, and the cutter is right here. Enjoy”
There’s a bit of applause, Etho twirling a hand into a quick bow before walking to join the others. Jimmy stays put.
The arm harness is tight, and its keeping his shoulders folded back, ensuring that the full plane of his front is bare to everyone in the room. There’s nothing between him and them, and he can feel the eyes landing between his legs. He shifts a bit on instinct, but he can’t shield himself.
“Alright” Tango says, standing up now. “I will admit, there is something to be said for your methods Etho” he starts walking, circling around to look at the full display. Jimmy closes his eyes again, since no one told him not to. And its kind of a lot right now.
“Wow. Impulse, look how far down he’s blushing”
“Top, I’m taking a picture, you might want to step over.”
“Oh! Sorry, there you go.”
“Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
“Isn’t he? This was a great idea Impulse.”
“Dude, most of the credit goes to you. All I did was rough him up a bit.”
“A bit?” Skizz sounds like he’s walking away as he talks. “If you went on for a few more I think he would have started bleeding.”
“For Jimmy that’s not much” the fondness in Impulse’s voice is warm as he moves closer. “He likes bruises. But if I went farther we would have to worry about real damage, and not just making our centerpiece squirm a bit.”
“You made kinetic art! Good job guys” If he could he would kick Tango for that comment.
“I’m gonna join Skizz in the kitchen did either of you need anything…?”
“Nah” Oh Tango is close now. Still not touching. Glass clinks on a surface, Impulse hums from a few feet away. “I don’t have your patience Etho. I’m gonna get started.”
Hands on his hips, pulling him closer. He can slide back a bit but the ropes catch him before he gets far. One drags up his spine, sliding under the harness to curl into his hair, sending tingles down his spine at the contact. The other slides forward to stroke just next to his dick.
“You should beg me, Jimmy” Tango starts with, tone playful and intentions fucking evil. Okay. Okay. Cool. Okay. That command feels like its melting his brain, making him want to ooze down onto the floor.
“Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to ruin you. Beg me, Jimmy.”
The body behind him is close but not close enough. He tries to roll his hips, but can’t get enough slack. A harsh exhale out of his nose at how fucking helpless he’s been made.
“Tango” he can’t get his voice above a rasp. The man behind him hums, but doesn’t move his hands or anything else. Jimmy swallows. This is awful. “Tango, please.”
“Please what? Be specific.”
Tango gets under his skin like very few people do. The words lodge in his throat, a shiver rolls down from his head but he can’t say it and the frustration meets shame meets pain meets fear and pools in his gut.
“Fuck me. Please.” its an unoriginal start but he’s never claimed to be Shakespeare.
“You’re asking too much right now.” Jimmy almost wants to cry as Impulse joins in. At least it takes some of the pressure off to come up with a reply. Of course Impulse has to keep going because he’s even worse than Tango, voice deceptively inquisitive. “Jimmy, do you want Tango to get his fingers in your aching hole and work you open? Do you want him to make you squeal, make you leak all over your thighs? Then once you’re shaking in place and it’s too much to even have a finger in you, do you want Tango to stuff you full of his cock until you can’t think about anything but what’s between your legs? Is that what you want?”
The only thing he manages is a small whimper. Tango coos, loosens his hand from pulling to petting. Impulse croons “That’s what you want, yeah? You just want to feel nice, don’t you?”
The snap of the bottle opening is distinctive, and there’s more chuckling at the noise he makes when he hears it. His eyes are squeezed shut, head tilted the little bit he can, but all he can do is curl his toes as the hand on his hip leaves and returns wet, petting over his hole. Rubbing dry skin until it drips and then slowly pressing the pad of a finger in, pushing deeper in a slow rhythm.
“Mm” he’s biting his lip, trying to hide the sounds that want to come out. Another thing they don’t like, but he can’t be any more naked than he is now or he’ll lose his mind. Impulse doesn’t care, probably wants him to lose it because there’s a huge hand on his face and a thumb slides into the corner of his mouth. He opens his eyes out of shock, Impulse runs the finger across to take his lip out of his mouth. Then he fists a hand to haul Jimmy by the hair.
There’s pressure on the back of his head, and warm nipping lips ahead of him. There’s a hand squeezing one shoulder, and slow exploration opening him up. He’s nothing he’s just a toy, they can put him where ever, do whatever. Impulse tugs on his hair, and he makes another noise, this one too loud because he’s sloppily licking his tongue into another mouth, and a pulse rolls up from his ass. He cries out again.
“Oh you guys really couldn’t wait huh?” comes from across the room but it might as well be another planet. The response of “Just look at him, can you blame me?” rumbles like an earthquake. Impulse shoves his head to the side, and he’s being really rough, dragging Jimmy as far as he can go which isn’t far at all, but its enough for his scalp to burn. It opens his shoulder for a harsh bite, and he takes a ragged breath at the sweet pain. On the other side of his neck Tango rests his chin, breath warm on dry skin. Impulse shifts, and his grip pulls Jimmy back, facing up at the ceiling. His teeth find a new spot and dig in, bright and hot. Tango chuckles, and he must find his prostate because the liquid pain-pleasure starts to wipe his head clean as Tango’s fingers make these little rubbing motions. A small kiss to the neck as he stops to scissor his fingers, stretching Jimmy until he shakes. Then back to torture as he slowly milks Jimmy for his open-mouthed noises.
Time is hard to track like this. His head spins, his dick pulses, or maybe its his ass, or the bruises running up the underside of his arm, so tender he has to close his lips and groan when Impulse latches on to his new favorite spot. Eventually Tango gets tired or bored, wrapping both arms around Jimmy and sinking home. He’s big and warm and thick, and he fucks brutal, fingers digging out new bruises. Violent enough that Impulse braces Jimmy, like he’s a fucking punching bag that needs to be held in place. It hurts, its good, he can’t keep his feet underneath him he has to hope Impulse will stay nice, help Tango drive into him like an animal in rut. His head is tilted forward now, resting against a sweaty shoulder, a hand stroking his hair and he doesn’t know when he started panting like that, but its catching on the exhale, and he’s shoved again. and again. and again into the wall of muscle Impulse provides him. Jimmy pulls his arms, wanting to cling onto him, wants comfort but can’t. He can only hang in place and let them ruin him. His dick kicks in place and someone chuckles.
“Fuck he’s tight” Tango grits through his teeth. “Good thing I’m loosening him-ah! Loosening him up for you. Impulse.”
“Appreciated. I’m trying to not be pushy guys, but if I don’t get my cock wet tonight I think I’m going to lose it.” Impulse rumbles with his words.
“Listen to him” Skizz murmurs.
Tango doesn’t. Tango groans. Jimmy clenches down, trying to do something and it causes a break in the rhythm before Tango starts up again. He tries to time it, clenching down to make it good, make it worthwhile. But his head is loose and he’s not doing an amazing job at it, keeps forgetting when the stars light up behind his eyes and—
Tango slams hard, grinding in for longer than he had been, before pulling back slowly and repeating. He’s gasping, groaning, and as he slides in again Jimmy can feel the slick ooze of cum ease the way. His own dick pulses, but its not enough. He bucks his hips, helplessly.
No one touches him. Impulse steps back, circling around and leaving Jimmy cold and open. Etho and Skizz are curled into each other on the couch. He gets a glimpse of pale skin and hands tucking between legs before Tango squeezes him and pulls out. He has enough time to feel hollow before Impulse is shoving himself in.
Slower, thicker. Bigger. His hands roam up, pinching a nipple that can’t twist away from the touch. At that realization Impulse lifts both hands, and does what he does better than anyone else: he gets mean.
Nails scratch down Jimmy’s heaving stomach, fingers pull insistently at a nipple, farther and farther, beyond the start of pain. A hand pinches delicate skin by the hip, a laugh shakes them both and through it all Impulse splits him open, unmoving.
“I love how tight you get when I hurt you” he sounds completely unaffected. Like this is just a normal conversation they’re having. Like Jimmy isn’t making little mewling sounds on every exhale. “Next time I’ll beat you until you can’t walk, make you stand anyway. Have you propped up, shaking and crying, trying to be good and failing because I’ve damaged you too well. And then I can punish you again for failing. I think that would be fun”
It really does, but he’s a little distracted by trying to arch enough that Impulse won’t tear his fucking tit off his chest. Every time he manages another millimeter of slack Impulse pulls harder. Finally he releases it, the surge of blood almost as stinging as the first pull. Its not a reprieve, just switching tactics.
The hand glancing off his thigh makes him cry out full volume the first time that night. Mostly out of surprise, but it was not a fucking warm-up. It burns. The next one hurts worse.
He doesn’t even think Impulse is thrusting even more. Just squeezing his own dick with Jimmy’s hole, beating him to make him tense and then maybe rutting in place whenever he feels like it. He’s got the stamina of a god, and Jimmy feels sick at the thought that he might be here for hours, just hung in place, maybe with breaks for water, his hole kept ready so that Impulse can stay wet and warm, or not Impulse, anyone who wants, anybody they let into the room, its not up to him is it. He can’t leave. He’s just there for them.
Its both a relief and a total heartbreak when Impulse pulls out without finishing. The only distraction is the sucking noise that makes him cringe more than the spanking did. He’s leaking. The back of his thighs tickle where lube and Tango’s cum are dribbling out. He feels Impulse draw a finger down the crease of his cheek, smearing wet. Then he smacks it, sounding wet and gross and loud.
“That’s me for now.” he says, absurdly chipper. When he walks into view his dick is purple and shining, but he rolls his neck like he got out of a workout. Jimmy is heaving for air, muscles jumping in the absence of sensation.
“You sure Dop?” Skizz says. His feet are curled up, and Jimmy makes himself close his eyes, trying to get his breathing back under control. Its so hard without them touching him, he’s just wallpaper, not even a partner, just a dirty animal cringing in his ropes. That was two of them and Impulse isn’t even finished This is pathetic.
“Yup.” Impulse grabs a wipe from the side table someone dragged over, palming himself clean. Jimmy’s thigh itch. “I want to enjoy this for longer. You guys entertaining yourself?”
“Dude” Skizz gives him a scandalized look. “Do you think there’s any way I couldn’t?”
“He’s all yours if you want” Impulse says, like he’s offering up a toy to be borrowed. Skizz makes a considering noise. There’s a moment where he thinks over the offer, and Jimmy can just sink into his body. It’s an interesting place to be, all confusing signals and twitching pleasure. His aching desire to cum is almost stronger than the pain in his feet, but it still fucking hurts. Now that he’s not being toyed with its harder to ignore and he tries again to shift his weight but only shuffles in place.
“I don’t know honestly” Skizz sounds a little uncertain, almost sheepish. Jimmy lifts his head at that, Etho glancing at his movement. Skizz is rarely hesitant and if his vision wasn’t swimming Jimmy might try and check in. Fortunately there are other people to do so, but Skizz seems to realize the shift in the mood and straightens up.
“Relax guys. I just don’t want to hurt him, some of us like to make sweet love instead of fuck like animals.”
“Vanilla” Etho says with a sniff. Skizz stares at him.
“I let you drill bolts into my floor to string up a guy we’re all going to fuck, what part of that is vanilla?”
Etho gets up without answering, letting Impulse reply to the banter. Jimmy locks onto him, still shivering in place. Fortunately Etho isn’t going for the next round, grabbing a glass from the side table instead and walking forward.
“Looks like we’re taking five.” he says once he gets into Jimmy’s space. “How are you doing?”
“Great” he manages to slur out. Etho is intent on his face. How is this more nerve-wracking than being fucked?
“Floating huh?” Etho looks almost fond at the words and wasn’t until he said it but yeah Jimmy is wobbly and its all kind of warm and he can just give in can’t he? They’ve got him.
“You need contact or are you okay if I step away?” Etho is talking quietly, its just the two of them right now. Jimmy hums and shakes his head, letting his eyes sink closed. This is starting to feel really good actually.
“Was that a no to the contact or to stepping away—lets make this easier. Yes or no do you need me to stay next to you?”
He shakes his head again.
“Yes or no, are you okay if we leave you alone?”
Nod.
“Yes or no, are you comfortable?”
He huffs a laugh but nods. Etho ruffles his hair, probably acknowledging the fact that he’s not exactly comfortable but like hell does he want this to be over.
“Okay. Signal me the second that changes.”
“Yes mum” Jimmy manages. It startles an actual laugh out of Etho, bright and beautiful. “Brat” Etho says with quiet affection, ruffling his hair. Then he steps away, but the cuffs are wrapped like Etho’s hands are still holding tight so its okay and he’s not alone
“Time for a break?” Etho asks, moving back to the rest of the party. “Or does someone else want a turn?”
“Is he—“ Skizz starts and Etho interrupts him. “That’s why I did a check-in. He’s fine where he is.”
“Who wants baked brie” Impulse says and there’s a round of laughter that lifts Jimmy’s lips as Skizz makes protesting noises.
“What? Its not like there’s a Good Housewives guide to orgy menus-”
“You really didn’t need a menu at all” Etho dryly points out, Skizz makes a fake huffing noise.
“Well ex-cuse me for being a good host.”
“Aw you guys are so mean” Tango must have come back into the room, there’s the sound of a smacking kiss. “Skizz is the best host.”
“Top’s my favorite and none of you get any of my snacks” is declared to another round of warm laughter.
Jimmy keeps his head hanging as much as he can, which isn’t much but it lets him hide his face while activity continues across the room from him. Without him. He could look up and see what they’re doing, arranged like he’s a TV they’re watching. But all the important parts are set up the way they want, his dick hanging untouched and the lines of pain glowing where Impulse hurt him. He keeps his head bowed like a supplicant, enjoying the little mercy of not having to watch himself being watched.
He isn’t really following the conversation, picking up fragments when voices raise in laughter or indignation. Mostly he listens to his own breathing, and quietly luxuriates in total objectification.
His feet really do ache quite a bit. It comes in waves, fading into the background until he shifts and then he remembers how much it hurts to keep standing. It radiates up from the balls of his feet, until it feels like he’s warm up past the ankles. Buzzing with it. His shoulders are feeling it a little too, but just the tension of muscles being used.
“Hey” Something is tapping him on the cheek. His head weighs a thousand fucking pounds when he wobbles it upright on his neck to see Tango, eyes laughing and holding two fingers in front of his face. “You said you wanted dip.” He manages to get enough lucidity to call Tango an asshole in the privacy of his head, before he lets Tango prop his jaw open and slide the fingers inside, closing his eyes and sucking. There’s something savory on his fingers but the much more important parts is how it feels to roll his tongue along the knuckle, and the way that Tango pushes to the back of his tongue. He hitches a breath, fighting a gag reflex as Tango keeps going, holding him in place while sinking deep enough to stroke the back of his tongue rhythmically, almost gentle as Jimmy’s body starts to mindlessly struggle. More, less, he doesn’t know what he needs but his eyes are streaming and his chest is spasming. Tango drags it back out eventually, scraping his tongue the entire way. Then he wipes his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, maybe one of the hottest things he’s ever had done to him.
“What do you think, Jiggles?” Tango says cheerfully, while he coughs and blinks the tears out of his eyes. “More dill or no?”
He hangs in silent humiliation, too stupid to even answer. Tango laughs, nasty and dismissive and perfect, before patting him on the cheek. “Aw, that’s too much? Poor pet.” Another pat on the cheek and Tango turns to walk back without another thought, his voice picking up to answer a question from Skizz as he dismisses Jimmy entirely.
There’s a break and then the next contact is from Etho, hand under his chin and eyes over his face, but he lets Jimmy go without saying anything, head sinking back down into emptiness. Another break. At some point he hears them get up again, circling him and talking. He keeps his head low and slips even further into the body they’re using.
The kiss is surprising, beard scraping against his lips, making him aware of the spit Tango left on his face. It might be Skizz but he doesn’t open his eyes to check. Someone is wrapping their fingers in his hands, held behind his head. Squeezing, which is very sweet and domestic, while Skizz sucks his tongue out of his slack mouth. He’s well past the point of being any use besides decoration so hopefully his faint gasping and slow licking is enough reciprocation.
Something cool swipes across his ass, more liquid drips down his crack. A voice is gasping, repeating something, warmth splatters across his hip, fingers draw through it, the mouth on his groans deeply and moves, to be replaced by salty fingers that he sucks on. A wet hand lands on his cock and he’s suddenly very aware of how close he could be if they wanted him to be, balls drawing up in preparation at even the light squeeze.
Laughter, “eyes up”, its Etho ahead of him eyes black and face intent, something pushes in and makes him cry out again, eyes fluttering but he keeps them open and he’s being fucked so very gently while he’s cradled on every side. The shame feels like love, and Etho is holding his head up with one hand while the other pumps out of view. Cum splashes on his own dick, a mockery of what he wants as Etho groans and goes in for a sloppy kiss, nipping and biting. Jimmy tenses in desperation and it makes the person behind him groan and move faster, dragging so sweet and messy until they stutter and fill him even more. A second of emptiness as someone else steps into place, the unknown first satisfied and gone. Etho is rolling his nipples between his fingers and the person behind him lays their head down on his shoulder “Jimmy” Skizz says, because he’s the one inside. “Jimmy. You feel like velvet, Jimmy”
“One more and you get to cum” Etho quietly adds “One more, you're doing so well. Good job”
“Very good-fuck! God you’re incredible.” Skizz is gasping and fucking harder, fingers digging into his hips “Wonderful-ah! So generous, letting us use you like this, you’re so good Jimmy, Jimmy fuck-”
He doesn’t get the chance to feel Skizz cum because Etho’s hand is suddenly dragging down his cock and Jimmy tries to push into it but can’t he can’t and his whole body tenses as he comes with a harsh groan, finally emptied out.
Etho strokes him a little bit after, because he knows what Jimmy likes. He lets go when Jimmy starts to shift, reacting to the overstimulation.
“There you go” Etho murmurs, gentle again. He pushes his clean hand up against Jimmy’s face, pushing his hair away from his eyes. The air is cool on the wet tracks that roll down his cheeks. “There you go.” the hand goes past his hair and into the cradle of the ropes. Skizz sinks his head down, panting. "You're done now. Thank you Jimmy."