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rsadelleSummary: Pete's whole body floods with relief. She's going to do it for him, and she'll be good at it - maybe just okay at first, but she has what it takes to be really damn good at it.
Warning/Enticement: Nonsexual kink of the bondage/control/light hair pulling variety.
Notes: This is another of those![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
inlovewithnight posted a picture and then encouraged me sort of stories. The picture in question is this:
And my original response was: Bebe is like, "yeah, put your hands up with your wrists crossed," and Pete is like, "HANDCUFF POSITION YES I KNOW HOW TO DO THIS." Where is that fic?
After some urging, I wrote her a tiny snippet in the comments on her post, and then I wrote the rest of this for her birthday. I would totally love for someone else to write the epic version of Pete teaching Bebe how to be his domme.
It takes a while for Bebe to get the handcuffs bit right, or right enough. It's not about her not being willing to do whatever on stage - she has no problem with the hoods - she just can't do it right.
When she actually buys handcuffs and keeps them on her belt, Pete's heart skips a beat. Every attempt to subtly bring it up with her gets him nowhere. He's pretty sure she's not stonewalling him, just doesn't know what the hell she's doing.
It takes him a long time to say something direct about it. Enough things in his life are falling apart. He doesn't need this one to crash and burn before it even gets off the ground, but the sharp taste of want - of need - in his mouth means he can't just let go of it.
"Hey, so," he says, sliding onto a couch next to her in the middle of a green room, "you ever think about handcuffing someone for real?"
She doesn't look up from her phone, but there's just enough of her there that he knows she's paying attention to him. "Only since I bought them. Have you?"
"Nah," he says. "I'd rather be handcuffed."
That does make Bebe look up from her phone, straight into his eyes. "So you weren't joking when you said they were distracting." She unclips the cuffs and holds them up in front of his face.
Pete's mouth goes so dry he can barely say, "No."
Bebe hmms. "Is this a sex thing?"
"It can be, but it doesn't have to."
"Good," Bebe says, "because I don't want to have sex with you."
That's not a no. That's negotiation. Pete tells his rapidly beating heart to calm down so he can get what he needs. "Do you want to tie me up?"
Bebe looks at him for a long time, cuffs between them, she says, "That has some appeal," and clips the cuff back to her belt. "What would you want me to do then?"
Pete's whole body floods with relief. She's going to do it for him, and she'll be good at it - maybe just okay at first, but she has what it takes to be really damn good at it.
"Anything you want. You can hit me if you want. I'm good at taking a spanking or a belt. You can just tell me what to do, like sit still or get you stuff or whatever."
Bebe's still looking at him with a mildly inquisitive cast to her face, not giving away a damn thing. Jesus, she's going to be good at this.
"What do you get out of it?"
That one's harder. His dick is on the internet; Pete doesn't care if people know he likes it a little kinky. This part, though, this part he only tells people he trusts.
"It gets past all the crap in my head so I can just be me and not all of that."
Bebe still doesn't so much as blink. "What about after? When you've done all that and it's time to uncuff you?"
Fuck, she's good. "It's up to you what you want to do, but I like being held afterwards." Pete's the king of the emo scene; giving that one up is no big deal.
There are voices outside the door, Nate and Spencer getting louder across the room.
"Is this the kind of thing where you have to have some what of telling me to stop, like if it's not working for you?"
Pete shrugs. "I don't think you'll hit my boundaries, not for a while anyway, but my safeword is squid."
That's the first thing that shakes Bebe up, and she half laughs as she repeats, "Squid?"
Pete meets her eyes, then doesn't. "I'm not going to say it accidentally."
Bebe nods, and looks away from him, to the opening door.
"So you'll do it?" Pete needs to know, can't let it go when he's this close.
"I'll think about it." Bebe looks down at her phone. It's clearly a dismissal.
Pete breathes shakily for a moment - Christ, just that almost got him there - before he heeds it and gets up.
*
Pete's Skyping with Bronx when his phone buzzes with a text from Bebe: I'll do it. My room. After dinner. It's followed two minutes later by Spencer's text inviting him to dinner with the rest of them.
Pete goes with them, even though he can barely eat anything. Everything in him is all jangled up, ready for someone to put cuffs on him. This is a casual dinner. Bebe's not even wearing them.
After dinner, they linger around in the hallway, their rooms strung out in a row with the rest of the tour's. Pete manages to keep up, like everything's normal, but he just wants them to go away.
Bebe's with it, totally cool, which is part of what's going to make her good at this. She makes some excuse for Pete to come to her room without the rest of them.
Pete settles down a little when she closes and locks the door. It's not quite what he wants, but he's locked in, and that's a start.
"Take off your clothes." Bebe moves around the room, practically ignoring him, except for the command and an addendum: "Keep your underwear on. I don't need to see your dick, Wentz."
Pete momentarily considers mouthing off to her, but decides to see what she has in mind instead, so he strips down to his underwear and waits for Bebe's attention to come back to him.
By the time it does, she's kicked off her shoes and she has a pair of cuffs - not the ones from her stage outfit - in one hand and a book in the other. "Fold them," she says, a hint of exasperation in her voice. And, yeah, okay, he did that on purpose to see what she'd do. The command is pretty mild, but Pete does as she said anyway and leaves his clothes in a neatly folded pile next to his shoes.
"Hands behind your back."
Fuck, just crossing his wrists for her is a thrill. It gets even better when she snaps cuffs around them. Even though they're not the ones she wears on stage, they're still metal, will still hurt like hell if he struggles against them. He doesn't, because it just feels so good to have them on.
"Pete," Bebe snaps, like he's supposed to be paying attention to her and not just the flood of goddamn relief that floods him when he realizes that she's actually doing this.
"Yeah," he says. "What?"
"Come on." Bebe sits in the chair in the corner of the room. "On the floor." She points at her feet. "However you'll be comfortable."
Comfortable. If she leaves him for a while, it'll be more comfortable to be all the way down on the floor. But, Jesus, he wants to be on his knees. He stops overthinking it and gets on his knees, shuffles himself forward so he's close enough that she can touch him if she wants.
It feels good. It should feel better. This, him on his knees and cuffed, Bebe ignoring him in favor of her book, should be enough to do it for him. He trusts her. It should be enough. His brain, though, won't stop pointing out that she's never done this before and she might not really know what she's doing.
On about the fiftieth go-around of trust her - she doesn't know what she's doing - trust her - what if she does it wrong - trust her, he jerks his head up when Bebe grabs a handful of his hair and pulls.
"I can hear you thinking. Knock it off."
Pete slits his eyes open, just a little. She's not even looking at him. God, she's good. She's fucking amazing. It helps.
She doesn't let go, and that helps even more.
Pete's eyes slip shut. He leans forward, not so her grip will loosen, although it does, but so he can put his forehead down on the edge of her chair. The loop starts up again, but this time it's just trust her - trust her - trust her. Pete breathes and listens to it, and Bebe's hand in his hair turns from pulling to stroking.
He can feel himself slipping, down, down, down, away from the loop, away from everything else in his head, until it's just him, just quiet, and he forgets even Bebe.
When he comes swimming up out of it, his knees are killing him. He's getting too old to be on his knees for that long. He should have at least asked her for a pillow to put under them.
Bebe's hand is still in his hair, and it curves down to his jaw. Pete goes with it, looks up at her. She looks at him for a while, her book somewhere else and her other hand coming up to his hair.
"I'm going to uncuff you." Bebe knows how to use her voice, and now it's soft, not intruding too much. She leans over him, his face practically in her cleavage, and unlocks the cuffs, takes them off his wrists.
Pete doesn't move.
"I need you to stand," Bebe says, "and come with me."
His knees ache and creak when he does, her hand under his arm helping him stand on legs that have gone numb and shaky.
Bebe walks him to the bed where she pulls the covers back and pushes him down onto the sheets. She joins him, still in everything but her shoes. "Come here."
Pete goes. She hasn't told him he can stop following orders, and he wants to.
Bebe puts her arms around him, warmth seeping through her clothes to his skin, the heat of her body and her tight hold keeping his shivers down.
Pete moves down, so he can put his head on her shoulder, under her chin. "Thank you."
Bebe's hand cards through his hair. "You're welcome." Her voice tells him how pleased she is with him.
Pete takes in a deep breath, relaxes even more. If she liked it, she'll do it again, and he doesn't have to be without this.
Warning/Enticement: Nonsexual kink of the bondage/control/light hair pulling variety.
Notes: This is another of those
inlovewithnight posted a picture and then encouraged me sort of stories. The picture in question is this:And my original response was: Bebe is like, "yeah, put your hands up with your wrists crossed," and Pete is like, "HANDCUFF POSITION YES I KNOW HOW TO DO THIS." Where is that fic?
After some urging, I wrote her a tiny snippet in the comments on her post, and then I wrote the rest of this for her birthday. I would totally love for someone else to write the epic version of Pete teaching Bebe how to be his domme.
It takes a while for Bebe to get the handcuffs bit right, or right enough. It's not about her not being willing to do whatever on stage - she has no problem with the hoods - she just can't do it right.
When she actually buys handcuffs and keeps them on her belt, Pete's heart skips a beat. Every attempt to subtly bring it up with her gets him nowhere. He's pretty sure she's not stonewalling him, just doesn't know what the hell she's doing.
It takes him a long time to say something direct about it. Enough things in his life are falling apart. He doesn't need this one to crash and burn before it even gets off the ground, but the sharp taste of want - of need - in his mouth means he can't just let go of it.
"Hey, so," he says, sliding onto a couch next to her in the middle of a green room, "you ever think about handcuffing someone for real?"
She doesn't look up from her phone, but there's just enough of her there that he knows she's paying attention to him. "Only since I bought them. Have you?"
"Nah," he says. "I'd rather be handcuffed."
That does make Bebe look up from her phone, straight into his eyes. "So you weren't joking when you said they were distracting." She unclips the cuffs and holds them up in front of his face.
Pete's mouth goes so dry he can barely say, "No."
Bebe hmms. "Is this a sex thing?"
"It can be, but it doesn't have to."
"Good," Bebe says, "because I don't want to have sex with you."
That's not a no. That's negotiation. Pete tells his rapidly beating heart to calm down so he can get what he needs. "Do you want to tie me up?"
Bebe looks at him for a long time, cuffs between them, she says, "That has some appeal," and clips the cuff back to her belt. "What would you want me to do then?"
Pete's whole body floods with relief. She's going to do it for him, and she'll be good at it - maybe just okay at first, but she has what it takes to be really damn good at it.
"Anything you want. You can hit me if you want. I'm good at taking a spanking or a belt. You can just tell me what to do, like sit still or get you stuff or whatever."
Bebe's still looking at him with a mildly inquisitive cast to her face, not giving away a damn thing. Jesus, she's going to be good at this.
"What do you get out of it?"
That one's harder. His dick is on the internet; Pete doesn't care if people know he likes it a little kinky. This part, though, this part he only tells people he trusts.
"It gets past all the crap in my head so I can just be me and not all of that."
Bebe still doesn't so much as blink. "What about after? When you've done all that and it's time to uncuff you?"
Fuck, she's good. "It's up to you what you want to do, but I like being held afterwards." Pete's the king of the emo scene; giving that one up is no big deal.
There are voices outside the door, Nate and Spencer getting louder across the room.
"Is this the kind of thing where you have to have some what of telling me to stop, like if it's not working for you?"
Pete shrugs. "I don't think you'll hit my boundaries, not for a while anyway, but my safeword is squid."
That's the first thing that shakes Bebe up, and she half laughs as she repeats, "Squid?"
Pete meets her eyes, then doesn't. "I'm not going to say it accidentally."
Bebe nods, and looks away from him, to the opening door.
"So you'll do it?" Pete needs to know, can't let it go when he's this close.
"I'll think about it." Bebe looks down at her phone. It's clearly a dismissal.
Pete breathes shakily for a moment - Christ, just that almost got him there - before he heeds it and gets up.
*
Pete's Skyping with Bronx when his phone buzzes with a text from Bebe: I'll do it. My room. After dinner. It's followed two minutes later by Spencer's text inviting him to dinner with the rest of them.
Pete goes with them, even though he can barely eat anything. Everything in him is all jangled up, ready for someone to put cuffs on him. This is a casual dinner. Bebe's not even wearing them.
After dinner, they linger around in the hallway, their rooms strung out in a row with the rest of the tour's. Pete manages to keep up, like everything's normal, but he just wants them to go away.
Bebe's with it, totally cool, which is part of what's going to make her good at this. She makes some excuse for Pete to come to her room without the rest of them.
Pete settles down a little when she closes and locks the door. It's not quite what he wants, but he's locked in, and that's a start.
"Take off your clothes." Bebe moves around the room, practically ignoring him, except for the command and an addendum: "Keep your underwear on. I don't need to see your dick, Wentz."
Pete momentarily considers mouthing off to her, but decides to see what she has in mind instead, so he strips down to his underwear and waits for Bebe's attention to come back to him.
By the time it does, she's kicked off her shoes and she has a pair of cuffs - not the ones from her stage outfit - in one hand and a book in the other. "Fold them," she says, a hint of exasperation in her voice. And, yeah, okay, he did that on purpose to see what she'd do. The command is pretty mild, but Pete does as she said anyway and leaves his clothes in a neatly folded pile next to his shoes.
"Hands behind your back."
Fuck, just crossing his wrists for her is a thrill. It gets even better when she snaps cuffs around them. Even though they're not the ones she wears on stage, they're still metal, will still hurt like hell if he struggles against them. He doesn't, because it just feels so good to have them on.
"Pete," Bebe snaps, like he's supposed to be paying attention to her and not just the flood of goddamn relief that floods him when he realizes that she's actually doing this.
"Yeah," he says. "What?"
"Come on." Bebe sits in the chair in the corner of the room. "On the floor." She points at her feet. "However you'll be comfortable."
Comfortable. If she leaves him for a while, it'll be more comfortable to be all the way down on the floor. But, Jesus, he wants to be on his knees. He stops overthinking it and gets on his knees, shuffles himself forward so he's close enough that she can touch him if she wants.
It feels good. It should feel better. This, him on his knees and cuffed, Bebe ignoring him in favor of her book, should be enough to do it for him. He trusts her. It should be enough. His brain, though, won't stop pointing out that she's never done this before and she might not really know what she's doing.
On about the fiftieth go-around of trust her - she doesn't know what she's doing - trust her - what if she does it wrong - trust her, he jerks his head up when Bebe grabs a handful of his hair and pulls.
"I can hear you thinking. Knock it off."
Pete slits his eyes open, just a little. She's not even looking at him. God, she's good. She's fucking amazing. It helps.
She doesn't let go, and that helps even more.
Pete's eyes slip shut. He leans forward, not so her grip will loosen, although it does, but so he can put his forehead down on the edge of her chair. The loop starts up again, but this time it's just trust her - trust her - trust her. Pete breathes and listens to it, and Bebe's hand in his hair turns from pulling to stroking.
He can feel himself slipping, down, down, down, away from the loop, away from everything else in his head, until it's just him, just quiet, and he forgets even Bebe.
When he comes swimming up out of it, his knees are killing him. He's getting too old to be on his knees for that long. He should have at least asked her for a pillow to put under them.
Bebe's hand is still in his hair, and it curves down to his jaw. Pete goes with it, looks up at her. She looks at him for a while, her book somewhere else and her other hand coming up to his hair.
"I'm going to uncuff you." Bebe knows how to use her voice, and now it's soft, not intruding too much. She leans over him, his face practically in her cleavage, and unlocks the cuffs, takes them off his wrists.
Pete doesn't move.
"I need you to stand," Bebe says, "and come with me."
His knees ache and creak when he does, her hand under his arm helping him stand on legs that have gone numb and shaky.
Bebe walks him to the bed where she pulls the covers back and pushes him down onto the sheets. She joins him, still in everything but her shoes. "Come here."
Pete goes. She hasn't told him he can stop following orders, and he wants to.
Bebe puts her arms around him, warmth seeping through her clothes to his skin, the heat of her body and her tight hold keeping his shivers down.
Pete moves down, so he can put his head on her shoulder, under her chin. "Thank you."
Bebe's hand cards through his hair. "You're welcome." Her voice tells him how pleased she is with him.
Pete takes in a deep breath, relaxes even more. If she liked it, she'll do it again, and he doesn't have to be without this.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-20 03:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-20 03:40 am (UTC)I found, in rereading it to edit and post, that I really love it too.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-20 03:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-20 03:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-21 12:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-21 03:04 am (UTC)And I love that you have such an adorable icon for this kind of comment.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-17 03:35 am (UTC)(It's possible I may have a few overidentification issues.)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-07-20 03:26 am (UTC)