Sex in C Major

"I-I-"

"See?" Daz murmured. His voice was very deep and low. A rumble in Stefan's ear that made him shiver. "All your erogenous zones."

Something cool pressed to the bite mark. Light. Damp.

And when Stefan blinked, Yannis was leaning back on his heels, putting the cap back on a black marker pen.

"Why?" he croaked.

"For the experiment."

"What's what's the experiment going to do?"

"See how beautifully somebody can play the piano when it's stimulating all their sweet spots."

"Wh-oh," Stefan breathed when his nipple was rolled between finger and thumb, and he was pressed inexorably down into the softness of the rug.

He melted when Daz sucked at that same nipple, and it was only abandoned for the other when Stefan began to rub himself against the thigh between his legs. His neck was bitten again, on the other side, and he thrashed against the hands that held him down when a tongue found the crook of his left elbow and taunted it, teasing, tantalising.

"Bite, please "

The bite never happened. Instead, the tongue found his ribs. Hands traced its path, and the inside of his left hip was sucked, licked and bitten until he was crying, and the vile slide of arousal had him wet and wanting. His inner thigh was near- gnawed, until his whole leg was twitching, and then it was folded up and the back of his knee stroked and kissed by clever fingers and cleverer lips.

And for every concentration of torture, every bruise and every lathed place, the pen would follow.

"Oh God, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me "

It was foreplay and nothing less, and it left Stefan desperate to be fucked, sucked, even turned over and rubbed against the floor. He just needed completion, but knew he would be slapped if he tried to do it himself. And so he begged-but Yannis would only follow Daz's mouth with the pen, and Daz's mouth was everywhere but Stefan's cock. It nestled against his breast; it teased at his bicep. It found the soft, strange place between hips and above hair, and tugged on his bellybutton as though it could unpick the very centre of him.

But it wouldn't touch his dick.

And then eventually-finally, finally-Yannis said, "That'll do."

"Can he come?" Daz asked.

"Yes. Probably best. Get it off and let it recover. Don't fuck it, though."

"How about that?"

Daz's voice was a croon.

Stefan sobbed as a hot palm was dragged over his cock. Heavy. Hot. Rough.

"You want to come?"

"Please! Please, please"

Heat. Wetness. Stefan yowled as he was finally sucked, and grabbed for his master's hair without thinking. Thrust up into the mindblowing sensation. And when two fingers pushed slowly into him, rolling in a thin, light finger-fuck, he came so hard he could hear his heart in his ears, feel the world in his heaving lungs, and the room-

It tipped. Righted. Shuddered.

And then he blinked. A hand was stroking idly up and down his ribs. Voices were in conversation above him.

Stefan breathed. His mind felt like it had spiralled out of his ears and dissolved in time and space. His whole body was shaking. And yet...he was the only one.

The hand on his chest was calm. Heavy. Steady. The voices were conversational, though he couldn't understand the words.

"Back?"

"Mhmm..."

"Nearly, anyway..."

Stefan lifted his head. His right nipple was coloured in with black pen. His hip and lower abdomen were circled.

"What's them?" he mumbled.

"Sorry?"

"What's those?"

"The circles?"

"Yeah..."

"Your erogenous zones," Yannis said calmly. "So I can find them again. Get your breath back. You'll need it."

"It won't it won't hurt, though?"

"No. You'll enjoy it. Promise."

"How do you know?"

"Because anybody who is both sexual and musical would enjoy this," he said in such a matter-of-fact tone that Stefan unconsciously relaxed.

Stefan still felt out of his depth, but if he was promised to enjoy it, and it wouldn't hurt, then...

"I can safeword though, right?"

He hadn't been allowed the first time. Not for the experiments. But he should have demanded he was allowed. He knew that now. He should have insisted on it, or refused.

"Course you can," Daz said calmly, stroking his hair. "You won't need to, though. You'll like this. Probably have to keep it as a toy for you when I'm too busy to keep you tired out."

Stefan glanced one last time at the array of wires and suckers-then nodded.

He was sat in the dining chair, on a soft towel, and strapped in. His ankles were loosely tied to the legs with cloth, and another strap under his breasts secured him to the back in a similar manner. The expected cuffs never came; instead, the chair was pushed forward until Stefan's hands rested on the keyboard.