Pt. 5: Mild Slashery

It was pure agony to sit through, plain and simple, almost causing him actual pain to watch her moan in ecstasy, back arched, his phone buried deep inside her, the tip still visible, still vibrating, albeit weaker than before. He tried to close his eyes, avoid that almost heavenly sight, but he could still hear her, her moans escalating as she reached the pinnacle of ruining his phone, getting even louder as his hands began to rub the soft, pale skin of her breasts, openly screaming as his fingers began to squeeze her erect nipples, the pink nubs so very tender from his mouth earlier, as she clawed into the carpet, as the phone continued to buzz inside her.

A final wail of pleasure as her nails dug straight into the carpet, eyes scrunched as her red-lipsticked mouth became a cave echoing her climax. He tried to look away as her hands, shaking, slipped the phone out of her, wincing as her wrist snapped back, throwing it to the side. His hands were still pressing into her breasts, kneading her flesh, not that either of them could do anything about it; she was too tired to lift an arm and brush him aside, while, despite feeling too energized, he couldn’t move, merely stare in fury at him.

“That good?” Strahm breathed, taking one hand off, moving it lower, to her legs. He punctuated the question with a stroke to her inner thighs, smirking as she gasped for air, nodding, eyes still shut as she took sharp breaths in and out. He turned to Hoffman, lips still stretched in a twisted smile. “Say what you want, Hoffman, but you have to admit, that was a hell of a show.”

“You’re dead. Both. Fucking. Dead.”

“Listen, I’ll untie you in a sec, alright?” Strahm sighed, lifting his hands away from her skin, to her mewl of displeasure. “Although... you don’t mind if I have a fuck with her beforehand? Didn’t strip for nothing, you know.”

“You fucking untie me, right now, dammit! Right fucking now!” the detective roared, giving yet another struggle against the rope. God, why did I even let her choose what to do, the little whore? For fuck’s sake, Mark, did you really think she was going to let you cuff her, maybe get her to scream for it, feel her, taste her, have her without a struggle?

“Fine.” He stood, as Amanda panted for breath, as the phone glistened in the living room light, as Hoffman sat there, breathing deeply, eyes blazing with a mix of lust and frustration. He took a closer look at the knots, fingers beginning to work at them, swearing at moments when it seemed to be completely hopeless, trying to loosen the bonds.

“Almost there... almost there...” Strahm murmured, slipping an end of the rope out of another knot, the bonds finally going slack; Hoffman wasted no time in pulling the ropes off, in freeing himself from the restraints keeping him sitting for too long.

“Up, bitch. Now,” he snarled to the figure lying on the floor, eyes closed in rest, skin shimmering from sweat. She opened her eyes slightly, peering through the cracks of her eyelashes; noting the ferocity in voice and expression, she gathered herself off the carpet, eyes open fully, glancing from Hoffman to Strahm for the brief amount of time before the detective gripped her arm, yanking her into following him.

“What’re you doing, Hoffman?” she spat, stumbling along with his brisk stride. He ignored her, turning to look over his shoulder at the dark haired man still standing by the chair, unsure of what was going to happen, of his role in whatever would happen.

“You coming or not?” he called. “Thought we might actually have a fucking threesome, like we agreed, didn’t we, Amanda?”

“Fuck you, we never agreed anything.”

“No? I thought I suggested one, and the fact that you came to my apartment, made me think that implied you were going to be a good girl and let both of us fuck you. Here we are.” He smirked as they reached the door at the end of the hallway, opening it without a pause, dragging her in. Letting go of her arm, Hoffman held the door for Strahm to walk in, caution loading every step.

“Christ, Hoffman, you could have just asked me to come with you to the fucking bedroom, ‘stead of dragging me like a fucking savage.”

Letting go of the door, letting it close by itself, Hoffman stepped toward one of the bedside cabinets, pulling open the top drawer. Jesus Christ, does he have sex toys in every fucking room? Amanda couldn’t help but think as he pulled out two pairs of handcuffs, letting them shine in the light.

“Amanda, on the bed. Now. Don’t make things difficult.” Seeing the dangerous glint in his eyes, the sharp, authoritative tone in that voice, she crawled onto the mattress and covers gingerly, flipping onto her back as slowly as she felt was safe. 

He grasped her right wrist, nearly yanking her arm out of her socket as he held it against the headboard, cuffing her with a click, the metal ring nearly cutting off the blood flow. She winced, wondering if she could ask him to maybe loosen it, if that was too unreasonable a request to make.

He walked around to the other side of the bed, Strahm lingering by the door, Amanda nibbling at her lower lip. His hand gripped her other arm, wrenching it to the headboard, repeating the procedure, applying the handcuffs just as tight as before. Finished, he took a step back, that glint still in his eye, that smirk reaching a point that made Amanda wish she were able to move, give him a slap across the face.

Traversing the room, slipping his suspenders off of his shoulders, he stopped in front of Strahm, giving a look at Amanda, watching with a growing horror. There was almost no sound, merely three sets of breathing, anticipation almost making the air toxic as the breaths became deeper.

Hoffman stepped closer, leaning in to whisper Strahm’s ear, running his tongue over his lips. “Play along with it, alright?”

“With-” Strahm began, broken off by Hoffman’s mouth crushing against his own, the detective running a hand through his dark hair, keeping him in place despite struggles. He almost felt sick rise in his throat as the other man began to force his tongue into his mouth, other hand digging its nails into his back. Eventually, Hoffman released his clutch, letting Strahm recoil from him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snapped, giving a glance to Amanda, their eyes wide open in shock. She seemed to be trying to find words somewhere in her mind, even if her mouth was unable to put those words into the air.

“I said, play along with it. Just making her a little... jealous,” he whispered back, unbuttoning his shirt with rapid fervor, tearing it off and tossing it to a corner of the room. Strahm blinked, taking another look at the woman handcuffed to the bed, before feeling the other man’s hands begin to massage him down there again, sending a shiver through his body despite the warmth of Hoffman’s palms. He closed his eyes as the detective took up a faster pace, causing his breaths to become sharp gasps, while Amanda finally found her voice.

“Fuck you, Hoffman!” He didn’t appear to have heard her, not with the way he lifted his hands from the steadily hardening part of Strahm back to his shoulders. Another kiss was planted, gentler this time, before Strahm’s nails began to bury themselves in his sides, teeth attacking his lips. That’s more like it... Pulling away again, shooting another smirk at Amanda, he gripped Strahm’s wrist, leading him to the edge of the bed, all the better for her to see.

“Sit, Peter.” As he followed the order, Hoffman lowered into a crouch, eyes on level with legs. Taking a deep breath in, his hands gently pulled the other man’s thighs a little further apart, as his mouth cupped around-

“Please! Please, STOP! Goddammit, Hoffman, stop!” she moaned, as his lips slid off of Strahm’s now-fully erect member to reply.

“What? Don’t like your hook-up having an orgasm without you?”

“No, no, please, I’ll- I’ll do what you want. Just fucking take the cuffs off, you son of a bitch!”

“What do you think, Peter, should we get down to business?” he asked, looking up at Strahm, lips also curved in a twisted smile.

“You know what, Mark, I think we should... where’re the keys?”

“Just in the drawer, over there. I call her cunt.”

“...Deal.”