fic: the beauty of tight binding
Dec. 10th, 2011 06:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: the beauty of tight binding
Series: Hetalia
Character/pairing: Japan/Greece
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1600
Author's Note: Giripan exchange: kinbaku. The title comes from kinbaku-bi, which means, well. The beauty of tight binding.
Shrimp tie
Ushiro Takatekote
Kinbaku glossary
Thanks to Joss for the betaing.
Greece had fallen asleep into his book. He was prone to doing that, nodding off during a television show, or a meeting. He slept like a cat, in odd, uncomfortable ways. Japan always wondered if it hurt his back.
Greece pulled up with a start. He blinked up as his eyes adjusted to the light. The book was open on a section of Edo history, though a red bookmark peeked out from other pages.
"Sorry to wake you, Greece-san, but I didn't want you to get a stiff neck."
Greece mumbled something–he couldn't quite tell what. But he went as asked and moved towards the bed where he lay face first into the pillows on top of the blankets.
At least there were other blankets.
Japan unfolded a green knitted one and laid it over Greece. He curled up into a fetal position. Japan stood there a while, and smiled. He still had things to tidy up, but he could spare a moment just to watch Greece while he slept.
*
It wasn't until later that he returned to the book, a hardbound copy of Japanese history. He let his fingers trail over the dimpled surface of the cover. The outer jacket had long gone away; perhaps a cat had messed it up.
He opened it, and it fell straight open to the bookmarked place.
Directly to a section on Kinbaku, complete with a picture of a bound woman. Greece had once said he wasn't interested in this outside the normal sphere. Hearing of the sorts of things France did–as if he were having sex merely to one-up England–made him simply shake his head.
Japan had accepted it and kept his more hardcore erotica to himself.
Greece looked sleepily up at him.
"I thought you were asleep," Japan said.
"You weren't here, so I woke up," Greece said.
He blushed as Greece saw what he was looking at. Of course, Greece had looked at it just a short while before and deemed it interesting enough to bookmark. But Greece seemed to be hardly embarrassed about such things.
"This...caught your interest?" Japan said. "I didn't think you liked anything of the harder nature."
Greece tilted his head as he studied the book.
"It's beautiful...very elegant."
"Do you wish to be tied up, Greece-san?" Japan asked. It was more frank than usual, but the image of Greece being tied up was so tantalizing, his sense of decorum had to be set aside.
"It isn't usually my thing..." Greece admitted.
Japan had been expecting this answer. An apology was on the tip of his tongue, but Greece cut in before he could speak.
"But, I guess I don't mind with you..." Greece said. "And it is very aesthetically pleasing..."
Sometimes Greece would be so distant, so disheveled that Japan would forget that he too saw the deeper beauty of aesthetics in mundane things.
*
Before he began, he had drilled Greece on the basics:
—say 'byzantine' if he wanted the scene to end immediately
—the scene would last exactly thirty minutes
—there would be shears nearby to cut him free, if he said the safe word.
This time he would not become a dorei, a slave. It was a word which had come from Greece itself, but had been transformed over the years, turned into a fetish of its own. As tempting as the image of Greece in a Kōmon sarashi shibari position, with his backside lifted up and his cheeks parted was, he held back.
Little steps.
He thought an ebi-zeme might be a tad too intense. He'd been on both the receiving and tying end, and the burn could be intense as one was forced to hunch over as the rope was knotted from their neck to their parted legs.
No, those wouldn't do. Instead he decided on hishi for aesthetics, but first, he had Greece put his arms behind his back for the ushiro takatekote tie. The line of his bents arms was like a rectangle, and perfectly complimented the diamond pattern of the hishi. Greece flinched as he began bind his hands.
"Do you–"
"Continue on," Greece said. His voice was husky, choked with restrained emotion. He was trying hard for Japan. Japan ran his fingers over Greece's cheek.
"If this brings back painful memories, then simple say the word," Japan said.
"No...I trust you. I want to do this. I just had a flare of up a bad memory..." Greece said. He smiled, and it was unfettered with anxiety.
"Should I untie your hands at least?" Japan asked.
"No...how do I put this? I don't mind being a prisoner if you're the one who's binding me," Greece said.
Japan stroked his wavy hair. It seemed a moment best kept silent, free from the awkwardness of words.
He took up the rope and began to tie again. Eight meters of jute for beauty.
Greece kept quiet as Japan tied the knots. For a moment, Japan feared he'd fallen asleep again, which would impede things to say the least–not that this would be the first time he'd had Greece nod off during important moments, whether in or out of bed.
But a soft sigh let him know that Greece was still awake.
He loved the sleekness, the way the rope became a part of Greece's beauty, turning into more than just a restraint. It was an art form, aesthetic in all things. He tied and knotted the hishi pattern, with a line of diamonds going down Greece's body. Being bound like this, so carefully, it only made him more beautiful. He would let his hands wander as he tied, for as he was not a master in the truest sense in this scene, he could be a little more intimate.
Even more so than he would in public, or outside of this sheltered space–a fragile cage made of knots and rope binding them together.
It kept running through his mind: I don't mind being a prisoner if you're the one who's binding me. In truth, he shared this sentiment, and imagined being tied up together, their arms bound in knots into some beautiful thing. A conglomerate, a we.
"It's complete," he said. He felt like an artist who had finally finished the masterpiece he'd been trying to find inspiration for. He slipped his hands under the rope, feeling them against the backs of his hands.
Greece was so firm. If he closed his eyes he could imagine marble statues and columns. Japan felt Greece's hardness against his hip, and ached to feel him inside him. But he kept on with his attentions, feeling through the diamonds of the hishi.
"Japan..." he said.
Greece was at his mercy. His hands were restrained, his body adorned in rope diamonds.
He rubbed the oil over Greece's erection. Instead of merely doing it to prepare, he began to rub in and simply appreciate the feel of his cock. He brushed his thumb over a pulsating vein, and Greece groaned.
"Japan, please..."
"I won't keep you waiting any longer, Greece-san," he said.
He pushed Greece down. He couldn't quite lie straight with his hands bound, but Japan arranged the pillows. It wasn't intended to be pain play, and Greece might not wish to do a scene like this if it was too uncomfortable. Even if he bent those limits to accommodate Japan, he had limits.
He straddled Greece's body until he could feel Greece's hardness at the cleft of his backside. He moaned as he shifted, feeling the tip of his cock tracing his inner cheeks.
"Japan–" Greece said, this time more desperate.
He clutched the rope as he dropped his hips. He let out a shaky breath, his gaze focused on the knots over spread over Greece's chest. Slowly he fitted them together. He could feel the rope digging into his hands as he gripped too tightly—a pleasant pain to match the feeling of being stretched and filled.
His breath grew more rapid as he began to roll his hips. It was a new feeling, being so in control. He was used to the feeling of being pressed down, of Greece's strong arms holding him tight. Greece was the initiator, the truly experienced one, the one of them who could openly express his feelings.
He set the pace, and gripped Greece's broad shoulders to brace himself. Every roll of his hips sent more pressure, more pleasure through him. Through the haze of their bodies meeting, he was more aware. Heat pulsed in him, through him. He slipped his fingers in between the ropes, binding them close together as he rode Greece.
It was bliss, pure bliss to be so tight, tied up together and in each other.
And Japan felt unaccountably happy that he could share this side of himself with Greece without any hint of fear of rejection.
The feeling of relief was so intense, even the intensity of the climax that both of them had was secondary.
*
A short while later, Japan used the shears to cut away the knots. They fell away, freeing him. Greece rubbed at his wrists. Even if the knotted art was gone, it still remained on Greece's skin.
"Do you think.. you could teach me how to do that?" Greece asked. "To tie knots so beautifully like that?"
"I'd be glad to, Greece-san," Japan said.
Series: Hetalia
Character/pairing: Japan/Greece
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1600
Author's Note: Giripan exchange: kinbaku. The title comes from kinbaku-bi, which means, well. The beauty of tight binding.
Shrimp tie
Ushiro Takatekote
Kinbaku glossary
Thanks to Joss for the betaing.
Greece had fallen asleep into his book. He was prone to doing that, nodding off during a television show, or a meeting. He slept like a cat, in odd, uncomfortable ways. Japan always wondered if it hurt his back.
Greece pulled up with a start. He blinked up as his eyes adjusted to the light. The book was open on a section of Edo history, though a red bookmark peeked out from other pages.
"Sorry to wake you, Greece-san, but I didn't want you to get a stiff neck."
Greece mumbled something–he couldn't quite tell what. But he went as asked and moved towards the bed where he lay face first into the pillows on top of the blankets.
At least there were other blankets.
Japan unfolded a green knitted one and laid it over Greece. He curled up into a fetal position. Japan stood there a while, and smiled. He still had things to tidy up, but he could spare a moment just to watch Greece while he slept.
*
It wasn't until later that he returned to the book, a hardbound copy of Japanese history. He let his fingers trail over the dimpled surface of the cover. The outer jacket had long gone away; perhaps a cat had messed it up.
He opened it, and it fell straight open to the bookmarked place.
Directly to a section on Kinbaku, complete with a picture of a bound woman. Greece had once said he wasn't interested in this outside the normal sphere. Hearing of the sorts of things France did–as if he were having sex merely to one-up England–made him simply shake his head.
Japan had accepted it and kept his more hardcore erotica to himself.
Greece looked sleepily up at him.
"I thought you were asleep," Japan said.
"You weren't here, so I woke up," Greece said.
He blushed as Greece saw what he was looking at. Of course, Greece had looked at it just a short while before and deemed it interesting enough to bookmark. But Greece seemed to be hardly embarrassed about such things.
"This...caught your interest?" Japan said. "I didn't think you liked anything of the harder nature."
Greece tilted his head as he studied the book.
"It's beautiful...very elegant."
"Do you wish to be tied up, Greece-san?" Japan asked. It was more frank than usual, but the image of Greece being tied up was so tantalizing, his sense of decorum had to be set aside.
"It isn't usually my thing..." Greece admitted.
Japan had been expecting this answer. An apology was on the tip of his tongue, but Greece cut in before he could speak.
"But, I guess I don't mind with you..." Greece said. "And it is very aesthetically pleasing..."
Sometimes Greece would be so distant, so disheveled that Japan would forget that he too saw the deeper beauty of aesthetics in mundane things.
*
Before he began, he had drilled Greece on the basics:
—say 'byzantine' if he wanted the scene to end immediately
—the scene would last exactly thirty minutes
—there would be shears nearby to cut him free, if he said the safe word.
This time he would not become a dorei, a slave. It was a word which had come from Greece itself, but had been transformed over the years, turned into a fetish of its own. As tempting as the image of Greece in a Kōmon sarashi shibari position, with his backside lifted up and his cheeks parted was, he held back.
Little steps.
He thought an ebi-zeme might be a tad too intense. He'd been on both the receiving and tying end, and the burn could be intense as one was forced to hunch over as the rope was knotted from their neck to their parted legs.
No, those wouldn't do. Instead he decided on hishi for aesthetics, but first, he had Greece put his arms behind his back for the ushiro takatekote tie. The line of his bents arms was like a rectangle, and perfectly complimented the diamond pattern of the hishi. Greece flinched as he began bind his hands.
"Do you–"
"Continue on," Greece said. His voice was husky, choked with restrained emotion. He was trying hard for Japan. Japan ran his fingers over Greece's cheek.
"If this brings back painful memories, then simple say the word," Japan said.
"No...I trust you. I want to do this. I just had a flare of up a bad memory..." Greece said. He smiled, and it was unfettered with anxiety.
"Should I untie your hands at least?" Japan asked.
"No...how do I put this? I don't mind being a prisoner if you're the one who's binding me," Greece said.
Japan stroked his wavy hair. It seemed a moment best kept silent, free from the awkwardness of words.
He took up the rope and began to tie again. Eight meters of jute for beauty.
Greece kept quiet as Japan tied the knots. For a moment, Japan feared he'd fallen asleep again, which would impede things to say the least–not that this would be the first time he'd had Greece nod off during important moments, whether in or out of bed.
But a soft sigh let him know that Greece was still awake.
He loved the sleekness, the way the rope became a part of Greece's beauty, turning into more than just a restraint. It was an art form, aesthetic in all things. He tied and knotted the hishi pattern, with a line of diamonds going down Greece's body. Being bound like this, so carefully, it only made him more beautiful. He would let his hands wander as he tied, for as he was not a master in the truest sense in this scene, he could be a little more intimate.
Even more so than he would in public, or outside of this sheltered space–a fragile cage made of knots and rope binding them together.
It kept running through his mind: I don't mind being a prisoner if you're the one who's binding me. In truth, he shared this sentiment, and imagined being tied up together, their arms bound in knots into some beautiful thing. A conglomerate, a we.
"It's complete," he said. He felt like an artist who had finally finished the masterpiece he'd been trying to find inspiration for. He slipped his hands under the rope, feeling them against the backs of his hands.
Greece was so firm. If he closed his eyes he could imagine marble statues and columns. Japan felt Greece's hardness against his hip, and ached to feel him inside him. But he kept on with his attentions, feeling through the diamonds of the hishi.
"Japan..." he said.
Greece was at his mercy. His hands were restrained, his body adorned in rope diamonds.
He rubbed the oil over Greece's erection. Instead of merely doing it to prepare, he began to rub in and simply appreciate the feel of his cock. He brushed his thumb over a pulsating vein, and Greece groaned.
"Japan, please..."
"I won't keep you waiting any longer, Greece-san," he said.
He pushed Greece down. He couldn't quite lie straight with his hands bound, but Japan arranged the pillows. It wasn't intended to be pain play, and Greece might not wish to do a scene like this if it was too uncomfortable. Even if he bent those limits to accommodate Japan, he had limits.
He straddled Greece's body until he could feel Greece's hardness at the cleft of his backside. He moaned as he shifted, feeling the tip of his cock tracing his inner cheeks.
"Japan–" Greece said, this time more desperate.
He clutched the rope as he dropped his hips. He let out a shaky breath, his gaze focused on the knots over spread over Greece's chest. Slowly he fitted them together. He could feel the rope digging into his hands as he gripped too tightly—a pleasant pain to match the feeling of being stretched and filled.
His breath grew more rapid as he began to roll his hips. It was a new feeling, being so in control. He was used to the feeling of being pressed down, of Greece's strong arms holding him tight. Greece was the initiator, the truly experienced one, the one of them who could openly express his feelings.
He set the pace, and gripped Greece's broad shoulders to brace himself. Every roll of his hips sent more pressure, more pleasure through him. Through the haze of their bodies meeting, he was more aware. Heat pulsed in him, through him. He slipped his fingers in between the ropes, binding them close together as he rode Greece.
It was bliss, pure bliss to be so tight, tied up together and in each other.
And Japan felt unaccountably happy that he could share this side of himself with Greece without any hint of fear of rejection.
The feeling of relief was so intense, even the intensity of the climax that both of them had was secondary.
*
A short while later, Japan used the shears to cut away the knots. They fell away, freeing him. Greece rubbed at his wrists. Even if the knotted art was gone, it still remained on Greece's skin.
"Do you think.. you could teach me how to do that?" Greece asked. "To tie knots so beautifully like that?"
"I'd be glad to, Greece-san," Japan said.
