Work Text:
Andrew could feel the nylon rope digging into his skin. Warren said he wouldn't make it so tight, but he seldom kept his word. There was no doubt that his skin was going to be bruised in the morning, but Andrew didn't care. Andrew knew that this was his punishment and it was delicious. Every time he writhed it mussed up the hideous floral sheet on Andrew's bed. His whole room was chaotic—there was no need to clean it after spending most of his nights in Warren's bed.
He wanted to kick at Warren in defiance. Andrew's come to learn that Warren likes a bit of resistance—when Andrew fights back. Andrew can only assume that it makes it all the more delightful for Warren when he finally gives up. Warren has mentioned many times now how much he liked wearing Katrina down. But the things that Katrina saw as red flags, Andrew saw as turn-ons. He loved being Warren's pathetic, disgusting toy. Andrew thinks that if Katrina just knew how to behave like he did then she wouldn't have ended up in a river.
"There we go." Warren was grinning from ear to ear as he looked down at Andrew. "Now you know not to misbehave again."
Andrew writhed some more and thrust his hips up as he struggled, trying to signal to Warren what he wanted but oh no, not tonight. Warren wasn't in the mood to entertain Andrew's silly little homosexual fantasies. "Warren, please..." Andrew whined.
Andrew was quickly shut up by a deft slap across the face. It was hard—hard enough to make his head swing to the side. The pain stung particularly in his cheekbones like he'd just been stabbed with a needle. "I didn't say you could speak."
Warren told him to shut up numerous times as he tied the rope around Andrew's arms and legs. It just made Andrew want to speak even more. He wanted Warren to leave as many marks as he could on his body. That was Warren's way of showing love. After all, aren't the most loved toys the ones that are worn down from so many years of use?
Andrew wanted Warren to love him to death.
"That's much better." Warren got off the bed and stood up. "You're such a gross slut. I don't even think I wanna fuck you right now because of how bold you've been."
Knowing that Warren didn't want him made Andrew whimper, but he was just playing hard to get. Warren's sex drive really is something to behold. Warren leaned forward and gripped onto one of Andrew's socked feet. Andrew's room was hot so his feet were starting to get sweaty, especially with all the tossing and turning taken into consideration. Warren put his fingers around the toe of the garment and slid it off. Andrew wriggled his toes as they were greeted with the warm air of the room.
Warren licked his lips and took the sock to nose breathed in for a few seconds, inhaling the scent and letting out a groan when he was done. Andrew can relate to the feeling, he has a pair of Warren's socks hidden in his drawer—one having a hole in it— that he sniffs on the regular. Warren rolled the garment up into a ball and got back on top of Andrew's bound body.
"Sorry Andy, but this is what happens when you don't keep your mouth shut." Warren pried Andrew's mouth open with his spare hand and forced the sock into his mouth with the other. The taste was utterly abhorrent. His face was left in a permanent cringe-expression from the violent assault on his taste buds. Alas, Andrew knew that he deserved every second of this and it only served to further his pleasure.
Warren had gone back to idly stroking Andrew's bare foot, occasionally squeezing his sole. He leaned in to kiss Andrew on the forehead, licking his lips all the while before standing up to grab a Panasonic camcorder Andrew had on his nightstand. He flicked it on and grinned while Andrew squirmed around on the bed.
"Smile for the camera, Andy!" Warren put one knee on the bed and ran his hand up Andrew's red tee, gently stroking his faint, blond happy trail. Andrew let out some muffled cries while Warren pressed down on his tummy, recording the whole thing. "He won't be challenging me again for awhile!" Warren guffawed at the camera before stepping back to film Andrew in all his glory.
Warren put the camcorder back on the nightstand. He looked proud of himself. It was weird. Andrew sometimes felt like he had power over Warren, even in times like these. Andrew knows how desperately Warren wants to be loved, and Andrew thinks that he's the only person on Earth who truly loves him.
In Andrew's eyes, that's what true love is. Warren could kick him in the ribs, spit in his face, throw him around like a ragdoll and the bruises on his body are proof enough of this. Andrew loves every last one of the marks Warren has left on him, gently caressing them in the dead of the night while Warren sleeps peacefully beside him. The love-letters of the flesh. The most thrilling part? Warren wanted Andrew all to himself. He's seen Warren get jealous of other men, which Andrew finds hysterical. Sometimes he'll randomly compliment Spike's cheekbones so Warren will be especially cruel to him on those days.
Warren has told Andrew of his most twisted fantasies about what he plans to do with the Slayer. At first they unnerved Andrew, but now he finds them hot. Even if it means doing something truly deplorable, he doesn't mind. Watching Warren exercise power over others is its own turn on—he would never let Warren fuck her though.
Before Andrew realized it, he was alone with his sock still in his mouth. Warren had left the room to go play Street Fighter with Jonathan.
Oh right, that's why he was here in the first place. Warren gets really mad when he's on a losing streak. He wonders what he'll tell Jonathan. That Andrew went to take a nap in his room? He hopes Warren won't take too long because Andrew needed to use the bathroom soon...