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Everyone who’s ever seen Brennan DM knows the dominant side to him. When you’re at his table, he’s in control; it’s Brennan’s world and we’re all just living in it. At least, that’s what he wants you to believe. If only they knew him like you do.
He had just gotten home from filming L.A by Night when you texted him, giving him no time to get changed out of his priest costume. He asked if you wanted him to strip before you got there, but you let him know he was good to sit tight. You wanted to be the one to take it off.
The second you were home, you tried to stay quiet so as to not let Brennan know you were there. You sneak through the apartment, hearing only the hum of the AC and the impatient tapping of a foot from within the bedroom. The door is wide open, and without making a sound you step into the doorway, taking in the scene before you.
The lights are dimmed and the blinds are closed. There is a slight flicker of a candle on the bedside table, a soft hum of thematic sultry music, and sitting at the edge of the bed is your lover, Brennan. You see that he’s patiently waiting for you as you’d requested, dressed in a black button down, fully buttoned with his priest’s collar still on, and matching slacks, teasingly unbuttoned and unzipped. You see the slightest bulge in his dorky D20-printed boxers, then look up to his face where he worriedly chews at his lip. A deep blue silken eye mask drapes over his eyes and you can tell he hasn’t noticed you yet, as he continues to sit twiddling his thumbs and anxiously awaiting your arrival.
You take quiet steps into the room, but not quiet enough as you see Brennan stop his fidgeting and raise up his head to face in the direction of the sound.
“Sweetheart?” His voice cracks with anticipation, tongue darting across his lips. “Are you there?”
You smile, calmly closing the distance between the two of you and placing a hand on his cheek. “I’m right here, angel,” you say softly, feeling Brennan shiver against your touch.
Despite his nerves, Brennan was consistently willing and pliant under your touch. Well-behaved, needy, and all yours. You rub light circles into his cheek with your thumb, and with every movement, you feel him melt deeper and deeper into you.
Your thoughts are disrupted by a low whine from the needy blindfolded thing in front of you. His pretty pink lips part slightly, begging to be kissed and used.
“Oh, a needy little angel, huh? What do you need, my saint?”
Brennan rolls his hips against nothing, begging for some sort of friction. He whines, “Please.. please can we start?”
He’s so cute when he begs.
“Of course,” you reply warmly. You shift your weight so you’re practically straddling Brennan, rewarding his needy movements by giving him something to grind against. You move your hand from his cheek down his neck, gingerly running your fingertips down and along the rosary that hung from it. Round wooden beads stained a dark blood red, lead down further and further before ending in a shiny pewter crucifix, ice cold to the touch.
“You know, you aren’t really supposed to wear it,” he’d said the first time you asked, and yet ever since he saw how it riles you up, he always puts it on just for you. That, combined with the costume he has on, is enough to send your sinful thoughts reeling.
You move your hand back up and squeeze gently on the base of his throat, causing Brennan to let out a desperate groan as his hips spasm against you completely out of his control.
“So needy, Father Clairmont,” you whisper, relishing in the way he jolts at his character’s mention. He lets out a low whimper as your hand lingers on his neck, slowly and teasingly letting your touch dance along his skin.
“I-,” he stutters out, “I will not be tempted by m-mortal sin.” You squeeze again, earning another groan from Brennan. He’s so dedicated to staying in character, it would be admirable if you weren’t trying so hard to break him.
You shift your weight again to get better access to the flawless pale expanse of his neck. You begin to press kisses to the skin which quickly develop into love bites, sucking and biting at Brennan’s throat as he grinds senselessly against you.
“F…uck,” Brennan moans in your ear, loud and wanting and so so needy, breaking character immediately.
Your hand reaches down between your bodies to palm at Brennan’s hardening cock. As he lets out a desperate strung-out whine, you finally give in to what you both desperately want and pull him in for a kiss.
Brennan moans into your mouth, kissing you back and unabashedly rolling his hips into you. The kiss quickly becomes a full makeout session, with Brennan’s sweet noises and the shifting of the mattress filling the room. Your hand slowly works to unbutton Brennan’s shirt, exposing more and more of his chest. Brennan groans against your lips and he reaches down to grab your hips, pull you in closer, get a little closer to relief, but…
“Uh-uh,” you chide, pulling back from the kiss and pushing yourself away from the needy mess before you. His lips were already puffy and red, pulling down into a pathetic little pout.
You sat back on the bed and admired your work, taking in Brennan’s tussled copper hair contrasted beautifully against the dark blue of the eye mask, drawing your eyes further down to the freckles that splattered across his nose, to his perfect mouth, and down further still to his sweaty, heaving chest, now perfectly framed by his unbuttoned shirt. Dark cherry red stains of your bite marks cover his neck and upper chest, and older bruises in all their grayish purple glory bloom beneath your latest additions. And of course, it would be impossible to forget the rosary hanging from Brennan’s neck, cascading down his chest in a perfect V-shape. You wonder how the cold metal of the crucifix must feel against your fresh bites, reaching out to trace a finger over the mark closest to it.
Brennan winces and flinches away from you before relaxing again, groaning softly at your touch.
“Now that we’re all warmed up..” you say, pressing your fingertips to the fresh wounds, “I want to see what’s underneath these slacks.”
Brennan gets the message and makes quick work of both his pants and his boxers before settling back on the bed. He then shuffles off his shirt, leaving him in nothing but the rosary and the blindfold.
You teasingly trace your hand up his thigh, watching as his mouth twitches from trying to suppress moans.
“You ready to try something new, angel?”
He whimpers deep in his throat and nods. You reach into the box stashed beneath your bed and procure your desired item. In your hands, you hold a length of shibari rope, a rich navy blue in color, perfectly matched to the mask.
Though you’ve never tied Brennan up before, you still have more than enough experience to get the job done.
Brennan lets out a light hum as the silky rope glides across his skin, indenting the flesh where you tighten it. The squish of his thighs swells out against the binding, which you take the time to caress in between tying knots. You carefully bind his legs, forcing them apart and securing them so that you have full access to his naked body.
After finishing the restraints on his legs, you trail your eyes up his body, taking in every expanse of freckled pale skin, until you’re looking at that pretty face again. Your hands leave his thighs to tug Brennan’s mask up, allowing him to see for the first time this session. He immediately locks eyes with you, pupils blown and red hair stuck down to his skin with sweat, lip caught between teeth.
“Hi,” he says with a grin, as if trying to be cheeky, but so breathy that it’s clear he’s not in charge.
“God, you’re so fucking needy.” You mutter, kissing him gently on the forehead.
He smiles, tongue flicking out over his teeth. “What makes you say that?” He asks playfully, cocking his head and giving you a wink.
Brat.
You roll your eyes, not giving him the satisfaction of a response, and pull the mask back over his eyes. He lets out a combative “hey!” and you cut him off, pushing him back onto the bed and pinning his wrists above his head. With another length of midnight blue rope, you bind his wrists together, effectively restraining his hands to the headboard. Now that he was blindfolded, fully restrained, and completely helpless beneath you, you can see any tension that remains in Brennan’s body flood out, fully relaxing and allowing the restraints to hold him. Cute.
“How’s it feeling, angel?” You say, watching his chest rise and fall as ragged breaths rip through him.
“G-great,” he mumbles, starting to buck at nothing again. Seeing this, you have mercy on him and place a hand over the leaking head of his cock. He moans out at your touch, grinding against your hand.
“Mm, I can tell. You’re all worked up, huh? I’ve barely even touched you, angel,” you say coyly, getting whimpers in response. You remove your hand, drawing a pining whine from Brennan.
“If you’re gonna be that easy, I should probably be a little gentler.”
Brennan groans, low in his throat, realizing what you already knew. You were in control, and Brennan was in for a long night.