It started as nothing at all — some conference small talk. A polite exchange about the absurdity of conferences.

Although we were there for different events, our common ground was wanting to escape the crowd, shake off the stink of stale air, and roll our eyes at the universal forced enthusiasm of presenters and their predictable Powerpoint decks. Even though our conversation was similarly cliched, it felt refreshing and easy, and my eyes were wandering to your lips as they moved.

Between the obligatory work chatter, the conversation drifted. An offhand remark about the anonymity of being interstate. The feeling of slipping into a version of yourself that wasn’t bound by the usual rules. I could relate, and when I asked what that version of you might want, your smile was slow, teasing. We laughed openly at the more obvious ideas — fake identities, alternate sexualities, twisted fantasies. You enjoyed my joke that I was secretly in town for a furry convention.

“I might like to be tied up,” you said, your voice barely above the din of the bar. “And teased. If I trusted someone enough.” Your change in tone, and the blush that quickly rose to your face told me you might be serious. My pulse ticked up, but I played it cool, taking a sip of my drink, watching your eyes flicker over my reaction. “If you trusted someone,” I echoed, amused. “And how does one earn that trust?”

You tilted your head, considering. “Maybe by not acting too eager,” you mused. “Maybe by letting me wonder if you’d actually do it.”

The conversation swayed between innocent and suggestive, an intoxicating line we walked as we leaned just slightly closer. But obligations pulled us back. Work drinks. Networking. The game we were actually here to play. So we parted, swapping numbers in a moment of casual inevitability. I had wanted to take the bait, to say yes, name the time, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. But that would be too eager, just another guy over-reaching trying to get laid on a work trip. You had given me the gift of a new and real fantasy, and at the very least I could hold it in my mind, and think of you while I touched myself thinking of things I might never actually do.

I hadn’t expected more than that.

Hours later, back in my hotel room, I was winding down. Underwhelmed by everything the evening offered after our unexpected moment of exhilaration. The city buzzed quietly beyond the thick hotel glass, and I was lazily playing with myself, imagining you. I thought of messaging you, but again, too eager. I figured you had probably gone on to have a fun night, might still be out, or found someone for more immediate fun.

I was considering sleep when my phone lit up.

Room 1124.

A pause. Then another message.

Passcode: 2379. I’m an early riser, but it’d be nice if you came and woke me up.

I read it twice, letting the implications settle over me, heat crawling up the back of my neck. The invitation was deliberate. The passcode — an act of trust. I was right to play it cool.

I could picture it already. You, still warm from sleep, drowsy in the hotel sheets. The moment you’d feel the shift of the bed, the whisper of restraint slipping around your wrists. How your breath might catch as you realised I had actually come. That we were actually doing this.

I set my phone down, exhaling slow. I’d be up early.

It was 6:30 AM when I arrived at your hotel room, the dim hallway outside hushed in the early morning stillness. I entered quietly, shutting the door behind me with a soft click. The room was warm, bathed in the faint glow of the city creeping through the heavy curtains. My eyes adjusted quickly, settling on you — sprawled across the bed in a way that was both innocent and deeply inviting.

You were still, wrapped in the white hotel sheet that had slipped just enough to reveal the smooth curve of your thigh and the round swell of your ass. An oversized t-shirt draped over your frame, the hem riding high on your hips. Your short hair was a little messy, standing up in parts that was exceptionally cute and sexy.

I watched you sleep for a moment — the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest told me you were still drifting, but I could hear the faintest hitch in your breath that seemed to be quickening — an unconscious giveaway. You knew I was here, and the sleep was a part of the fantasy. You didn’t want me to nudge you awake and talk about what we should do.. you wanted me to do it.

My gaze flickered to the bedside table. A neat little collection of silk ties and robe sashes lay in a pile, carefully arranged for me to use. It was a silent, deliberate invitation, a confirmation that this wasn’t just a passing thought from last night’s conversation. This was real. This was happening.

I stood there for a moment, taking you in. The way your body stretched languidly across the bed, the way your hands had already found their way up toward the pillow as if waiting to be bound. I inhaled, steadying the heat rising in my chest, fighting my own nerves and overwhelming desire to lean in and touch you, kiss you, feel you against me. I had been thinking of your lips. I thought of the anticipation you must be feeling, exploding with nerves and excitement inside while maintaining the allure of a peaceful and serenely sleepy exterior.

I stepped forward, careful not to disturb the quiet too soon. Lowering myself onto the mattress, I reached out, my hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The warmth of your skin under my fingertips sent a pulse of electricity through me. You let out a soft, sleepy sound, exhaling as you shifted slightly, rolling just enough for your hands to fall freely above your head.

A small, knowing smile ghosted across your lips, fleeting but unmistakable. Your eyes remained shut, but everything about you told me you were waiting. This was your way of giving me permission, of surrendering to the moment we had both been thinking about since last night.

I reached for the ties. And then, I began.

I took for your hand first, gently gripping your wrist and caressing the soft skin there, feeling the way your pulse quickened beneath my fingertips. My other hand trailed up your arm, across your shoulder, lingering at the base of your neck before skimming over your collarbone. The thin fabric of your t-shirt did nothing to conceal the way your nipples pressed against it, almost visibly hardening as I watched. I made a mental note to wrap my mouth around them as soon as I could.

Carefully, I picked up one of the silk ties and fastened your wrist to the bed frame, ensuring the knot was secure but not too tight. Then, leaning over you, I reached for your other wrist, using one of the robe sashes to bind it in place. As I stretched across your body, my breath fanned over your neck, my lips brushing your skin ever so lightly. The subtle shift of your hips, the quiet, needy exhale that escaped you — it was unmistakable.

Once you were tied, I sat back for a moment, taking you in. My own restraint was tested as I reached down, peeling off my t-shirt and pushing my soft shorts to the floor, leaving only my underwear. The morning air felt cool against my skin.

As I stepped toward the bed, your eyes fluttered open. They were filled with desire, dark with anticipation. No words were needed. We both knew exactly where this was going.

I started by letting my hands wander beneath the sheet, fingertips grazing the soft skin of your calves, traveling slowly up the length of your legs. The fabric bunched slightly as I moved, and I resisted an almost overwhelming temptation to pull it away entirely. I wanted to see you — every inch of you — but I wanted to savour the reveal. You did say you wanted to be teased, after all.

As my hands roamed up over your hips, my excitement deepened at the realisation that you weren’t wearing anything beneath your oversized shirt. Just bare skin, warm and waiting. My pulse quickened at the thought of how easily I could remove that last barrier between us. Your skin was radiating with warmth from sleep, and my mind briefly flashed a more demure image of spooning and cuddling you on a lazy weekend afternoon.

I shifted, kneeling on the bed between your legs, and leaned in to kiss you. You responded instantly, lifting your head to meet me, your lips soft and warm, parting as you kissed me back with a slow, intimate passion.

Your tongue teased mine, deepening our connection as our bodies pressed together through the layers of fabric and sheets. The heat between us built with every touch, every shared breath. Your legs parted just a little more, and I moved in closer, my hand traveling up to cradle your neck. I shifted my face to the side and kissed your neck, and teased your earlobes with my tongue. You gasped audibly and I could feel your hips shift. As I pulled back slightly after another kiss, you bit my lower lip — playful, teasing — before giving me a look filled with unmistakable desire and want.

I resumed my position at the foot of the bed, reaching for the edge of the sheet. Gripping it gently, I tugged, watching as it trailed over your body, first gliding over your breasts, then your waist, before slipping away completely. The fabric pooled at the foot of the bed, leaving you nearly bare before me.

You were trembling slightly, anticipation thrumming through you. The hem of your t-shirt barely covered you, teasing me with glimpses of the soft curve of your hips and the dip of your waist. A flash of bare skin here, the subtle shadow of your thighs there — just enough to drive me wild. I leaned down, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your calf, then another a little higher, following the heat of your skin up to your thigh. Your body tensed and melted in equal measure beneath my touch. My hands slid up, gripping your hips firmly, my fingers slipping underneath to grasp the full curve of your ass.

I moved painfully slow, drawing out the moment, savouring the build-up. Every inch of you begged for my attention, and I was in no rush to deliver it all at once. You did say you wanted to be teased, although by now it felt like I was teasing myself as well.

My mouth hovered just over your vulva, the last sliver of fabric barely shielding you. The heat radiating from you was undeniable, the smallest shift of your body pressing you closer, urging me on. I held there for a breath, watching, waiting, feeling you pulse with need beneath me. And then, finally, I moved.

I lifted the edge of your shirt to reveal your vulva, eager with anticipation, with short trimmed pubic hair. My eyes lingered, taking in every inch of your exposed skin, before I leaned back down, my breath hot against your inner thigh. My hands slid beneath you, fingers curling around the curves of your hips, pulling you slightly toward me. My mind flashed, just for a second, to the thought of you trimming yourself — an image so intimate, so tender, it made my desire for you even more unbearable.

And then, I tasted you.

You were glistening wet and radiating heat. I couldn’t wait any longer, and placed my mouth over your lips, and pressed my tongue inside you. The first stroke of my tongue sent a shudder through your body, a soft, helpless moan falling from your lips. You were impossibly wet, glistening with heat and need. I pressed deeper, letting my tongue explore you, savouring the way your body responded — hips lifting, thighs trembling, the ties around your wrists pulling just slightly as your fingers curled instinctively.

As you lifted my hands slipped below you, feeling the full curve of your ass, at which i let out a desiring moan, or grunt, of my own.

I pressed my tongue deeper still and gripped your bum with both hands. You were lifting and clenching in response, and using all the leverage you had with your hands still tied. I let my tongue trace upward, teasing, before circling back down and finding your clitoris, hard and ready. I pictured you grabbing my hair if you could, while I ran the tip of my tongue back and forth, your body quivering with every flick of my tongue and stroke of my lips. Your legs came up around my head, and I could feel you squeeze as you wrapped them around me.

I continued to flick and tease, while you lifted and swayed your hips, eager for maximum contact. I could only imagine how you felt, experience so much pleasure but with nowhere to go when it got overwhelming. I imagined you riding the crest of a wave that could fall at any moment, plunging you into depths of pleasure and driving you crazy.

I relocated a hand and slid my underwear off, which you didn’t notice but would in time. I ran the same hand up your thigh, and pressed two fingers smoothly into your vagina. You felt tight and there was resistance, but your overwhelming wetness made it easy. Your body answered, pushing toward me, wanting more. I gave it to you, my hands gripping your hips tighter, pulling you even closer, my tongue teasing, flicking, and my fingers pressing deeper.

Your breath came faster now, each exhale shaky, filled with pleasure. I could feel the tension winding inside you, building, spiralling toward something inevitable. I let my lips close around you, sucking gently, then harder, letting my tongue roll against you while my fingers pressed in a steady, torturous rhythm.

I placed my mouth back over your vulva, my tongue pressing against you with urgency now, drinking in every moan, every shudder of your body beneath me. At the same time, I reached up, hastily pushing your shirt higher until it gathered just beneath your collarbones, revealing your breasts in the dim morning light.

They were perfect — soft, full, your nipples hard and eager for my touch. Wet from being inside you, I ran my fingers over them, watching as the moisture left behind caught the light. Your skin felt electric, and as my fingers found your nipples and began to squeeze and flick them, you let out a sound that was pure, desperate pleasure.

You were panting now, moaning without restraint, the sounds coming from your lips in a steady rhythm that only made me harder, made me want you even more. I leaned up, replacing my fingers with my mouth, my tongue circling one nipple before I closed my lips around it, sucking gently, then teasing it between my teeth. You gasped, arching into me, your body begging for more, and I gave it to you — switching to the other, lavishing it with the same attention, tasting the sweet salt of your skin.

As I shifted my position slightly, you suddenly tensed, your eyes going wide as you felt it — my cock, hard and straining, and casually brushing against the inside of your thigh. It was just a passing touch, a small, teasing moment, but I felt the way your breath caught, the way your legs instinctively parted just a little more.

I smirked against your skin. A new idea had taken root in your mind. A new desire, one that neither of us could ignore much longer.

I continued kissing you, my lips trailing across your skin, moving from your breasts to your chest, relishing the rise and fall of your breath beneath me. I kissed higher, up the delicate line of your collarbone, over the curve of your neck, where I felt your pulse hammering against my lips. Your skin was warm, fevered, and as I made my way back to your mouth, I felt your hands instinctively tug at their restraints, not to resist, but to reach for me.

When our lips met again, it was intoxicating — like I had been away from you for too long, though it had only been moments. Your mouth was soft and welcoming, your tongue meeting mine in slow, eager strokes, as if drinking me in, pulling me deeper into you.

As we kissed, my hips moved against you, and I felt it — felt the head of my cock brushing against your wetness, the slick heat of you coating me, making it nearly impossible not to slide inside right then and there. The temptation was maddening, the way you fit against me, how effortlessly our bodies aligned.

But I waited.

I kept our rhythm, my lips still tangled with yours, as I let my cock glide against your clit, teasing you with slow, deliberate movements. I could feel every shiver that ran through you, hear every breath that caught in your throat. Your legs shifted, welcoming me in, parting just enough that I could slide between them, nudging against your entrance, so close, so impossibly close.

Then you looked at me, your eyes found mine, and in that single glance, I knew. I saw the need, the ache, the silent plea, but I wanted to be certain. “Are you sure?” I murmured against your lips, my voice rough with restraint. You bit your lip, and nodded. Then, barely above a whisper, you breathed the word —

“Please.”

I had loved every moment of having you tied up — watching you writhe under my touch, seeing the pleasure ripple through you while you surrendered to the slow, deliberate teasing. The thrill of exposing you to me, piece by piece, feeling you tremble in anticipation. Two strangers, bound by an unspoken understanding, coming together in this shared, intimate hunger.

But I didn’t want to fuck you while you were still tied up.

I leaned in, kissing you again, keeping the head of my cock poised at your entrance, right on the edge of slipping inside. Your body tensed with expectation, but instead of pushing forward, I reached up, my fingers moving to the knots of silk and fabric that bound your wrists.

Your eyes flickered open, first in surprise, then in something deeper — gratitude, relief. You hadn’t resisted the restraints, but now, as I loosened them, as I slid your hands free, I could see how much you wanted to touch me, and to have your autonomy to guide our mutual pleasure.

I guided your arms around my shoulders, letting them drape over me naturally, feeling your fingertips press into the muscles of my back, your nails teasing over my skin. Then, as I cradled the back of your head, pressing my forehead to yours, I slowly, deliberately pushed forward.

Your gasp filled the space between us. It was louder this time — half excitement, half surprise. As wet as you were, I could feel the resistance, the tightness of you around me, gripping me as I pressed deeper.

I moved slowly, milking every millimetre, feeling you stretch, feeling your body adjust around me. My breathing grew heavier, my control tested as I fought the urge to drive into you all at once. Instead, I let the moment build, let us both feel every second of it, let the pleasure mount like a slow, burning wave.

You were trembling beneath me, your fingers clutching at my shoulders. I kissed you again — deep, reassuring — before pushing just a little further, sliding deeper, filling you completely.

Relative to the drawn out tease of what had happened so far, the final part happened in a flash.

Once I was inside you, and you felt the full depth and girth of how I felt inside of you, we established a rhythm that we were helpless to stop. Fast but steady, I was pushing my hips into you rhythmically, while you pulled me into you and explored with your hands, enjoying the new found freedom. You ran them up my back, grabbing me with your nails, scratching ever so slightly, and moved up to my hair and face. You used one hand to brace my chest, feel my collarbones, and even ran your fingers up to my mouth, which I kissed and sucked with glee.

All the while I continued to thrust and when your hands found their way to my bum, I pressed my face into your chest and quickened the pace. I flew too close to the sun, I was experiencing an overwhelming wave of pleasure and there was no going back. Luckily, you caught the wave with me, and as I thrust in and out of you, in full strokes, coming almost all the way out, before going all the way back in, I could feel you still tight and tensing against me from the inside. As I thrust inside you one last time I exploded, my cock spasming and twitching inside you as the wave crashed and we clung to each other, grasping and tensing and flexing.

I held you tight, wanting to stay inside you forever, to roll over and fall asleep together. Hop a plane and fly to a desert island where we could wander naked and fuck on the sand, kiss in pools and streams.

We shifted, both wanting to decouple from the moment without disrupting any of the exquisite and uncluttered intimacy that we had both experienced. I lay down briefly on your chest, catching my breath. Your chest was heaving as well. We had exchanged so few words, contributing greatly to the dream-like state we found ourselves in.

I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, or ruin the moment. I kissed you softly on the lips and whispered ‘thank you’, and you smiled knowingly, with your own sense of gratitude in your eyes.

I watched as you slid off the bed, and watched you cross the room to the bathroom, to turn on the shower. I ogled your naked bum every step of the way, wanting that to be my lasting impression, to be an image tattooed on my eyeballs.

I recovered my clothes, returned the sheet to the bed and untied the remaining tethers from the bed, placing them on the bedside table.