Bonds
shipfic, Playroom!verse
Joe x Finn. Mature/Explicit.
*
Bondage is something Joe likes a lot, mostly when he gets to tie someone up, but he's surprised that he's not averse to being on the receiving end when Finn suggests it, one Thursday when they meet up from different continents for a little sojourn in Bali.
The warm, balmy breeze brings the scent of the sea, the filmy white curtains fluttering with dreamlike torpor. It's just past sunset and they still can't untangle themselves.
They have cheap wine in the fridge downstairs, and their clothes are thrown on the chair in the corner. Their first time in the afternoon had been a frantic, almost angry reconnecting between them, Joe hauling Finn up against the wall to maul his mouth with rough kisses, and Finn biting at Joe's lips and skin to etch the taste into his memory. Three months and eight days of zero communication and then two messages, one to ask if the other was alive and the second to confirm a date and location.
(Joe hates that he's addicted to Finn Balor. He hates it. Finn is sexy and carefree, manipulative and ambitious; he's fun in bed, though that's not the reason Joe returns to him again and again.
The feral brutality the Irishman occasionally displays is what keeps Joe hooked. The way Finn will quite happily rip into a man's face with his own hands, the skill he has with a butterfly knife... Joe loves that side of Finn. Not that he will ever admit it.)
"Thank you for letting me do this," Finn says, reverent and adoring. He likes the look of black rope criss-crossing Joe's skin, pressing into hefty muscle and fat, the way the ample flesh bulges from the bindings. Around the back of his neck, framing thick arms and shoulders, across the broad chest, under his pecs to the back to secure his strong wrists. Then another length from ankles up to knees up to thighs, elegant knots set at specific junctures to form patterns on skin.
It has taken Finn a while to apply the right tension with the rope and knots, and he can already imagine the marks that will be left behind afterwards. They will be beautiful, moreso because Joe isn't one to allow himself to be vulnerable.
And Joe, trusting Finn to do this, trusting that Finn will not cut his throat with him tied up and helpless... It's not submission. Joe does not submit. It is permission he's granted Finn.
The younger man drops to his ankles and kisses Joe's bound ankles, and continues kissing up his shins and knees, until he has his palms on Joe's thighs and is craning up to suck softly on the big man's nipples, left to right and back, tracing his path with his tongue.
Joe flexes his fingers and shifts his weight, angling his head to admire Finn's gentle worship. He doesn't put himself at risk like this often. Mainly because Joe doesn't trust Finn entirely all the time. (He trusts only himself completely, but Finn comes a close third.)
Yet, here, with the island breezes, the grit of sand between his toes yesterday, the sound of waves outside, and the memory of Finn's surrender last night, it's easy to let go of his inhibitions. Finn moans as he tastes and savors Joe, his warm hands grasping onto the rope and tightening the bonds.
"Get off my lap," Joe orders, his voice hoarser than he's expected. "Jerk me off. Let me see how much better you've become with your hands."
Finn blinks at him, his pupils blown dark, and licks his lips. "I could ride you instead," he suggests with a sultry pout.
Joe smirks. "Later, after lunch. Come on, hands on cock now."
Finn obeys. "May I jerk myself off too, sir?"
"I'm not Regal. Don't call me sir."
"I'm not gonna call you 'Daddy', if that's what you're looking for." Finn leans forward to lick Joe's shaft wet, and closes his lips around the shiny head before sliding down a little, his jaw relaxing to accommodate.
The older man grunts. "Just Joe will do, you bastard. I don't want oral. Get on with your hands."
Finn pulls off wetly. "How often do you turn down blowjobs?" he asks conversationally.
"As often as I like to," Joe says, and his eyelids flutter close when Finn finally wraps his strong, calloused hands around Joe's erection.
It doesn't take much, not really, despite Joe's efforts; Finn squeezes lightly as he pulls, and relaxes as he slides down; his fingers trace the thick vein while his other thumb rubs circles around and over the sensitive head, the pad of his thumb stroking back and forth over the slit.
Joe comes over Finn's hands and his own belly with a muted groan, and relaxes. "Take off the ropes," he orders. Finn kisses him before he starts moving, and uses the opportunity to rub his hard cock all over Joe's bare skin as he works, hissing in pleasure at the friction.
Oh, the deep pink marks, the darker reds that will bloom into bruises... Finn licks his lips again. He doesn't understand why he can't get enough of Joe; what they each want out of life is completely different. But Finn can't help craving Joe's kisses and bruising hugs, can't help wanting to impress him with his ruthlessness, his violent tendencies. He can't help provoking Joe either, push him towards irritation, just to have the older guy be rougher with him. More demanding.
It's not love. He knows it's not. But it's something close to it.
He's disturbed from his reverie by Joe gripping the back of his neck.
"I said, clean me up with your tongue," Joe asks, shaking Finn lightly.
"Yes, yes, bossy." Finn exhales and grins up at Joe. "You're really loving this."
"Hm. Keep quiet for the next ten minutes and I may just decide to suck you off."
Finn mines zipping up his mouth and resumes licking the pattern he's left on Joe's skin.
*
"The first time I had sex, I was fourteen," Finn confesses after they've had their obligatory shower.
"Fourteen? That's young."
From those words, Finn hears were you abused and I'll punish them, and knows that Joe would do it, Joe would hunt down someone from Finn's past and torture and kill them.
"I wanted it. He was the captain of the football club and I gave him a blowjob in his garden shed." He hums. "I didn't get fucked till, like, fifteen. A neighbor's cousin was visiting from Dublin. Very handsome. Took me almost all summer to seduce him too."
"You were fifteen and you were seducing grown men?"
"He was eighteen and I was otherwise getting into fights." Finn trails his fingers over Joe's forearm. "Life was simpler then."
Joe relaxes his hold on Finn's waist. His voice sounds distant. "I was seventeen. She was a waitress I met on my first real job. Sweet girl with dark blonde curls and a freckle, above her upper lip."
"Ever looked her up again?"
"Nah. It was a fling. I was there observing the mark, and she was someone I saw almost daily at the time because I ate at the diner. She thought I was twenty."
"That's because you have an old face."
"I'm gonna tan your ass for that."
Finn laughs and burrows closer. He's quiet for a few minutes before he says, very quietly, "My dad used to say that to me. That he'd tan my arse."
Joe doesn't react. Finn hardly ever shares about his family.
"Ma was alright, she made sure we were washed and fed, but she was always too tired, you know?" The younger man sighs. "Da hated me. He thought I was the child of one of the neighbors. Maybe I was, I don't know. And when he found out I'd not only got in a gang, but I had slept with or sucked off half the young men along the street, he threw me out of the house."
"You ever looked up your parents?"
"They're fine. My older brother and sister are taking care of them." Finn squirms until he can look Joe in the eye. "What about you and your family? You still in touch?"
Joe brushes his knuckles over Finn's face. It's late, and it's dark out here. The sound of live music floats into the room, and under that is the sound of the sea.
"My father and two baby sisters were murdered," he tells Finn. "Dad was in the Business; I found that out afterwards, and apprenticed myself to one of his old pals. Finally avenged them two years ago. Cowards, hiding behind their cartel friends."
Finn doesn't say anything. He rests his hand on Joe's chest, over his heart.
"Mom's remarried to someone in Chiangmai. I've watched her and him, and their little grocery shop. Sent her some money anonymously but she'd know it was from me." He sighs. "I don't want to contact her. There are some morons who'd try to use her against me. She's already lost her husband and her children to the Business; I don't want her to ever be involved with it again. Even if it means I never see her again or contact her again."
Joe has never admitted this to anyone. Hell, he can't recall the last time he talked about his mother.
The younger man leans over to kiss Joe on the cheek. Much to the older man's surprise, he has tears in his eyes. He inhales deeply and angles Finn's head to kiss him on the mouth. They stay like that, just holding each other and seeking comfort from wounds too deep to show anyone else.
"Wanna go for another round?" Joe asks brusquely, when he feels the stirring of alarm. He's shown too much of himself.
It has to be the bondage session, he reasons, that's got me to lower my guard. Who knows if Finn won't sell the information about Joe to the highest bidder?
"I have to head south to Melbourne tomorrow." He's actually headed to Christchurch, but he feels a little lie is necessary now. He's been too honest. So honest that he feels raw and frightened, and he hasn't felt like that for a very long time.
"I'm due back in Tokyo too," Finn murmurs against Joe's lips. Then he pulls back slightly. "Your secrets are safe with me. I promise."
Joe always forgets that Finn isn't as stupid as he looks, that he has an uncanny ability to read a person's emotional state. Finn studies him a little longer, before he gets out of bed, flips on the bedside lamp, and digs around in his carry-on bag.
Finally, he find it - an engraved bullet. He passes it to Joe. The bullet has a name carved on it that isn't Finn Balor.
"That's my real name," Finn tells Joe, "and my parents' names are inside it."
"Why are you showing this to me?"
"I'm giving it to you," Finn says.
Joe blinks at him.
The Irishman smiles. It's a sincere, slightly nervous smile, like he's not sure what he's actually doing. "Take care of that for me."
And that is a guarantee, of sorts. Joe knows that Finn knows that Joe will use the name and start digging, find out everything he can about Finn's early life.
Secret for secret.
Joe relaxes. He can accept this. Putting the bullet aside in his own duffel, Joe wonders if he can trust Finn, for real. To have someone who knows everything about him, and isn't likely to use that intel against him... It's tempting.
With a small, crooked grin, he motions for Finn to return to bed. Trust can be earned and repaid, Joe thinks, and proceeds to reward Finn for trusting him.
