seveninchmotto | The Apartment, New York, Friday

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The Apartment, New York, Friday

It was about time for Flick to return to Idris.

In fact, he was expected at a portal at the Institute in a matter of a couple of hours. Isabelle wasn't feeling very pleased with it, no matter how proud she was of everything he was doing at the Academy. She'd gotten all too used to him being at home over the break. Their bed was going to feel lonely and empty once he was gone again.

But it was morning, and she was out of bed all the same. Padding barefoot around the kitchen in a silk robe, she was making breakfast. Coffee, eggs and bacon, some pancakes with an interesting take on seasoning them. Flick was about to go back to Academy food, and Isabelle would be damned if she let him go without one last proper breakfast at home.

[ooc: NFB, for the guuuuy.]

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"And beautiful," Flick said, kneeling on the bed so he could gently and slowly fit her ankles into the cuffs on the bar. He locked them and gave them a tug to make sure she wouldn't break them.

"How's that feel?"

Isabelle rolled her ankles, one at a time, feeling for any excessive tightness or looseness of the cuffs. Once she'd deemed the hold good but not too tight, she tried moving her legs further apart. Or closer together.

Unsurprisingly, neither was really happening right now, beyond the very slight movement the cuffs allowed her.

She looked up. "Like I'm giving you a sizable chunk of control."

"That's not anything new," Flick said, running a finger up from her navel to her throat and back down again. "I've had control before."

"True," Isabelle replied, briefly running a few fingertips along his wrist when his hand was close enough. "And you haven't exactly seized as much of it as you can. Yet, anyway."

"I was thinking about handcuffing you," he said, glancing at her hands. "I didn't know if you'd want that too."

"I want that."

The quickness with which she said that left little room for doubt. The glint in her eyes, too.

"I want to be at your mercy."

Flick licked his lips and got up, heading back to the closet for the handcuffs.

"You are a dream come true," he murmured, grabbing the handcuffs and swinging them around a finger.

"I know."

Modesty continued to not be her thing. Smirking at him while anticipation was building up somewhere around her stomach was very much her thing, however.

"And if you do this right, it'll be your turn the next time you come home."

There was no way he wasn't doing this right.

"Oh, you know I'll do it right," Flick said, coming back over to kneel on the bed. He reached for one of her wrists and cuffed it before he wove the hands around one of the bars on the headboard and reached to cuffed the other hand.

"Too tight, too loose?" he asked her.

Isabelle looked up at the cuffs as she tested the hold.

"No," she said, as she looked back at him. "Just right."

"And what a pretty picture you make," Flick sighed, smiling at her and tugging his shirt off, tossing it aside. "I could just look at you for awhile."

"Well, that's a choice you have," she replied, tilting her head and glancing down at his bare chest. "It's not like I can stop you."

"Oh, you know you could break out if you really wanted to," Flick said, sliding a finger around one of her nipples very, very lightly. "You might give me an hour or two of looking but then you'd get impatient."

"Two is really stretching it," Isabelle said honestly, with a snort. Only a tiny bit distracted by watching – and feeling – him touch her. "And you're right. They don't exactly make this gear Shadowhunter proof."

"I'm sure if I threw in some dirty talk, you'd be okay with two hours," he said and slid his thumb over her nipple, rolling his finger back and forth over it slowly.

Isabelle sighed and smiled at him, stretching out some under his touch. "True," she agreed. "If you were just watching me, I'd give it an hour. But with dirty talk, there's no telling. Because I love it when your mouth gets dirty."

"You love it and you hate it," he said and bent his head, sliding his tongue across the nipple he'd just been paying attention to. "Because you love hearing it but you'd hate it if that's all I did. Getting you hot and bothered without any pay off."

"It'd be pretty uncomfortable," she allowed, licking her bottom lip. "Getting all wet and aching with no way to do anything about it. But I'd trust you to make it worth it in the end."

"And what would you do if I didn't?" Flick asked, moving his tongue down her body until he got to her navel and licked around it. "What would you do if I did just leave you here, wet and squirming? If you couldn't do anything but shift around, trying to find something to rut against because I refused to help you out?"

"I'd give you a little while to see the error of your ways."

Because sometimes she could at least pretend to be able take whatever he dished out. The muscles in her stomach jumped under his tongue.

"Then I'd break out of my restraints and deal with it myself."

"One day, I'll be able to get some restraints that you can't break out of," Flick said, tiptoeing his fingers down her thigh and between her legs, just rubbing lightly up and down. "Then, we'll really have fun."

Isabelle couldn't help a tiny noise of anticipation. It was more fun to let it out than to try and suppress it.

"And who do you think'll provide you with Marked restraints?"

"No one will provide me with them, I'll get them myself," he told her, confidence lacing his tongue. He slid one finger inside of her, curling slowly. "I won't have to ask for a favor."

Isabelle found herself holding her breath for a moment. Had to just focus on the feeling, the inkling of what was to come later.

She let the breath go as a sigh. "So where do you think you'll get them?"

"From the sex store that I'm sure exists somewhere in Idris," Flick joked, pulling his finger out to tease her again before he slid it back in, deeper this time. "Shadowhunters can't all be prudes."

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