“Happy lifeday !” chorused Wedge’s friends.
He smiled and raised his glass in salute to them, before taking a hearty mouthful of the Whyren’s Reserve. The golden whiskey left a warm trail down his throat to his stomach, and set up a pleasant, mild buzziness in his head. He put the glass down and accepted the small gift box that Tycho offered him. Opening it, he found data chips of some music he liked, and a small piece of plascard with a message in Tycho’s neat handwriting:
I’ve got something bigger to give you in private later.
Wedge looked across the bar table to Tycho, who was doing a very good job of appearing casual. Wedge saw the anticipation in his eyes, however, and his pulse jumped up a notch. He put the lid back on the box, and thanked Tycho for the music.
Wedge spent the next couple of hours in the cantina with his friends, enjoying their company, and the drinks. But whenever his eyes met Tycho’s, he felt a tingle of erotic anticipation, wondering what his friend had planned. Eventually, his wandering thoughts distracted him enough that he made a stupid mistake in the hand of sabacc he was playing, and lost most of his money to Plourr.
“I reckon you’ve had enough to drink,” Tycho said, standing up. “It’s time you went to sleep it off.”
“Not yet !” protested Wes, gathering up the cards. “The night’s still young.”
“If you can’t stay up late and get drunk on your lifeday, then when can you ?” Plourr added, looking at Tycho threateningly.
Wedge pushed his chair back. “Tycho’s right,” he said, deliberately slurring his words. He stood up, clumsily, and let Tycho support him. The touch of Tycho’s hand on his arm sent tingles through his body. “I’ve had enough.”
“You’ll have a hangover anyway,” Hobbie prophesied.
Wedge grinned. “If I do, I’ll know I had a good night, even if I can’t remember any of it tomorrow.”
He was hugged by all, and kissed by the women present, then left with Tycho, to a chorus of ‘Happy lifeday’ from the rest of the squad.
Wedge and Tycho didn’t talk as they made their way back to the pilot’s accommodation. Wedge was acutely aware of Tycho’s presence at his side though, and when they glanced at one another, the look in Tycho’s eyes increased the heavy pulse already throbbing in his groin. Tycho stopped outside his own room, and keyed open the door. Wedge followed him in, and stood in the middle of the floor while Tycho fetched a box from his closet.
“Happy lifeday,” Tycho said as he handed the large, shallow box over. His voice and face were full of suppressed eagerness.
Wedge gazed at him for a moment, already eager to touch and be touched, then took the lid off. The contents were nestled among soft cobweb paper. The first thing Wedge identified was a collar, in deep crimson nerf-hide, with a gold-coloured buckle and a D-ring. As he examined the contents, he found matching wrist and ankle cuffs, a leash, thigh straps, joining straps, and a cock harness, all in the beautifully soft leather. He put the box on a chair, and lifted out the collar. Tycho was watching him, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide.
Wedge held the collar towards him, considering.
“I know you promised me a collar for my lifeday, but this isn’t really my colour,” he said thoughtfully. “But it would suit you, don’t you think ?”
Tycho swallowed, and said “Yes,” huskily.
Wedge stepped in close, and fastened the collar around Tycho’s neck. His hands brushed against Tycho’s skin, and their faces were only a few inches apart, tempting a kiss. Wedge made no move to kiss him though, and Tycho stood still, his arms by his side as Wedge buckled the collar in place. Wedge moved back a couple of places and looked at him admiringly.
“Yes, it does suit you,” he said. Seeing the taller, aristocratic pilot wearing a collar like a slave was deeply erotic. Wedge loved to see Tycho’s cool demeanour break down, and to hear him beg for sex; reducing him to the status of a slave intensified that experience. “I can’t see it clearly enough,” he went on. “Take off your clothes.”
Tycho obeyed, removing boots and socks first, then his shirt. He slid off his trousers, and finally his pants, exposing his half-erect penis. He stood straight, facing Wedge, his toned, trim body displayed, naked but for the crimson collar. Wedge yearned to feel that naked skin against his own, but restrained himself.
“Thigh straps and ankle cuffs,” he ordered.
Tycho took the items from the box and fastened them about himself. When he was done, Wedge told him to give him the wrist restraints. Tycho obeyed again, submitting to his own domination. Wedge fastened the restraints in place, then stepped back to admire his slave. Tycho looked stunning, ready to be positioned and held according to Wedge’s pleasure.
“Now remove my clothes,” Wedge ordered.
Tycho did as he was told, carefully removing Wedge’s clothes in the same order he’d removed his own, and placing Wedge’s things carefully on the chair. Wedge grew steadily harder as Tycho’s hands stripped off his clothing, brushing over his skin in the most intimate contact they’d shared so far this evening. When Wedge was finally naked, he fastened Tycho’s hands together behind his back, then clipped the leash to his collar. He gave a quick tug on the leash and Tycho jerked a step closer, almost touching. Wedge leaned in to kiss him, sliding his hands around Tycho’s crotch, teasing him. Breaking the kiss, Wedge tugged the leash downwards.
“Suck me,” he ordered, as Tycho dropped to his knees.
He held his breath as Tycho’s tongue swirled around the head of his penis, then gasped as Tycho’s warm, wet mouth closed over his cock. Wedge looked down as Tycho’s head dipped and rose in time with his movements. He could feel Tycho’s breath against his skin, feel his lips around his cock, and the tongue that licked so exquisitely, but he couldn’t see Tycho’s face. Tycho was a faceless slave, arms pinioned awkwardly behind his back as he knelt before Wedge and pleasured him.
Wedge let Tycho continue for a couple of minutes, relishing the pounding tension building within his body. Every muscle in his body was taut, and he was panting for breath when he tugged on the leash.
“Stop,” he ordered, his voice ragged.
Tycho obeyed, sitting back on his heels and looking up. Wedge swallowed, and waited a moment, letting the intensity of near-orgasm fade. When he’d regained self-control, he led Tycho over to the gift box and gestured.
“Give me the cock harness.”
Tycho obediently handed the fine, crimson nerf-hide straps to him, and stood facing Wedge. His cock was hot and hard as Wedge carefully fitted the harness, fastening one strap around Tycho’s balls, and the other around the base of his penis. He looked into Tycho’s eyes and saw the hunger shining there, the pupils wide with desire. Slowly, Wedge stroked the fine skin of Tycho’s inner thighs, hearing the long intake of breath his touch provoked. Slowly, he moved his hand until he was cradling Tycho’s balls, and gently pulled. Tycho whimpered, his mouth opening and the tip of his tongue showing. Wedge grabbed the back of his neck with his other hand, and pulled Tycho in close for a deep, ravishing kiss. Both were breathless when Wedge released his grip. Seizing the last straps from the box, Wedge pushed Tycho to the bed and facedown onto it.
Uncoupling the wrist restraints, Wedge used the joining straps to fasten first Tycho’s wrists, and then his ankles to the thigh straps. When he was done, Tycho lay face down, his arms fastened by his sides, legs apart and bent at the knee with his feet raised, held there by the straps from the back of his ankles to the outer thigh. His buttocks and arsehole were displayed for Wedge to use as he wished.
Kneeling between Tycho’s legs, Wedge leaned forward, planting his hands either side of Tycho’s body. Lowering his head, he licked slowly down the length of Tycho’s spine, from the base of his collar, to the crack of his buttocks. Tycho moaned, clenching his fists in frustration at being unable to do anything. Wedge kissed and nibbled his way back up the channel of Tycho’s spine, then reached for the lube on the cabinet beside the bed. He nuzzled Tycho’s earlobe, then lowered his hips, so his penis was resting between Tycho’s buttocks.
Tycho groaned again, and said “Wedge…” in pleading tones.
Wedge moved back to kneel between his thighs again. He scooped a little lube from the pot, and stroked it around Tycho’s arsehole, smiling as Tycho quivered and moaned in response. Slowly, he inserted a finger.
“Is this what you want ?” Wedge asked, teasingly.
“Yes ! Oh, Force, yes !” Tycho gasped as Wedge expertly stroked him. He jerked at the restraints, trying to express the tension held in his body.
Wedge withdrew his finger, and stroked the back of Tycho’s thigh instead. Tycho made an indignant noise.
“What do you want ?” Wedge pressed his finger against Tycho’s entrance again.
“That ! I want you to…” Tycho wriggled helplessly again and moaned as Wedge’s finger penetrated him again. “Fuck me; for Sith’s sake, fuck me !”
Wedge swallowed as he looked at Lieutenant Tycho Celchu, bound, writhing, and begging to be fucked. He reached under Tycho’s taut body to release the cock harness, then slathered more lube on himself, and finally entered Tycho’s sweet, tight arse. The first thrust was ecstasy. Wedge pressed himself over Tycho’s back and began pounding hard and deep. He abandoned himself fully to the moment, clinging to Tycho’s shoulder with one hand, unaware that he’d hooked the fingers of the other hand into the back of the collar, and was pulling it tight. Closing his eyes, he gave himself over to the physical sensations.
Wedge felt Tycho moving rhythmically beneath him, heard his own gasps as he thrust faster. His body was winding up tighter and tighter as he built towards climax. He clung on hard, anchoring himself as his hips thrust back and forth. Wedge was moaning with every breath, feeling himself tantalisingly close to orgasm. His lips brushed Tycho’s shoulder, tasting the musk and saltiness of sweat. Tycho was shuddering beneath him and Wedge opened his eyes, wanting to see the ecstasy on his face. To his shock, Tycho’s face was dusky and his lips were faintly blue. Before Wedge could react, Tycho’s body erupted in a massive orgasm, bucking and pulling against the restraints. His arse clenched tight around Wedge’s cock, driving him shudderingly close to orgasm himself. Wedge unhooked his fingers from the collar, grabbed Tycho’s other shoulder, thrust once more and climaxed. The sensations tore through him like an ion charge, bringing a wordless cry from the depths of his lungs. As the spasms of pleasure died away, he lay limply on Tycho’s back, gasping for air, and feeling Tycho’s chest heaving beneath him.
Wedge only let himself stay there for a few moments. Groaning, he forced himself to move, pulling free of Tycho’s body, and turning to unsnap the restraints. Tycho collapsed weakly, whimpering a little as he moved his arms and legs at last. Wedge moved himself until he was lying next to his friend, and looked at him anxiously. To his immense relief, Tycho’s face had returned to a normal colour, though he was still breathing more heavily than Wedge. Wedge touched Tycho’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
Tycho’s brilliant blue eyes opened wide. “Sorry ?”
“I nearly strangled you. I didn’t realize I was pulling that collar tight around your throat.”
To his surprise, Tycho smiled. “That gave me one of the best, Sith-spawned orgasms I’ve ever had.” As Wedge stared at him in confusion, Tycho went on. “Ever heard of asphyxiophilia, breathplay ?”
“Oh.” Wedge shook his head. “I never meant to fool around with that. Too dangerous."
“Now I know why people do it,” Tycho replied, making an effort to control his heavy breathing. “With the restraints too, it was like everything was being bottled up inside me. I was so turned on, so ready to explode, and the only way it could all come out was in an orgasm.” His eyes shone as he looked at Wedge. “You should try it.”
Wedge bit softly on his lower lip as he thought. The reckless, impulsive, Corellian part of his nature wanted to try it. He’d felt the orgasm rip through Tycho, could see the languid bliss in him now. The rational, odds-counting, engineer in Wedge was cold at the knowledge of how dangerous erotic asphyxiation was. He looked at Tycho again, seeing a friend he cared about deeply, and thinking of the rest of his squadron, and the job they were doing in the galaxy.
“No, Tycho. There’s too much to lose. I won’t try it, and I don’t want you to do it again. Especially not on your own.” He looked Tycho straight in the eyes. “I’m not ordering you as a commanding officer; I’m asking you as a friend.”
After a few moments, Tycho’s gaze softened and he nodded.
“All right, Wedge. I promise I won’t mess about with breathplay again.” He reached out and stroked Wedge’s side. “You can drive me wild anyway.”
Wedge smiled, and moved close for a gentle kiss.
“Those straps do look good on you,” he said softly. “I wonder how many different positions I can restrain you in ?”
“You can try another in the morning,” Tycho suggested. “I’m far too exhausted for any more games tonight.” He kissed Wedge tenderly. “Doesn’t just have to be the morning either. You took the day off to recover from your lifeday celebrations, remember ? And I booked the day off too.”
Wedge’s eyes lit up. “A whole day to play with my lifeday present, and you wearing it. Mmmmmm.”
Tycho kissed him again. “Happy lifeday, Wedge.”
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