Aislen and Rhett at the Tattoo Parlor

Havermouth, Three Weeks Earlier

Rhett woke when Heath left the bed in order to shower. “Hmmm,” he tried to push his hair from his face and found his left hand still bound to the headboard. “F-k,” he squinted at the knotted rope as he scratched at his chest with his free hand.

He rolled to his side and sat up in order to work at the knot. “F-king hell,” he brought his wrist to his mouth and used his teeth to tug the knot loose enough for his fingers to finish the job. As he stood, he felt something stick to the bottom of his foot and bent over to peel the polaroid free. It was a c-ck shot with his face in the background. “Dirty f-ker,” he grinned and set it onto Heath’s pillow before retrieving his clothes and shoes from the floor on his way to the door.

He turned his shower on hot to work the ache out of his shoulder due to his weird sleeping position and hissed as he cupped his balls to wash them free of lube-slime. Sometimes Heath played rougher than Rhett liked. As he always told C