Archive of Our Own ^beta

Arno sits on the thin mattress of his cramped student apartment. His hands are tucked behind his back, wrists bound securely together.

Napoleon had provided his own rope. He'd pulled it out with a smug grin, that Look at what I've done expression he gets when he wants praise but won't ask for it.

It's specially designed for this purpose, apparently. It's certainly softer than ordinary rope, Arno thinks, absently testing his bonds.

Crouching behind him, Napoleon tuts, hands stilling. He's halfway through winding the rope around Arno's left arm, just below the shoulder.

He rests one of his hands on Arno's shoulder, holding him still on the bed.

"You're restless," he says, voice carefully measured.

Arno holds his tongue. He knows he's restless.

Releasing him, Napoleon resumes his work, winding one more time before he loops it under the part connecting Arno's wrists to his upper arm.

With one hand, he holds Arno's ponytail, lifting it as he tosses the rope over his right shoulder. He releases the rope and gives the ponytail a sharp tug.

Arno gasps at the pain.

"Fine," he says, as Napoleon clambers past him off of the bed. "I'm restless."

"Not so hard, was that?"

Napoleon loosely grips Arno's torso, guiding him to stand.

Arno is surprised by how unsteady he feels, and he leans into Napoleon, his bare chest against Napoleon's crisp shirt.

Napoleon huffs a laugh. His eyes are bright as he helps Arno stand.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Ready," Arno replies.

Napoleon grasps the rope, pulling it experimentally.

"Tight enough?" he asks, pulling it diagonally from Arno's neck to the part wrapped around his upper arm.

"A little more..." Arno says, trailing off as Napoleon begins tucking it into the tie. The buzzing part of his mind, itching to move, goes quiet.

Napoleon twists the rope, knotting it, and pulls it under Arno's pec, creating a line to his waist. He passes it between his hands, wrapping the rope around Arno's waist like a belt. When he knots it again, quickly and firmly, Arno holds still.

"Good?" Napoleon asks.

"Good."