Last summer, the air felt thick with something more than heat, a tension that had been building for weeks. Nicolas, my brother’s best friend, had been coming to our beach house for years, but this time, everything felt different. He was taller, more confident, his eyes lingering on mine longer than before, his voice deeper when he spoke to me.

It all started innocently enough. The three of us were lounging on the deck one night, the moonlight spilling across the water like molten silver. My brother, of course, had too much to drink and stumbled off to bed early. Nicolas and I stayed behind, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling the silence between us.

I don’t remember exactly how the conversation shifted, but at some point, Nicolas mentioned something about rope. My heart skipped. I had heard rumors from my brother, whispers about Nicolas being into BDSM, but I had never taken them seriously. Yet here we were, talking about it, and I was... intrigued.

“I could show you,” he said casually, his eyes dark and intense, like he already knew what my answer would be.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I should be crossing this line, but the curiosity—and something deeper—pulled me in. I nodded.

Without a word, Nicolas stood and went to his bag, pulling out a length of soft, crimson rope. My pulse quickened as he came back to me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. I didn't give him one.

He knelt beside me, his fingers grazing my skin lightly as he began. The rope was cool at first, but it warmed quickly as it slid over my wrists. I watched, mesmerized, as he moved, his hands skillful and precise. Each knot was tied with care, the tension perfect—firm, but not painful. My wrists were bound first, then my ankles. With each pull, I felt a strange mix of excitement and vulnerability.

“You okay?” His voice was low, intimate.

“Yeah,” I whispered, surprised at how breathy I sounded.

Nicolas leaned back to admire his work, his eyes roaming over me as if he was seeing me for the first time. “You look beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with something I couldn’t quite place. My body responded to his words, heat flooding through me.

He stood, pulling me gently to my feet. My legs felt shaky, but he steadied me, his hands firm on my hips. With my arms bound behind me, I felt completely at his mercy, and yet, the trust between us was palpable. I wasn’t afraid. I was... exhilarated.

He led me toward the large sliding glass doors that opened to the beach. The cool night breeze brushed over my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the rope digging into my flesh. Nicolas moved behind me, his breath hot against my neck, his hands guiding my bound body to lean against the glass.

For a moment, we stood there, the moonlight casting shadows across my skin, the sound of the ocean roaring in my ears. The world outside was vast and open, but here, in this moment, I was completely consumed by him, by the tight embrace of the ropes and the slow, steady beat of his heart against my back.

He pressed closer, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “How does it feel?”

“Perfect,” I whispered.

And it really was.