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It had started innocently enough with just a couple of lobe piercings when they turned 18. Then it escalated to cartilage piercings just a month after. Then gauges. Then bars. A lip piercing, an eyebrow one, all so quickly Pip can hardly even recount the timeline.
That's about when Damien started actually working at the body modification shop he'd got all that work done originally, a requirement for employment, Pip thought. That's exactly the time as well when he got his first tattoo, just a little black-and-white one of an angel's wing on his forearm, but it was always so odd to see it for Pip, where normal, pale flesh had been just a day prior, suddenly there was this… thing.
He'd seen it coming, of course. Damien told him everything well in advance of before he got it. But it was just the actual act of seeing it that was so different from what had been discussed weeks prior. It wasn't just a diagram, not just an idea, nor just a sketch, it was actually real. It almost scared him.
He watched as more piercings and tattoos happened in the months afterward, transforming his middle school sweetheart from a regular, unadorned fleshy human to a being made permanently partly of metal and inks. It was frightening to watch, the comparison startling in side-by-side pictures, but somehow, at the same time, it made sense. It just looked right, when Pip really settled down and just stared at Damien as he laid on the couch and read a novel. Like he was meant to carry it, all of it.
Damien slowly got more comfortable with the craft, and so he allowed for them in more… sensitive areas. A tongue stud, a bar in his navel, a few surface piercings on his hip bones, tattoos on his loins, and then, the cherry on top, a cock ring.
A Prince Albert, so Pip was told, whatever that even meant. It was a ring with a stud on the end, the metal itself somewhat on the thicker side but quite smooth. It was about the size of a finger ring, and it terrified Pip horribly the first time he saw it. How in the world was he ever going to deal with that again? Even hand jobs seemed like a terrible idea, because how could someone possibly experience pleasure when they had a piece of metal stuck in the tip of their genitals?
For the first few weeks, they didn't have sex at all but for Pip's pleasure alone, which made him feel horribly selfish, so when a month or so passed and Damien was healed enough again, Pip managed to overcome his fear and just go with it. He did whatever Damien wanted and tried his best to ignore that odd metal ring, which was rather hard, considering it was at the very end.
He found himself slowly warming up to it though, appreciating it, liking the feel of it in his hands and on his tongue, contrasting so well with the hot flesh surrounding it. He was incredibly wary of actual penetrative sex, wondering if it would tear him apart like he worried it might, but relented after another few weeks.
God, it was actually amazing. Not only did it work, it was bloody stellar, unbelievable. He could really feel the cool hardness of the metal at the very end, reaching deeper inside of him than Damien's cock had, dragging on his prostate more firmly than flesh ever could. It made him scream like a girl, and Damien, of course, absolutely loved that.
It was slightly uncomfortable, but, for some reason, that only stood to make the sex even better.
After the first fuck with that lovely piece of metal, Pip started trying to drop subtle hints to make Damien lust for him, fuck him: subtle double entendres and shifts of his legs as they lazed in the living room doing nothing. It worked almost every time, Damien ever the horny prat, either taking him to the bedroom for some extended privacy or just having his way with him wherever they were… so long as they happened to be in their own home, that is.
It all made Pip feel like a bloody harlot, but hell if he cared at that point, the hedonistic pleasure was always worth the guilt.
And then, one day rather randomly, Damien had asked Pip if he'd like to get a tattoo or piercing or anything like that.
Pip, of course, refused petulantly for hours, but Damien was ever persistent. Maybe just a tiny tattoo on the side of his ass? No one would ever see it, not even when swimming. No? Well, how about a belly button ring, y'know, like the girls get? Maybe a septum piercing? A tiny nostril one, a lip ring, tongue stud, regular earrings, barbell, so on and so on, just never damn ending.
Well, Pip decided to just shut Damien up by telling him he'd look online through diagrams, articles, and pictures of piercings, and after he wasted hours on that, he'd come back and tell him he of course didn't want a single one.
Damien actually seemed pleased with that idea, sometimes glancing over his shoulder as he sat at his laptop scrolling through various websites filled with tiny hints of metal on human body parts.
Pip ended up not just doing the browsing for a day as was originally intended. He found himself deeply frustrated, but did his best to hide it as Damien sauntered up to him and asked him what he was doing still perusing through pictures of piercings.
Because, God, he actually liked some of them. Maybe not the more lurid ones on the face or genitals or anything, but the torso ones for sure. There was something about them, the smooth, flat expanse of skin being accented with tiny studs or bars here or there, sprinkled carefully like art, he thought.
He realized with horror he wouldn't mind getting matching surface piercings on his hips like Damien had. Or maybe a belly button stud, perhaps a pretty bejewelled one like the girls usually get.
But he did have a favourite, by far. And that was definitely the nipple rings, the actual ring rings, the ones with some space for air… or other objects, for that matter, but he tried to avoid those more illicit images.
It made him horribly aroused, just looking at those pictures of women's and men's bared breasts, and he'd look down to his flat bosom, peeking through his shirt, and wonder. God, what would it look like? How would it feel? What the hell would Damien think?
Damien caught him like that eventually, wrapping his colourful arms around him as he grinned and said he fucking knew it.
Pip got it done at the large body mod shop Damien worked at, of course. By Damien's own hands, special request. It hurt like a bloody right bitch because they typically don't use any sort of anaesthetic or pain reducer, wasn't usually needed, but Pip's lower pain tolerance and sensitive nipples meant he cried as he got them done. But Damien did his best to soothe him, and it was over quickly.
It was taking months to heal. He knew it would, had obviously thoroughly researched beforehand, but actually having to wait over half of a freaking year? It was insanity!
And how the bloody hell could metal inserted through an entire damn prick, a man's damn prick for God's sake, heal within just over a month, but, oh the nipples? Why, that will take an entire God-damned year! It made absolutely no sense!
Always being careful with them, cleaning them lightly and meticulously, and, of course, never, ever handling them too roughly at all.
Excuse Pip's crass language, but it bloody well sucked.
And it was made all the worse by the fact that he thought they looked so good. Two little thin rings inserted through either of his pink nipples, just hanging there, practically begging to be touched or pulled. But he couldn't, because every time he did, it would bloody sting and then ache afterwards.
Month after month after month of just waiting, trying, failing, and then waiting some more as the God-damned cycle repeated.
It was nearly an entire year before he finally felt no pain, not even discomfort, and he literally shouted in joy as he realized this in his desk chair after having not played with them for a couple weeks. God, yes! He would finally be able to toy with them all he wanted without worry of infection or injury!
Damien came up at the sound of his earlier shouting and subsequently took him right there in that chair, getting increasingly rough on his nipples until he yanked them, making Pip orgasm much too quickly, so he had to endure some intense overstimulation as Damien tried to follow up inside of him.
Damien liked them as well, nearly as elated as Pip that they were finally on-limits, always touching them during sex, sometimes even not, just feeling them through his shirt as he waited behind him for dinner to be done. They were small and flat enough to not be visible but through the thinnest of nightgowns, but he knew they were always there, secretly telling the world of his shameless hedonism. It made him so horny every time he remembered them, even in bloody public.
It was another few weeks by the time Damien caught on that every time he pulled particularly hard on Pip's nipple piercings, hard enough to stretch his skin and drag pained moans from him, he would always go absolutely wild, writhing in pleasure despite the hurt, moaning, cocklet twitching beneath him.
It clicked in his head one night as he came inside of Pip for the third time that day, running his hands over his tits.
Pip loved pain.
And Damien thought it was absolutely fucking adorable.
~~~~~
So, as a reward for all the misery of having to wait up until now, Damien has planned a particularly special occasion. He's completely cleaned up their master bedroom, making everything all neat and tidy, even adding a few girlier touches like candles which added some warm mood lighting and a pleasant lavender smell. He guesses it's nice.
Now he just sits on the bed, letting his mind wander as he waits impatiently for Pip to come home from university. Training to be a vet tech, the pansy.
Hm, they really are polar opposites, aren't they? With Pip's mostly smooth, white skin, and Damien's tan becoming increasingly unrecognizable by steadily growing coloured or monochrome ink. People are always surprised when they see them hanging out with each other, let alone the shock when they realize they're fucking dating. Pip's contemporaries and Damien's co-workers gawk and laugh respectively, thinking them a truly ridiculous pair.
But opposites do attract, don't they?
And they share something in common, at least. The love for the unusual, the extreme, the pain outside of everyday ordinary life which becomes mighty boring after a while. Pip is just better at hiding it from public eye is all.
The front door swings open beneath the bedroom, and Damien grins, lying back on the bed in wait. Oh, this would be fun, he could already tell.
Pip takes off his shoes carefully, closing the door and locking it shut behind himself. They lived in a nice neighbourhood, but he thought one could never be too sure.
He removes his scarf, coat, hat, leaves it all hanging on the hooks over the door. He tosses his heavy messenger bag onto the couch, promising to do his astronomical amount of homework over the weekend later. Right now, he just wants to sleep.
He bounds up the stairs, wondering where Damien is. Normally, he would've been sitting on the couch, watching Netflix or typing away on his laptop before greeting him to perhaps join him in the bedroom, but he's nowhere to be seen, not even heard.
"Hmm," Pip hums as he twists the doorknob to their bedroom. He'll find him sooner or later, he suppo–
"Oh!" he gasps, eyes dilating in the dark of the room, the smell of freshly lit candles hitting his nose and seeming to send him to an entire different reality, one where his schoolwork and life outside of this house is completely absent. Gladly.
"Welcome home, darling," comes a rumbling voice from deeper within. Pip tiptoes into the darkness and shuts the door.
He glances around, seeing the room cleaner than it's ever been, spotless, not a hint of dust or dirt or objects even a degree of angulature off. It fills him with joy for some strange reason, and to see Damien there, upon the bed, dressers and night stands adorned with soft candles and wax melts, his heart pangs especially bad.
"Oh," he says with his English lilt, "you did all this for me?"
Damien smiles. "Of course." He pats the bed. "Come sit."
Pip practically skips over to do so, leaning into Damien's larger figure to be caressed and held like he hasn't been since, oh, that same morning. It felt like years nonetheless.
He giggles as Damien's calloused hand pulls his chin up to kiss him, meeting their lips and still giggling. God, he's just so giddy for some reason. Probably the lavender.
Damien's fingers make quick work of the buttons of his shirt, sliding it down his shoulders and keeping it there loosely for now. He leans back from their making out to tug his sweater over his head, revealing his chest laden with numerous pieces of artwork, coming back to Pip in no time.
Pip laves his tongue over the tiny little sphere of metal on the tip of Damien's, rather enjoying the way his soft tissues get stuck there from time to time, tiny pinpricks of pain as he pulls himself back out.
The lip stud brushes against the sensitive sides of his mouth, scratching slightly. Oh, he must admit, even if he doesn't want these piercings himself, he loves them on Damien. They just fit, like they've always been there, were always meant to be.
Damien's hands push against his crotch, and Pip lifts himself into the touch, letting Damien slide his pants down his ass and off of him to be discarded upon the floor.
Pip giggles, pulling back as he feels Damien's mouth pause on his.
Now it's Damien's turn to be surprised.
"You like them?" Pip smiles, lifting himself up.
Upon his hips lay a little stretch of fabric, white and shiny as satin, lacy frills on the ends of them, top to bottom. Pip's nimble fingers tuck into the edge of them on one of his hip bones, pulling them slightly. Not briefs, certainly not boxers, but panties. Fucking panties.
"They look heavenly,” Damien breathes, pushing Pip into their soft bed to lay above him, delighting in his frantic laughter all the way.
He manages to tug his own jeans off, kicking them away, all the while giving Pip a wonderful hickey on the juncture of his neck which will certainly still be visible on Monday. Right now, though, he can't bring himself to care, just humming as Damien's hands come up to roam his soft, spotless body.
"Hm," Damien says as he gives Pip a peck on the lips, "I bought you something, as well."
Pip grins. "Oh, whatever could it be?"
Damien rises, leans over Pip's head to reach for the night stand and grab a little gift box of something. It gives Pip a close view of Damien's belly button bar, glinting in the yellow candlelight.
He returns to show the tiny, nearly flat box to Pip. "Open it," he says, offering it forward.
Pip sits up alongside him and takes it gently. He pulls the cute little baby blue bow on the top of it, taking the sturdy cardboard of the lid and removing it slowly.
He tilts his head.
Inside of it, framed by white silken sheets, is a silver chain, all wrapped up into a circle.
"Take it."
Pip grabs it, pulls it out by one end. It's not very long, but not short either, slightly longer than the length of his forearm. Tiny silver links make it up, a hundred or so of them, and they catch the light as brilliantly as Damien's piercings had. It's simple, elegant, feeling sturdy and somewhat expensive in his hand as he bundles it up, so he thinks he likes it.
"What's it for?" he asks, putting the gift box back, so he can just feel the chain with both hands.
"Look," Damien says, taking the end of the chain between his fingers and shoving it in Pip's face.
He sees a small metallic silver clasp on it, like the ones made to clip onto dog collars, a tiny bump on the end opposite the sliding part that makes it open and close. He looks down to see an identical clip on the other end.
He frowns. "That doesn't answer my question."
Damien chuckles and grabs the chain from him and holds it up, extending it fully. He puts it right in front of Pip's bare chest, sliding his fingers to the clasps and lining them up to the delicate rings on Pip's nipples, smiling as he looks Pip in his blue eyes then.
"Do you get it now?"
Pip gasps, eyes lighting up as absolute warmth fills his body.
"Oh, God," he says, "y-yes, yes I do!"
Damien's thumb slides over the miniscule bumps on the clasps, locking and unlocking them. "Would you like to put it on, or should I?"
"Oh, you! Definitely you!"
Damien grins, unlocking them both and holding them steady as he slides them over the metal of the nipple piercings until they're all the way through, the rings secured inside of the clasp as he lets it go.
He removes his hands, and they both stare at the silver chain as it hangs from Pip's nipples, dipping down to his navel in a lax U shape. It almost looks like jewellery, just as beautiful.
"Make it move," Damien says.
Pip twists his torso, moving his chest this way and that slightly, and the chain follows his actions slowly, making tinkling sounds as it clashes together and hits his skin.
Pip giggles, reaching out to pull Damien into a tight hug, the chain smashing between them and rubbing into their bare flesh. "Oh, God," he cries, "I love it!"
Damien strokes his hand through Pip's light hair before pulling away, having him lie down again on the covers so he's above him. "I'm glad you are, but it's not just for aesthetics, you know."
Pip watches with starry eyes as Damien's large hand comes down to the chain's centre, taking the little links and then pulling on them. The chain goes from lax across Pip's chest to level to distended upwards towards Damien's grasp. Pip looks down to the rings on his nipples to see them being pulled up as well, and as Damien slowly increases his pressure, the chain, rings, and his nipples stretch to meet it as physics demands.
Pip feels a spark of arousal shoot up his spine as the pressure grows from a light sensation to actual discomfort, his nipples and the skin on his perky tits rising until they're stretched far and wide enough that it really begins to hurt.
"Ah, a-ah," he pants, bringing his fingers to his breasts to feel the taut skin there. Ever since the piercings healed, his nipples have become extremely sensitive, and they already were to begin with, so sometimes Pip can swear he could cum just from having them touched, but never quite gets there.
Now though, as Damien keeps pulling his hand up into the air above his head, Pip thinks he might actually cum from this alone.
But all too soon, Damien stops, letting the chain drop down onto Pip's neck. Thankfully, it's not very heavy, so it doesn't hurt.
Damien drags the nails of his hand over Pip's flesh from sternum to crotch, digging them in enough to cause pricks of pain down the entire way, making Pip squirm and groan.
Tattooed fingers feel through his lacy knickers, touching the small shaft through their confines before coming up to close over the tip which just barely peeks out of them.
"You're this hard just from that?" Damien rumbles, rubbing his fingertip over the slit in Pip's prick and spreading the precum which he's instantly rewarded with.
Pip moans, rubbing his fingers around his tiny areolas. "Y-yes! Oh, Damien, it felt wonderful!"
"You're a masochist, aren't you, Pip?"
Pip widens his eyes, looks down to Damien as he stops fingering his prick. "I-I… I guess I am…"
Damien grins, pushing his thumb into Pip's cockhead, "You're only just now realizing this? You must really be sheltered."
Pip seethes through his teeth at the pain of being handled too hard, trying to buck his hips away from the pressure, but is quickly punished by even more pain. This time, it comes upon his nipples—cocklet forgotten to strain in his panties—and he looks through eyes squinted in pain to see Damien has yanked the chain tied between his nipples, sending a sharp wave of confused euphoria up Pip's spinal cord.
"Ah, fuck, Damien!" he screams, clawing into his breasts as though that will ease the pain.
Damien reaches down to grab his own throbbing erection through his boxers, deciding to just take the damn thing off so he can get things moving in the direction he wants.
He lets go of the chain gracelessly once again, moving up Pip's body by the knees until he's all the way straddling his neck, the black-and-white tattoo of a dragon upon his lower abdomen as close as one could ever hope to get.
Pip's about to ask what he's doing when Damien presses the tip of his cock piercing to Pip's lips, saying, "If you need me to stop, just tap my leg three times."
He presses his cockhead into Pip's mouth despite the slight resistance, "Otherwise, I'm gonna fuck your throat."
Pip mmphs in distress before Damien suddenly thrusts his cock down his throat, as promised, making him nearly retch but saving himself, that damned metal ring dragging along the back of his throat and filling his taste buds with the tang of metal past the bitterness of cum and sweat. Tears burst alive in his eyes, but Damien just keeps going, sliding in and out ruthlessly as he runs one hand through his blonde hair, occasionally tugging at it enough to really hurt.
The other hand soon reveals itself as Pip feels his chest being pulled and stretched once again, the chain clinking as it's yanked up. He moans with Damien's cock thrusting in and out of his mouth, closing his eyes as tears slide past them, taking perverse pleasure in the intense pain and discomfort.
His genitals aren't even being touched, not even his ass, but his prick leaks like a fountain anyway, twitching as he squeezes his shaking thighs together.
Damien keeps pulling the chain, fucking into his mouth so hard Pip can hardly breathe even through his nose with the sheer force, tugging at his locks, spilling insults and other things from his mouth, like what a cumslut Pip is, a fucking whore, bitch, cocksheath, etc. Every little careless comment brings further heat to his already burning body, until he's moaning deliriously, getting Damien's cock further wet with his tears.
He pinches his nipples white just as Damien pulls hard on the chain attached to them at the exact same millisecond, driving his cock balls-deep down Pip's tight throat, and all at once, it's just too fucking much.
Pip whines around the dick still pumping in and out of his drooling mouth as he cums, shooting white far onto his belly and staining the panties, just barely staying conscious enough to not instinctually close his mouth through orgasm.
Damien registers his hand getting hit with something wet, looks over his shoulder even as he keeps skull-fucking Pip to see that his little British boyfriend has cum without being touched down there at all. He gives a shit-eating grin, drops the silver chain into Pip's watery cum as he gives a couple more unstable thrusts down Pip's throat before he finally ejaculates himself, shooting his huge load down so far that Pip doesn't even have the chance to be forced to swallow, just cumming down his esophagus in thick globs to his stomach.
Damien keeps climaxing for a few seconds, balls and thighs seizing as he completely empties himself. Then, he finally takes his cock back out, sliding the piercing carefully over Pip's tongue for one final metallic taste before he pushes it to his panting lips.
Pip realizes what he's supposed to do, takes his hands away from his sore tits to grab Damien's softening cock and hold it steady so he can lick the tip softly, slowly so as to not overstimulate his master. He swallows every last drop of semen gratefully, trying to rid his sore throat of the tang of iron.
Damien pulls away after he figures he's cleaned enough, sitting to Pip's side as he himself catches his breath.
"Fuck, Pip," Damien says, "that was amazing."
"Oh," Pip smiles blissfully, running his hand through the cum on his stomach and dragging it up to paint his breasts which heave with breath as he licks his puffy lips, "I think it was even better. It was absolutely perfect!"
Damien looks down and sticks his fingers in Pip's white panties, snapping them against his hip. "I do love these, though. We'll have to have more fun with them later."
Pip giggles. "Oh, I just got them because it was our one-year anniversary!"
Damien tilts his head. "We've been together for more than just a year…"
Pale fingers come down upon Pip's red nipples, running over the metal still locked in the clasps of the chain. "I meant of these!"
Damien smiles and moves to kiss Pip's sweaty forehead, massaging his sore tit, noticeably perkier than before. He'd love for it to stay that way. "Ah, how could I forget?" He chuckles. "What a coincidence."
"Hm," Pip sighs happily, looking down at his soiled chest, the chains mussed up upon them, "perhaps I'll get a tattoo on my abdomen one day…"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, flowers, a rose, maybe."
Damien laughs tiredly. "That's cliché as hell. I'm definitely not doing that, a thousand fucking times is enough."
Pip shrugs, smiling.
They drift off to sleep then and there, deciding the sore throat and soiled sheets can be dealt with next morning, but only after they inevitably do this all over again.