no subject

[ There's a warm - almost tender - smile on Sinbad's face as he watches Aspen. He keeps his movements slow and deliberate, but there's almost a teasing sort of grace in the way he starts winding a length of the rope about the courtesan's wrists before letting either end of it continue to twine its way up along his arms, winding around and around in a careful pattern to encase both his arms within the constraints that also holds his wrists together. So that Aspen will feel the pull and tug of them anytime he moves his arms in any way, the feel of them much more prevalent than merely about his wrists.

But Sinbad intends to make this a dance of sensation, as well, so that connotation won't continue to be a negative one for him. In fact. His lips trail over Aspen's skin, following the path of those ropes up either arm as he winds them into place. ]