My voice is rough like gravel and even I don’t believe my brush off. It’s obvious he’s getting to me.
“Come on, Tommy,” he teases, his touches glacially slow as he rubs that lotion into my skin. “Tell me what youneedfrom me.”
And it sounds like a dare, like a gauntlet. And it hits close to the mark, because wasn’t I just thinking that I need the way he drains the ugliness out of me? Wasn’t I just realizing that I don’t recognize myself when I depend on someone else?
“You want me in charge?” I demand, wanting to shift the attention to something I understand. “You want me to tell you what to do? Do you need some coaching through touching my fine-as-fuck ass, straight boy? You need me to tell you how to touch my dick, too? Because that would be really gay, Young-gi. So maybe shut the fuck up. Are you done yet or what?”
Crack!Young-gi spanks me, fucking hard, too.
“Ouch! Fuck!” I hiss, writhing on my toes but staying put otherwise, not trying to get away or stop him, because that’s exactly what I was expecting. “What was that for?” I demand, glaring over my shoulder, like I really don’t know. And I know it’s batshit, but something about pretending, and both of us knowing that I’m pretending, is nasty hot.
Huh. I guess I like a little role play. Go figure.
“You asked me for it, Tommy,” he husks at me, his subtle smile so evil.
How is he even sexier when he’s torturing me?Life isn’t fair sometimes.
“Did not.” I protest, a little weaker but no less bratty, playing my part.
Crack!Another spank.
“Now you want soap, too?” he asks as I gasp out a pained breath.
“Shut the fuck up,” I pant, fully expecting him to either spank me again or get some soap, to makemeshut up, to get us both back into this push-and-pull tension, away from any admissions of need or dependency.
But Young-gi never does what I expect him to do. Instead of spanking me again, or even telling me off for being such a brat, he crowds close behind me. I feel him against my stinging, hot backside. I freeze, barely breathing.
He leans over me, then on top of me, pressing me down onto the counter and placing his elbows down on either side of mine. I grunt under his weight, then again when he basically pins me to the cold granite from shoulder to knee.
I shudder and press my hot forehead onto the counter. The feel of him is overwhelming. I don’t even know what we’re doing. I don’t know what this is. But I want everything he gives me.
“Do you need me to help you calm down, Tommy?” He hums the words against my shoulder, speaks them as he traces his lips across my neck, and ends the question with a nip on my ear. I jolt under him, all my nerve endings firing at once.
With a breathy laugh, I try to regain my composure and puncture his. “This is like, super-duper gay, Young-gi. You want to fuck me? Go right ahead,Daddy. I’ll be so good for you.”
And yeah, maybe I’m trivializing it. Maybe I’m taking the very real, emotional heavy-hitting moments we’ve had and I’m trying to shrink them down into sex, into a transaction, into role play. Maybe old Tommy is still alive and well after all; he probably always will be.
But, no matter what Tommy I am, I’m still just as transparent to Young-gi as I’ve always been. Because he thinks about that for a second, like he’s having a whole conversation with my bodylanguage, with the things I’ve said–like he’s deciphering me bit by bit.
“No. I’m not going to touch your dick today, Tommy,” he finally murmurs. Before I can wilt in disappointment, he chuckles, keeps talking, and I can hear the cruel smile in his voice. “Even though you’re panting for more spankings and an orgasm, that’s not what I’m doing right now. Even though your cock is full and hard and probably aching for me, dripping onto my floor, I’m not going to be distracted. Right now, I’m going to take care of your bruises. Then, we’re going to eat. So you can push me all you want, and I’ll spank you if you need it, but I don’t plan on making this sexual. Am I making myself clear?”
Part of me is disappointed–one guess as towhichpart of me is the most upset–but I think…I think that maybe he’s passing a test I didn’t even know I was giving him. Because a painful tension in my spine suddenly relaxes and I realize my hands were in white-knuckled fists beside his. I relax them, and he slides his fingers in between mine, almost like we’re holding hands.
And I let him. “Yeah, crystal clear.”
“Good boy,” he murmurs. He kisses the back of my neck and I shiver all over. My lips tingle and I’m vividly reminded of kissing him at the club. It was messy and over-the-top, because I was high as fuck, but I wish he’d kiss me again.
Instead, he pulls back and lets me get back up on my elbows instead of flat on my belly. With insistent touches, he lifts the back of my shirt. “You still have some bruises here. I’m going to take care of them, too.”
I nod, trying to collect myself. The sudden shift from hot and sexy to cool and professional–the way he just moves on to some other part of me–throws me off center. And I find myself moving on, too. Following his lead. Letting go of my horny, brattytemper and feeling a calmer headspace take over, because this isn’t about cumming, it’s about…my own good.
I don’t have to react one way or the other. I’m just letting him care for me. New Tommy is here for this. Old Tommy isn’t so sure, but is allowing it. I’m not sure which one I am anymore, or if my metaphors are even still making sense. It doesn’t matter, my brain is mush right now anyway, massaged into blissed-out sludge under Young-gi’s fingers.
He takes his time, and I toss my shirt away to give him more space. With my back as his canvas, he paints up and down my spine, tracing those old bruises that are surely almost gone by now. For several minutes, all I do is breathe and let someone take care of me.
I feel baptized. If I look in the mirror again, will I be even less recognizable? Will I look as if he’s chipped off an ugly, old, sun-hardened outer layer of me, and revealed shiny new skin?
He pulls my shorts up, startling me because I didn’t even realize he was finished. He carefully avoids my dick with the waistband, and sits me down on my still-sore ass so we can eat dinner.
