Exquisite Torture

V.

Type felt like his skin was on fire. But he also felt calmer than he had ever been before in the presence of another person. Especially when he considered that Tharn had him pinned to the bed seconds ago. He wanted to feel that again. That feeling of not having to do anything. Of not needing to make any decision.

He hated it. The weakness of wishing someone could just make the hard decisions for him. Hated that he loved that Tharn had done it without asking in that short space of time. He loved that he just had to do what he was told.

But just as quickly as Tharn had shown him what was possible he had made it clear he didn't want it. Not from Type. He didn't want anything more than the friendship he had fractured with his anger and hate and was having a hard time mending. Type...he knew he had to let him go. Because nothing Tharn had said was a lie.

They were friends of a sort and that was better than Type could have hoped for. He wasn't good at taking orders. He wasn't easy with surrendering. He didn't want someone telling him what to do—most of the time.

But he couldn't get the feeling of Tharn's hold on his wrists out of his mind. Days after the incident, Type still found himself rubbing against the spot, remembering what it felt like and wondering why he felt torn between arousal and calm instead of fear and loathing.

He needed time to think about it. Time to figure out what was going on inside him. He was just afraid that the only person who could answer his questions was the one person who refused to talk to him about it. Tharn's response to their fight (and he was calling that in his head because he didn't know how else to describe it) was to go back to avoiding him.

But it wasn't working for Tharn any better than it was working for Type. He just knew it in his gut. To keep away from their room, he spent more time in the practice studio. And since he was there, it was only natural to use the time to practise with Lhong and Tum. Get their performance set as close to perfect as he could. Control wasn't something he exercised in the confines of his bedroom.

But both of his friends were more intent on making fun of him than practising. He had to endure the likes of Tum saying, "Who knew that when you said you wanted absolute submission what you meant was you wanted a pushy bottom who could put you on your ass if you tried to order him around."

"Here I thought I would finally convince you to give us another try but there is no way I can live up to the likes of Ai'Type. You said you'd beat me if I talked back. Have you spanked him yet?" Lhong added with an exaggerated sigh.

Tharn didn't answer either of their questions. He just flipped them off and started drumming. Loudly.

It was enough to drown out their raucous laughter but far from enough to mute the thoughts running through his head. Thoughts he kept to himself. That was a lucky break.

Because Type had found out where he was hiding. He couldn't bring himself to interrupt the conversation going on. But it gave him far more insight into what Tharn wanted. But it didn't explain why he thought Type couldn't give it to him. What criteria automatically disqualified him? Would he have the courage to ask Tharn to explain himself?

The thoughts running through Type's mind wouldn't let him rest. He tossed and turned on his bed then got up and did some push-ups. Then some sit up. Then he found a hold on the door frame and did some chin-ups. All the physical exertion served to tire him out but he couldn't erase the memory of the way Lhong had looking at Tharn.

That is the look of someone who would willingly let him do whatever he wants just for the joy of being under him.

Type was trying to talk himself out of thinking about Tharn by imagining what he and Lhong would do. Working himself into a lather of distaste at the thought of them in bed together. What would Tharn do? What would Lhong allow if he was tied up and at the mercy of Tharn.

But could Lhong really take it? Could he handle the exquisite torture? The desperation to cum when the man he wanted was right in front of him and yet denied him. Type couldn't imagine him being that willing. But Tharn had made it clear it was what he wanted. And if Lhong's desire was to be with him then he would have to take it. Because, unlike Type, he was gay. Right?

What kind of pain would Tharn inflict? Was it the kind that could blind him to everything else? Turn him inside out and expose all the demons that had taken residence inside his heart and body and mind? Could that pain turn to pleasure? Could it burn through his body and leave him satiated? Or was it a different proposition? Giving him pleasure so intense it felt like pain.

Type was panting. Not from another set of exercises but from the thoughts that were now accompanied by images that he couldn't wash out of his mind. Instead of it putting him off, Type had to admit to being so turned on that the only solution was to jerk off. Grabbing his towel and heading to their ensuite bathroom he took a moment to look at himself in the mirror. Trying to talk himself and his body out of what he was about to do. But it just made it worse.

Instead of being able to see Lhong's face and sneer at how shamelessly he threw himself at Tharn, he could only see the lust in his own eyes.

"I will not let him get under my skin," Type declared.

He turned on the shower and stood under the spray before it had time to warm up. But even the cold water could not cool his ardour. Looking down, his hard-on was unwavering. Trying to press down on it only served to send a jolt of pleasurable sensation through him. The only way out of his current dilemma was through.

Instead of trying to get himself to cool down, he held on to his cock firmly. The deliberate action shook him to the core and he had to hold on to the wall with his free hand to steady himself. Luckily, he had done this enough times. He knew how to get himself off in three minutes flat. He just had to picture something in his head...

He punched the wall when the image of Tharn crossed his mind, "Get out of my head."

But the more he tried to fight it, the harder it was to think of anything else. Frustrated with himself and the fact that he felt completely out of control, he let the fantasy wash over him like the water already caressing his body. Tharn's hands on him. Caressing him lightly. Breathing warm air on his skin sending up goosebumps in its wake.

And even though Type hated that his imagined the hand around his sex was Tharn's, he couldn't stop. Couldn't stop the orgasm that rocked his body so violently that he couldn't hold the shout of release that escaped him. His knees were weak. His body satiated. But his mind was awash with shame.

Shame that followed him when he walked back into the sleeping area. In the privacy of the bathroom, the words spilling from his mouth didn't matter. To shout as loud as he did was something he would have kept to himself to his grave. But Tharn was privy to his shout. Something he learnt when left the bathroom to find him standing in the middle of the room.

Type was mortified. Shame overrun by embarrassment and finally back to shame. Because he didn't just scream out in pleasure.

He shouted Tharn's name.