And—scene!
You think you are possessing me—
But I've got my teeth in you.
-- Angela Carter, Unicorn
After bidding the two queens goodbye, he followed Laith into his apartment. His mind still stirred, thoughts coming and going—did he like feeling useful? If Laith asked him to make dinner, for example, would he like doing that? No, probably not. He preferred the opposite, telling Laith to do things for him, being heard and obeyed. If he really thought about it, that didn’t have to be sexual; he liked feeling in control, regardless of the situation. Was it only with Laith, though? He wasn’t sure. He’d never really felt such strong emotions for anybody else, which was why identifying them in relation to Laith was so easy. He should try to pay more attention when hanging out with other people.
“Can we…” His heart jumped into his throat, a lump right in the middle, hands closed into nervous fists. Laith glanced at him while slipping his jacket off and hanging it behind the door. Theodore breathed in. “Can we do a scene?”
Dark eyebrows bounced with surprise, lips curling with the hint of a smile, somewhere between suspicious and confused. His lack of an answer prompted Theodore to elaborate.
“You mentioned you used to go to the dungeon and the way D’angela talked made it seem like you know something about this. I just think it could be fun. Anyway, I uh—I have something in mind.”
Laith kicked his boots off while Theodore talked, tucked into the corner with his other shoes. Not once did he glance away, eyes trained on Theodore’s face even when he fidgeted and broke the stare multiple times. “What’s that?”
“Well, remember when you hit me yesterday?”
“Right…”
“I’m thinking maybe you could do it harder? I really thought—I thought it’d leave a mark, but it didn’t and… I’m kind of disappointed by that.”
Delight touched Laith’s face so lightly that Theodore almost missed it. The hint was miniscule, but it was there, in the way his eyebrows raised and his lips parted. “You want bruises.”
The mere word set Theodore’s face on fire, pulse racing fast. “If that’s okay.” He practically swallowed that sentence as he spoke it, too embarrassed to hear his own voice at the moment.
“You know, I didn’t wanna hurt you too much, in case you didn’t like it. I wasn’t really sure how far you wanted me to go; that was only your first time. Some people say hit me, but they don’t really mean it. What they mean to say is slap me around a bit.”
“I want you to turn me purple.”
Laith smirked. “Okay, let’s go over the scene then. I can’t promise you I’ll give you any bruises, ‘cause it’ll depend on how much you can take, but what I can promise is that it’ll be fun. What were you thinking besides that?”
“Um.” That was pretty much as far as he’d gotten. It was all that really mattered, anyway. “I liked what we did yesterday, so maybe we could do something similar, just harder.”
“Alright.” Laith walked over to the bed, gesturing vaguely toward it. “So, a classic scene would be if I sat down here and put you over my lap. It could be a chair or whatever; the bed is just closer.”
Theodore’s throat closed, pulse loud in his ears. His father used to hit Ryan that way. Carolyn would help hold him down as he screamed, face red with anger, eyes full of tears. No, maybe not that. They should try something else. “What if…” He could barely speak, breathless and shaky. His feet took a step closer to the bed, hands closed tight. “What if I lay on the bed and you sat next to me? I think—it’ll probably be easier that way.”
“We could do that. Do you have any toys in mind?”
“Toys?” Heat crawled up his neck.
“If you wanna use one, I mean. I don’t mind using my hand, but I’m pretty sure I still have a paddle somewhere.” Laith walked over to the wardrobe and pulled a couple of doors open for a glance. He moved some stuff out of the way, hanging jackets and swinging belts. My god, how did he live like this?
Theodore watched with his heart in his mouth, breath stuck in his throat. The mere thought of a paddle hitting him was enough to bring color to his face. How much would it hurt? He supposed it depended on how hard Laith would do it. He could definitely incapacitate Theodore if he wanted to, break skin and bone, but Theodore didn’t think he would. The possibility was still exciting, though, in a scary way. Knowing it could happen, that Laith could seriously hurt him quickened his pulse. He could barely wait.
“Here.” On one of the shelves in the wardrobe was a plastic box without a lid, which Laith pulled like a drawer for the paddle. It was very simple, a slab of wood like the ones in history books, that teachers used to spank their students with. At least, that was what it reminded him of. Was that it, or did they use rulers instead? He wasn’t sure. Laith spun the paddle before offering it to him. “If you’re interested. I have some other stuff too, but let’s just take this one step at a time.”
The paddle was heavier than he thought. He held it in both hands, appraising the weight, grabbing the width of the widest part. This could hurt. He slapped it into his own hand just to feel the impact, not nearly hard enough to sting. Part of him was too self-conscious to do it right in front of Laith.
“You wanna test it?” Laith asked, pushing the box back in its place.
Their eyes met.
“I’ll let you hit me.”
His eyebrows raised, blood pumping with excitement. Really?
Before he could even think of an answer, Laith pulled his shirt off with practiced ease. One hand threw it on the floor while the other slapped his own stomach, just over his navel. The muscles there tensed. “Use the wide part.”
Of course. Theodore held it tightly, and with his heart beating out of his chest, hit Laith where he’d indicated. It was a weak hit, so he could see how it’d land and how much it’d hurt. It didn’t even turn the skin red.
“You can do it harder. It’s okay.”
His eyes glanced up at Laith, then back down at his stomach. Okay, then—a proper hit. This time, the paddle made a sound upon impact, muscles reacting to the hit. Instinctively, he met Laith’s face, not to find reassurance or comfort there, but to look for a sign that he’d actually hurt him. He wanted to see Laith bothered, but only found a big grin instead. That was just as well, he guessed. Moving the paddle away, he noticed it’d left the skin red.
“It’s not so bad,” Laith reassured him. “It just looks scary.”
He turned the paddle around, inspecting it. Part of him wanted to hit Laith again, hard enough to get a reaction out of him, a hitched breath and a scowl. Instead, he gave the paddle back. “Make sure it leaves me purple.”
Laith’s grin turned into a smirk. “We’ll see. Do you have an idea of what the rest of the scene should look like?”
Absolutely not, but he could use last night for inspiration. “If we start off with you hitting me, then the middle is probably fucking and the end is getting to cum. That’d be my guess.”
“That works for me.” Laith tossed the paddle into the air, spinning it. “Let me know when you’ve had enough.”
Oh? He didn’t think he’d have a say in that. If he was the one in charge, then what would happen if he didn’t say a single thing? Would Laith keep hitting him indefinitely? Would Laith actually hurt him? Too excited to wait another second, he shrugged his jacket off and tossed it over the bed.
“Can we start, then?” he asked, already kicking his shoes off.
Laith watched him with a grin on his face, eyes sharp. “Sure. Is there a pet name you want me to use?”
Was there? He couldn’t really think of anything at the moment, hurrying to take his pants off. He kept the underwear on, just because he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to take them off or not, and climbed onto the bed. “I don’t know.” He lay on his stomach, elbows propped up and legs stretched. “Call me anything you want.”
A muted sound prompted him to glance over his shoulder and see the paddle join him on the bed. Hands grabbed him by the waist and pulled him across the mattress, body sliding over the sheets until his legs were completely off the edge, bent at the hip and knees. The same way he’d get spanked over someone’s lap, he’d now get spanked over the bed. That was fine. He faced forward again, hands gripping one another, pulse quick with anticipation.
Laith touched his ass, grabbed it, and landed a quick hard slap that made his breath hitch with surprise. It didn’t hurt, because his underwear was still on, but he was sure things would escalate soon.
A couple of slaps later, he was already rock hard; his thighs spread apart all on their own, bottom lip seized between his teeth. He wanted the boxers off.
A hand slipped under his shirt and touched the low of his back, warm on the skin, pressing down. This change in pacing held a breath in his throat, waiting for it. His heart beat so fast that he could hear it against his own ribs.
Something brushed his boxers, rubbing on them a bit before the paddle came down, muted over the fabric, but hard enough to pull a gasp out of him. It didn’t hurt in the slightest. The force there was similar to how Laith had slapped him the night before, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough to leave a single mark.
Laith hit him again, harder this time, lurching him against the mattress—that one hurt. His toes curled, hands squeezing—holy shit. All he could think of was how it would’ve felt on his skin, the sting, the color it’d turn him. That one would’ve hurt bad. The paddle came down again, a few more times, just as hard. It never got harder than that. The force alone was scary enough, the way it pushed his thighs against the bed, even if it didn’t hurt nearly as much as he’d wanted it to. His knees bent with the impact, little twitches every time the paddle came down, head hanging down, face burning in private.
As soon as the hand on his back pulled away, he breathed in deeply. The paddle fell onto the bed again, but other than that, he couldn’t tell what Laith was doing, hidden behind him. He decided not to look; the excitement of not knowing was delicious. Two hands ran up his thighs and over his ass, pressing down, almost like a massage. “Let’s see what it looks like.”
Oh, so they could talk? The silence had given him the impression that that wasn’t allowed, but Laith had probably just been very focused—focused on him. That little detail, so small but so important, would never go over his head.
Focused entirely on him.
Fingers slipped under the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, not all the way, just enough to show off his ass. That small action shot straight between his legs, cock pulsing, trapped in his boxers. A hand touched his cheek very softly, feeling the tender skin there. He hadn’t noticed how tender he really was, even though that should’ve been expected. In his mind, the boxers had protected him from everything.
“It’s similar to the way I left you last night, but to my understanding, that’s not what you want.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Would Laith punish him for speaking? No, of course not; that wasn’t part of the deal, but now he kind of wanted it to happen. Maybe they could have a list of rules for him to break, each one with its own set of punishments; some known, some not, varying in severity. Man, they should’ve talked about that beforehand. Next time, then.
“Let’s take it a little bit further.”
Yes. God, yes. His eyes shut immediately, head moving down, already preparing himself. Yes.
Laith pushed on the low of his back again and his cock throbbed in anticipation, hands squeezed together. The paddle touched his ass for a very brief moment, pulled back and came down. The surprise alone was enough to get a reaction out of him, stomach tensing, legs twitching. It wasn’t sharp like a slap, but it stung all the same, even if the force used here was less than how Laith had been hitting him before. The boxers had made a big difference.
The paddle came down again, a little bit harder, and the sound it made against his skin sent shivers up his spine, toes curling. Every hit hurt a little more than the last, all stacked on top of each other, in the same spot. Laith only did it a handful of times, but still, as soon as he stopped, Theodore found himself breathing in deeply, muscles relaxing over the bed. Damn, D’angela wasn’t kidding; this really was a workout.
Laith pulled his boxers all the way off, cock pressed against the side of the mattress, knees bending to help him out. Two hands grabbed his thighs and pushed them further apart, fingers digging into the softness there, spreading him. At this point, he could barely hold himself up anymore and decided to fold his arms under his face, lying flat over them.
“I’m not done yet,” he informed Laith, voice muffled a bit. “I can take a lot more than that.”
“I know. Be patient.”
When the paddle came down this time, his eyes shot open, ice pumped into his bloodstream—that was very close to his balls. That was dangerously close to his balls. At least, it’d felt like it, since the boxers weren’t covering them anymore.
Every time the paddle came down now, part of him was terrified he’d get his balls crushed; his breath came in sharp and his entire body started. He could barely even focus on the pain, paranoid, muscles tense, mind alert. The longer it went on, however, the sooner he realized Laith wouldn’t actually hit him there; it was just a mind game. Some hits landed closer than others, but those were spread out, clearly to catch him by surprise. That helped him relax a bit, skin tingling, calling to his attention.
Laith widened the impact area from his ass to the back of his thighs, alternating between them, keeping him on his toes. Under that kind of diligence, it really didn’t take long for Theodore to find himself out of breath, skin burning, cock dripping down the sheets. A couple of fingers pushed inside him just to tease, thrusting in every time the paddle met his skin. It was torture, but god, he’d choose it every day of the week.
Laith pushed in deeper, hitting his ass, making it sting. It was really starting to hurt now; every hit sent a deeper ache into his muscles, body trembling with how tensely it held itself.
Honestly, at this point, he just wanted Laith to fuck him. He was exhausted. Still, he didn’t say anything; he wanted to see how much he could take and if Laith would keep hitting him forever. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his arms, toes curling, knees bending. He’d been pretty good at keeping quiet this whole time, breathing loudly instead; a gasp here, a sharp inhale there, but now, it was getting difficult. His eyebrows furrowed in pain, lips pressed hard together, muffling any whimpers that he failed to contain. His nails dug into the meat of his arms, throat closed around a lump. Fuck.
Just as his eyes began to water, Laith stopped. Breath immediately filled his lungs, body relaxing. A sound almost escaped him, but he swallowed it down before it could. His brain drowned, unable to formulate a single thought, lost in relief. He could’ve moaned right now.
“Are you sure you’re not done?” Laith asked, breathless as well.
He was utterly unable to answer that. He couldn’t even move, really; he was so fucking tired that catching his breath was an ordeal in itself, extinguishing the last of his energy. He felt like the victim of a roadside accident.
A hand touched him on the hip as the mattress dipped on the opposite side. Laith lay on top of him, but not with his entire weight; he must be leaning on an arm, keeping himself just low enough to meet his stomach with Theodore’s back. His hips pressed against Theodore’s, and even through the fabric of his boxers, it was possible to feel him pushing against Theodore’s ass. He bit his lip.
“I think you’re done,” Laith whispered, low in his ear. It sent shivers down his spine. A trail of light kisses peppered his neck and jaw, nice and sweet as Laith ground against him, tender skin on soft cotton. The hand on Theodore’s hip slid over one ass cheek, moving to pull Laith’s boxers down.
As soon as Laith met his skin, his cock throbbed, and if he wasn’t sandwiched against the mattress, he would’ve pushed back against him. Fingers pressed the head against the entrance, rubbing a bit. The way Laith shifted above him, angling his hips, lay weight over Theodore’s back, Laith’s breath warm on his neck. This time, when Laith thrust in, he couldn’t stop the sound that came up his throat.
***
Something D’angela had failed to mention was that, apparently, after these types of scenes, aftercare happened. That was what Laith called it. He rubbed some ointment on Theodore’s skin and assessed his emotional state, asking for his thoughts on what they’d just done. Lying there, a familiar feeling reached him, that they’d been through this before. The déjà vu was so strong that he didn’t register the question Laith had just posed to him. His memories were hazy, because he’d been blackout drunk, but he was sure Laith had massaged him just last night; they felt far too real to be just his imagination.
“If this is aftercare, then was last night a scene too?”
“Not really. It was more like a spur of the moment thing, but it’s better to be safe when it comes to these kinds of things. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable and, like, regret it the next day, you know?” The mattress dipped and moved as Laith left it, hidden out of view. “You should get up and see how it looks.”
His body felt like jelly, but he managed to slide across the mattress and sit on the edge anyway. An arm kept him propped up, feet touching the floor—he didn’t want to do it. Laith pulled one of the wardrobe doors open for him, the one with a full-body mirror inside, so he could look at himself. It’d be easier than going to the bathroom for it.
He gingerly shifted his weight to both feet and turned around, still leaning a hand on the bed for support. His heart soared at the sight, blood cold—the bruises looked exactly how he thought they’d be this morning, deep purple spots all the way down his thighs, as if Laith had kicked the shit out of him. Would they last? “How long will it look like that for?”
“A few days. It depends on the person, but I don’t think it’ll stick around longer than a week.”
Damn, really? All that for just a few days’ worth of color? Hopefully, his body wouldn’t get to it too fast.
Laith cleared his throat. “So, what did you think? Overall.”
“I was thinking about something, actually.” He sat back down. A deep ache immediately shot up his back, so he shifted some weight to his feet, which still rested on the floor. The hand on the mattress kept him off it a bit. “Next time, we could have like, a list of things that I’m not allowed to do, so every time I break a rule, I get a certain punishment. Like, if I kiss you when I’m not supposed to, you’ll hit me ten times or something.”
“We probably shouldn’t hit you for a few days.”
He rolled his eyes. “Alright, then I’ll hit you instead. How’s that?”
“That’s fine,” Laith spoke with a grin, moving to take a seat next to him. “We could come up with some non-corporeal punishments, if you want. Like, you’ll have to stay quiet for ten minutes or recite the alphabet backwards.”
“No, look. What I want is to break the rules and then get beat up. Obviously, I’ll be doing it on purpose.”
“Then we’ll have to give it a few days.”
Theodore pursed his lips, sighing in frustration. “Fine. We’ll come up with something else, then.” He kicked Laith’s leg. It was playful, with naked feet that wouldn’t be able to hurt even if he’d wanted them to. “Next time, can you talk to me like you did last night? I couldn’t think of a nickname, because I wasn’t really thinking of anything, but I liked the way you talked to me, the stuff you said.”
Laith watched him curiously, with eyes so thoughtful that they almost squinted. “Are you a masochist, Theo?”
He always mistook one for the other, but given the context, he was pretty sure that was the one that enjoyed getting hurt. “I don’t know. I guess. I mean—” His shoulders bounced. “—you know, I’d just as gladly beat you up instead. I think they’re both hot.”
They held the stare. By all means, the care with which Laith studied him should be unnerving, but the attention that he received—the attention from Laith that he received—dwarfed every emotion that didn’t fill his lungs with affection and his chest with warmth. He couldn’t name it, the feeling that made it so easy to exist, that would love to live under Laith’s gaze for the rest of eternity. If someone were to pull him apart at the seams, then it might as well be Laith. After all, weren’t love and attention pretty much the same?
“We’ll take turns, then. I’ll let you hit me next time.”
He smiled. “Does that make me a sadomasochist?”
“I think so.”
“Aren’t you one too?”
Laith shrugged, frowning briefly. “I don’t really have much of a preference. I get off on getting you off.”
“A man of the people.”
“A real guy’s guy.”
His grin matched Laith’s, laugher bubbling at the base of his throat.
“You’re full of surprises, you know. You’re nothing like I thought you were,” Laith mused.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You look like a goody-two-shoes, but you’re really—”
“A freak?”
“No.” Laith laughed. “You’re much more similar to me than I thought.”
“I know. We’ve been over this.” Oh right, Laith had practically made no memories that night. “On Justin’s porch, we decided that I’m you and you’re me,” he explained. “That you made me up in your head.”
“We talked about that?” Dark eyebrows furrowed. “I told you that!?”
“Yeah.” He shaped that word around a grin. “Why are you so surprised?”
Green eyes watched him wide. “That’s…” Laith’s throat moved with a dry swallow. “I mean, that’s not really something I can explain without getting checked into a psych ward. It’s… well, the kind of thought you have that you know is true because you feel it rather than make any sense of it. Obviously, you’re a piece of me, but how do you explain that?”
“You don’t need to explain it. I know that because you came from me too. You’re more me than I’ll ever be. I look at you, and you know, I see myself.”
They held the stare. Laith’s shoulders raised into a shrug that never fell, and before Theodore could even understand what that was, Laith got up from the bed. He crossed his arms and hugged them, turning to face Theodore again. “You’re freaking me out. Don’t say shit like that.”
Theodore grinned. “I know what you’re thinking, that this is what it feels like to talk to yourself. I know because I’ve felt that way ever since we met.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“If I had, would you still have slept with me?”
Laith stared at him.
“When you said people can only fall in love with the versions of other people that they have in their heads, is this what you meant?” Theodore asked. It was a genuine question. Perhaps the one he’d wanted to know the answer to the most.
“No, this is the opposite.”
“Because it’s true?”
Laith’s shoulders relaxed, arms falling back to his sides. His lack of an answer evidenced the end of this topic.
“Can we have dinner?” Theodore tried instead, head tilting aside. “I’m starving.”
***
That night, he ended up falling asleep in Laith’s arms again. He hadn’t meant to; the exertion from earlier had just worn him out. That coupled with the fact he’d barely slept a wink the night before had only served to knock the lights out of him as soon as the movie began and the warmth of Laith’s body enveloped him in a hug. It wasn’t completely restful, though. At one point, Laith woke him up to show him something on his phone, a meme that Theodore couldn’t comprehend but that Laith said was him, apparently. Then, he woke up again, but very briefly, to find Laith slipping an arm around him. In that moment, it didn’t occur to him to wonder when the hug from before had ended, considering he was being pulled into a new one. His consciousness left him just as fast.
He woke up on Laith’s side of the bed, eyes opening to stare straight at the alarm clock—9 a.m. Goddammit, he’d miss that same class again. At least he didn’t have an 8 a.m. or anything earlier than this.
Without really thinking, he turned around to hug Laith one last time, a parting gesture that would hopefully burn an imprint of Laith’s body against his own, something to think about throughout the day. As soon as he nuzzled into Laith’s neck, he breathed in the faint scent of smoke, but not any smoke—pot. Did Laith get high last night? Had he gone somewhere? With his heart racing, Theodore propped himself up on an elbow and grabbed Laith’s face with a hand, eyebrows drawn hard together. “Hey. Hey.” He moved Laith’s face a bit, pinching his jaw between his thumb and forefinger.
Laith breathed in deep, stirring beneath him.
“Did you go out last night?”
Green eyes cracked open just a slit, fixed on him. Laith quietly nodded. He brought an arm up and slipped it under his own head, sort of stretching under Theodore’s partial weight.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You were really tired.”
A fist closed around his heart and squeezed it. There was no way around it; he’d have to change that. The problem wasn’t only that he hadn’t slept much yesterday, but that he hadn’t found any time in his schedule to actually lie down and sleep. He’d exchanged his usual bedtime for a longer night with Laith, which had only resulted in him falling asleep while they hung out, leaving Laith by himself. That wouldn’t do. He’d have to see Laith a bit later than right after class, maybe after Laith had come back from the gym. If he got home around 3:30 and fell asleep immediately after, he could get up around 10 p.m. or 11 p.m. and stay up all night. That should work.
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