The belt
You've got me breathless,
got me begging you to drive me insane.
I always fall for the things that will hurt me.
-- The Haunt, Cigarettes & Feelings
The domesticity that started to shape their time together was everything Theodore had ever hoped for. Even if their relationship didn’t have a proper name, the entirety of the tunnels treated them as a couple anyway; the waiter sat them at a table for two with a rose and a candle and referred to them as Blue and the Great White. None of the tables closest to them were taken, even when customers came and went, filling up the other ones. They seemed to prefer neighboring tables full of people than to get close. Fair enough. That gave the two of them privacy to talk about whatever they wanted.
After dinner, Theodore took Laith to the movies. He’d never been to one downstairs. It looked exactly like the ones up above, except the film selection was different, with very few new titles and more of some older ones. Laith explained that, since every theater was owned by a resident, they got to decide what to feature. Usually, that meant reruns of older films that those owners really liked. Some of them were notorious for preferring certain genres over others, which attracted very specific audiences. For example, a theater in Sunset was very well-known for its selection of horror movies, which attracted crowds from all over the tunnels. It wasn’t uncommon to run into other factions while at the movies.
Theodore didn’t know any of the features this time, so he chose the one with a werewolf on the poster and bought them two tickets. Luckily, Laith hadn’t seen that one yet. As it turned out, he wasn’t very big into werewolves; his preferred horror movie tropes were blood and gore, not mythical creatures.
Typical.
Something similar to the restaurant happened in the theater, where no one dared sitting too close to them. Even though they’d chosen the dead center of the room, their entire row remained empty, along with the two seats directly in front of them and the two directly behind. Interesting. That turned the gears in Theodore’s brain, wickedness alight. What kind of opportunities would that offer him? He watched the crowd for a moment, how glued they were to the screen, reacting to the movie with jumps and sounds of surprise. The ones who sat behind him didn’t even notice him turning around to look at them, either hypnotized by the movie or very adamant about not making eye contact. Well, well, well… Sitting properly again, he could begin his experiment.
First, he laid a hand on Laith’s thigh. It was innocuous enough, on the middle portion of his thigh, not too close to his crotch. Nothing came of it—so far so good. The next step was to move it; he rubbed his thumb over the fabric of Laith’s pants, pressing the heel of his palm to feel the firmness of his thigh. Once again, there was nothing, so he kept pushing. He dragged his palm up to where thigh met hip and closed it over Laith’s crotch. Now, that got a reaction out of Laith; he immediately took Theodore’s wrist and pushed him away. Green eyes glanced at him in the dark, narrowing with a threat, but Laith didn’t actually say anything.
Okay, time for some convincing. He leaned into Laith’s arm and rested his head on that shoulder, prompting Laith to hold him. He kept his voice low, a whisper. “No one’s gonna know. I just wanna feel you up a little bit.”
“You can do that at home.”
“C’mon, it’s just a little bit. It’ll make the movie interesting.”
“The movie’s already interesting.”
“C’mon,” he practically moaned, putting his hand back on Laith’s crotch. “Please?”
This time, Laith didn’t move it. “Just don’t be weird,” he whispered.
Yes—the green light. He smirked to himself, concealed in the dark. His palm pressed down and rubbed, looking for the outline of Laith’s cock, trying to find it over his incredibly thick jeans. He grabbed what he could, pushing down and feeling around. It took him a minute, but he finally did it. His fingers tried to grab as much as they could, rubbing on two sides of the shaft as his palm pressed on the other. He rubbed its length, jerking Laith off through his pants.
It was impossible to form a grip, but he did his best, even if it took a lot out of his hand. Not too long later, it started to cramp. Time to change tactics. He moved his hand up a bit, slipped it under the hem of Laith’s shirt and undid the button on his pants. Surprisingly, Laith didn’t do anything about that, so he continued; two fingers pinched the zipper and pulled it down. The black of his underwear melded with the black of his pants, practically impossible to tell apart, but Theodore knew where to look. He slipped his hand into Laith’s boxers and closed it around his cock, pumping it. All Laith did about it was breathe in deeply and lean back in his seat, an encouraging sight.
The space inside Laith’s boxers was very cramped. His hand had a difficult time moving in there, stroking awkwardly, fingers bumping on the seams of Laith’s pants. Access was restricted; he couldn’t stroke Laith all the way, so he ended up pulling his boxers down. Laith shifted in his seat, but other than that, didn’t really mind it. Good. Out in the open, Theodore could easily jerk him off. He watched his own hand in the partial dark, stroking Laith all the way to the head and back, where a bright glow cast over the underside of his cock. It was leisurely, but not lazy. They had about an hour left to go; he could take his time.
As the movie progressed, Laith’s legs began to move a bit, squirming under his touch. He might not be close yet, but he was getting there. When Theodore’s arm started to hurt, he slowed down, sometimes to a crawl; he’d stop and play with the head for a minute, swiping his thumb over it, touching the slit. When he was good again, he’d pick up the pace. Laith shifted around, leaning his head back in his seat. At one point, he thrusted into Theodore’s hand—was he close? Theodore didn’t care; that wouldn’t change anything. He kept teasing Laith for his own enjoyment.
Once the showdown between the hero and the werewolf began, Laith leaned in close. His voice was very low, almost a growl. “Either go down or stop.”
A shiver ran down Theodore’s spine. Those two choices seemed arbitrary; why couldn’t he just keep jerking Laith off? Wiping cum off the seats would be somebody else’s problem.
He stared at Laith’s cock. Last time he’d sucked him off, he’d choked on it; the memory punched him, breath coming in short. Would he choke again? He hesitantly leaned down. His tongue dragged along the crown, rubbing the head, playing with it—he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t putting it off and he wasn’t scared.
Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes and went down as far as he could, heart beating on the roof of his mouth. He still couldn’t go too far, but this was what he could efficiently work with; lips tight, cheeks sunken, tongue dragging along the shaft. If he wanted to make Laith cum, then this was the only way he could do it; quality over quantity. It took a lot of effort and all of his focus too. Bracing himself on Laith’s lap, he moved as fast as he could.
A hand touched him on the back of the head, flooding his mind with memories of last time, body shaking instinctively. It was fine, he told himself; he just had to breathe through it. Fingers slipped into his hair next, holding his head very firmly—oh god. Oh god. It was okay, it was okay; he wouldn’t freak out. He couldn’t freak out.
Every time he went down, his pulse skipped a beat, throat shutting automatically—it’d happen any moment now. He wasn’t ready. Okay, then he had to be; his eyes squeezed tight, breath preemptively shallow. When it happened, his entire body tensed up, throat locked around Laith’s cock. He choked, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as last time; foresight couldn’t catch him unprepared. Tears dripped from his eyes, face burning. He struggled to breathe, freaking out. No, he couldn’t freak out; he had to relax. He had to. This wouldn’t last long.
As soon as Laith let him up, he sat back in his seat and took a big breath. It was almost impossible not to cough; he had to shut his mouth and make a huge effort to keep it down. He swallowed the itching in his throat, the gag reflex and every cough that followed—nothing made it out. He leaned back as Laith fixed his pants, making himself decent again.
He really had to learn how to deep-throat soon.
***
That entire ordeal had pooled between his legs just as intensely as it’d affected Laith, except Theodore hadn’t touched himself. He was patient like that. He waited until they got back to the apartment, where he could freely shed his clothes and plop down on the bed. Laith watched him curiously, pulling his shirt off—he already knew where this was going.
“Do you remember the game I mentioned on Monday?” Theodore asked, making himself comfortable. He lay on his back, feet planted on the mattress. Naturally, Laith knelt between his knees.
“With the rules you’re supposed to break?”
“Yeah. Have you given it any thought?”
“I have, actually. Wanna hear it?”
He nodded.
“Alright. If you touch me here—” Laith pointed at his own face. “—you get three slaps. Here—” A hand moved down to indicate his own chest. “—you get the paddle five times, counting them out loud, and if you touch me here—” He grabbed his own crotch. “—you get the flogger five times.”
Theodore’s eyebrows raised with interest. “What’s a flogger?”
Laith left the bed and opened his wardrobe. Theodore watched how he didn’t go for the box where the paddle was, but unhooked a whip from the wall instead. Well, not a whip. A number of thick leather strands hung from an adorned hilt, and the way Laith held it, with one hand on the hilt and the other at the end of the strands, allowed him to snap them together, creating a loud noise. Theodore’s eyes widened.
“This is a flogger. Here.” Laith handed it to him. It was much heavier than it looked; the hilt was dense and hard with a counterweight at the opposite end. He made to hit his own arm, but Laith stopped him. “Hit your thigh instead.”
Okay. He used a moderate amount of force to bring the flogger down, slapping the strands on the front of his thighs. The ends wrapped around it and stung really bad; he couldn’t imagine how painful it could get. Did he even want it? His pathetic little hit was enough to mark his inner thigh red. Unsure about this one, he handed it back to Laith.
“That one hurts,” he commented. His tone was sheepish, face tingling with embarrassment.
“You did it wrong. It’s not supposed to wrap like that.”
“Sorry for never using one before.”
“Do you wanna hear the rest of the rules?”
“Yes.”
This time, when Laith turned back to his wardrobe, he pulled the box out. One hand picked up the paddle and tossed it on the bed alongside the flogger. Theodore supposed that was the pile of things they’d be using.
“If you speak out of turn, you get the crop ten times.” Laith pulled one of those horse whips from the box, long and thin, with a small piece of leather at the end, rectangular. Ten hits? This one probably didn’t hurt as much. It was small too, harmless-looking. “If you break three rules, we move from the bed to the floor.”
Oh?
“And if you refuse to do what I say, you get the belt.”
That last one sent Theodore into cardiac arrest. The belt, as in, what his father used to beat Ryan with? He stared wordlessly as Laith pulled a regular, everyday black belt from the box and tossed it near the other toys. Holy shit. His eyes were glued on it, heart hammering into his ribs. How bad would that hurt? He shuddered as flashbacks of Henry hitting Ryan came to mind, Ryan’s yelps when the buckle made contact, the tears that had streamed down his face. Theodore swallowed. Keeping his silence, he raised a shaky hand.
“You can talk.” Laith snorted. “We haven’t started playing yet.”
“About the crop…” His voice trembled. “Is it only if I say words, or do sounds count too?”
“Only for words,” Laith clarified, turning to slide the box back into the wardrobe. “Is the selection okay or do you want to change anything?”
“It’s okay.” His pulse betrayed him.
“Alright. All we need now is a safe word. Do you wanna choose one?”
“A safe word for what?”
“If you want me to stop.”
He finally peeled his eyes away from the belt to glance up at Laith. “Then I’ll just tell you to stop. If you make me remember some random word while I’m getting off, I promise I won’t.”
That put a wide grin on Laith’s face. “Okay, then. Obviously, you can say that one at any time, and if you do, you won’t get punished for it. That would defeat its purpose.”
He nodded, eyes gravitating back to the belt. His blood grew cold.
“What is it?” Laith asked.
“Nothing.” His heart choked him. “Can we start?”
***
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***
It was only when Laith was done that Theodore let go of his hand. The first thing Laith did was look at it, the bite marks on his index and middle fingers, brighter near his palm. They looked mangled, even though nothing bled.
“Jesus,” Laith whispered. “What are you, rabid? Small and vicious?”
“What did you expect? You shoved your hand in my face. I bite.”
“Yeah.” The way Laith said that carried a no shit attached to it, even if he hadn’t said it out loud—he didn’t have to. His eyebrows did most of the work, up on his forehead. Still, nothing in his voice hinted at any kind of anger. He seemed more surprised than upset.
Moving to get up on his feet, he offered Theodore a hand. Every inch of his body hurt like it’d been run over by a train, but he managed to stand anyway, holding onto Laith. His eyes fell on the clock over the nightstand—5:20. Oh shit, Justin! He immediately glanced around, on the lookout for his jacket. Right, he’d tossed it on the floor with the rest of his clothes, a trail from the door to the bed.
“What is it?” Laith asked.
“I need to—hold on.” Frenzied, it didn’t occur to him that, technically, they were holding hands. He let go of Laith to reach his jacket and hurriedly go through it, turning it up and down, looking for its pockets. When he found them, he took his phone out and tossed the jacket back where it’d been. There were three messages from Justin, all at different times; one around four, one forty minutes later and one only ten minutes ago. He tapped on them with his pulse racing.
The crowd’s thinning out so if you wanna stop by I’m at Hans.
Hey are you coming?
I’m gonna go. Tell Laith I miss him.
His fingers typed on the keyboard faster than ever.
Are you still there?
He waited, staring very intently at the screen. His lungs barely worked.
“Theo?” The softness of Laith’s voice, verging on concern, pushed him to turn and look at his boyfriend, wide-eyed. What he found on Laith’s face was a mixture of curiosity and worry.
“I promised Justin we’d see him tonight, but I totally lost track of time. We were supposed to meet up an hour ago.”
“An hour ago?” Laith passed the clock a glance. “If I knew, I would’ve been a little quicker with you.”
“No—” He bit his tongue, face burning. Oh, Laith should hear this anyway. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to do that.”
A dark eyebrow raised, entertained. It didn’t keep his attention for too much longer, though, overshadowed by the buzzing in his hands. He promptly glanced down.
I’m leaving right now. We could meet up somewhere else.
A mental image of the subway system appeared in his mind—where was Sunset? Four stations away, past Burnt Cane. He hated how his brother lived right in the middle of the Alvorada; it was almost as if he’d planned it. They could meet up one station past his brother’s, closer to Justin. Which one was that?
“What’s the station next to Sunset, on the way over here?”
“Fall. It’s the one with the warehouses and distilleries.”
“Is it a good place to hang out?”
“Uh, not really. It’s an industrial station, not a party place. Just tell Justin to come over; we’ll meet up at Quince.”
“Is that a bar?”
“Kind of; it’s a place in the DP. Justin and I used to go there a lot.”
Oh, okay. He turned back to his phone for a reply.
Laith wants to meet up at Quince.
Maaaan I haven’t heard that name in years! I didn’t even know he still went there. Makes sense tho.
Alright I’ll see you guys in ten ♡
He turned back to Laith. “We gotta go.”
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