CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT - ‘BITE THE PILLOW’

Nineteen days into The Agreement …

… Eleven days left.

Just like yesterday and the day before that, and like most of his time whilst staying in Armie’s apartment, Tim woke up alone, erect, with his head facing the ceiling.

The lavish interior blurred into focus as Tim’s eyes peeled open.

Without having his ankle secured to the corner of the bed like all the nights before, Tim could now freely pull both feet towards him.

He sat up, rubbing sleep away from his face.

The knowledge that he could now get up and go where he wanted within this building, before being ‘allowed’, produced a small smile across his lips.

He had used his power as a sub to grant himself some control, even if it was only a small slice.

Outside, a gentle rumble of thunder rolled over New York skyscrapers whilst heavy morning rain decorated the city’s streets with puddles.

Tim slid out of bed, landing bare feet onto carpet.

He pulled on underwear, strolled confidently to his ensuite bathroom and then emptied his bladder whilst whistling the latest Kid Cudi song.

He then checked himself out in the giant mirror hanging over the marble sink.

His love bite had now disappeared, leaving a soft fleshy expanse of clear skin along the length of his neck.

He turned, taking a long legged stride towards the bedroom door, curling his hand around the handle.

He paused, contemplating his next move.

He naturally wanted to head toward the kitchen, to make Armie and himself a coffee, to be the one to wake up someone instead of being the one woken up.

He wondered if he needed permission.

Do I have to wait?

Tim kept his hand on the door handle as his eyes shot up to the speaker wired into the ceiling corner.

For the first time in his life, he realised he needed some kind of authorisation to leave a bedroom.

He looked down at his erection, stuffed under stretch cotton fabric.

A muscle untouched for so long, a strength now often always solid due to the amount of pressure forcefully withheld beneath its base. 

He ached, he throbbed, he bit his lower lip.

He hoped today would be the day …

He wasn’t sure if he could take this any longer.

His hand stayed on the door handle.

His fingers pressed against its steely surface.

He pushed away doubt and over thinking.

He pulled the handle down and yanked the door open.

Armie stood in the hall, the wind from such a swift swing of the door blowing his blonde tufts of hair, causing him to close his eyes with a smile.

Tim’s mouth dropped, his eyes widened.

Armie folded his arms.

He stood in a denim shirt, stone trousers and leather loafers. 

He said nothing.

Another rumble of thunder, this one louder.

Tim’s fingers finally slid away from the door handle.

He took a few intimidated steps back, acknowledging a look in Armie’s eyes he’d seen dozens of times before, a look that belonged to stealthy predators like pythons and panthers.

“M-Morning,” Tim mumbled, regretting his nervous delivery as soon as it left his mouth.

Armie’s eyes dropped down to Tim’s solid arousal, squashed within the confines of his underwear.

“That must be bothering you,” Armie said, as if reading Tim’s mind from the other side of the door.

Tim placed his right palm over the back of his neck, his glance nodding down to a bulge he couldn’t conceal.

“Uh, I uh … No, it’s, it’s just—“

Armie walked forwards, both hands reaching out in a speedy grab, taking hold of the waistband of Tim’s underwear, yanking them down forcefully over his knees …

He then took a tight grasp around Tim’s erection, using both hands.

Tim hissed, forced onto tiptoes, his face pressing into Armie’s right shoulder.

Armie could feel Tim’s pained saliva soak through the denim of his shirt.

“Say ‘it’s just’ one more time …” Armie growled, “… I fucking dare you.”

A squeeze, this one harder than the others.

Tim’s face scrunched, his jaw stretched open.

“Ahh f-fuck, man—“ he hissed in, “—Jesus—“ he clawed onto Armie’s back with strained fingers.

“Do you want it, Timothée?” Armie asked, one hand now cupping Tim’s balls.

Tim pulled at the hem of Armie’s shirt, his teeth clamping down in frustration.

“Yes, fuck--” Tim spoke breathlessly, “--I want it, I want it, I want—”

Armie began to loosen his hold.

“—How badly?”

Tim sighed out relief, his body resting on the balls of his feet.

“Bad, badly,” he croaked.

Armie’s hands left Tim’s now swollen arousal.

“What’s the magic word …”

Tim closed his eyes as Armie’s index finger rested under his chin.

“Pl-please?” Tim whined at first, then felt the need to express belief in his answer, delivering the same word a second time, but with deepened confidence in his tone, “… Please.”

Armie moved past Tim, nudging his shoulder with his own as he did so.

Tim pulled his underwear back up, turning around on the spot, watching Armie walk into his bedroom, where he dominated the space with his presence alone, his actions over the past six seconds demolishing Tim’s brief moment of self accomplishment entirely. 

Armie sniffed the air like a Lion, breathing in the scent of a room once filled with a sleeping twenty three year old. 

“Start a shower,” Armie ordered, his hands reaching out to the corner of the bed, where he began to tidy up sheets and pillows. 

Tim raised his eyebrows, shuffling from side to side.

He immediately regretted being so cocky the night before, by denying Armie’s offer to sleep in the same bed.

You stupid mother f—

“—Now,” Armie reinforced.

Tim jumped, walking speedily towards the ensuite, switching on the shower, stepping back as a forceful column of cold water shot down in a heavy, constant splash.

He peered around the bathroom’s door frame, watching Armie make his bed.

“You uh, you, you don’t have to do that, I, I can make my own b—“

“—Strip,” Armie demanded.

Tim felt a sharp sting in his chest.

Why is he being so …

… Mean?

Tim pulled down his underwear, folding it up neatly, laying it down over the toilet lid.

He stood naked, waiting as the shower began to warm up.

Armie approached the bathroom door, a more gentle smile decorating his otherwise stern expression. 

“Get in,” he said.

Tim looked towards the shower, steam now rolling out into the bathroom, the tufts of clouds escaping out into the bedroom.

Tim lifted a reluctant left foot first.

He stepped inside, closing his eyes as hot water comforted the top of his head, drenching dry curls, transforming them into soggy, shiny straight strands.

His right foot followed, until his entire body stood under the onslaught of water, observed entirely by Armie.

“Hand me the body wash and sponge,” Armie directed.

Tim reached out into the metal grid shelving attached to the inside corner of the shower. 

He picked up the requested items and handed them to Armie. 

Whilst Armie stood dry and clothed, Tim stood naked and wet.

Armie squirted some of the body wash over the sponge, capping the lid and placing it by the sink.

He then took some steps towards the shower, allowing some of the splatter to drench the thighs of his trousers.

He carefully took a hold of Tim’s right wrist, lifting his hand above his head.

He then began to clean Tim.

Tim, in a confused delirium, had no choice but to allow Armie to start scrubbing.

Bubbles of soap and the smell of sandalwood began to form around Tim as Armie sent the sponge up into Tim’s underarm.

Tim squirmed into a ball, his position pinned back upright by Armie’s firm hold around his wrist.

Once again, the sponge made its way towards Tim’s armpit, where it forcefully invaded the soapy depths.

Tim chuckled and writhed, his feet sliding against the watery surface he had been made to stand on.

“Wait, Armie, come, come on I can wash myse—“

Armie let go of Tim’s wrist, taking hold of the other one, lifting his left arm high up past the shower head.

“—Silence.”

Tim winced, squeezing his eyes closed, readying himself for the sponge to repeat the same attacks as before, however this time Armie scrubbed the sponge around his stomach and waist.

Tim stood on tiptoes, containing air within blown up cheeks, the sponge teasing the intention to tickle around the bobbing muscle that stood hard and upright below his belly button. 

Armie gently ran the sponge over Tim’s hardened length, soaking it in foam and shimmering liquid.

Tim opened his eyes, glancing down through shower water as Armie looked at him with a reassuring twinkle in his eye.

He then let go of Tim’s wrist, using his fingertips to nudge Tim into a position where he now stood with his back facing him.

Armie drenched Tim’s shoulders and spine with bubbles from the sponge.

He watched them glide down the smoothness of his back, where they gathered at the top of his ass, disappearing into the gap between his cheeks.

“I’ll say this once … ” Armie warned, “… Stay still…” 

Tim tried to look over his shoulder, but before he had the chance to fully inspect, he felt two of Armie’s fingers slide over his taint, where they rubbed and cleaned delicate areas of flesh with the assistance of the soapy sponge.

Tim glared into the water, his knees tightening, his want to move away from Armie’s invasive touch over such a private, ticklish area developing into an overwhelming urge.

Armie increased pressure, speed and force, causing Tim to plant both palms flatly against the showers tiled walls.

Whether he wanted it to or not, such movements hardened Tim’s arousal further, where he had no choice but to close his eyes and chew on his upper lip.

Tim then felt Armie’s hand curl around his right ankle.

His foot lifted up behind him, his leg now bent.

Tim buried his face into his shoulder as he endured a foot tickling by Armie and the sponge, a sponge now rubbing and scrubbing over the sole of his right foot.

Tim couldn’t hide the hysteria for longer than a few seconds.

He groaned out a desperate shout, “Aghhh-fuck!” His body twisting under the fierce bolt of water still showering down over his shining body.

Armie chuckled, keeping the sponge at a repetitive scrub around the toes, making sure to clean through their hyper sensitive betweens.

Tim punched the shower walls with both fists, his bellowed giggles echoing out through the rest of the bathroom.

Armie dropped Tim’s right foot, curling his hand around the left, where he repeated the same bubbly, cleaning tickle torture. 

Tim threw his head back, droplets of water throwing themselves from his curls of hair over to Armie’s chest, staining his once dry shirt. 

Armie made sure to drench Tim’s sole with the soap, intentionally lubing it up, increasing the sensitivity, only to action a severe scrub from the sponge held tightly in his hand. 

Tim dropped his foot back to the shower floor as soon as Armie’s fingers left his ankle.

He felt the freedom to slowly turn around, where he faced his tickler, who still stood at the shower door, a little wetter than he had appeared five minutes ago.

“Turn the shower off,” Armie dropped the sponge, where it landed at Tim’s toes in a gentle splash, “Dry yourself, and then meet me below the basement in ten minutes,” he handed Tim a towel.

Tim twisted off the shower and then grabbed at the large white cotton bundle forced towards his chest.

“Ten minutes? Jesus, I, I—“

Armie turned away from Tim, making his way out of the bedroom as the rain outside increased the heaviness of its fall.

“—And arrive naked…” he interrupted, his final words before leaving raising an intense and worrying curiosity within Tim, “…This time I’ll be dressing you.” 

***

On his way down to Sub Zero, Tim practised an apology.

He wondered how he should say sorry for rejecting Armie’s offer at sharing a bed the night before.

Tim had allowed his need to turn the tables overshadow a natural progression between them both.

As he walked down the basement stairs, into more darkness and confusion, he swiftly decided to swap his mindset from wanting to apologise to simply blaming the situation on Armie.

He went too far.

“The hypnosis thing was fucking weird, man, it, it wasn’t cool…” Tim whispered his thoughts out loud as he approached the elevator. 

Tim closed metal gate doors, his thumb pressing down over the circular steel button.

Or maybe you’re just a pussy.

Tim pressed a naked, freshly washed back against the inside of the elevator as it began its descent. 

You felt so scared after waking up that you had no choice but to try and put him in his place.

And now he’s pissed.

“Fuck…” Tim nudged the toes of his right foot into the elevator’s floor, “… Fuck, fuck, fuck …”

More than pissed.

Angry.

Kinda like, he, he wants …

… Payback.

As the elevator arrived at Sub Zero and Tim opened the gated doors to bright white lights, he stepped out into the clinical expanse with now just one thought on his mind.

This is gonna suck.

Armie stood facing away from Tim, his arms crossed over his chest, a familiar remote in hand. 

He gazed over the clean, clear thirty foot length wall as Tim approached him quietly, his bare feet making no sound at all over the reflective flooring.

Tim coughed into his fist, attempting a casual yet unnecessary, “... Hey.”

Armie offered no response.

Tim shot an impatient look up to Sub Zero’s ceiling.

To his surprise, an apology didn’t come out as planned. Instead, sassiness was offered without thinking.

“God, are you planning on being a total asshole all damn day—“

Armie held up his right hand, silencing Tim.

Tim closed his mouth, his hands dangling by his sides.

Armie pressed a button on the remote, taking a few steps back as a three foot wide part of the wall slid upward into nothing.

Tim’s lips parted as his eyes followed the wall’s disappearance.

Laid out over a slanted red velvet slope of surface, a black leather bondage device presented itself.

It was made up of a circular collar, two arm loops and one wrist cuff, all connected to a singular long crucifix shaped belt made up of buckles, strapping and metal hooks latching it all together.

Tim could smell the leather from where he stood.

Just like Armie’s mood so far today, this form of restraint, this session’s tone, it all suggested something forceful, uncomfortable, intolerable …

Armie walked towards the wall, picking the device up carefully with both hands.

It dangled in his hold as he turned around to face Tim.

“Show me your back,” Armie asked, bluntly.

Tim remained still, his hands cupping over his naked penis. 

“What … What if I don't want to?”

He kept his eyes on Armie as he asked a question he’d wanted to ask hundreds of times since signing The Agreement, a question he had never dared ask up until now.

Armie resisted raising his eyebrows.

Instead he offered Tim a cold stare, a gentle tilt of the head.

He endured their stubborn back and forth, their knock of heads, their clash of power.

If anything, it aroused him.

I love to see him try, Armie thought.

Tim glanced down at an appearing bulge in Armie’s trousers.

“Well?” Tim pressed.

Armie kept the bondage device in his palms, as if respectfully carrying the remains of some gothical skeleton.

“If you don’t do as I say, you’ll go back in The Box.”

Tim felt a gulp take place in his throat without even intending it to.

He knew he couldn’t go against Armie.

He contractually wasn’t allowed. 

But he enjoyed putting up a fight, even if the threat of being punished by spending more time in The Box felt too almighty to tackle.

He wouldn’t do something like that…

… Would he?

Tim would do as asked.

But first …

“Miller,” Tim announced.

Armie’s tilted head straightened as he narrowed his eyes at Tim.

“What?”

Tim wanted to stop speaking, but the urge to put Armie in his place once again felt too overwhelming to push aside.

“You,” Tim resisted the urge to whisper, speaking in an assertive demand, “Like this. Right now. You remind me of him.”

Armie folded his arms across his chest and cleared his throat in an attempt to force down the acidic bile rising up his throat.

“I’m noth, nothing like him.” 

Armie wished he hadn’t stuttered.

Tim tapped the floor lightly with the toes of his right foot.

“Prove it,” he said, with eyebrows raised.

Armie unfolded his arms, his body language suggesting he was up for the challenge, his confused facial expression displaying a look that seemed uncertain as to why he’d even need to step up.

Reign it in, Armie thought.

You’re not him.

He’s got this wrong.

He has no idea.

It was always bound to happen.

You’re going to break his heart.

Armie pushed Angels and Devils off his shoulder. 

“Show me your back,” Armie repeated.

Tim did as his dominant peer asked with a reluctant sigh. 

He turned around and presented his back to Armie.

He stared out into the wide open expanse of Sub Zero, the chair from yesterday’s hypnosis session now removed, leaving the space containing nothing but cool air and two young men battling against each other in a aggressively flirtatious tug of war built up by sexual frustration. 

Tim felt Armie’s fingertips press against the bottom of his neck.

“Look up,” he murmured, this time in a more polite tone.

Tim squinted as he took in the blazing lights above.

Armie carefully attached the collar strap around Tim’s neck, fastening at the front with a buckle.

He secured it tight enough that it reinforced its presence whilst still giving Tim the ability to breath and move his head.

Tim swallowed down, his Adam’s apple pressing against leather. 

Armie’s fingertips then tapped Tim’s left elbow.

“Arms by your side.”

Tim breathed in slowly.

“I’m uh, finding your very uh, short and, and straightforward directions pretty hard to handle,” Tim admitted, placing his arms down by his side, “Even, even when we’ve done the pretty intense stuff you’ve uh, you’ve maintained a sense of … Charm …”

Tim felt surprised by how suddenly honest he’d allowed himself to be without overthinking it first.

Armie allowed the length of black leather to fall down Tim’s back, its buckled middle resting in the centre of his spine. 

He then began to attach cuffs that were connected to the centre to each of Tim’s arms. 

“I told you,” Armie reminded, “You have no idea … No idea what I have planned, no idea what I still want to do with you… No idea how I sometimes want to be to you …”

Tim’s arms were now pinned to his sides.

“Is being a heartless moron on the list?” Tim snapped.

Armie grabbed Tim’s mouth and spun him around with the force of one hand.

Tim now stood toe to toe with Armie, face to face, their lips inches away from each other.

Tim displayed a confident smirk, a smirk that pushed and tested, despite knowing full well the potential consequences.

Armie spoke carefully, quietly, his fingers clasped onto Tim’s jaw.

“Enjoy your moment of conceit and egotism, kid. Because in an hour or so, you won’t even be able to say your own goddamn name …”

Armie let go of Tim, spinning him back around so that Tim once again faced Sub Zero.

Tim blinked repeatedly, readjusting the comfort of his jaw as he felt his cock stiffen in excitement.

You’re playing with fire, thought Tim.

He took a second to recall his surroundings, the tools within these walls, the many acts he had taken part in over the past nineteen days … 

Be careful.

Armie took Tim’s wrists and crossed them over each other, placing them at the bottom of his back.

He then attached one last larger leather cuff around them, securing them to the bottom central strap that lined the length of Tim’s spine.

Armie then ensured the metal hooks keeping everything in place were secure. 

He stepped back and admired Tim in his new bondage.

Tim stood naked, his arms, neck and wrists attached to one device, his body already squirming in an attempt to test its level of restriction.

After a few squeaks, grunts and overall shuffling, Tim dropped his shoulders and lowered his head.

“Face me,” Armie demanded.

Tim slowly turned around, almost hesitantly.

When finally facing Armie, he displayed a full erection.

Armie smoothed the stubble of his jaw with his thumb and index finger, his eyes landing on Tim’s standing tall arousal.

He slowly approached his lee.

With his right hand, he trailed fingertips gently over Tim’s left side, starting at his nipple and then working his way down to his hip.

Tim stumbled back in a breathless giggle.

“S-stop,” he let out, all too soon.

Armie reached forward slowly, taking a hold of Tim by looping his index finger around the silver buckled collar strapped to his neck.

With ease and care he pulled Tim closer.

He then held onto each of his arms, turning Tim back around so that his shoulders pressed up against Armie’s chest.

Tim could feel Armie’s breath against the back of his neck.

Armie looked down at the bondage decorating Tim’s back.

With the same teasing hand, he took fingers around his spine, across his sides and down to his lower waist.

Tim staggered forward in a sudden jolt, his erection springing up as he did so.

This time, Armie held onto the back of the bondage device, keeping Tim in place.

He continued to flutter fingers around ribs and shoulder blades, down a delicately soft ribcage and bony hip, his actions creating a manic, dance-like movement within Tim who bounced around on tiptoes in a restless, tormented stupor.

“Fuck, al, alright, alright!”

Armie pulled Tim against his front, breathing in the boy’s curls of hair, licking the salt off of his neck.

He then let go of the device and began to walk towards the elevator.

Tim turned around in a confused fluster, Armie’s lick drying almost instantly over his skin.

“Am … Am I c-coming with you?” He asked, “We’re, we’re not staying down here?”

Armie yanked the elevator gates open.

“Correct,” Armie confirmed, “We’re going to my bedroom.”

***

Tim landed on Armie’s bed, face down, in a gentle bounce.

Before he could get used to the familiar scent of oak and spice that wafted from the sheets, Armie grabbed the back of the bondage device strapped around Tim and lifted Tim’s body up from the mattress.

He then positioned Tim further up the bed, dropping him back down again like a butcher transporting meat.

Tim’s face lay squashed over a pillow, his head angled to the right.

His eyes squinted towards a bright window half open, framed by long hanging curtains blowing gently in the stormy breeze.

The room felt cold, the rain from outside joining the session by sending uninvited droplets into Armie’s bedroom.

Tim slid his head round to the left, where his sight landed on a few scented candles neatly laid out over the bedside table.

Armie curled long fingers around Tim’s left ankle, pulling his leg towards the left bottom corner of the bed.

This movement alone filled Tim’s stomach with anxiety.

He felt his behind suddenly open, exposed in a way he hadn’t experienced, not only in this apartment with Armie, but in his entire life.

Tim twisted to the side, as much as his restraint would allow.

“Wait, wait a sec,” Tim’s breath brushed across the bed as his eyes bulged up towards Armie, who stood on pause, “Is, is this when you use … Are you … Are, are we gonna …”

Armie let go of Tim’s ankle and knelt down over the corner of the mattress.

He leaned in towards Tim, moving some curls of hair behind his ear.

“I decided last night, while lying alone, that the first thing to enter you would not be an object …” Armie’s quiet voice dropped into such a silent whisper that Tim had to narrow his eyes in focus, so he could hear him properly, “… It’ll be me.”

Armie’s announcement, his silent delivery, the way he told instead of asked …

… It transformed the anxiety within Tim into an extreme, complicated excitement.

“Right, right now … Like, like this?”

Armie slid away from Tim.

He knelt down over the carpet, pulling black rope from beneath the structure of the bed, pre-tied several hours before.

“No, not like this,” Armie confirmed, tying Tim’s left ankle to the corner of the bed, where he stood and then made his way towards the right corner, “However, I will be spending some … time … With that ‘area’ today …”

Tim swallowed down, mentally preparing himself for Armie’s exploration.

As Armie tied his right ankle to the corner of the bed, Tim felt the cool press of air devour the space between his legs, a highly sensitive area now fully exposed and spread apart, laid bare for Armie to do as he wished. 

Tim’s rollercoaster of emotions continued in their spiralled spin.

Anxious, excited, now undeniably nervous.

The last time Armie had toyed with this area, using a single feather, Tim had been reduced to a sweaty, red-face, dribbling heap, harassed and inconvenienced, shocked at the learning of how utterly delicate and challenging that tiny few inches of flesh could be. 

Tim felt the unquestionable urge to already bargain with his tickler.

“Please just, just …” Tim sighed into the mattress, “… Show a bit of mercy, this time, okay?”

Armie kicked off his loafers and then stepped out of his bottoms, landing bare feet over carpet as he peeled down his underwear.

He offered Tim no response to his request, instead simply keeping his eyes on Timothée’s long, smooth back, the shape of his spine and shoulder blades lit by the grey, rainy light shining through the floor to ceiling window.

Armie’s eyes trailed down to Timothée’s behind, where two plump, hairless cheeks presented themselves, cleanly, politely, almost asking to be spanked, to be tickled, to be touched …

Armie’s erection sprung free as soon as his briefs landed on the floor.

He began to touch himself with one hand whilst unbuttoning his denim shirt with the other.

He then knelt at the bottom of the bed, his shirt now hanging open, revealing a tanned upper body, structured abs and a chest covered in blonde wisps of hair, an almighty sight that Tim could only attempt to see by twisting his head from left to right, or if he tried hard enough - a stretch over his shoulder.

Such a move made Tim’s neck muscles painfully tighten, leaving him with no choice but to lay his head down as it was. 

Tim jolted as he felt the brush of fingertips across his taint.

“Wa-wait,” Tim gulped down, his lips brushing against the bed linen, “We’re, we’re starting?” He tried to pull his legs together, in an attempt to conceal his weakness, but his ankles were tied too far apart, “You’re just, you’re, you’re …” Tim grunted, “… Just going to ti-tickle me, right—“

“—Shhh,” Armie hushed Tim, choosing to do nothing in regards to removing any of his confusion. 

He wanted him to feel unsure, unsettled, uncertain … After last night, he intended to enjoy playing with his mind just as much as he’d enjoy playing with his body.

Armie slid his right hand beneath Tim’s stomach, planting his palm over his navel, lifting him up slightly, then curling his fingers around Tim’s balls and phallus, gently tugging them out from under him.

Armie took a pillow and rested it between Tim’s legs, laying out the erect display over the surface of the pillow, where it hooked over the cotton in a rigid, perfect presentation. 

Tim moaned in relief. 

After being thrown onto the bed, his arousal had been squashed up in a stiff gather … Now, thanks to Armie, he lay in a far more comfortable position, despite being in bondage.

Armie blew cool air from his mouth over Tim’s solid muscle.

Tim closed his eyes, a tiny smirk of pleasure arching across his mouth.

Maybe there wont be any tickling after all…

The rain outside continued its heavy tumble as thunder shook the bedroom windows into a gentle rattle. 

Armie proceeded to blow over Tim’s aching strength, watching it twitch as the breeze from Armie’s mouth pressed against it.

“Have you ever been this aroused before, Timothée?” Armie asked.

Tim curled his fingers around the thick strap of leather around his wrists.

He had been denied, provoked, and edged in the basement, some weeks ago, surrounded by humid heat and bound to a wooden X.

But this, this is something else …

Tim shook his head, his face rubbing quietly against the mattress.

“No,” he whispered.

Armie took an index finger and ran it over the length of Tim’s erection - an easy thing to do, seeing as it was splayed out so beautifully, its long pink flesh bulging over the pure white of the pillow. 

He then drew the finger back up, Tim’s cock twitching once, twice as he did so … Until the finger reached Tim’s balls.

Armie curled his index finger and thumb around both of them, containing them in a tight grip.

Tim pressed his lips shut and widened his eyes.

“Mnn—“

His toes flexed, his back arched, and then as Armie let go, his body deflated into a jellied relax.

“Mnn…”

Armie then slid both hands down to each of Tim’s soles, where he planted fingertips over their silky smooth surface.

Tim jolted, the bed shifting with his sudden reaction.

Fuck…

Armie’s touch journeyed up over Tim’s heels, across clenched calf muscles, over the backs of knees and thighs, where his fingers stretched out, allowing palms to cup each of Tim’s ass cheeks.

Tim bit his lower lip, his stiffness pressing down harder over the pillow.

I’m already close.

Don’t …

Don’t tell him, he … He doesn’t know that.

Tim rolled his tongue over the roof of his mouth.

Who are you kidding?

He knows everything.

Tim’s weight rested on the mattress, his arms, wrists and neck consumed by leather, his mind abandoning overthinking, where it suddenly reached a conclusion he hadn’t expected it to reach so soon, so confidently, so unapologetically…

I …

… I like this.

I want this.

I …

I don’t want to live without this.

The warmth of Armie’s hands travelled over Tim’s behind, where his touch pulled apart Tim’s curled up fingers, revealing the flawless skin that made up the surface of his palms.

Tim kept his fingers splayed, acknowledging a clear intention from Armie to explore a part of him he may not have focused on as much as he might’ve liked. 

Armie rubbed himself as he knelt closer down over Tim, his lips kissing Tim’s palms gently.

He then sat up, the fingertips of his right hand slowly dancing over Tim’s palms, testing their sensitivity.

Tim’s long fingers flexed and curled, his wrists squeaked within their leather confines, his lower spine arched upward, unintentionally opening up that special slit in the middle of his cheeks, it’s wink glancing at Armie for an erotic few seconds before Tim’s spine straightened.

Tim snorted into his pillow, Armie’s scratch over his hands becoming too relentless.

He closed up all fingers, curling them into a tight clench, his fists now clamped up balls protecting the silkiness of his palms.

Self protection …

The only part of his body, in his current enslaved state, that he could physically move.

Armie leant back down, kissing Tim’s white knuckles. 

He then stood up on the bed, his muscular shadow gobbling up Tim’s bound, open, naked form.

“You have a beautiful back, Timothée,” Armie spoke in an almost day-dreaming murmur, his right hand still playing with himself, “Has anyone ever told you that?”

Tim nodded, his head squashed to the side.

“Yeah …” he spoke through swollen lips, “… You have…”

Armie lifted his eyebrows in pretend surprise, a relief washing over him.

He remembers.

“I did?”

He knelt back down between Tim’s thighs, both hands resting on the available areas of flesh between leather straps and tightened belts, his fingertips applying pressure to Tim’s sides.

Tim squirmed into Armie’s touch as Armie moved his tickling from rib to waist, rib to waist, rib to waist…

“You, you d-did—” Tim paused his sentence to expel an uncontrollable chuckle, his rear wiggling from side to side, his legs kicking the best they could as Armie continued to explore his back with attacking fingers, “—On, on set! On set!” Tim squeaked.

Armie opened his mouth into an O shape, his index finger pressing into each of Tim’s pits, an area difficult to explore considering how closely tied Tim’s arms were to his ribcage. 

“Oh, yes, I did! The volleyball scene …”

Armie thought back to standing on dry grass, he and Tim in swim shorts only, acting out a scene where Oliver forcefully massages Elio’s shoulders as a way of instilling dominance and power over their relationship.

He remembered acknowledging the shape of Tim’s back, his long neck, his angular shoulders and the narrow inline of his waist …

If only they’d known that such a power struggle between two young men would eventually play out from fiction into reality.

If only he’d known that some years later he’d have that back in a bondage device as wicked as the one currently strapped to it.

Tim heaved out in a frenzy as Armie ventured down his spine, over his hips, his fingers pinching and poking into Tim’s ticklish flesh.

“Well,” Armie decided, “You should reveal it more often, maybe on the red carpet… Now, that would be a game changer …” Armie sat back comfortably, his fingers still digging into Tim’s waist, “… I know how much you like to play with fashion. Almost as much as I like playing with you…”

Tim giggled and writhed, his behind jiggling in a voluptuous wobble the more he kicked his legs.

The sight of Tim’s rear wiggling in such a way made Armie think to focus on just there, for a moment or two.

“That’s an, an idea for the, the f-f-fut-ure-ah-ah-ahaha, ah, ah AH, AR, AR, ARMIE!” 

Tim twisted into a maddened scrunch as Armie, without any warning, began to draw circles around his taint 

“I remember discovering how ticklish you were down here, in the what?” Armie scribbled a ’T’ and then a ‘C’, “First week or so of us starting this?” 

Tim ignored the saliva falling from his mouth as he spat out cries of torment, his behind jiggling about so much that Armie had no choice but to spank it.

“I fucking hate that—“ Tim bellowed,

SPANK!

“Fuck! Damn, man, come on—“ He begged,

SPANK!

“—Wait, no, stop, stop, go, go somewhere else! Uh, damn, holy sh—”

Armie continued his gentle yet powerful attack on Tim’s taint, watching the boy unintentionally edge himself by moving around so much; his stiffness sliding up and down, up and down, up and down over the pillow, to the point where pre cum had begun to present itself.

“You sure you want me to stop?” Armie asked, keen to test if Tim would be able to separate the importance between enduring tickle torture to gain relief, or sacrificing relief to stop the tickle torture, “You seem to be, uh … Enjoying yourself…”

Tim flexed out fingers, his brain grappling with his dilemma, the dull ache of pleasure at the forefront of his mind, but the tickling over such a tender space of his body far trickier to handle…

He made his decision, taking in a breath, twisting around to face Armie, a panicked glare saturating his face.

“Yes I want you to stop, fuck, stop, stop, stop!”

Armie’s fingers left Tim’s taint as a line of lightning pierced the grey sky outside. 

Tim fell back down over the bed, breathless and flustered; his arousal still twitching as thunder cracked through the clouds blanketing New York City. 

Armie shuffled back off the bed, his tall standing posture still presenting a strong, powerful erection.

Tim tried to peer back over his shoulder, but curls of hair littered his sight.

He wanted to speak, to say that he was relieved Armie had landed in a better mood compared to his frank, blunt, sharp persona this morning, but before he could verbalise such thoughts he felt Armie’s fingertips scratch into the arch of each of his feet.

Tim kicked his legs in a violent shake, inadvertently rubbing his hardness over the surface of the pillow, increasing the mind numbing ordeal of dealing with such an intense tickling mixed with the throbbing pleasure between his thighs.

He sneered into the mattress, lifting his body and bouncing it over the bed as Armie’s fingers invaded the lengths of Tim’s scrunched up toes. 

Another deflated slump as Armie’s hands drifted away from Tim’s soles.

“Fuck,” Tim coughed out, clearing his throat afterwards, “I’m, I'm never getting used to this …”

Armie smirked, leaving his spot on the carpet, walking to the giant walk-in wardrobe in the corner of his bedroom, a wardrobe that contained more tamer tickle tools compared to Sub Zero.

Just you wait, Armie thought.

Tim, still enduring the itchiness of recent fingers over his heels, flexed his toes in a maddening attempt to stretch out the feeling, however it did nothing to solve his problem.

With a frustrated sigh he awaited Armie’s return, only knowing that he had moved so far away from the bed thanks to the sound of his voice calling out behind a half open door.

“You know, it’s not just your feet, or your body, or how ticklish you are that makes me want you, Tim,” Armie retrieved his chosen tool, leaving the walk in wardrobe, returning to his double bed and the willing victim tied to it, “It’s you as a person, as a professional, as a prolific celebrity that, quite honestly, awakens the fan in me …”

Tim chuckled into the mattress, his short laugh ending with another groan the more his rigid length pressed against the surface of the pillow.

“Well, I’m a fan of yours too,” Tim mumbled.

Armie blew air out dramatically through his lips.

“Pffft! Please, no one is a fan of me, not like how they’re a fan of you…” Armie climbed back over the bed, this time taking off his denim shirt, leaving him just as naked as Tim, “You’re different, Timmy… Can’t you see that?”

Tim attempted to will away the lingering tingle below his hole, but it persisted.

“Different?” He asked.

Armie used his fingernails to comb the leg hairs decorating Tim’s right calf - an act that made the boy's leg twist and turn in its bondage.

“Yes, different. You see, every once and a while there is an unforeseen lightning strike that affects the zeitgeist, and there may not be a clearer example in recent history than the introduction to the world…” Armie left Tim’s leg in peace and sat on his knees between Tim’s thighs, a seagull feather twirling between his thumb and index finger, “… of you, the Timothée Chalamet.”

Tim felt a strong blush press over his cheeks. 

He hid a smile by burying his face into the bed, his mindset unaware of the tickle tool in Armie’s grasp.

“Man, come on … Stop …”

Armie grinned, pressing the feather across Tim’s cock, sliding it over its strengthened length, where it twitched almost immediately.

“In a moment, you’ll be screaming those words instead of saying them … Mark my words …” 

Armie took the feather around Tim’s balls, towards his taint, where he knew the feather would be highly effective just as it had been during another session they had shared together, on this very bed, just a week into this special arrangement.

Tim winced, “Oh, come on … ” he tried to close his legs inward, he stretched out fingers in an attempt to hide that area, an area now so exposed, so vulnerable, so open to Armie’s relentless desires.

“I’m so lucky, kid,” Armie narrowed his eyes as he fluttered the feather over Tim’s pulsating arousal, his movements rubbing the muscle further over the solid space of the pillow, “I was given the gift of not only being able to experience the sort of things we’re experiencing now, but I was able to witness your meteoric rise first hand. I remember seeing it happen, when we toured the world, if only for a short time …”

Tim hooked teeth over his lower lip, the excruciatingly unbearable feeling of a sharp yet soft feather repeatedly brushing over the softness of his taint jelling unnaturally with the constant tease of relief and pleasure now rolling through his hips.

Damnit, why there?

He knows I can’t take it.

Am I …

Am I going to cum without being touched?

Is this fucking happening?

Fuck, the feather.

If the fucking with the feather would fucking sto—

“—It felt like this metamorphosis,” Armie continued, “From a young, quirky and beautiful boy, to a savvy, self possessed and in-demand leading man, all taking place before my very eyes…”

Armie twirled the feather, increasing its tortuous presence.

Tim became breathless, his legs kicking, his cheeks jiggling, his toes flexing.

His laughter became heavy and deep, his mania expelled, staining the bed with moist hysteria in the form of sweat.

“The thing is,” Armie watched more pre cum ooze from Tim’s tip, the more his erection gathered friction over the pillow, “I still don’t know if it was you who had been reborn, or if it was a matter of us, as people, coming to realise exactly who you are and what you’re capable of…”

Tim tried to pull his arms through the leather bondage device, he tried to claw his hands out towards the feather, but with restricted movement and the inability to turn around and communicate with Armie using glares or angered facial expressions, Tim could only endure the feather’s twirl, a twirl that went on and on and on and on and—

“—I mean, look at me. Sitting here, naked, molesting you with a feather, something I’ve done with hundreds of men and hundreds of women before you, yet you, you’ve got me paying ten million dollars to do it … See, that is the power of Timothée Chalamet …”

Tim took in a large breath, his face burning red, his legs thrashing about as much as his ankle ties would permit.

“Mancomeon, sto, sto, sto, stop stop stop stop — please please please please — come on come on come on, man, man, ma—“

Yup, Armie thought.

He really can’t handle this.

He’s lucky I didn’t tell Miller about this spot.

Fuck, the guy probably would’ve killed him.

Armie watched Tim transform into a sweat covered, scrunched up state, his inability to cope with a simple singular feather against his taint displaying itself as an overwhelming arousing visual for Armie to behold.

“Your trajectory will not be parabolic,” Armie announced, taking the feather from taint to shaft, taint to shaft, taint to shaft, easing Tim closer towards his orgasm, “You have way too much in the tank. From my own experience, it’s clear that you have a turbulent sea of emotions inside of you, each one of them somehow chaotic and also completely at your disposal, ready to be unleashed on any scene you’re in …”

Armie licked his lips as Tim fell into a realm where he could no longer speak or beg due to the amount of giggles, laughter and breathless desperation escaping his strained throat and neck.

“… Those emotions are here now, I’m witnessing them as we speak, however this of course isn’t acting, this is you, at your visceral core, pushed into a dimension only I can lead you into …” Armie used his left hand to hold onto Tim’s erection whilst the other hand twirled the feather up and down his shaft, leaving his taint for just a few moments.

“—Uhuhaghhh-ah-ahh-haha-fu-huh-huh-huh-ck—“ Tim took in a breath, his curls of hair now tasselled and messy, “—Fuck that, fuck, fuck the f-f-feather, fuck stop stop please please sttt-sttt-sto-hahahaa—aahhaahaaap oh goddddd—“ He coughed and spluttered, his grainy expels finishing with gentle moans as Armie worked his arousal with the tool in his hand, “—Mn, f-fuck, man, man, man, man stt-st—sttt-stt-ssss-sssttt—-ssssssttt—“

“—Your work will continue to grow,” Armie spoke matter of factly, “And those of us who have had the pleasure and fortune to work with you in your early career will run into each other at future award shows, no doubt riding your coattails…” Armie began to massage Tim’s cock, his grip over such an erect hardness causing Tim to now arch his back and ready himself for orgasm, “… And we’ll give each other a knowing nod that says both ‘we saw this coming’ and ‘so, you know what it’s like working with Timmy’ …”

Tim had been made to endure a wave of compliments, the most flattering speech he’d ever heard in his entire life, from a colleague, a friend and now, a lover he respected more than words could describe …

… All whilst unable to physically respond, unable to speak, unable to even formulate words, due to becoming the incoherent heap Armie had transformed him into.

“I did say you’d be unable to say your own name, didn’t I, Tim?” Armie smiled in success, once again reaching into Tim’s mind and pulling out his thoughts, laying them bare, revealing them, reading them, exposing them just as much as he had exposed Tim’s naked, shaking, sweat stained body.

Tim started to move himself into Armie’s grasp in an attempt to get his orgasm to arrive sooner.

He slid his hardness between Armie’s hold, but Armie could see through the boy's endeavour and instead tightened his grip on Tim’s penis with a firm grasp, keeping it in place.

He then spat on Tim’s balls.

Tim jolted in surprise, a breathless gasp leaving his dribble stained mouth.

Armie then used his saliva as lubrication, rubbing the spit into Tim’s arousal, capturing some of the pre cum oozing from Tim’s tip, where he mixed the two liquids together to form a thick, slippery expanse that helped him massage Tim’s erection to the point where Tim had no choice but to turn around and raise some awareness towards the unbelievable feeling he currently felt between his thighs.

“Fu-huck,” he could barely form a sentence, “Wh-where’d you l-l-learn …” huff, huff  “… To d-do, do, d— ”

Armie spoke in a whisper, the speed of his rub increasing.

“—You’re not the first young man I’ve edged, Timothée…” Armie watched goosebumps arrive over the bottom of Tim’s back, “… But something tells me you’ll be my last …”

Armie dropped the feather and then, unexpectedly actioned another sharp spank to Tim’s left cheek.

SPANK!

Tim shifted in a wince, his toes flexing out, his head twisted to the side in a muffled squash.

Armie continued his movements, a squelching sound leaving the drenched inside of his palm and surface of Tim’s hard on with each vigorous stroke.

“Tell me, Timothée … How do you masturbate?” Armie asked casually, some sweat now forming over his own upper lip.

Tim’s upper body compressed into a distorted scrunch, trapped beneath a dozen leather straps, his boiling face pressing into the mattress. 

“Wh-what…?” He couldn’t make sense of Armie’s overall tone - one minute he had been rude and demanding, the next over complimentary, almost jealous … And now, curious, asking questions that Tim, in his current state of delirium, considered rather random…

Another spank, this time harder.

Tim cussed under his breath, his rear now glowing a gentle pink, his erection pushing into Armie’s grasp.

“Tell me …” Armie repeated, “… How do you masturbate…?”

Tim clenched his teeth, speaking quickly, pulling a memory from his mind that he figured Armie would enjoy more than the others.

“I’ve edged myself before!” Tim revealed, in a flustered shout, “When, when I was eighteen …!”

Armie concentrated on keeping Tim’s orgasm at bay, whilst still rubbing against Tim’s arousal.

“Go on…” he drooled.

Tim’s eyes began to water as he spoke through saliva soaked lips.

“I saw a tip on, online, it, it said to, to, to, to get yourself close and then, even if you can’t stand it, to hover your hand o-over your c-cock, to see if you can take, take ta—“

“—And could you take it, Tim?” Armie asked.

Tim moaned into the bedsheets, his relief now seconds away.

“—NO!” Tim cried, “I, I can’t fucking take th-this, f-fuck, pl, pl, please, let me, let me …” Tim sounded exhausted, as if all energy had been pulled from every fibre of his being and sent into his balls and shaft, ready to shoot out all remaining life, “… I can’t, I can’t sp-sp-spe-ee-ee-ee—“

Armie smiled in accomplishment, successfully leading Tim into an expanse of space where he could no longer bring himself to create words, just like he had warned Tim earlier today.

The only reason he asked these questions, the only reason he engaged Tim in conversation, was simply to see and hear him attempt to form an answer.

“Will you ever masturbate like you used to?” Armie asked.

Tim shook his head, rubbing sweat over already salty stained sheets.

“N-Ne, ne, nev—“

Armie looked down at Tim’s penis, now shimmering and shining, coated in a mixture of pre cum and saliva.

It’s rock solid hardness throbbing over the pillow, it’s readiness to expel so desperately organised, so primed and prepared, despite it not being under Tim’s control at all.

Armie sat in a moment of realisation as a cold wet breeze pressed against his face.

He had never, in his life, edged a victim like this, to this extent before.

“… The Timothée Chalamet, the leading man, the biggest actor in Hollywood, tied to my bed…” Armie’s eyes shifted from left to right, he spoke breathlessly, overwhelmed and so uncertain whilst feeling entirely sure at the same time, “… A perfectionist, a talented prodigy, but, also, self aware brat, an overachiever …”

In all of his intense and consuming arousal, Tim still allowed a confused frown to press down over a forehead decorated with droplets.

“Wait, wha, wha, wh—“

More squelching, more rubbing, more throbbing …

“… Someone who used to have it all, and now, has nothing … Isn’t that right, Timmy?”

Tim twisted his head around, the furthest he had tried, now able to see Armie sitting naked, the muscles of his right arm strained the quicker he jerked off Timothée’s erection.

“Ac, ac, acting, acting is, is all I can…” huff, huff “… All I can d-do …” huff, huff

Tim licked his lips, sweat now tickling his sides as droplets rolled down his rib cage.

He played ball, agreeing with Armie, playing his part of sub, sensing a position of punishment, willingly allowing the atmosphere to grow spiteful - he’d do anything to get the relief, the built up tension out of his tormented mind …

“… Without it, I’m, I’m …” Tim’s eyes widened as he felt his orgasm begin.

It’s beginning started with a bubble and then it gathered at an immense speed, the pleasure almost too much to handle, it’s strong shot rolling down past his hips, into the base of his testicles, where it teased the arrival at the shaft of his erection, “… I’m, I’m, I’m …” Tim spoke in a high pitched whine, “… Noth, noth, noth—!”

“—No,” Armie said, in a stern, deep tone, letting go of Tim’s penis entirely, moving in on Tim so that his body pressed over Tim’s back, his lips rested by Tim’s left ear, “You have me. And without me … You’re nothing.”

Armie’s whispered words invaded Tim’s mind, infiltrating his reality, reminding himself of his position in all this, whilst his orgasm sent the muscles of his arousal twitching in a violent flex, the bulb of his penis shimmering and burning red, his balls readying the release of something that now naturally swept inwards, retreating back into the depths of Timothée’s prostate, his thighs, his taint, his stomach … The very core of his sexuality, his erotic substance, now forced to once again hold onto a discharge that seemed to at one point be promised to be freed, but instead lay dormant …

… Thanks to Armie fucking Hammer.

Armie slid away from Tim, stood up on the bed and towered high in his almighty glory, over Tim’s breathless, naked capsule, a vessel still dealing with the recovery of being edged so utterly close, where it had then been so venomously denied. 

A single rejection in the form of Tim simply saying no to Armie’s offer the previous evening had been the reason for this, this cataclysmic result of power play and one upmanship. 

Armie placed his hands on his hips, he smirked, he opened his mouth and then—

--sniff, sniff

A flash of lighting, a rumble of thunder outside.

Armie’s heart sank.

Any element of dominance, vigour or assertive strength fizzled away like cotton candy landing in water.

The tall posture, the scent of leather from the bondage, the feather still laid out on the bed …

It all faded away as soon as Armie heard Tim crying.

Armie fell to his knees and scrambled towards his lee, who lay with his face squashed into the sheets, sheets no longer stained with sweat but tears instead.

“Tim? Tim …” Armie had no care in hiding the panic in his voice.

Tim kept his face hidden, his stomach still tingling with the promise of orgasm.

Armie began to unbuckle the bondage device, pulling apart straps and unlatching silver hoops.

As Tim’s arms fell open, more sniffing and staggered breathing could be heard, exacerbating Armie’s concern.

“Tim, Timothée …”

Armie placed a hand over Tim’s back as Tim pulled unbound arms around his face, burying his head as deep down as it could go, where more crying could be made out from the self made cavern of privacy.

Armie slid away from Tim, occupying himself momentarily by untying Tim’s ankles from each corner of the bed.

Tim pulled his feet inwards, curling up into the foetal position, revealing a face damaged with emotion as his arms curled around his knees.

“Fuck, Jesus …” Armie’s face scrunched into a dismal display of guilt and overwhelming regret as he returned to Tim’s side, lifting him up into a seated position, pulling him in for a consuming embrace.

To Armie’s relief, Tim fell into his chest, staining his tanned skin with tears and mucus, something Armie felt more than happy to endure.

“I’m sorry, Tim, I, I didn’t mean to upset you, I, I, fuck —”

Tim shook his head, smearing more despair across Armie’s right shoulder.

“—I, I can’t do this any, anymore,” Tim revealed, wiping his nose, “I, I can’t fucking take it…”

Armie wrapped his arms around Tim and buried him within his own torso, resting his chin over the top of Tim’s head in frightful concern, hearing words he’d always wanted to hear by pushing Tim over the edge, but not in this tone, not in this way…

“The, the tickling, or, the bondage or, or all of it?” Armie didn’t want to ask those questions, but the friend in him had no choice.

Tim pulled away from Armie, his strained face a distorted mess of hysterical angst.

Armie kept his hands around Tim’s face, his thumbs catching tears as soon as they fell from Tim’s eyes.

“… You …” Tim croaked, “… I can’t take you, the way you are, the, the way you switch …” Tim avoided Armie’s eyes, staring instead into the bedsheets, “… I just want to, to know you… Be, being like this, le, learning about, about all of this, on top of you fucking around with me, I, I just …”

Tim pressed both palms over his forehead, his wet curls of hair hanging past his jaw.

“What are you saying, Tim?” Armie asked.

Tim sniffed up, his lips now puffy and soaked.

“I, I just want us to be … Not like this … Being with, with a guy, is, it’s fucking … I’ve, I’ve never …” Tim heaved in a different form of hysteria, his chest staggered in its panicked breathing, “…And, a-a-and I’m, I’m, trying my best to understand … You, and the, the w-way I feel, and …” Tim lifted his head, his eyes shooting straight through Armie’s worried gaze where he offered his tickler a look that said: ‘I am being one hundred percent honest and truthful to you’ …

“… I’m finding this fucking difficult,” he declared, lowering his head.

Armie had thought that the past hour or so had been the most erotic of his life.

Seeing Tim in such a way, so bound and physically vulnerable, so aroused and tied apart … It had been a sight he’d never forget.

But this moment here, between him and Tim, where Tim sat naked and covered in tears instead of spit or baby oil, ropes or feathers …

A different kind of vulnerability, in which Tim opened himself up in a far more revealing way than the ties spreading his legs could ever achieve …

… It changed everything.

It shifted The Agreement from one thing to something different entirely.

It made Armie want Tim more than he’d ever wanted him before.

Physically,

Mentally,

In a way that would showcase how devoted he was to him, how much he cared for him.

Giving him that reassurance now felt far more important than anything else Armie had in mind to action.

He’s right.

I am like him.

Miller is the part of me that is relentless, out of control, mean and spiteful.

I can be like that sometimes.

I think it’s fun, playful, testing …

It’s not.

It’s wrong.

From now on, that side needs to be tamed.

No.

It needs to be gone.

Forever.

Armie pressed his lips against Tim’s in a forceful, passionate kiss.

Tim’s eyes closed, his stiff, disturbed body dropping almost immediately.

Armie grabbed each of Tim’s arms with a grasp that demanded Tim return to a less emotional state.

It told Tim, ‘you’re mine, you belong to me, you’re okay, so snap out of it!’

Tim couldn’t stop the hold, nor did he want to.

Finally, Armie was ready to devour him, and Tim was ready to be devoured…

… Fuck, more than that.

Desolated, consumed, eradicated by an explosive need far more power than either of them could understand.

Tim knew more than anything that the next however many minutes would hurt.

And he also knew, without a doubt, that this time he would come.

Anytime Armie had edged him in the past, a part of him maintained a held back knowledge that it might not happen… 

He had kept that thought in his head the past hour, bound up here on Armie’s bed …

That thinking process had taken place so many times over the past two and a bit weeks that it had literally built up to this very moment, a moment that had ended in tears, a moment that had now started something new.

I want you to edge me, Tim had asked after Tickle Fest.

The phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’ couldn’t be more apt. 

Armie lifted Tim off of the bed in a brisk pull.

He then threw him onto the bottom of the bed, landing Tim on his back in a heavy bounce.

Tim tried to scramble up but Armie grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them above him.

Armie grabbed Tim’s right hand and with effortless ease, he looped Tim’s right wrist through the rope recently used to tie Tim’s ankle.

Tim found himself leaving one form of bondage and now, quite suddenly, entering another…

“Wait, I, I, I thought—“

Armie pressed his index finger over Tim’s lips.

“Do you want to come, or what?”

Tim’s eyes crossed down to Armie’s finger.

He nodded slowly.

“Say it,” Armie whispered, taking Tim’s left wrist, tying it to the left corner …

“I…” Tim’s lips brushed against Armie’s fingerprint as he spoke, “…I, I want to come.”

Tim now lay on his back with his hands tied to the corners of the bed, his long, toned, slim frame lit by the gathering light of the storm outside.

Thunder and lightning made themselves arrogantly present as Armie retrieved the seagull feather.

He leaned into Tim, kissing his neck, his collarbone, his chest and his stomach.

He nipped at his nipples with his teeth, he chewed on his skin, he ran his tongue over and around Tim’s navel.

Tim shuddered, his back arching, his arousal thicker, harder, stronger than ever before.

Armie sent the feather tickling down Tim’s sides and waist, he twirled it past the young man’s hips and thighs, it’s tormenting brush sliding over Tim’s pulsating erection.

Tim giggled breathlessly, he twisted and writhed, he dug his unbound heels into the mattress and tried to shuffle his way back.

But Armie straddled him, his weight pinning him down, capturing him in this erotic moment of sensory exploration, all whilst the rain outside smacked against window and brick.

The torture felt light and gentle, erotic and playful, delicate and respectful, the perfect balance between two recent desires; Armie’s hunger to tickle and exploit, and Tim’s painful exposure of emotional vulnerability. 

Tim wriggled his nose as Armie sent the feather around his face, its blade-like edge sliding over Tim’s ticklish lips and smooth, structured jaw.

Dripping rain water from pipe work and cracks on the exterior of Armie’s building sounded loudly amongst the torrential weather, all whilst Armie tickled Tim with a single feather; both men aroused and ready for what would eventually take place between them after such a raw and helpless moment.

Tim’s erection smacked against his stomach as he jolted upward, arching his back as the feather made its way between his balls.

Armie curled his finger around Tim’s left ankle and slid the feather around curling toes, sending him into a dishevelled moan of uncertain bliss, mixed with unnerving man-handling.

As the clouds continued to darken, the room sank into a deep purple.

Previous areas visible to them both had now blurred into a murky darkness.

To Armie’s surprise, Tim didn’t beg.

If anything, his eager eyes, his quivering smile, the way he leaned into this situation suggested to Armie that he seemed to be enjoying himself, enjoying being so submissive, so controlled, so used and pushed against his will, his ticklish whim consensually given, handed over to lend itself to a scenario far more gratifying than the one taking place ten minutes ago.

Armie spoke no words either.

He used the feather like a wand, one hand expertly actioning delicate tickles across Tim’s naked, writhing body, whilst his other hand pinched and poked and grabbed at areas such as Tim’s thighs, soles, armpits and neck, all whilst the storm outside grew louder and heavier, stronger and far more commanding than it had done for most of the day.

Tim felt grateful that Armie had never turned on the lights.

That looming cloud would soon consume the city, sending this room into pitch black, leaving their future actions hidden for any mistakes or slip ups soon to be concealed by darkness… 

Armie finished the feather’s employment by running it one last time over Tim’s stomach, down his shaft, where it slid away from the shining bulb of Tim’s cock, leaving Tim’s mouth wide open in complete and utter astonishment.

Armie dropped the feather and took a firm grip over Tim’s left ankle, bringing his foot to his mouth where he devoured all five toes at once in a sloppy, wide jawed chomp.

Tim’s right leg flayed about as Armie’s tongue tickled his toes relentlessly. 

He then dropped Tim’s left foot, doing the same with his right as Tim’s head pressed into the cotton confines of the pillow, his hands curling tightly around the ropes that bound his arms, the curtains now blowing forcefully thanks to the wet wind hurtling through the open window.

To Tim, Armie was like a vampire.

He moved quickly, with a wickedly diabolical spark of electricity in his eyes, hastily feasting on one part of Tim and then another, onto his heels, then each toe, then up his thighs to his right hip, his left nipple, his neck and then the fingers of his hands, sucked one by one …

Tim then felt the release of bonds.

Armie freed him, liberating the young man, allowing him a few seconds to consider making his own moves before suddenly grabbing his neck, causing Tim to gag.

“--Ack!”

He lifted Tim with all his strength, twirling him around, throwing him down, back to the top of the bed.

Tim’s heart beat so fast he could feel it in the sides of his head, his youthful blood rushing through veins now clear and visible around his wrists, arms and waist.

He looked up at Armie, who knelt on the bed with only the dying colours of white and grey outlining his broad frame, tufts of messy blonde hair suggesting an Armie far removed from the slick, clean, tucked in persona he had spent so long trying to maintain.

Armie let go of Tim’s throat as thunder rumbled in the background.

He permitted a move.

Tim wasted no time.

Just when Armie thought Tim would take his length in his mouth like previously practised, he instead found his lips consumed by Tim’s in a strong-willed confident kiss.

Armie’s eyes widened as Tim’s hands planted over Armie’s shoulder blades.

He found his eyes closing in gentle relief as Tim’s tongue curled around his; breath from each of their nostrils left their bodies in an uncontrollable exhale as they remained in a knelt position.

Tim’s hands grabbed Armie’s wrists, lifting his arms above his head.

He then kissed Armie’s neck and collarbone, his furry chest and hairy, sweat-scented armpits.

Armie arched his back, a smile spreading across his face.

He then acknowledged the overwhelming urge to not only be inside of Timothée, but to simply take him, take him in a way no man had done before, in a way no one else had been allowed to, besides Armie’s index finger.

Armie pulled his arms back down and held onto Tim’s ankles.

He then began to kiss Tim’s face, smothering him in lust, passion and desire.

Tim’s head fell over his chest, his body drenched in reassurance, relief - he enjoyed this more than he could bear, he wanted this more than he realised, this was happening, even if it did feel like a dream …

Tim fell to his back as Armie yanked him into position by pulling his legs towards him.

Armie then lifted Tim’s feet so that his heels rested over each of Armie’s shoulders.

Armie kissed Tim’s left foot first and then his right.

He then looked down at Tim, who lay with his arms splayed out over the sheets, his mouth hanging open, his puffy lips soaked with Armie’s saliva …

In this position, Armie had the perfect view.

From here, he’d clearly be able to see Tim’s reaction, his expression, the way his face would move …

As soon as he’d enter him, Armie would see everything taking place behind Tim’s eyes. 

Armie and Tim exchanged a look.

Their intense gaze became locked in a transfixed moment of readied understanding, of knowing what would happen in the next few seconds … 

Silence, besides the pitter patter of rain against the window.

“Do it,” Tim said breathlessly, “You're fucking killing me …” 

Armie held onto Tim’s left ankle.

He then spat into the palm of his right hand.

Armie applied the natural lubricant over a tip already soaked in a coat of early come, the most erect he had ever been, now pressing against Timothée.

His positioning was perfect for entry, exactly where it needed to be, not one centimetre off target …

Armie began to move his hips forward, now holding onto both of Tim’s ankles.

Tim, with his mouth still hanging open, inhaled air through flared nostrils as he kept his eyes on Armie’s jaw, his mouth, his blue eyed focus.

Come on.

Take it …

He readied himself for discomfort, for welcomed intrusion, for an agonisingly physical bout of endurance and hardship …

Armie slid in effortlessly, Tim’s opening consuming a quarter of Armie’s length within two seconds.

Armie kept his eyes on Tim’s face, taking in each and every detail; the widened stare, the deepened burrow of bushy brows, the inability to close his mouth whilst attempting to conceive the feeling of not just Armie, but a man in general entering him in this way, in an area of him once so delicate, so special, so untouched by anyone …

Tim’s toes curled, his hands grabbed onto the bed sheets, his breath left his body.

Armie continued his entry, the entirety of his girth now resting inside of Tim.

“Fuck, f-fuck …” Tim squeezed his eyes shut, his own erection throbbing in a way he hadn’t felt before, “… Holy, holy sh—“

Armie pushed himself in a little more, nudging himself deeper, to the point where he could move down over Tim and kiss his chest, his lips finding their way to Tim’s mouth where he whispered over Tim’s tongue.

“This is where you give in,” Armie announced, “This is when you become mine …”

Tim nodded quickly in understanding, his fingers clawing down over Armie’s shoulders, his own erection pulsating in a squashed press against Armie’s stomach.

Armie began to move his hips, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

As police sirens echoed thirty feet below, Armie began to take Timothée. 

He took him unlike anyone he had ever taken before.

He remained beyond hard, beyond aroused, beyond capable of delivering a masterful example of pure, instinctive, animalistic sex.

He bit Timothée’s toes and fingers, he chewed on his nipples, he licked his ears and he sucked his hips.

Tim kept his mouth shut.

If he opened it, he’d release everything.

But the more Armie pounded, the more Tim’s limitations decreased.

Eventually, Tim had no choice but to part his lips and let out a long, deep, gravelly moan as a way to handle a feeling against his prostate he didn’t think were possible to feel…

The pang, the convulsion, the stinging joy in his erection had transformed into a sensation unlike any he’d experienced. 

And then Armie spun him around, whilst still inside.

Tim found himself resting on his elbows, Armie’s hands over his hips, his behind pressed up against Armie’s waist, Armie’s arousal now so far inside him he could practically feel it press against his stomach.

The bed shifted in its position, the side tables were knocked, the candles flickered, their gentle orange glow reflecting off of Tim’s wide open eyes, illuminating his gaze as if he were a demon ravaged by the devil.

“I … I… I …” Tim turned his head, his frenzied gaze catching Armie’s focus, “… I’ve never felt like th-this before… I… I …” Tim’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, “… I’m gonna ex, ex, expl—“

Armie’s hands curled through the curls of Tim’s hair, pulling his head back a little, lengthening the muscles of Tim’s neck.

“Bite the pillow,” he advised.

Tim grabbed at the pillow underneath him, just as Armie’s hands left his hair, where they now clawed over the smooth expanse of his back.

Tim gathered the pillow up, stuffing it under his neck and chest, his mouth chewing around for a squashier section of it so that he could fully release built up energy in the form of a strong, tough bite down on the dry, expensive cotton.

As he bit the pillow, Armie’s constant and forceful press sent that staggering, alarming sense of approach back to the base of Tim’s arousal, where it rolled through his throbbing length, exiting him in an explosive gush …

… Just as the storm outside sent a wet force of wind into Armie’s bedroom, blowing out all candles and blanketing the moment in complete and utter darkness.

TCTLR continues in Chapter Twenty Nine - ‘This’ …