Chapter 3
Miles couldn't sleep.
His chest was throbbing, the swelling squeezing the sensitive nerves in his nipples; the presence of the metal studs was too much to ignore, and his nipples felt like they were going to rise up, making him curl up uncomfortably when even the lightest sheet scratched across them.
"You alright?"
In the total darkness Miles heard a voice ring out beside him and he reflexively replied, "Yeah . .sorry, did I wake you up?"
Then Miles felt a hard squeeze on his waist, so hard that he started to huff; at the same time a hot body pressed up against him from behind; Hobie pressed his hand into the small of his back, his nose pressed against the back of Miles' neck: "Don't apologize. You got nothing to apologize for. And don't lie. Now tell me again, are you alright?"
Miles was pressed so tightly against Hobie's chest that he began to choke a little, so he gave up the act of covering up and admitted honestly: "No. It hurts . . the ring on my--my chest."
Miles' chest was still swelling and aching as he uttered these words : "I don't feel so good..."
"I know." Hobie's hand traveled up the waistline to Miles' stomach continuing to gently knead it: "You want me to kiss you again?"
Miles remembered that kiss not so long ago, he had asked Hobie for a kiss after they had just finished for the day, but that hadn't been his intention; it had been the pain, the ache and the desire that had prevented him from thinking rationally that had made him utter that request.
And Hobie met him. It was the first kiss between them. And it hadn't felt bad.
Miles remembered the minty flavor that came from Hobie's kiss, probably from the cigarettes he smoked; and some other flavors he couldn't put his finger on, sour and bitter, and Miles didn't want to think about what those were, he just enjoyed the kiss with all of his being; Hobie's kisses had relaxed him, and the press of his lips against each other had even made him forget about the pain in his chest for a brief moment.
Now Hobie was kissing him again.
Unlike before, Hobie was slowly kissing the back of his neck, the delicate, sticky kisses against every inch of his skin sending an electric charge through Miles; he began to shiver slightly, his eyes narrowing like a cat's in comfort. The pain in his chest seemed like nothing compared to this moment.
One last kiss landed behind his ear, accompanied by a warm breath, and Miles heard Hobie say to him:
"Sleep tight, Bambi."
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Day 5
"Congratulations, you're halfway through
Choose between two tasks:
1. A strikes B's bare skin ten times with a whip.
2. B cuts off either of A's palms."
Congratulations. At the moment Miles couldn't imagine anything more ironic than the word.
"I suppose, we don't need to fight over which one to choose today, right?"
Miles turned to the other man with feigned relief, the answer was obvious, they weren't going to back down after everything they'd been through yesterday.
Hobie's face was unreadable, his hands were in his jacket pockets and his eyes didn't make contact with Miles but fell on the table props: "Get down."
"Let's get this over quickly."
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The prop they were offered was a black leather whip with obvious erotic overtones, when Hobie held it up Miles shuddered uncontrollably, he had to admit the prop fit Hobie's style but at the same time he felt uneasy about it...and a little bit scared.
Looking over to their task now it became clear how many restrictions the first one had; a whip had to be used, it had to be performed by Hobie, it had to be fulfilled ten times, it had to be bare skin; combining these and the nature of their task it wasn't hard to surmise which part of the body was the most suited and safest to withstand it all.
Hobie sat naturally in his chair spreading his legs and gesturing for Miles to come over on his back; it was undoubtedly the proper position, and Miles had already consciously undressed the lower half of his body; but as he knelt between Hobie's legs Miles was still a little hesitant and frightened, and to ease it all the boy twisted his head into a nervous grin : "Do it quickly, alright?"
"Snap."
The sound of leather slicing through the air was the first, before a dull pain surged up from behind him; Miles was unprepared for the blow, his body subconsciously taking a half step forward; also uncontrolled was his voice, a sharp cry of alarm escaping his lips, the boy covering his mouth as an afterthought, and before he could open his mouth in accusation the man behind him with the whip flashed a grin in answer to the question he'd just asked: "Sure. You wanna keep counting? wanna keep counting? That shall distract you, you know, makes you feel better."
"... .one."
Miles spoke half-heartedly, and before his counting voice had quite dropped, Hobie had raised his arm again; this time the whip landed close to his thigh, and the last mark was now beginning to glow and bulge; the onset of pain didn't cause Miles to forget his task: "Agh--T-Two!"
Maybe Hobie was right and the count really made him feel better and gave him something to do during what seemed like a long and painful process; it was like Hobie was doing it on purpose, and soon his left and right buttocks were evenly distributed with whip marks on both sides and bulging a little and reddening and turning hot as time went on. Sadly, Miles' eyes started to go slack after the sixth stroke; by the seventh, the whip deflected a little to land on his rear end, the area with a little thinner fatty tissue reacting to the pain a little more sensitively, and Hobie seemed to stop what he was doing as if he'd realized it, and instead put his hand on the area he'd just been hit with and rubbed it gently, "Sorry Bambi... my bad."
"Stop--stop apologizing," Miles didn't look impressed as he repeated Hobie's words from last night, not even having the strength to lift his head now, and eventually having to lie on Hobie's knees and support himself with both arms: "Just . . just get it done."
The eighth stroke was still off. The slightly wider end of the whip even hit Miles in the small of his back, causing the boy to let out a whimper that could be described as miserable; his arms propped up on Hobie's knees were shaking for a moment, and Punk lowered himself to Miles' ear in an attempt to soothe him, "Two more left. It's gonna be over soon."
The ninth stroke. Miles noticed that this time the pain wasn't as pronounced as the previous ones; at first he thought it was the pain finally causing his body to secrete enough substances to block the transmission and numb his muscles, but when Miles opened his eyes he realized that one of Hobie's hands had landed on top of him, the back of his hand deflecting the whip's end for him.
"There's a bug in the rule . . it didn't mention I can't take part of it for ya. So although I couldn't do it for you, guess we can do it together at least."
"No--"
Miles protested as he tried to straighten his upper body: "Your hand-" he remembered Hobie's injured hand, which hadn't healed yet to add to the injury; his shoulder was pinned down by the black handle of the whip, and Hobie looked at him condescendingly: "Quite. don't doubt me."
Such an attitude made Miles shiver inexplicably; he subconsciously chose to obey, lowering his head as his waist caved in to reveal a beautifully curved spine and rounded ass; every Spider-Man has a perfect ass, something I forget which of my foes said during their fight, but of course his next words were not so polite ("Each ass deserves to be kicked")
At the end of the final blow Miles couldn't hold himself up any longer and flopped down on top of Hobie in such a sorry state that he didn't even have the strength in his hands to hold Hobie's waist; all this after losing his powers was tantamount to torture for a normal human being, and Miles had actually held on.
Hobie stroked the shoulder of the boy who had been lying in his arms for so long that he couldn't get up, and he heard the other man whispering something that Hobie was finally able to make out when he got closer:
"I think..." Miles panted heavily to try and ease the pain as he continued to speak brokenly, " I think I might need some help getting up.... . you gotta give me a hand I'm afraid--"
Hobie didn't say a word. He simply picked Miles up whole and over his shoulder, then carried him all the way back to the bed.
Carefully settling the boy down, he went to the table to fetch the medicines; just two days ago they had been opposites, Miles the "doctor" and he the injured patient; now Hobie looked at the bottles of medicine, the swabs and bandages in his hand, and then at Miles's pale, frail face --
He suddenly understood what Miles had said, after he'd forced the boy to hurt himself with a knife; he'd said that Hobie didn't understand how much it had traumatized him, and now Hobie finally did.
He wished beyond, beyond hope that he was the one who needed to be medicated now. That he would be able to take all this damage for Miles.
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Day 6
"Choose between two tasks:
1. A makes B ejaculate without touching B's penis
2. B cuts open A's abdomen
...... What does this mean?
Miles stared hesitantly at the first option, obviously this was their task for the day, but ...... what did this mean? How was he going to orgasm without touching ...... his lower body?
His simple, little brain, not yet fully tainted by lust, prevented him from comprehending the first option, and Hobie saw his hesitation: "Wanna change your mind? I can take another cut."
"What?
Miles gave him a horrified look and continued to frown as he stared at the first option: "It's just--I don't understand . . what does it mean? Like, how am I gonna . . you know, how am I gonna do it without touching . . it?"
"You leave that to me, dear."
........................
Why was he handcuffed again?
Miles stared at the handcuffs that were securely attached to his small arms and wrists, not even lined, all cold metal.
He remembered. Because Hobie said so.
"We gotta make sure. You know, just in case during the process if you can't hold yourself and try to touch... I'll be busy then, can't stop you. . maybe the best way to do is to cuff you first."
And Miles blinked, trusting the other man unreservedly, "Sure."
So Hobie put the cuffs on him, and he even thoughtfully slipped a finger in after the click to see if they were too tight before raising both of Miles' cuffed hands above his head: "Don't move, be a good boy and we can finish this soon."
".... . no hurry."
Miles picked up in a whisper, he wasn't sure if Hobie had heard him, but soon Hobie began to take his lips in a kiss. The punk's tongue slid carefully against his lips, sweeping over each area before continuing inward; oxygen was constantly being stripped away in the process, and when Miles was finally able to catch his breath, he realized that Hobie's hand had slowly made its way downward.
His hand was on Miles' breast-pierced left breast, now slowly rubbing it to make it stand up; his fingers stroked the fragile tip, his nails scratching across the top crevice from time to time; when Miles lowered his head he happened to notice that the newly healed nipple was now being played with until it turned a luscious shade of red, even more pronounced against Hobie's black fingernails; he tried to look away, to divert his attention for a moment, but it was as if the sight had a magic that he couldn't avert his eyes; Hobie continued to stroke as if she hadn't noticed his gaze, then gave the other nipple a gentle kiss.
The wetness made Miles shiver a little, the clanging of metal against metal coming from above his head, and he wanted to reach out and block it, to grab Hobie's hair and tell the other man to pause, that this was too much; yet his tightly cuffed wrists and what Hobie had just said reminded him not to move. He was going to be a good boy.
The other nipple was suddenly taken into a warm mouth, a soft, wet tongue circling and swirling around, occasionally sucking to make it stand up faster; Miles' nipple ring was being tweaked by the man on top of him, alternating between the two sides being played with to make the pleasure rise exponentially; he was gradually losing control of it, and ambiguous gasps escaped from between his nostrils; in an attempt to hide it Miles gritted his teeth and spoke slowly: "Hey man . .umm... . don't..please don't suck it.... .it's--agh... .it's weird."
"It'll help you come faster." rejected Hobie with a mere short reply. Miles was about to say something else, and Hobie's tongue had already left; the tip of the tongue worked its way down his chest, licking across his stomach eventually stopping at the small of his back, just a little bit up against the pubic hair. Neither of them had forgotten the rule, no touching the penis, and that was when Miles realized he had an erection.
Hobie's hand went around there before he had time to open his mouth to warn him. He reached back and groped, massaging the entrance as he slowly probed the inner wall; when Miles squirmed a little in discomfort, he was rewarded with two slaps that landed on the flesh of his ass.
Hobie's voice rang out at this point: "You're wet. Dripping. and I barely touched you. you're so tight, relax will you?"
Miles was quickly losing his confidence in such language; his waist collapsed and his hands clenched together helplessly; he wanted to retort, to say that Hobie had obviously played with his nipples and kissed him, but Miles wasn't sure: maybe it was him, maybe he should relax a little more? ......
"You're not listening, what's so important than me right now? Maybe this will help you focus--"
Hobie adjusted his position, his fingers were long and slightly curved at the moment allowing the knuckles to press right up against Miles' sensitive spot; the intense pleasure caused the boy to moan out uncontrollably, this was the first time he had experienced the sensation of having his rear invaded. Hobie lowered his head again and kissed his ribs and collarbone while forcefully parting Miles' knees with his other hand, breaking the other man's attempts to sneakily clamp his legs together and rub them together: he couldn't stand it, and Punk believed that he was the only one who could make Miles climax, and that no one else could do it but him not even Miles himself.
Fingers began to move in and out faster, fingertips pressing lightly and heavily on Miles' sensitive spots; his other hand stopped to play with Miles' chest, the scabbed palm that had been impaled by the wrist he held Miles in was squeezing and gently lifting the nipple ring that had been applied to Miles' body by his own hand. They carried the scars left by the other on each other, and now the scars vibrated gently against each other, like both hearts were going to slip out of them in the next second.
Miles curled up even on his toes, struggling uncomfortably with both of his calves; his moans had become coherent, one after another spilling out of his chest; perhaps too much of a nuisance to get in the way, Hobie pressed both of his struggling legs together underneath him, and then leaned in to kiss him. A rush of heat came up from below, and Miles' belly began to twitch uncontrollably while Hobie's fingers were still moving in and out of the opening, digging into the sensitive part of the inner wall from time to time; his wrists had been completely strangled red by the iron, and the pain couldn't elicit any further reaction from Miles now that his entire attention was focused on the lower half of his body, and the nipple rings that were being tweaked from time to time on his chest; and as Miles couldn't help but begin to draw breath Hobie squeezed his wrists and lifted them up, around his neck so that Miles' arms were around him.
"Are you a good boy . . tell me, are you?"
"Yes... . yes yes yes yessss. . please, I'll be good . I'm coming... please? Please..."
The roots of Miles' legs were becoming sore from the long spreading, the insides of his thighs jutting and throbbing; and Miles finally came as Hobie pushed his fingers into him hard once more. Moments before he ejaculated Hobie came up and kissed him on the mouth to keep him from making a sound while his erect cock rubbed against the small of Hobie's back; wouldn't that break the rules? Even in this situation Miles' first thought was still their mission; because of the tension his body curled up and his wrists pressed down uncontrollably, and Miles realized with hindsight that the movement would allow the metal cuffs to injure Hobie.
Punk didn't care.
Cum was on his body. It was all over. Away in the air they added another ten points to their score.
"Sorry--I tried to remind you..."
Miles felt a little guilty as he looked around cluelessly for something like a tissue, why was there nothing on the table at this point?
"That's alright."
Hobie calmly uncuffed him, then used her index finger to scrape the cum off and lick it.
"You taste good, I'll give you that."
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