Chapter 6
The last day.
That was Miles' first thought when he woke up on the tenth day of his confinement to this room.
Hobie was still asleep with his head buried in his pillow. Instead of rushing to the mission panel this time, Miles lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling in a daze.
The past ten days had been like a dream, and if it hadn't been for the daily quests Miles would have long ago lost all concept of time. He had gained some sexual experience in those ten days, a nipple ring, two tattoos - and something else. Miles realized something had changed, but he couldn't accurately describe it; to make his time waiting for Hobie to wake up a little less boring, Miles quietly pulled up two strands of Hobie's hair and braided them.
It was only after he finally tied a bow at the end and patted it in satisfaction that Miles was startled by the black eyes staring back at him; Hobiewoke up at some point and flashed a grimace as Miles looked over at him, "You done, sunflower?"
"... . we've got job to do."
Miles dodged the question woefully and turned to the other side of the room.
"Day 10 Please choose between the following tasks:
1.A penetrates B and performs an act of sexual asphyxiation with internal ejaculation
2.B slits A's throat "
Great.
At the moment he saw the task Miles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, they had actually guessed roughly what this was about yesterday, and surmising the progress of the last few days they had a good idea of what they were going to have to deal with today, but Hobieand he had both tacitly chosen to keep their mouths shut.
Someone always had to be the first to break the silence, however.
"So,"
Hobie easily put his arm over Miles' shoulder: "You gonna slit my throat, or you gonna lemme fuck you? FYI, I won't reject either of 'em."
And Miles suddenly felt a wave of unexplained irritation. He pushed Hobbie's arm away from him and took the initiative to walk in the direction of the bed: "Obviously you know the answer, so why bother asking."
.............................. .............................. .........
Hobie was kissing his belly button. He was sucking out hickey after hickey on Miles' smooth, firm belly, one hand pressed against the inside of the boy's thighs to separate them, the other pressed against his crotch; I wondered if it was a coincidence that he happened to have his hands on both of Miles' tattoos.
The still not fully healed skin was a little hot to the touch, and Hobie traced the outline of the spider tattoos with the tip of his tongue, shifting his direction as he did so, grabbing Miles' hand and lowering it to his chest; the assignment had been that it was okay as long as he cummed inside Miles, but Hobie wanted to bring the same kind of pleasure that Miles had been given - the
He took Miles' cock in his mouth and went back to gently rubbing the tips of the fleshy nipples, and as Hobie made sure the boy ejaculated and pulled away holding Miles' ankles, which were hooked tightly from his orgasm, he leaned in to Miles' ear and said, " I love you."
The words elicited a much more intense reaction from Miles than Hobiehad expected; the boy pinned beneath him shook violently for a moment, and his eyes, stained with tears from his orgasm, looked up at him in amazement, like a panicked, scurrying deer about about to run into a hunter's trap. Miles didn't shyly close his eyes or say it back like Hobie expected; instead, the boy looked uncomfortable and frowned in resistance : "Don't--don't say it . . just, do... . just do it already."
"Don't be hasty."
Hobie's curiosity is piqued: he wants to test a theory of his own. Punk began to go even more overboard, rubbing two fingers of his own shallowly in and out of his pussy while continually kissing his way up the small of Miles' back, over his stomach, chest, collarbone and neck; the in and out of his fingers became faster and faster as he kissed his way upward, each stroke delicately pressing against Miles' sensitive spot.
Accompanying the kisses was Hobie's I love you with every kiss.
Everything he was doing was perfectly in line with what a passionate lover would do in bed, except his current partner wasn't into it at all.
Miles' body was taut as a sheet of steel. No matter how much Hobie pinched his nipples, stroked his rear end or slapped his buttocks, he could never relax. Not only that, but the boy kept trying to stop Hobiefrom going on and on, after each kiss: "Stop--don't, don't say it please . . just stop, please?"
The countdown on the wall began to flash, signaling that they had half an hour left. Hobietugged on Miles' hand forcing the other man to touch his lower back: he was hard. Only after he'd exhausted himself in making Miles come twice more, after the boy's hole had become muddy and juicy as a cracked grape that wouldn't stop flowing, while the other man's arms unconsciously hooked around his shoulders, did Hobie press his hardening sex against Miles' back hole.
But he didn't rush into it.
"Say it back."
Hobie commanded in short, demanding bursts. He looked into Miles' bewildered eyes and slapped the other man's cheek twice gently: "You gotta say it back."
".... .no."
Miles refused. Expectedly. But Hobiewanted to know why.
He pinched Miles' cheeks to force them to look at each other, and if Miles dropped his eyes or his gaze wandered around, he would relentlessly catch up; Hobie forced himself to look at the boy underneath him: "Say it back. I'm not asking. Why wouldn't you say it back?"
"You have to, Bambi. say it back. come on, pretty. say it back."
"Say it back."
"Say it back."
......
Hobie demanded again and again, and Miles shook his head no each time. His hand resisted against Hobbie's chest yet he didn't have the strength to push it away, but Miles persisted. He kept shaking his head but couldn't give Hobiea proper reason.
So Hobie began to fuck him.
The sex was deep and heavy with each entry, Hobbie's cock holding the hole to fullness, and this time the pain was far richer than the pleasure; he was tactful and experienced, even if the usual punk-like personality was frigid.
He pinched the back of Miles' neck with just the right amount of force to keep the other man from resisting without suffocating; he nibbled at the tips of Miles' breasts, pulling on the nipple rings until the metal was on the verge of ripping that piece of flesh apart, oozing beads of blood that he rolled away with the tip of his scarlet tongue while Hobiewasted no time in tender kisses that covered the boy's entire cheek. His hand pressed against the tattoo separating the boy's thighs, where his name was, and a little further up, where a spider lay on the boy's skin. Hobie didn't appreciate the task, he didn't like watching the boy's bare skin leave marks that couldn't be erased, even if they were all marks that belonged to him. The spider that had changed his fate, Hobie thought as he reached down to soothe Miles' cock, pressing the fragile head against his palm.
The spider that had bitten him was the pattern he had chosen for Miles. It had changed his, both of their destinies, it was a symbol of identity, the beginning of a journey and the end of a previous experience. It was the dividing line that marked the point after which his life was not destined to return to normal.
It was when it appeared to Miles that his soul finally became whole. It meant that Hobie delivered a piece of his destiny to Miles.
Punk buried himself deep into Miles as he kissed the other man's ear and said, "You are the destination.... I love you."
Love, a word that Hobie never thought he would ever say. He didn't believe in love. Now he still won't think about it. It's pointless. Why do people have to label everything?
"Say it back. "At the junction of pain and pleasure Hobie paused, staring at the boy, a drop of sweat rolling down his chest and dripping onto the white sheets: "Say it back, and I'll give you whatever you want.I'll give you everything--I'll give in to Only if you say it back."
"Say it back."
"...I can't. I can't."
Under the searing gaze Miles closed his eyes to give his answer. He leaned back, exposing the curve of his neck, and Hobie realized he couldn't get the answer he wanted from Miles, and understood.
Punk lowered his head and sank his canines into Miles' neck. It only took a little force for him to make blood gush out of the boy's skin, staining their bodies; but he just clenched there, fucking Miles so hard that he couldn't think or say no. The copulation was becoming a bit of a misery, the opening rubbed to the point of near-transparency, and liquid continued to drip down there. Hobie was no longer obsessed with hearing an answer from Miles, and likewise, he was no longer obsessed with saying the word.
They could not be any closer than they were at this moment, and their hearts could not be any farther apart than they were at this moment.
Hobie bit down on Miles' neck and shot out, cum leaving the mouth of the hole that had been violated to the point of closure, the white liquid contrasting with the darker skin, the roots of the thighs that had been slammed until they were flushed red. The image was lewd and erotic, and when Miles closed his eyes wearily and leaned back, his exposed skin was covered in teeth marks and bruises. His pucker was still quivering and contracting, liquid slowly dripping from it and running down the roots of his thighs and onto the sheets. Hobie plunged a finger in and stirred it, helping him clean out the cum that remained in his body. The nails scraping against the fragile inner walls made Miles scream out first, but he held back.
"You won't say it back,"
Hobie held Miles in his arms, he wasn't allowed to allow the boy to clean himself up or allow the other man to move; so Miles was left to lie in the arms of the object of his lovemaking after an intense sexual experience, with his two calves folded up on top of each other.
"You won't lemme die. You don't let me choose."
Hobie lowered his head and rubbed the tip of Miles' nose affectionately saying in a harsh voice, "You fucking dictator."
Miles' body shuddered a little fiercely at the malice in his tone; he couldn't break free of Hobie's embrace, the only thing left to do was to avoid the other man's gaze.
"I'm sorr--you know what, hate me for that, I don't care--that's the only way fair."
"Two things Bambi. first, there's no right or wrong in love."
Hobie bowed his head and continued to kiss his little dictator tenderly, one after the other; he hated everything that went against people's free will, and the irony of it was that now he found himself willingly accepting to be influenced by another; in a sense, he succumbed.
"Second, I do love you."
So this is what love likes.
Love is not to bend free will. It doesn't work like that.
It is like, a leap of faith, that falls into another soul, and fallen ever after.
…………………………………………
"Congratulations. You have finished all the tasks and gained 100 points. Before leaving, each of you have two choices. To erase the experience from your memory, or to keep it. You have ten minutes to choose, start now."
"Note this, once choices are made they cannot be changed. Please be careful with your choices."
Before they were about to be released, this passage appeared on a panel in the room. This odd space actually did an unexpectedly humane job of this, giving them the power to choose to keep this memory or not.
The atmosphere is somewhat awkward. Hobieand Miles stood together while there was like an invisible barrier between them, no physical contact, no eye contact, and no words.
They had completed their last day successfully, and there would be nothing more intimate than what they had done. They shared similar experiences, experiences, even personalities. In every way, they seemed like the perfect couple.
But there was a lot of distance between them. Far beyond the confines of this room. This room, this quirky room had exposed them at their most intimate; this room had allowed them to open up and communicate, had allowed them to deepen their understanding of each other each and every day, and as the ten days came to an end, the moment they left the room everything seemed to go back to square one.
They had triumphed. The room hadn't destroyed their wills, the traces left by the flesh would eventually fade or be covered up by various means; they had maintained two separate individuals and everything seemed perfect.
All they gotta do is to make a choice.
And now they were going through a crisis like no other.
This time Miles chose to take the lead. He summoned the courage to turn to Hobbie, but his gaze remained lowered to the ground:"Look, you don't have to...you know, try to comfort me in every way possible, there's no need. We both did...what we agreed to do, and we're even. Nobody owns anybody--and just...don't feel guilty or anything. I mean, you could choose to delete this memory of the past ten days a-and we can go back being friends."He seemed to be convinced by his own words, and the boy boldly raised his head to survey the look on Hobbie's face: "Nothing's changed."
"Nothing's changed?" Hobie asked rhetorically, staring at him, "So what's the point of it, of us being trapped here, making these bloody choices each day? To survive, to breathe again in this miserable world?"
"That's just fucking pathetic."
"You're no friend to me, not even from the start."
The words made Miles wince. His heart flooded with pain, as if he'd been stabbed with pins and needles, and more than that, sadness. The thought suddenly occurred to him that perhaps this was the ultimate purpose of the room, and that everything before had only been a buildup to this moment.
A mental breakdown or a demise of free will was nothing, the scars would eventually heal with time, both physically and mentally.
But nothing is more profound than the opposition of two souls; nothing can be more saddening than the fading away of those who once stood side by side, and nothing hurts more than the breakup of a relationship.
This room took ten tasks to make them hurt each other, and Hobiewas unharmed with him; and then it took one choice, the simplest of choices, that appeared on the eve of victory, to bring them to near-antipathy.
That is the ultimate test of humanity.
"Is that why you told me to stop saying I love you when we fucked? Is it?"On the other side, Hobie continued to press the issue.
"You think that all the things I did was out of...mercy, not coz I like you, but just for I don't wanna let you die? Is it? Is it why you wouldn't say it back?"
"Silly, arrogant boy. You're wrong. I could not care less about life. I did everything out of one purpose, that is I wanted to do 'em."
"Five minutes left."
Hobielooked aside at the timing floating in the air and cocked his head thoughtfully; he'd found the problem, but it wasn't a problem he could fix.
"You know what dear, imma let you choose for me."
Hobiecontinued without looking at Miles: "You're going to pick for me, whether I remember all that happened or not, everything depends on you. your choice."
"You have my fate now."
He left all the choices to Miles. Letting the other man decide their shared destiny.
Was it to forget it all, or to keep this twisted, pure memory? Will they go back to where they started, or will they be brave enough to take this step on a new journey?
"Time's Up. Please make your decision."
—————————TBC——————————