Chapter 19 #3
“Fuck you,” I hiss, but it comes out weaker than I wanted. “I don’t need anything. I just want–I just want to–”
My breath hitches, and my cheeks heat. I can’t. I can’t tell him like this, vulnerable and shit. It’s too humiliating. And the fact that I’m like this, that I was forced to be this way, that this isn’t my fault, just makes me raging mad.
And it’s easier to say it in anger than it is to say it in shame.
“You want to know what my problem is, Young-gi?” I shout, pushing his hand away, squaring up with him.
I’m distantly aware of my friends gasping and backing up, because they all expect me to fight.
To attack him. But that’s not how I behave with him.
Instead, all the vitriol and poison I’ve been holding inside tonight comes spilling out, the way it always seems to do when he demands it from me.
“You want to know why I wanted to come here tonight? Because I can’t fucking cum without being high, alright?
I’m fucking broken, I can’t keep my head on straight and everything’s too fucking loud and I can’t just let someone touch me that way anymore, and I can’t get off when I’m thinking and I’m thinking all the damn time!
And I’m stuck at your house and you know that you turn me on sometimes, you know it, and I can’t fucking do anything about it! ”
I get louder, angrier, because I’ve admitted my shameful secret and I hate it.
Hate this whole thing. Hate the way his face hasn’t changed, the way he’s still just watching me like he’s reeling me in, piece by piece.
“And you shouldn’t get to decide that for me, Young-gi!
That’s fucked up, okay? I should get the chance to get some fucking relief, because goddamn fuck, I’m fucking ready, okay?
Is that what you want to hear? That I’m a fucking nutcase and I need drugs to get off?
That I’m broken? That my dick is broken?
Is it funny to you? Isn’t it pathetic? React, goddamn you! ”
Young-gi steps closer, flickering in the pulsing lights, but I can see the intensity of his gaze under the blue and purple strobes.
He puts his hand under my chin, and I let him.
I let him and I let out a goddamn sappy sigh, like I’m letting something go and I’m relieved.
Like I needed this, and that’s fucked, but I’m so tired and so emotional that I let it slide, just this once.
“What do you normally take, Tommy?” he asks, getting really close so I can hear his deep, rough voice over the music. “Ecstasy?”
“Y-yeah, Molly,” I agree. “Maggie keeps it on hand for me. For when I need…need help.”
“I see.” He looks over my shoulder. “You, ecstasy. Now.”
I attempt to turn, but he tightens his hold on my jaw, a clear and silent warning to stay put. To keep my eyes on him.
“What’s it cost per pill?” he asks, his free hand now holding a little white pill.
“For Tommy? It’s on me,” Maggie’s voice comes from behind me. “You can’t judge him for it. He needs it, alright? It’s been a really long time. Are you going to let him get high without making him feel bad about it?”
This is humiliating. I close my eyes against the embarrassment.
“Yes,” Young-gi says, loud enough for my friends to hear. I almost collapse with relief, with joy, because thank fuck. “Leave. I want to talk to him alone.”
“Okay,” Maggie agrees. “We’ll be waiting. When you’re ready, Tommy, just come find us, okay? We’ll help you.”
He slides a hand down my spine and disappears, the rest of his group following behind, except Georgie. He hesitates by my side, and Young-gi lets me go so I can nod down at him.
“I’m good with him,” I reassure him. “I’m alright. Just go dance. I’ll meet you out there.”
Once he’s gone, Young-gi reclaims my attention.
He guides me into the booth, with me against the wall this time, and sits on the bench with me, trapping me in.
Normally, I’d go feral if someone tried to trap me, but with him?
I don’t hate it. I might even kind of like it.
I’ve never been trapped by someone I wanted to be trapped by. It’s a novel experience.
Young-gi is silent when he cracks the top off a bottle of water and hands it to me with the pill. I swallow it eagerly and wash it down, so grateful I don’t even know if a thank you is enough, but I say it anyway.
“Thanks,” I murmur, and he slides closer to hear me better. “I-I need this.”
“I’m sure.”
And I bristle, my shame taking that statement as derogatory. “Fuck off. It’s not– I just– You know what, I don’t owe you anything for this. Me being able to do this should be a given, okay? It would be sick as fuck for you to try and tell me no. So, I don’t owe you any thank yous.”
He tilts his head at me, like studying me from a different angle will let him see more of me. “Lots of men struggle with ED, Tommy. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
“What are you, the dick doctor?” I snap, intentionally abrasive.
He raises an eyebrow, and I get the feeling that I’m getting closer to the line that gets me some discipline. Some correction. But he lets it slide. Maybe there are times when I get more leeway, more understanding, and this is one of them. “I’ve had the occasional problem performing, too.”
The offered secret is so unexpected that I do an auditory double-take. Like I need to play back the tape so see if that’s what he actually said.
“Wait, really?”
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “I told you, I don’t feel things. Sometimes I have sex because it’s a physical need, but more often than not, I take care of myself. When I’m with another person, I don’t always feel enough for them, don’t desire them enough, to finish. It’s just part of who I am.”
That last sentence hits me hard and my face twists into a grimace. “Yeah? Well, I wish this wasn’t part of who I am.”
“You came here tonight because you wanted relief, is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“So that’s what all the kissing was about? All the touching? They were trying to help you get off?”
My cheeks heat and I squirm in my chair.
When the fuck is this ecstasy gonna kick in?
I want to be done with this conversation.
“Yeah. It’s easier for me if I’m high. If I’m not alone with someone, if there’s no pressure.
Lots of stimulus, lots of things going on.
We don’t get naked, they don’t touch me under my clothes or anything.
It’s just vibes, just grinding on the dance floor. It’s easier like that. Less…just less.”
Yeah, plenty to unpack there. But I’m not interested in elaborating, especially not in the middle of a nightclub.
“I see.”
And we sit there like that, both of us waiting. It seems awkward to me, but I doubt he feels that way. He’s as stone cold as ever. “Drink your water.”
I do as I’m told, sipping on the bottle he got for me, tapping the table and fidgeting in my seat, feeling oddly grounded under the now-familiar weight of his stare.
When a wave of heat rolls through me, when sweat beads on my skin and a tingle starts in my fingertips, I sigh in relief. “It’s kicking in.”
“Fast acting,” he comments.
“It’s been like fifteen minutes,” I complain. “Felt like ages.”
“Fifteen is fast,” he points out. “Which means it’s strong. You’ll need to watch out for the come down.”
“I don’t care about that right now,” I push that off for future me to deal with. “Let me out of the booth, I want to get this show on the road.”
“No.”
Wait…huh? I blink uncomprehendingly. “What?”
“You aren’t going back out there. You want to cum? You’ll do it right here.”
At first I don’t understand, and I shake my head even as I start feeling warm and cottony all over. “No, Young-gi, I can’t do it by myself, that’s half the problem, okay? I get in my own head, I just can’t–”
“You’re not by yourself, Tommy.”
“I’m not… What?”
He can’t possibly mean that we should… He couldn’t possibly be implying that I…
“I’m right here, Tommy,” he says calmly, proving that he does, in fact, mean what I thought he meant.
Holy fuck.
******************
Young-gi
Tommy’s mouth drops open and he stares in complete shock. I’ve made him speechless, which is an accomplishment, but I’m too keyed up and dialed in to feel proud about that.
“You’re going to stay here, at this table, with me.
” I let some stern command creep into my voice, because I like the way it makes him shiver.
“And I’m going to be the one that helps you, Tommy.
Me. You want to get off? You need some help?
Then another rule for tonight is that it has to be me, and no one else. Do we have a deal?”
And I’m hungry for him to say yes, to say he needs my help with something so intimate, so personal. God, if he needed me for something so private and vulnerable… I want it so bad my teeth ache. The power and trust, the connection. The possession.
I want that.
And I don’t think I can take even one more minute of watching him kiss and touch other men. Not when I’m the one that really wants to take care of him, when I’m the one that knows what’s best for him.
“You-you-you-” He chokes on the words, gasps a bit. “You’re straight! What the fuck?”
He’s not wrong, technically, just by looking at my track record. “Yes, historically speaking, but I can still make you cum, can’t I?”
A high-pitched giggle leaks from his lips, sounding almost deranged. Cute.
“I think my Molly was bad,” he finally mutters, his pupils already dilating, his muscles already getting loose and relaxed. “Because I could swear you just told me that you’ll make me cum, even though you’re straight.”
“Maggie said it’s been a while, huh?” I push, knowing that there’s a good chance he’ll turn me down.
I’m not someone he’s very comfortable with yet, in fact I make him uncomfortable.
But I know he wants me, and I can use that.
“You must be really feeling it. I bet it’s almost painful.
Do you need it, Tommy? You want me to make you cum? ”
He chokes. “Holy shit.”