This story is set a few months before ‘The Circle’
This story is based on the authors first experience as a ticklee.
This story contains drug use.
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Troye had been speaking to Manu, on and off, for almost a year on Instagram.
Most of their conversation had been based around sex.
Troye had a thing for big, muscular guys who could throw him around the bedroom, whilst Manu leant more toward the skinny, pretty boy type …
Manu was a top, Troye was a bottom; their wants, roles and desires matched perfectly …
Yet they still had not swapped numbers.
Yet they still had not met.
They had instead exchanged hundreds and hundreds of pictures, videos and voice notes.
Troye would pose in all of Manu’s favourite angles.
He would press his bare stomach over his mattress and arch his back, aim his iPhone at the mirror, capture his unclothed, open body, his spread apart legs and his silky soft soles in the reflection, just for Rios …
Manu had stood naked in a hotel bathroom, ready to take a selfie, fully erect and with his left hand tucked behind his head, exposing the depth of his hairy underarm and toned, defined abs, just for Sivan …
Troye had lost count how many times he had masturbated over Manu’s voice as the Spanish actor described his levels of attraction towards Troye.
Manu had lost count how many times he had masturbated over content Troye would send almost every other day; his night was Manu’s morning, Troye’s morning was Manu’s night, what’s the time where you are became a question they would ask each other frequently.
Yet they still had not swapped numbers.
Yet they still had not met.
If things could not get anymore virtually electric between both young men, Manu landed in Troye’s DM’s for the fifteenth time that week to simply announce the fact that one day, sometime soon, he would want to tie Troye to his bed and, in Manu’s very words, ‘show him the meaning of intimacy’ …
From that moment on, any time Manu messaged Troye, Troye would get a lump in his throat; his heart beat would quicken, the muscles either side of his head would tighten, his eyes would water …
He would find himself forcing his iPhone into the bedside drawer where he would close it and then pace around his bedroom nervously, his guts wrenching with a mixture of heightened anxiety and mind numbing excitement.
He had been tied up a few times before, by ex boyfriends who thought they were more dominant than they actually were; using a set of handcuffs on someone so submissive gave a lot of men an ego boost, something Troye was kind enough to allow in previous relationships.
But the idea of Manu doing it to him sent shivers down Troye’s spine; the thought of it alone aroused him to the point where it entered his dreams, it distracted him from work, it forced his hand down past his waist almost every morning, where he would touch himself over Manu’s simple suggestion, a simple suggestion that had levelled absolutely everything up, almost instantly.
Yet they still had not swapped numbers.
Yet they still had not met.
After such a lengthy build up, the reality of actually standing face to face with Manu made Troye feel a little sick.
So much had been said, so much had been seen, so much had been shared …
In Troye’s mind, Manu existed as an imaginary person; an object and voice on the other side of his iPhone screen, an untouchable, out of reach character that Troye had used to fill voids in hotel rooms in the night time.
Actually speaking with each other, using his own vocal chords to communicate, witnessing Manu Fucking Rios as a physical entity inches opposite him were thoughts that made Troye feel physically uncomfortable throughout the eight hour flight from London to New York City.
His best friend Robert asked Troye several times if he were okay.
“No, I’m good,” Troye would say, brushing off his anxiety, smiling out of the plane window as he willed himself to feel less nervous.
Just don’t meet him, Troye decided.
You don’t have to do anything.
Straight away, he felt that repetitive sting in the middle of his chest subside, almost as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over the flame.
The relief faded away; he sank into his seat, he closed his eyes and devoured the comfort that came along with a future that did not involve an awkward conversation, social embarrassment or any sexual disappointment.
His inner saboteur and their constant self destructive pokes no longer vocalised their doubts.
What if he thinks your ugly.
What if he thinks your too slim.
What if he thinks you’re boring.
What if he hates your music.
What if you can’t get it up.
What if,
What if,
What if,
Became what?
Who the fuck cares?
Once at JFK airport, Troye switched off airplane mode and allowed Whatsapp messages and other ordinary notifications to flood through his phone.
Once in the taxi to Manhattan, Troye acknowledged that Manu had not contacted him at all, since their last exchange of messages one day ago.
Once Troye and Robert had checked into Soho House, Troye realised that maybe Manu might feel the same way as he did …
____________
Trust the simulation, don't you let it break
Every stimulation, promise I can take
What you wanna give? Boy, you better show me what
You've been scheming up
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After two days of radio silence, Troye felt dizzy at the sight of an Instagram story reply from Manu.
@manurios: having fun my prince? xxx
Whilst Robert tried on recently purchased sunglasses, Troye stood outside The Empire State Building as still as a stone, his eyes unblinking at his iPhone.
To say Troye had not been uploading tourist-style sight seeing photo’s of Central Park just to get Manu’s attention would be a pure lie.
Despite fearing meeting such a God, deep down Troye hoped his presence in New York would gain Manu’s attention; after all, Manu had known Troye would be taking a vacation here for quite some time, he had spoken about it to him only last week, he had seen all the other story uploads since Troye had landed, and now, right now, contacted had been made.
Troye hovered his thumbs over the keyboard.
His first initial response was to type,
when are we meeting up x
But the mere suggestion of lighting that match made him feel so utterly nervous he almost threw up over the side walk.
He knew he would leave disheartened.
He knew he would fly away filled with regret.
He knew he would miss his chance.
But it seemed like a decent price to pay, for not feeling as torn apart inside over the idea of a perfect fantasy becoming an imperfect reality.
Troye typed out his reply and hit send.
🐀
Both Troye and Robert had spent the following day lounging by the pool at Soho House.
Since ten in the morning they had made their way through a bottle of wine each, a cheese burger each and two lines of powder each.
They had soaked up the sun, bitched about friends, discussed the recent dramatic events in The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, sank each other in the water, made new friends, talked and talked and talked and talked, smoked cigarettes, taken naps and over the space of eight hours grown a gradual tan after spending the day in speedos and shades.
After a hot shower and a dance around their hotel room to Christina Aguliera’s underrated Bionic album, it was time to get ready for a night out in Brooklyn.
Troye and Robert stumbled into their pre ordered taxi, high, happy and intoxicated.
Troye wore an oversized acid wash Alexander McQueen t-shirt with a silver chain around his neck. The sleeves to his tee were rolled up to his shoulders, its material baggy and thick. His leather trousers sat snug around his waist, his military booted feet caused a thud with every step, his blonde bowl cut hair was shaggy and purposefully messy over his head.
Robert wore a tight mesh vest tucked into denim short shorts, with thick white Nike socks and expensive Balenciaga trainers dressing him from the shins down.
Both gay men, free spirited and careless, arrived at an outside bar as the city began to darken and the nightlife started to gather around them; even a few rats had joined the party, causing a group of nearby girls to squeal and jump aside as the rodents scattered along the edge of the sidewalk and down a gutter expelling rolls of steam.
More chardonnay was clumsily poured into fingerprint stained glasses, more cigarettes were determinedly lit, more Marlboro Red smoke was blown out into the humid air as Troye and Robert continued to put the worlds to rights with conversation fuelled by millions of tiny white crystals.
Troye did not have to question why he had consumed so much in the past ten hours; he knew that venturing out into New Yorks gay scene might lead to him bumping into Manu, so the sniffs of confidence and the glugs of courage were to be expected.
When it eventually happened, Troye felt satisfied with his levels of self assuredness; he did not feel terrified or alarmed, he did not let nerves consume him, mostly because they were no longer there at all. They had been dampened by the poison and, even though he knew he would suffer in the morning, he would much rather stand cocky and calm that jittery and jaunted.
“Is it him?” Robert asked.
Troye nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on Manu, who sat surrounded by several other gay men at a table ten feet away, his presence sudden but expected, overwhelmingly effortless and manageably normal.
Cigarette smoke, traffic pollution and an overall drunken haze hummed between Troye and Manu as the noise made by many other people littering the outside bar faded away into nothing, until all Troye could hear was a ringing in his ears.
Manu’s smile was so wide and fierce that his perfect white teeth practically glistened in the night time; his head lifting, a movement that requested Troye stand up right away and join him immediately.
Robert, seated opposite Troye, could see the cogs turning behind his forehead.
“Are we going over?” He asked.
Troye nodded once again.
He picked up his cigarettes and his glass of wine, standing from the table, as Robert scooped up the bottle of chardonnay.
They squeezed past groups and slid through crowds until they arrived at Manu’s table, Troye’s already speedy heart rate now pounding so hard he could feel it press against his t-shirt.
Before Troye could feel frustrated that his levels of angst had succeeded in breaking through the wall of intoxication he had so fiercely spent the day building, Manu took him in a giant bear hug, wrapping his muscular arms around the entirety of Troye’s torso, lifting him from the vodka stained ground, where he carried him around the table and kissed his neck, his cheeks, his nose and the top of his head …
Manu’s friends cheered and laughed as some watched Manu embrace Troye in such a manhandled way, whilst others stood to greet Robert and welcome him to their table.
Troye felt flustered and shocked as his feet landed back over the concrete, Manu’s hands so large and big that their strength and hold contained each of Troye’s arms within his palms.
“Finally, my prince! We meet!” Manu gushed excitedly, “How surreal is this?”
Troye, in a daze, allowed his eyes to take in Manu’s beyond gorgeous features; his towering height, his glowing skin, his perfectly shaped eyebrows, his fluttering eyelashes, the absolute perfect shade of pink that made up his lips.
He wore a tight grey vest that clung to his panther-like shape. His white jeans were high waisted and flared. His boots were leather, with a chunky silver heel. He wore a red bandana over his head and a silver hoop in his left ear.
Troye felt a warmth radiate from Manu, a vibe that immediately made him feel calmer, part of his circle, part of his life, even though it had only been a few seconds of doing the thing Troye had wanted to avoid so badly since stepping off that plane; meeting Manu was actually fun, it was tactile, hands on, nothing to have been worried about, it was normal and ordinary, it was just two men who are attracted to each other exchanging words instead of messages, a simplicity that even suggested the fact that nothing might happen between them at all, this reality might just be them laughing over what they had sent to each other over the past year instead of taking it all so seriously, a future scenario Troye could happily get on board with.
“Oh my god,” Troye chuckled and dropped his head over his chest, “I was so fucking nervous,” he raised his voice over the surrounding numbers of people, “It’s so great to finally meet you, fuck, it’s been a long time coming, hey!” Troye’s eyes flickered over Manu’s outfit, from head to toe, “Loving the pirate chic,” he enjoyed how flirtatious he sounded, the acknowledgement of his own tone and its confident delivery fuelling his self belief.
Manu placed his hands over both of Troye’s shoulders and squeezed them hard; he too had to shout into Troye’s ear due to the increasing volume of New York City nightlife vibrating around them.
“I didn’t think this would happen, after your reply!”
Troye winced and stood on tip toes, his hands landing on Manu’s narrow waist as he stretched his neck up so that his mouth reached Manu’s left ear.
“I’m sorry!” Troye yelled, a nearby fire truck and its siren slowly passing by, “I was trying to put it off! The idea of meeting you freaked the fuck outta me!”
Manu closed his eyes and laughed into Troye’s chest, nudging the young man away from him so he could get a good look at the Australian pop star standing short but tall, just inches opposite; he opened his eyes and allowed them to travel over Troye’s boyish good looks, the thickness of his adam’s apple, the way his t-shirt looked three sizes too big, the small-ness of his body from head to toe … He was ‘twink’, personified, and he knew it.
“Something as special as this should not be put off,” Manu smirked, “Come on, let me introduce you to my friends …”
As both Manu and Troye turned their focus to a high pitched group of gay men soaking Robert with attention, Troye acknowledged the heat of Manu’s right hand as it rested gently over the bottom of his spine, a suggestive touch that informed Troye that tonight might not just consist of friendly chit chat after all.
In Manu’s Greenwich Village apartment, the most vibrant colours that Troye could pick out were red, orange and navy blue.
Some corner lamps in the living room had been switched on, a few scented candles lit; all of Manu’s tall power top friends either danced, drank or engaged in surprisingly witty conversation, the tallest and most Manu-esque of Rios’ tribe connecting his phone to the speakers, hitting play on Troye’s latest album.
Troye did not blush or act coy when hearing his proudest stretch of work yet; he fist pumped the air and showcased the choreography he had learned when filming the Rush and Get This Started music videos as the volume increased and the living room windows were opened, so the rest of New York could hear the chart topping pop anthems as the base boomed and shuddered through the floorboards.
Manu’s friends took to Troye and Robert immediately; it was as if it were meant to be, a joining of enthusiastic and energetic personalities combined like glue thanks to a love of clubbable music, drag and alcohol.
Some of Manu’s friends tried on Manu’s selection of heels. They would prance around and vogue, whilst cigarettes were lit and more chardonnay was poured; time no longer a factor within this evening that seemed to go on forever.
Was it midnight yet? Had it passed twelve? Who knew? Who cared.
Manu returned after a fifteen minute absence; the reasons behind his departure known, unspoken but massively welcomed, a few eager friends already making their way over to their leader, who would soon cut and divide the previously purchased-down-an-alley lines of vivacity that would transform the keen individuals from untroubled to oblivious.
For a few moments, Troye became lost in the natural flow of the evening; the normality of this night was a constant reminder that he should not of worked himself up the way he did; something would either happen, or it would not, a fork in a road Troye felt satisfied to experience either way.
The path Troye would take was confirmed sooner rather than later when Troye felt a buzz in his back pocket.
As Robert poured vodka into icy glasses, Troye picked his iPhone out from his trousers and glanced down at an Instagram message from Manu.
@manurios: tickle tickle 🪶
Troye smirked; he lifted his head and caught Manu’s eye from across the room.
Manu sat perched on the arm of his sofa, his eyes lusting at Troye from over his glass as he took a sip.
As the volume of the music dialled up a notch and as Robert threw himself into the middle of Manu’s dancing friends, Manu stood quietly and walked away from the noise, towards his open bedroom door.
Troye watched him carefully, assessing his every move, taking in his body language as Manu slid into his bedroom, leaving the door open.
Troye wiped some vodka away from his upper lip as he placed his hands on his hips and faced the large window looking out to New York City.
He felt that sting return, right in the very pit of his stomach. God, he hated that feeling so much; it crippled him, disabled his movement, hypnotised him into a fixed position. It stopped him from being who he was. It restricted him from experiencing things that could be unique. It was such a strong, invasive reaction to the unknown that Troye had to stand there and make some kind of effort to look at it in a completely different way.
Instead of it being his weakness, he decided to turn it into his power.
Troye downed his glass of vodka and placed it over the ledge framing Manu’s fireplace.
He then took a determined stroll past a group of ten taking shots with Robert and made his way towards Manu’s bedroom.
As he faced Manu’s bedroom door, Troye felt his weakness transform into an acknowledgment that this rush flooding through his veins was his very entity, the meaning of him; it was the thing that made his blood flow, the thing that made him feel alive, now more than ever.
Isn’t this what life is meant to feel like?
Isn’t it meant to be intense and exhilarating and uncontrollable?
Troye nudged the door open with the toe of his boot.
As the large wooden slab swung slowly inward, Troye was greeted by the sight of Manu standing entirely naked at the corner of his large double bed.
The bedside lamp lit Manu’s body in such a way that his skin looked like it was made of pure gold. His long arms dangled by his side. His structured torso displayed itself like some perfectly carved statue. His stomach was defined and smooth, it stretched all the way down to his tall standing erection. His thighs bulged, his powerful legs standing a few metres apart, his large, big feet planted confidently over the carpet.
He looked like he was waiting.
Troye pushed the door carefully shut, closing away the music and the shouts, the laughter and the footsteps, the cigarette smoke and the cheers; it all became simple muffled noise as Troye turned around and began to approach Manu.
Manu’s bedroom was surprisingly small. It consisted of a double bed, a desk, MacBook and chair, a bedside lamp, a tall plant, scented candles and a window that currently had the blinds drawn.
The walls to Manu’s bedroom were decorated in framed artwork; there was a modern style portrait of Elizabeth Taylor on one wall and a copy of Andy Warhol’s ‘Skull’ artwork on the other. Polaroids of he and his friends were pinned over the entire expanse of the wall leading towards his ensuite bathroom. The average sized space was typically New York. It was filled with Manu’s character, it was unapologetic and colourful, mature but immature, a swift reminder for Troye that the spectacular adonis standing so triumphantly within this setting was actually four years younger than him.
Manu and Troye both smiled at the same time as they arrived toe to toe.
Their height difference did not stop them from kissing, something they both wanted to do without further hesitation now that the private opportunity had presented itself.
Manu leaned down and Troye stood on tip toes; their lips brushing against each other at first, the contact gentle, intimate and cautious.
Goosebumps fluttered across the bottom of Troye’s spine as he felt Manu’s fingers curl around the hem of his t-shirt.
Slowly, Manu lifted the t-shirt up Troye’s body, exposing his defined ribcage, taunt stomach and tiny chest; he dropped the tee at their feet, returning his lips to Troye, this time kissing his jaw, his neck, his shoulder …
Troye could not help but grin as he felt Manu’s hands slide down the back of his leather trousers.
The twenty four year olds palms cupped an ass cheek each; Troye hooked his arms over each of Manu’s shoulders, pressing his forehead into his chest as he allowed Manu to explore his behind, the Spanish actors curious index finger sliding under Troye’s underwear, where it teased its presence against the silky soft base of Troye’s balls, causing Troye’s cock to stiffen.
Troye bit his upper lip and breathed quietly into Manu’s skin as Manu gently pressed against that space, his kisses now journeying over to the other side of Troye’s neck.
As Troye absorbed Manu’s embrace, his eyes fell on four velcro straps and a green bundle of rope laid out over the mattress.
A bubble of excitement boiled within Troye with such force that it made him toe off his boots, kicking them aside, now standing in his socks, the inches that made up the leather soles of his footwear no longer giving him that additional height, making him appear just that much shorter than Manu.
Manu broke the kiss and smiled as he gazed into Troye’s lips; his content look saying to Troye, ‘I want to show you something’.
He took Troye by the hand and led him to the desk, where he sat down on the chair and then positioned Troye on his lap.
Troye could feel Manu’s hard on press against the bottom of his back as he rested his spine into Manu’s chest.
As traffic thirty feet below continued to sound its many horns and rev its many engines, the energetic group in the living room continued to dance and laugh as they persisted in the shot taking, the cigarette smoking, the telling of many stories …
Manu opened up his MacBook and then typed fast moving fingertips over the keyboard.
A website called ‘MyBuddiesFeet’ arrived on the screen.
Manu clicked the ‘enter’ button on the homepage and then typed in his log in details.
The many images of handsome men strapped to tables or stocked chairs, tickled with various tools by sometimes one, two, three or four other good looking males at a time reflected in Troye’s captivated eyes. Their hysterical laughter, agonising expressions, tight grins and bulging muscles strengthened Troye’s arousal; he could feel it grow in his underwear, beneath the thick layer of leather that made up his trousers.
“I know we have a lot on our to do list,” Manu grinned as he kissed Troye’s shoulder, speaking into his flesh, “But this is what I want tonight …” Manu looked at Troye as Troye shuffled in his lap, so that they faced each other.
Troye analysed Manu’s eyes; his almost puppy dog look expression, his raised, perfectly trimmed brows, an adorably sexy face that simply said, ‘please?’
Troye had fallen head over heels by the idea of being dominated by Manu; ever since Manu had suggested it. Troye was aware of his own body, how slight he was, how much he could bend, the positions he could place himself in, the positions he could be placed in. He knew, for a top like Manu, that his aesthetic was something Manu would be overjoyed to explore. This acknowledgement was not arrogant or boastful, braggy or self promoting, it was an example of the self love Troye had made a conscious effort to practise every day since he had been bullied as a teenager for being too skinny or too feminine. After stepping foot into the gay scene, in Australia, London, New York, Paris, even the very depths of South Africa as a bewildered seventeen year old, Troye had become fiercely aware that his ‘look’ could easily be devoured by a person with a taste for pure control.
Tonight, that person would be Manu.
Troye nodded slowly, a smile of intrigue lifting his lips as he looked down into Manu’s mouth.
Manu could not help but fail in hiding his relief once he had seen Troye provide his consent.
Troye shuffled off of Manu’s lap as Manu slowly stood away from the chair; he picked up a nearby packet of coke and started to pat out two generous, messy lines beside his MacBook.
Manu pinched a dollar bill from his wallet as Troye picked up Manu’s glass of rum and lemonade, taking a few swings to help quench his thirst. Troye then watched Manu roll the dollar into a tight tube, where he placed it against his left nostril and sniffed up the line, gasping in delight as the crystals widened his eyes and tightened his focus. He then haded the dollar bill to Troye.
Troye took it without hesitation, his entire being now fully invested in every single atom that made up the static chemistry between he and Manu. He placed the bill by his right nostril, leant over the crisp white line and sniffed up the goods, squeezing his eyes shut, wiggling his nose seconds after.
Instantly, everything became sharper. The bedrooms edges were more prominent than ever. The darkness outside consumed the apartment, blocking off absolutely everything existing past the walls that made up this building; financial issues, concerns over singles not charting high enough, how much they were spending, audition responses, unread scrips, what they had eaten, drank, feasted on, it all faded away into nothing but Troye and Manu, Manu and Troye, top and bottom, bottom and top, grinning at each other, hugging each other, laughing at each other, butterflies filling their insides as a reckless and irresponsible mindset had been put into action.
All it took were the five fingers of Manu’s right hand to nudge Troye onto his bed.
Troye fell back, landing on the mattress with a bounce, his back planting itself over the bedsheets as Manu knelt over the edge of the bed and grabbed Troye’s ankles, lifting his legs so that each of his heels rested over each of Manu’s shoulders.
The movements were so speedy and sudden that the bundle of rope and velcro cuffs fell off the bed without them realising.
In a combined effort, both Troye and Manu worked at removing Troye’s trousers.
As soon as the leather material was gathered around Troye’s knees, Troye began to pull his underwear down past his thighs, revealing his fully erect cock and hairless, plump balls.
Manu yanked the trousers and the underwear off of Troye’s body, pinching the toe of his right sock, where he began to slowly pull it away from Troye’s foot as Troye quickly yanked off his left sock.
Manu held Troye’s right ankle with the entirety of his left hand, his intense stare gazing into the sole of Troye’s right foot; he had made it clear to Troye within the hundreds and hundreds of Instagram messages they had shared over the past twelve months that he had a thing for feet, Troye’s feet especially, so to see them so close to his own face aroused Manu in ways he could not quite describe.
Manu began to kiss each toe one by one as soon as the sock made its departure, his eyes unable to close; he wanted to take in the sight, the shape of each curling digit, the small structure of Troye’s size eight foot, the insane expanse of silky soft skin that made up his creamy sole from toe to heel.
Troye, now just as naked as Manu, watched his top devour his right foot where he witnessed Manu become overwhelmed with joy at his chance to explore a part of Troye he had only been able to fantasise about, up until this very moment, right now.
Troye planted his left foot against Manu’s chest, as a polite reminder that this one also was available to gorge on, an offer Manu wasted no time in accepting, his other hand taking Troye’s left ankle in his grasp where he lifted both of Troye’s soles against his face, breathing in their scent, licking, sucking and inhaling their beauty.
Troye closed his eyes and pressed the back of his head into the pillow, his hands clutching at either side of the bed as he felt Manu begin to nibble over his soles, his sharp teeth biting and grazing across Troye’s undeniably sensitive feet.
Troye knew he was sensationally ticklish. He could barely handle a poke to the side, a pedicure, a finger circling his nipple; handing over this physical vulnerability was all part of submitting, seeing if he could take it, if he could handle it, was all part of the evening, but when Manu started to take his nibbling teeth towards Troye’s right little toe, Troye had no choice but to arch his back, gasp, widen his eyes and reach up, where his hands made a desperate attempt to clamp over all ten of his toes, to hide the weakness, before he started to kick and squirm, some breathless grunts bursting out of his throat until Manu let both of his ankles go, stepping away from the edge of the bed cautiously, as if being careful around a young Lion that had just bared its teeth.
Manu stroked his cock and chuckled at Troye’s reaction as Troye curled up over the bed, his hands still over his feet, his knees tucked up to his chest, a cheeky grin spread across his face.
“Are you ready?” Manu asked.
Troye smiled, his body relaxing as he slowly sat up and nodded quietly at Manu.
He then slid off of the mattress and made his way back to Manu’s drink, taking another sip whilst Manu got down on his knees and began to divide out four individual lengths of rope from the bundle.
As Manu began to set up the restraints, Troye walked to his bedroom door and quietly turned the handle. He nudged the door open ajar and narrowed his eyes through the tiny gap he had created. The slice of visibility was enough for Troye to catch a glimpse of Robert, in his underwear, making out with one of Manu’s friends on the couch, a sight that reassured Troye that his best friend had not been discarded and was independently having a great time of his own.
Troye closed away the loudness of Madonna’s Greatest Hits and the scent of weed, turning his attention back to Manu and an erotic fantasy that was transforming second by second into an increasingly real scenario.
Troye lay on his back, his right ankle secured to the bottom right of the bed, his left ankle secured to the bottom left of the bed.
Manu knelt at his side and carefully took Troye’s right arm, bringing it up to the top right of the bed, where he connected a velcro cuff around his wrist.
Like the velcro cuffs around each of his ankles, this velcro cuff was connected to a length of rope that had been tightly tied to a corner.
Manu took Troye’s left arm and lifted it to the top left of the bed, causing Troye to clear his throat and adjust his hips, his armpits now feeling suddenly exposed and highly vulnerable, an intensely ticklish area of his body now on full display.
Manu began to kiss Troye’s chest, landing gentle and slow pecks over his nipples and collarbones as he whispered into Troye’s skin.
“Say the word ‘blue’ if it gets too much, okay?”
Troye nodded just once, his eyes staring into the ceiling as Manu breathed in his flesh, his stubble and lips brushing across his stomach, his kisses returning to his upper chest where he began to position himself so that he lay on his side, in a straight line, to the right of Troye’s starfish positioned body.
Troye peered down briefly, where he clocked a shift in Manu’s overall behaviour; almost as if Manu had mentally removed the Spanish charmer that had smiled, danced, hugged and flirted, replacing him entirely with a devious rebel made only to infiltrate, to devour, to explore and to push.
Manu closed his eyes and persisted to kiss Troye’s chest intimately, showcasing a still present caring side that had now been mixed with a side that wanted to, no, that needed to force something specific out of Troye, whether Troye would allow it or not.
Manu hooked his left arm around Troye’s torso whilst he continued to kiss his chest, his right hand burrowing into Troye’s left underarm where all five of his fingers began to stroke the depths, their long lengths combing through Troye’s thick curls of armpit hair, causing Troye to pant, giggle and squirm beneath Manu’s hold.
Manu became ravenous, hungry, filled with passion and determination; he continued to breathe in Troye’s writhing as if the movements were giving him life, his eyes still closed, his lips still brushing across Troye’s chest as Troye began to kick and twist the more Manu scratched and stroked his fingernails deep inside the very middle of his left armpit.
Troye felt something he had felt before, when tickled to the point where he felt deceived; he felt an overwhelming urge to escape touch.
He spun to the right, without really thinking about it; his body made it happen, his brain not even signing it off, his own mind surprised by how quickly he could move, despite zero thought process taking place prior to the thrash.
Manu’s bed wobbled beneath the squirming.
Troye whined in disbelief as he realised that Manu would be relentless in his tickling from the get go; the hand hanging over his waist now tickling his hip, meaning that Troye would be enduring attacks from both sides, something he had never experienced, something he was unsure how to handle, something he wanted to stop, right now, even if it had only just begun.
Manu spooned Troye, his giant, muscular frame wedged up against Troye’s right side, his left arm holding him in place, his left hand tickling Troye’s hip, his right hand still burrowing in deeper, harder within the depths of Troye’s left underarm.
Troye’s heels dug into the mattress, his knees bending only a little, his eyes unblinking and strained as he continued to giggle in alarm, a deeply concerned, “—Jesus, Jesus christ—” leaving his lips as he felt Manu coil around him like a python, consuming his shape, tickling him in a way he had never been tickled before.
The bed creaked as Troye thrashed to the left and then to the right, in an attempt to knock Manu away from him, but his dominant counterpart was far too heavy, far too large to be removed so easily.
Troye needed clarification on the situation as dread began to fill his throat, Manu now sliding away from Troye where he then began to crawl behind Troye’s head.
“Are you, are you tickling me all night?” Troye asked, his voice saturated with dubiety, his eyes glancing up to Manu who had successfully seated himself behind Troye’s shoulders, so that Troye’s head sat snug in Manu’s lap, Manu’s thighs containing Troye’s neck securely between his legs.
“Till the sun comes up,” Manu teased, his naughty stare taking in the sight of both of Troye’s armpits and toned, long upper body, a clearly very ticklish part of Troye that was so easily in reach that Manu could tell, almost immediately, that if this instrument was played properly, the music that could be made would be a feast for the ears.
Troye did not think that Manu would go to this extent, when he had told Troye about his thing for tickling. Manu had many ‘things’. He had a thing for feet, a thing for bondage, a thing for public sex, a thing for wax, a thing for ice, a thing for tickling. Troye had never taken any of them too seriously, mostly because they had just been digital words in speech bubbles on a screen. But now, right now, he lay bound and naked, the idea of being dominated by Manu arousing him to say the least, but the ever nearing reality of being tickled hard by Manu becoming a circumstance he did not expect to take place, a level of intensity he did not expect to reach. He thought there might be feathers, fingertips behind ears, a blindfold across his eyes, but instead Troye took in the sight of Manu’s ten fingers shaped like claws arriving within the very depths of his armpits, where Manu actioned a vigorous and aggressive attack on his senses, unapologetically and ruthlessly.
Troye felt like a volcano with a lid on its vent. He had so much hysteria to expel, but the many bodies dancing to Taylor Swift on the other side of Manu’s bedroom door reminded Troye that he could not scream, he could not laugh, he could not shout or shriek. Instead, Troye’s body flung up off the mattress where it landed in a non stop, repetitive bounce, a fierce grin torn across a face creased with unexpected lunacy, as he gasped, writhed and breathlessly begged into Manu’s thighs, his mouth speaking in a rushed whisper against Manu’s skin, “—Jesus christ, jesus christ, Man, Manu, please, please, please—” Troye would convulse once again as soon as Manu’s fingers would jump out from his underarms and land over his ribs, actioning constant pokes and jabs to his sides, covering the entire expanse of Troye’s torso from his waist to his pits, a form of torture that blew Troye’s mind in ways that made him press his mouth against Manu’s thigh and tease the idea of biting into him, something that made Manu shift his thighs further apart.
Troye writhed so hard that he had started to resent the cuffs and rope keeping him pinned in the starfish position; no matter how hard he tugged, kicked or pulled at his restraints, “—These fucking ropes!—”, his limbs were kept in place, his nude structure and the highly sensitive areas it displayed completely on show for Manu to discover, a thought that terrified Troye so much he began to laugh out loud in shock, “—You’re proper going for it, aren’t you, you fucking bugger!—” He knew he was insanely ticklish on his sides, armpits and feet. They were places he had been tickled casually before, be it whilst sitting on the couch with a friend, or play fighting with a cousin when he was younger. He knew he could not take it, he knew he would jump a mile if poked, or kick out violently if stroked. He had smacked people, sent his heels into jaws, he had dodged and swiped, ducked and ran, but in this very moment he could go nowhere and, not only could he go nowhere, his entire body had been stripped and every single inch of him could be taken by Manu’s fingertips, all the places Troye did not know where ticklish, all of the additional, unknown weaknesses could be found out, “—Jesus, Jesus fucking christ!—”
As Troye stopped himself from biting into Manu, he instead reluctantly presented his teeth in the form of a ferocious, jaw widening beam of hysteria, a moment similar to the one caught on camera for his album cover; a moment unbound, a moment that had lasted two seconds, a moment that, compared to this, was utterly tame to say the least.
Manu played Troye like a harp, his talented fingers wiggling, floating, grabbing and fluttering up and down Troye’s torso; his ribcage, his waist, his stomach, his chest …
He would tweak his nipples, causing Troye to wince and hiss, an aggressively Australian-toned, “—OI!—” shooting straight up to a laughing, entertained Manu who would then take his tormenting touch back to the depths of Troye’s armpits, “—No, wait, hold up, please, please!—” where he would force them into the now sweaty delves and increase the pressure of their presence, causing Troye to no longer hold back and keep his verbal reactions to himself, in fear of the group of friends drinking and singing in the living room, his laughter now leaving his throat in the form of proud bellows, hearty cackles, strained giggles and breathless heaves, his nostrils flaring, his teeth clenching tight, his eyes watering as he twisted his body from left to right, right to left, left to right, right to left, a wall-hitting moment now arriving at the forefront of Troye’s mind that informed his survival instinct that Manu might not stop, he might keep going for another five, ten, fifteen minutes, “—O, Okay, alright, Jesus fuck, blue! Blue! Fucking blue!—”
Manu stopped immediately; he slid his hands around Troye’s upper body and planted his palms down over his nipples, allowing the twink to catch his breath, his chest lifting and dropping, lifting and dropping, lifting and dropping.
“How do you feel?” Manu asked.
Troye licked his lips and breathed in through his nose, then out through his mouth, his head still resting in Manu’s lap.
“It’s intense,” Troye admitted, “I’ve never experienced anything like this before …”
Manu’s cock twitched as Troye delivered such an honest and blunt declaration that revealed so much about his current mindset.
“That’s hot,” Manu smirked, his hands now arriving at Troye’s hair where he began to comb the thick, blonde strands through his fingertips, “You’re so fucking ticklish. I love it,” Manu announced.
Troye felt his head fall over a pillow as Manu slid out from behind his shoulders, where he crawled over the mattress and knelt down beside Troye’s right side, wasting not one more second of time as he reached between Troye’s thighs and began to tickle his taint.
Troye tried to force his legs together as he threw his torso forwards, a move he had not been able achieve since being tied down, mostly due to Manu either laying around him or sitting over him, “—I said blue!—” Troye reminded, his testing glare and crooked smile warning Manu, “—I, I said blue—” he repeated in a flustered mutter, Manu’s fingers still forcing there way between his thighs in the form of an invasive wiggle, “—Aghhh fuck! Alright, not there, that’s, that’s too mad—” Troye shook his head feverishly, his blonde strands of hair now littering the top half of his face as Manu continued to explore his body, taking his hand out from between Troye’s thighs where it then began to pinch and grab at both of Troye’s kneecaps, causing Troye to yelp and kick as his naked body thrashed around over the bedsheets.
“You’ve had your break,” Manu declared, “Your safe word buys you a few seconds only,” he grinned as he watched Troye buck across the mattress as his claws persisted in their exploration of Troye’s legs, legs that Troye had absolutely no idea where this ticklish.
“—You’re calling the shots, huh?—” Troye peered over his chest as he curled his fingers around the green rope extending out from his wrists, his twink-ish torso twisting from side to side as he spat out at Manu in a frenzied yelp, “—Jesus! Do you do this to all the guys you get with?—” he arched his back and spun to the right as Manu, without warning, threw his hand back up to Troye’s torso, tickling his right armpit, then his left armpit, then his right armpit, then his left, causing Troye to spin from side to side, a steady, “—Gah! Gah! Gah! Gah! Gah!—” forced out of his mouth every time Manu would jump from one armpit to another.
“Yes,” Manu admitted, hooking his right leg over Troye’s body, where he then laid down on his front, Manu’s face inches away from Troye’s erection, “But none quite as ticklish as you …” from here, Manu could reach up over Troye’s torso and tickle both of his armpits at the same time, whilst resting his chin over Troye’s balls, where he would suck and lick at Troye’s cock whilst wiggling all ten of his fingers into the depths of Troye’s underarms, five in his right and five in his left.
Troye felt his mind be blown by the intensity of having both of his underarms tickled so forcefully, mixed with the pleasure he felt at Manu’s tongue gliding around his erection; he was entirely used, his ticklishness and naked exterior consensually abused by Manu’s fetish fuelled desires, his submissive state turning him on just as much as it turned on Manu.
Troye was Manu’s plaything, a vessel Manu tormented in an attempt to pull out sounds of manic distress, hysterical laughter and demanding shouts that aroused Manu to the point where he could cum right here, right now, but Manu expertly kept his orgasm controlled, even if his own hard on was staining the mattress underneath him with a generous amount of pre cum.
What a sight to behold, Manu thought, his eyes taking in how fiercely Troye shook his head, the tightness of his grin, the amount of volume thickening his throat; his skin had boiled red, his cheeks were glistening with sweat, his eyebrows would lift and burrow, lift and burrow, lift and burrow, suggesting to Manu that Troye was finding this exceedingly brilliant to endure whilst wanting an insanity that forced pleasure into his very core to end, now more than ever.
As Troye yelled out his safe word for a second time, so soon after the first, “—Blue! Blue! Blue!—” it became astonishingly clear to Manu that Troye could not take this; he was far too ticklish, he could not handle having his armpits grazed over so intensely, so he paused again for a few seconds where he peeled his face away from Troyes erection and crouched down between his thighs, his hands smoothing over Troye’s hips and waist in the form of a generous rub.
Troye lay huffing and panting, his eyes scowling at the ceiling as he began to communicate his disbelief, “—Fuck—” he wheezed, “-I’ve never been tickled like this,” he announced, “Can, can you go slow, for a bit?” He asked, almost too politely.
Manu smiled and nodded gently, leaning back down to Troye’s arousal where he gently kissed his navel and then kissed up to his left nipple.
Troye giggled and hunched his shoulders, squeezing his eyes shut as Manu licked around his neck, actioning quick pecks around his jaw and collarbone, nibbling at flesh tinged in perspiration.
“—Eee!—” Troye let out a quick scream as Manu’s free hands tickled gently around his lower sides, his arms pulling at their bondage with such strength that the ropes squeaked, “—Slow, slow!—” Troye reminded, his upper body peeling away from the bedsheets as he tried to force his stomach away from Manu’s touch, a touch that had agreed to indeed go slow, Manu’s fingertips now simply stroking around Troye’s waist as the twenty eight year old continued to laugh breathlessly, his body now entirely stuck under Manu as Manu laid down over Troye completely, his face pressed against the young man’s chest as he continued to shower him with kisses, his hands below exploring the lower half of Troye’s squirming torso.
Troye could feel his own hard on rubbing against Manu’s waist as Manu planted himself down over him, both young men locked in a sweaty hold; Manu taking Troye entirely, Troye bound spread eagle and consumed by the weight of such a tall, powerful person, his body tickled as he lay unable to move, only able to endure Manu’s mischievous tactics to the point where even the lightest touch tickled too much, causing Troye to shout out his safe word for the third time in less than fifteen minutes, “—Blueblueblueblueblueblueblueblue—” he panted, Manu once again chuckling at Troye’s inability to take this level of tickle torture.
“You are ridiculous!” Manu announced, lifting himself away from Troye, returning to the knelt position between his thighs, “You must try to stand it, for longer than five minutes, yes, Prince Sivan?” Manu’s voice was husky and deep, his Spanish accent rolling off his tongue perfectly, “Do you think you can do this?”
Troye, now laughing into his shoulder, shook his head and widened his eyes, “Fuck no! I’m ticklish as fuck, babe. I’m keeping my cool right now. You’re moments away from me screaming the bloody house down, seriously …” Troye blinked as a moment of self realisation washed over him, his expression changing so quickly that it made Manu cock an eyebrow, “… Let me have my turn,” Troye decided, “You can get your go at me again, once I’ve had my go on you …”
Manu sat back and pinched his lower lip in thought.
Troye lay watching Manu, content with his feelings and an unexpected desire to experience what Manu experienced; the control, the ability to transform someone from still and displayed, to breathless and practically ruined, simply from having fingers work their way into the depths of an underarm or the muscles of a hip. Troye only wanted a taste, that would be enough, and as he patiently awaited Manu’s response, he hoped and wished for the words Manu might speak to not be words at all, he just needed one word, one simple word, the word—
“—Yes,” Manu whispered his reply, “But only five minutes. Then the focus goes back onto you.”
Troye grinned, nodding enthusiastically as Manu climbed back towards the top of the bed and began to peel apart Troye’s cuffs.
Troye stood at the foot of Manu’s bed, where he took a moment to admire the sight of Manu tied in the spread eagle position on his back, his muscular, naked form stretched out and fully exposed.
“Whoa …” Troye gasped.
Manu rolled his hips slowly, from side to side, his erection still stiff and throbbing as he peered over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Troye.
“… Five minutes …” he warned.
Troye nodded, holding his hands up in understanding, where he knelt down at the left corner of the bed and bit his lower lip, containing a cheeky grin whilst taking hold of Manu’s left ankle.
Manu pressed the back of his head against the pillow in frustration as any hopes of Troye tickling him from the waist up were cast to the winds, as soon as he felt Troye’s slender fingertips slide down the sole of his left foot.
Manu’s entire left leg twisted, his thigh bulged, all five of his left toes curled into a fierce point; he hissed and squeezed his eyes shut, his feet almost too ticklish to touch, Troye’s fingernails scratching away at his arch, causing Manu to kick not once, not twice, but three times, four times, five times, an angered growl leaving his pink, pouty lips.
As the music and chatter on the other side of the bedroom door continued its pace, Troye sat in the cross legged position, on the floor, around the bottom of the bed, facing Manu’s soles, where he was able to reach a left hand out to Manu’s right foot, and a right hand out to Manu’s left foot, his fingers dancing over both of Manu’s soles at once, causing Manu’s cheeks to flush a shade of cherry as he huffed and winced, rampantly jerking his legs inward and outward, his athletic and robust frame now taunt and pulling at the restraints, an intense sight that told Troye that Manu quite clearly absolutely hated having his feet touched, let alone just tickled.
“—Fuck!—” Manu threw his head over his chest, “—Not my feet—” he snarled, “—No, no, no mis pies—” he repeated in Spanish, the distress caused by something like the sharpness of Troye’s fingernails dragging across his soles causing Manu to widen his jaw in shock, no laughter leaving his mouth, just groans and heaves, wheezes and breathless mutters in Spanish, the occasional giggle now and then informing Troye that this was at least sort of fun for Manu, even if his irritated grunts suggested otherwise.
The harder Manu kicked, the more invested Troye became in this dominant role; he enjoyed being able to turn someone as strong and indestructible as Manu into a bound, helpless, breathless version of his former self. Hearing that need to breathe in, seeing that thick leg kick, smelling the scent of sweat as it wafted its way up his nostrils, it all made Troye acknowledge something deep within himself that suggested that tickling someone like this might be something he would like to do, not just again, but again and again and again and again …
Fuck it, Troye thought.
Keep him here.
There’s nothing he can do about it.
As two minutes turned to three, Troye decided to level up the foot tickling by climbing onto the bed, giving Manu a few seconds to clear his throat and catch his breath.
Troye then laid down over Manu’s right shin, Manu’s right foot now resting under Troye’s face, inches away from his mouth.
Troye held onto Manu’s foot like it was a delicate piece of china; he had intentionally positioned his own body this way so that Manu could peer over his own chest and take in the sight of Troye’s ass and his spread apart legs, a part of Troye that Troye knew Manu so desperately wanted to touch, but due to his hands being restrained to each top corner of the bed, he would not be able to do so.
Manu began to growl once again as Troye tickled his right foot with all ten of his fingernails, more Spanish curse words and heightened yelps for it to stop leaving Manu’s mouth.
Troye, like Manu, had always had an interest in feet, whether it was showing his own off on social media, or sucking the toe of a boyfriend during sex, so now felt like the right time to lean into Manu’s toes and take his right big toe within his mouth, where he began to suck on it like a lollipop, whilst tickling Manu’s sole with a ferocious and determined strength.
“—Bastardo bitch!—” Manu cursed, his arms pulling at his restraints, his right leg kicking and kicking and kicking as Troye sucked on his big toe, whilst tickling his right sole, “—Que te den por culo!—” he declared, his teeth clenching so hard that they could crack any second, the feeling of Troye’s toungue curling around his toe borderline unbearable to handle, causing Manu to tut, roll his eyes, flare his nostrils and run his tongue over the roof of his mouth, “—Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!—” he cursed.
Troye loved the taste of Manu’s toe deep within his mouth as he sucked it, nibbled it, chewed it, licked it, getting off on how hard Manu’s foot twisted in his grasp, held down at the corner of the bed by the velcro leather cuff secured around his ankle, Troye’s body wobbling along with the bed as Manu squirmed and writhed over bedsheets once stained with just Troye’s sweat, now stained with Manu’s sweat as well.
Troye became so entranced by how much he enjoyed implementing this erotic form of infliction towards Manu that he had not realised Manu had spent at least twenty seconds trying to escape - he found having his toe sucked and his foot tickled so unbearable, he had no choice but to break free; Manu used all the strength of his right arm to pull his hand through his wrist restraint, where it slipped out, allowing him to reach down to the bottom of the bed and spank Troye’s ass once, twice, three times, nice and hard, where his big toe popped out of Troye’s mouth and Troye spun around in a panicked twirl, grabbing his butt with both hands and tumbling onto the bedroom floor in a heavy thud.
Manu peeled apart the cuff around his left wrist, sat up and then shuffled down to his feet, the toes of his right foot curling away Troye’s saliva, some flustered giggles causing him to shake his head and point at Troye, “—Capullo—” he spat, his Spanish curse words meaning nothing to Troye, who now lay naked on the floor and laughing at Manu’s infuriated frustration.
“See! It’s intense, right? Now you know how I felt!” Troye ran both hands through his hair as his ass cheeks continued to sting.
Once Manu had freed his ankles, he slid off the bed and took his point towards the middle of the mattress where he ordered Troye to return to his position.
“Back on the bed, pretty boy,” Manu picked up the red bandana he had worn earlier this evening, “And this time, lay on your front.”
Troye took the bandana between his teeth as Manu tied it into a tight knot at the back of Troye’s head.
Troye now lay gagged and tied spread eagle on his stomach, his perky ass on show, his legs open, his feet hooked over each lower corner of the bed, his arms stretching up to each top corner.
“I’m only doing this because I know you are about to get loud,” Manu announced, his fingertips trailing down Troye’s back, causing Troye to giggle into the gag and twist his torso from left to right, his butt cheeks wiggling as he did so, “This time, no safe word …”
“—Mnn! Mphhh, mphh, mnnn, mnn…”
Manu carefully pulled Troye’s erection and balls between his legs, allowing the hardness of the muscle to lay out over the bed sheets, now no longer squashed under Troye’s stomach.
“Comfortable?” Manu enquired.
Troye nodded quietly, his teeth biting down over the dry cotton wedged between his teeth; he could feel Manu leave his upper body and tread carefully towards the bottom of the bed, where he copied Troye and sat down in the cross legged position on the carpet, facing Troye’s size eight soles, the one to the left in reaching distance, the one to the right in reaching distance, Manu’s gentle touch arriving over each arch rather suddenly.
Troye giggled into his gag, his ass shaking from left to right as he kicked his legs and squeezed his eyes shut, his toes curling and clenching as Manu explored the bottoms of his feet gradually; his touch was playful, like a moths wing fluttering across his soles. It felt irritating and enjoyable, soft but sharp, intense but fun, until Manu decided to increase pressure and scribble his fingernails over Troye’s heels, causing the twenty eight year old to quite suddenly scream into his gag, his eyes snapping open, his laughter now constant and filled with shouts as his entire body bounced and bucked over the mattress.
Troye had always had undeniably soft feet. They were well kept, cute to look at, small but not too big. His toes were long, considering the size of each foot. His soles consisted of a creamy white landscape, they were unmarked, smooth. They presented no callouses or dry patches of skin. His feet were adored globally, he would receive messages about them via social media almost every day. He loved to tease the foot fetishists out there by posing with his feet in the mirror, or in a photoshoot that might of required a sock or sandal. No, Troye would say. I’ll go barefoot. Get them going.
He knows what he’s doing and foot pics for free?! were comments Troye would often see, and those suspecting followers were one hundred percent right. He revelled in showing them off, giving them attention. And now, tied face down to Manu’s bed, they were receiving the most attention they had ever received in Troye’s life, in the form of constant scratches and scribbles from Manu’s fingernails that expertly explored Troye’s soles from toe to heel, heel to toe, toe to heel …
Manu was right, having his feet tickled like this was going to make him get loud.
Troye yelled and laughed, giggled and screamed into the red cotton stuffed inside his mouth; if the gag were not there, his bellows of hysteria would be heard by the dancing, drinking, drug smoking friends on the other side of the bedroom door, something Manu did not care too much about, but still, something Manu was keen to avoid.
Troye could not hold back. Any time Manu landed around his arch or the bases of his toes, Troye found himself reeling in ticklish agony, his feet never tickled like this, his legs now kicking so hard that he could feel his ass clap with every thrust. He begged him to stop, he pleaded with a coarse throat, his muffled cries going unheard, mostly because they did not make sense, mostly because Manu could not understand them, mostly because Manu did not want to take the time to figure them out.
After twelve months, Manu finally had Troye where he wanted him; after the cock rubbing videos, the steamy voice notes, the intimate pictures taken in restaurant bathroom mirrors, after the hesitation to meet once both young men were in the same city, after the small talk and the chardonnay and the flirtatious looks across the smokey living room, Manu could see, could taste, could take in the sight of Troye Sivan tied naked to his bed, dribbling and panting, all because of ten fingernails dragging up and down the soles of his feet.
Troye gasped and huffed, panted and heaved as Manu’s touch slid away from his toes.
He twisted his head from side to side as he heard Manu’s footsteps walk across carpet; there was the pulling open of drawers, the fingering through clutter, the complete unknowing of what Manu would do next.
“Mnn — mnn —- mnnphh! …”
Troye jolted in alarm as something round and plastic arrived over his ass; it buzzed and vibrated, it pressed against his hole, it steadily shuddered over his taint, his balls, his hard on, tickling him in a completely different way to fingertips or fingernails. It was an erotic tickle, an unbearably arousing sensation that Troye wanted to continue to endure forever, whilst equally wishing it would end, right this second, all at the same time. He clenched his ass cheeks and shrieked through his gag, his giggles high pitched and filled with panic and uncertainty, his body thrashing from left to right as Manu decided to leave this tool pressed against Troye’s ass, where he returned to the bottom of the bed, kneeling down by Troye’s left foot, soaking his left sole in baby oil, causing Troye to shift in confusion once again, his toes flexing as the shimmering liquid rolled towards their fleshy lengths.
Manu wanted to make the most of this moment; he pushed the boundaries, exploited Troye’s limits, walked a tight rope without asking. He would likely never experience this with someone so aesthetically perfect for him again, so he would have to act out his biggest fantasy; tickling Troye with an electric massager, as well as a hairbrush.
Troye’s back arched and his entire body stiffened as he felt dozens of tiny, plastic bristles glide across the now slippery expanse of his left foot. It was a feeling unlike anything he had ever felt; it was brutally incredible, it made his eyes water straight away, it caused all five of his toes to scrunch into a tight clench without him even meaning them to do so. It had to stop, it had to, but, if there were to be one more glide, then that would just about be alright, until it was not alright anymore, something that became apparent just seconds into the brushes implementation. Troye could not make sense of the sensation. It was a form of torture, an extraordinary, extreme and exceptional feeling that covered the entire landscape of his left sole, each tiny individual piece of plastic working as a tickle tool in itself. If he were locked in stocks and tickled with tools such as this, made to give up withheld information, Troye knew without doubting himself that he would break in an instant, he would give away the most important secrets, the most vital lengths of information, he would do anything, anything anything anything, to stop this from happening.
For now, all Troye could do was giggle and scream through his gag; he would attempt to cry “—Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—” but his pleading would be ignored. He would try to find out details, to comfort himself during a highly discomforting period of the evening, by asking things such as, “—howlongisleft?—” and “—pleasewhywon’tyoustop?—”, his enquiries arriving in the form of breathless heaves and bewildered mumbles. His hysteria was so caught up behind his gag that the gag had become soaked in warm saliva, his left foot unable to take the brush, all whilst the electric massager continued to vibrate over his taint.
Manu felt too close to orgasm; he could not control the twitch, the need to release. Seeing Troye react this way, hearing the ‘please, please, please’ behind the gag, it was all too much. Manu laid down over Troye’s right leg, his stomach and chest planting its weight over Troye from butt cheek to ankle, keeping his kicking limb in place, allowing Manu to take the baby oil and brush, where he would dribble it over the sole of Troye’s squirming right foot, and then rub the liquid into the ticklish landscape by using the bristles of the brush itself.
Troye created sounds he had never heard before; he was now squirming so uncontrollably that his arms and back had started to ache, he laughed so loud his lungs burned, his stomach felt tight, his abs more defined than ever. Thankfully, such writhing had nudged the electric massager away from his taint where it now pressed against his left leg, something that still felt very ticklish but nothing compared to having it wedged against his balls. Troye, more than anything, wanted Manu to stop using the brush, to the point where he started to demand through his gag, “—anythingbutthebrush—”, “—Ican’ttakethebrush—” but of course, his cries sounded more like, “—mnn mnnn mphhh!”, “—mnnnnn mnnnphhh mpphhhhhh!” than actual audible begs.
Manu needed to cum, his cock now throbbing in such a way that it would sooner explode without him even needing to touch it.
So, he dropped the brush and crawled over to Troye’s upper body, laying his stomach down over Troye’s back, his erection pressing between Troye’s ass cheeks but not going in any deeper.
Manu took Troye in a bear hug and tickled his sides and waist, his hips and armpits, Troyes thrashing and writhing rubbing Manu’s cock, whilst Manu gyrated against the bottom of Troye’s back. The more Troye squirmed, the more his body slid against Manu’s erection, the more that happened, the closer Manu got to orgasm, the harder Manu tickled, the more Troye squirmed, and so the process continued on repeat until Manu’s vision blurred and his mouth stretched open.
Troye could feel the hot gushes of cum arrive over the bottom of his spine. It came in floods, thick, oozing amounts that splashed across his glistening skin, informing Troye that his reactions had made Manu explode right here as he lay hugging him, his fingers still dancing around his sides, Troye’s body still squirming and twisting from side to side, until Manu finally stopped fingering Troye’s ribs and carefully slid away from his body.
Manu looked down at Troye’s tanned, shimmering back; his spine soaked in pearls of white, his sides decorated in tiny pinch marks.
Troye lay relieved, exhausted, his tongue pressing against his gag, his soles tingling, the heat of orgasm drying over his flesh, the end of an experience unlike any other finally putting a formal full stop to an evening he did not expect to be this intense.
Troye waited for Manu to say something.
He lay breathless and unable to speak as Manu stood panting.
Troye listened to Manu’s footsteps as he walked to his ensuite bathroom and turned on the shower.
For a moment, Troye wondered if he would be let go - surely this could not continue? Surely, Manu coming would mean he is done for now?
Much to Troye’s alleviation, Manu walked back into the bedroom and began to remove Troye’s cuffs.
____________________________
A few minutes later, we showered together.
He was kind, caring, attentive.
He made sure to soak me with a soapy sponge, to kiss the back of my neck as the heat of the water washed away the baby oil, the orgasm, the bruises and the markings that littered most of my upper body.
He was far taller than me, far larger, far stronger.
Even though he had just cum, he was rock hard once again, keen to give me the pleasure he had just felt himself.
He spun me around.
I climbed him like a tree, lol.
I wrapped my arms and legs around him.
I sat over his arousal.
He entered me easily.
We fucked as the shower poured over us.
I came within three minutes, my cock had been hard for hours, I think I must of edged myself, by how much I rubbed myself against the surface of the bed unintentionally, whilst squirming and trying to kick away that damn brush and electric massager.
Once clean, we did a few more lines and sank another few bottles of wine.
We talked for hours and hours and hours.
We didn’t let anyone outside in.
And we didn’t venture back outside.
He even locked the door.
We watched tickle porn, made out on his bed, he tied me up again and I tied him up too; we learned, we educated ourselves, we explored a fetish that was new to us.
It’s all a blur after that.
I remember waking up in his arms, the sunlight shining through gaps in the blinds.
My back was pressed against the caverns of his chest.
He even commented on my heart beat, at how fast it was racing. He said he could feel it go through his own body.
Man, I was thirsty.
Hungover, tired, depressed. Not from what we had experienced, but from the powder and the alcohol, the weed and the constant consumption of poison.
I lay there thinking, knowing, completely aware of two things and two things only …
I will never forget this for the rest of my life.
This has changed me forever.
