Wea as a Leaf in the Wind

Please enjoy this short story about an encounter between myself and a borderline emo twink. It's a doozy. ;)

*****

I hated him. He was hateful, judgmental, and a bully. He made fun of people for how they looked, talked, and acted. He was 20, but sure didn't act like it. I would never go out of my way to be around him; in fact, I would avoid him. I ran my own channel and avoided his at all opportunities. He embodied everything I advocated against.

But damn, he was fucking hot.

His looks had all the boyish qualities I wanted. He wasn't muscular, but he was lean; what little muscle he did have showed on his abdomen. He was smooth, clean, and cute. I loved the soft curves of his sides, his perfect, round thighs, and every feature of his beautiful face. He was, in every sense of the word, a twink. I was painfully in love with how he looked.

He went for an "emo" look, black hair falling across his forehead in untamed wisps. He intermittently wore a lip ring, a small bedazzling of an already perfect face. His ears were small, chin weak, but eyes deep. I wanted to eat away at his neck and make him moan for me. He was everything I wanted, and I couldn't wait to have him.

All of this I repeated in my head as his gentle body fell to the mattress. I don't know how I got into this situation, but I was about to give him the time of his life. I had worked my way into his daily life, dropped hints where they would go unnoticed by all but himself, and finally gotten into a room with just him - in private. Everything had gone according to plan, and now I could do with him whatever I wanted. My heart was pounding, and surely, so was his.

He had never shown any interest (or approval) for people like me - gays or bisexuals. Sometimes what he said made me think he didn't like us. He was prone to appealing to masculinity, and making himself seem more "manly" than he really was. That's partly why he was so mean, somehow trying to prove himself as indestructible. Hardened. A man.

It was the sexiest fucking thing I could imagine for such a soft and smooth boy.

I stroked his ego by telling him he was strong and cool. I was his wingman when he needed one (though those circumstances were rare, and even rarer were odds falling in his favor.) He had taken to using me as his confidant, expressing his hormonal desires and what he wanted to do with his imaginary women. But I knew there was more beneath his words.

Through all the subtle compliments and manipulations, I got to him. Gradually, his glances lasted longer, and drifted to places other than my eyes. With every word, I drew him closer to me, and made him more willing to experiment. I used his sexual frustration against him and it was working beautifully. I wanted him so badly, but played my cards carefully. And now, he was mine.

As this dialogue in my own mind finished, his head hit the sheets. In falling, his eyes grew wide and his walls fell. I could sense that he had abandoned his desperate reaching for masculine approval. His lip quivered just slightly, and it was all the more attractive. I couldn't wait to get underneath his thin clothes and have him fully exposed to me; and by his look, I'm sure he couldn't either.

Despite hating everything he ever did and believed in - whether or not is was all a ruse, denying his true inner thoughts - I wanted to treat him like a king...and a slave. His beauty deserved rewarding, but his hatred deserved punishment. I planned to give him both. I wanted to give him what he expected. My skillful tongue, nimble fingers, and delicate flesh were his, and his to cover. At the same time, I wanted to own him - thumbing him, palming him, ruining him. I couldn't decide which to start or end with.

But the time to decide was now. He lifted his confused and eager face, giving me a look of pure abandon and lust. The room was cool, but his skin was warm, and he grew more nervous and dripping with expectant sweat as the seconds ticked by.

Reluctantly - wanted to spend an eternity merely admiring the sight of him - I began to move. Slowly, I crawled between his legs, grabbing at his shins, thighs, hips. My face turned back and forth as I adored every inch of bare skin, shaved perfectly, his legs opening up to me as I moved. I was ready to take him as my own, but I continued on with my devilishly slow approach. Each moment caused an exponential growth in our desire for each other.

A subtle part of the process, I slipped off his clothes. He had chosen sportswear today - loose, and possibly, hopefully, because of what he himself expected for tonight - and it was easy to remove. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband and in one motion pulled it all down and off his feet.

I reached just above his hips and stopped, raising my gaze to meet his. His eyes were glossy, and he was biting his lip. He was waiting patiently for whatever I wanted to do to him. We both knew it.

And right then, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

His hands laid along his sides, but his wrists were lifted, anticipating my movement. It was the perfect placement for me. In a swift motion, I lifted my own arms from beside his curled toes and pinned his wrists beside him. I swear he let out a slight gasp, and it encouraged me even more. Moving quickly, I brought my lips down to the sharp curve of his hip against his skin, and planted them.

Before he could even try to push me away with his beautiful, writhing legs, I pulled him between my teeth. The softest, most vulnerable flesh of his sexy body was mine. He tried (albeit half-assed) to push me away, to no avail. We could both feel the blood vessels popping already, creating a unique mark shaped perfectly to the vacuum my lips created.

I'll remember this moment forever. In the few seconds I had him under my total control, he was livid. He let out involuntary squeals and pleads, begging me to let him go and continue with pleasure. He kicked and struggled against the chains of my hands.

Of course, I disregarded all of this.

I waited until I knew that my mark would last. With how the roof of my own mouth felt, I knew I would claim him for weeks, and he better remember it. I doubted this would happen again unless his brute complex faded even slightly again later tonight, and so I had to try my best now to brand him.

When I released him from my grasp, he collapsed back onto the bed again. He didn't even look to see the damage I had done - he could feel it, and I sensed that he loved it. Even if ephemeral and only to exist once, it was a secret we'd share forever. And it was only the beginning.

I waited for him to look up again, and when he did, the sight was so much harder to resist. The look in his eyes told me that there was nothing left of his control. Did I think he was mine before? Clearly, I was very, very wrong. Now, he was indisputably, irrevocably under my absolute control. He surrendered so easily...perhaps he should have built up his resistance over all this time.

Now that I gave him a glimpse of the pain, however, it was time for his pleasure. He had rapidly grown under me, and his pressing length was pulsating against my chest. I had neglected it to leave my mark, but even I couldn't take ignoring it any longer. It was so beautiful. It wasn't big, but it was bigger than me (if only slightly.) Everybody might talk about eight-inch masterpieces and gods; but his six-plus inches were plenty for me to secretly fawn over. And now, I had my opportunity to use every inch for whatever I please.

I started gently. I let out a warm breath right down the top, enveloping each sensitive nerve, wrapping down and around his inner thighs. The sensation was undoubtedly driving him crazy, and his face showed it. He rested back and slowly lifted his hand to my head. His fingers ran through the outer strands of my hair, and I could only imagine that he so badly wanted to pull my tongue onto him. Soon, he would have his wish.

But first, I had much more teasing to do. The warmth of my breath ran out, and I let my tongue slip between my lips. Looking up and hoping to meet his eyes, I lowered myself down, centimeter by, and even I began to grow through my own fabric as I anticipated the meeting of our sensations. I didn't have to wait long.

I reached his delicate head with the tip of my tongue, and quickly the extent of his frenulum was encompassed by my curved, wonderfully textured muscle. It was bliss for both of us, evident by the muffled groans we released at just the same instant. His was marked by the high pitch of boyish submission; mine was the product of ownership and greed. The texture and taste of what was beneath me was unmatched by anybody else I had ever tasted. Perhaps it was really his signature; perhaps it was just because of my complicated feelings for him.

Either way, from that point on, we were both lost. I began to slide myself up and down, a sea of curves and rough patches leaving a trail of pleasure along his tightly pulled foreskin. In his mind, I can only imagine a tornado. Though I hadn't revolved my tongue around his head (yet), he was lost in the pleasure of imagination and tease. With every flick of my tongue, I could hear the distant 'pop' of his toes, curling even more under the pressure of potential release.

I was already beyond ready for him to give in to me and surrender the last piece of control he had: his own orgasm. It was surely mine, now that he had given away all other power to me; he was desperate, vulnerable, and sensitive. He was full of lust. He was victim. He was mine.

Each turn of tongue took more of his resilience, and eventually, he started to lose his internal battle. I was moving too fast and too precisely to resist; his balls were begging to give out, ready to release a stream of pleasure I had built up. The time passed quickly, but it had been more than half an hour; he was keeping in the pleasure as long as possible, but he couldn't any longer.

His grasp on the tufts of my hair grew stronger and more insistent with each motion. Now, he was practically forcing me onto him. I stopped keeping my own tongue still and let him take control, and I must say, he was so skillful with that power. As he pulled me down, he thrusted upward, creating such a strong connection between us. I could imagine the feeling, and it was definitely worth giving it to him. His moans were getting louder and louder with every motion.

His legs stretched uncontrollably. He pushed me in further. I wrapped my tongue around his head and controlled it to circle him; every second felt like an eternity as I took away any modicum of patience he had left. He was right on the edge.

I hated him. He was wealthy but hateful, and I couldn't stand to watch him online. But the way his hair fell down to his eyes, the way his lip ring shimmered from the camera's light, and the way he revealed his silly inner desires were enrapturing. I was taken with him. I wanted to please him. I wanted to tease him.

So as he started to curl in on himself toward me, I pulled away.

The timing was perfect. He tried to push me down further to finish him, but I refused. Knowing I would pin his wrists down if he even tried, after just a few moments of desperately thrusting and soft whining, he gave up hope. I had suddenly gone from giving him every pleasure he ever desired to taking away everything I let him feel. The combination, surely, was mind-boggling and painful.

But I still wanted to finish him.

As he cooled down, I grabbed him. I didn't grab his dick, or his thighs; I grabbed everything inbetween. The soft, hanging delicacy between his legs is all I needed to finish this. I took him between my fingers and began to close around him. I didn't want to hurt him, but I wanted to empty him. I began a rhythmic pumping and each finger twirled against his skin to coax him along to the finish line. I pulled out and down, away from the throbbing.

And, evidently, he couldn't take it any more. This was enough to end it all.

Still folding in on himself and strained groans blaring, I felt the wave of pleasure rippling through him. Pulling just down and away sent him over the edge. Every sensation, every trick, and every moment of pain or pleasure culminated into this one and final surrendering. An electric wave of muscle propagated across his stomach...as he came for me.

The sight was even more beautiful than I imagined. Hatred or not, I have to admit that he is the most gorgeous boy I have ever met. He's smooth, soft, lean, and desperate; I took my chance. It took a moment to really hit him, but in seconds, he was exploding. Burst after burst of lust shot up onto his shirt and my hand. What didn't find a home began to drift; a steady stream of pure cum ran down the insides of his thighs, driving down onto the sheets below.

He climaxed so hard, and as it ended, he quickly fell to near sleep. The sweat was incredible; it soaked the sheets beneath us, and it was accelerated by his heavy panting and shockwaves of pleasure. Every few moments, he would twitch. He was so sensitive and desperate, knowing that I would take advantage of it, and hid his exposed desires. But that wouldn't last long.

Once he regained his breath, I was going to bring back the pain. Palming him was going to be so rewarding.

*****

This story is based on a popular YouTuber who won't be named here. The events are entirely fictional and for entertainment...but I really wish they were real ;)