After the End Ch. 03

"Try not to worry about it," Julian concluded. "People will adjust to this sooner than you think. You will too."

Unfortunately, that night, I ran into one of my least favorite people, someone who wasn't adjusted at all. Cooper had always made a nuisance of himself, constantly ready with a snarky remark and an excuse for why he wasn't working. He didn't have any friends, just groupies who fought over the crumbs of whoever's self-esteem Cooper was going after that day. As soon as I saw him, I knew he would run his mouth.

"Finally coming out of the closet, huh, Chase?" he called, loud enough for twenty people nearby to hear. "You've been such a whore all these years - I always suspected there was more to it. Scrawny and freckled doesn't usually get so much action."

Cooper sneered at me while several of his cronies laughed, rough and rude. If I responded at all, it would only encourage him, so I kept walking.

He followed me. "You get tired of trying to fill that dick-shaped hole in your heart? You gonna be less of a tool now that Delta's giving it to you right?"

"Shut up, Cooper," I warned, my blood heating until I thought it might vaporize.

"I, for one, am happy you've found that nice thick cock you've been dreaming of. Every twink deserves a real man who'll bend him over and fuck his boy-pussy raw."

White-hot rage consumed my brain. Next thing I knew, Cooper was on the ground beneath me, my fist smashing satisfyingly into his flesh. I was dimly aware of people yelling and trying to pull me away, but I ignored them. Eventually, the crowd succeeded in removing Cooper from my grasp, and Lamont arrived to cool me down.

I surveyed the damage with approval while I nursed my stinging knuckles. For all his talk, Cooper hadn't put up much of a fight. He lay in the fetal position, bleeding from an elbow to the face and clutching his stomach. Ought to be plenty of slow-healing bruises to remind him to watch his mouth around me.

Rowan checked my hand to make sure there were no real injuries. "I'm sorry you had to hear that," she told me. "Take it easy with your hand tomorrow. I want it properly healed for the next time Cooper needs knocked down."

Several nights later, my hand was fully functional, and I was on Julian's bed with him. Now that we weren't hiding, I could be there more often. He would just as well have come to my tent, but being second-in-command over our entire population, he had a nicer space. His bed was almost like a real one - sturdy wooden frame, raised off the ground, with a thicker mattress than I'd ever slept on.

I hadn't said anything to Julian about my fight with Cooper, but he'd heard anyway. He said he'd done the same thing often enough. Violence wasn't supposed to be the answer, but it did the job when the problem was a cowardly bully. He'd taken it upon himself to give me some personalized hand-to-hand combat training, in case I had any further issues, so we'd been practicing in the evenings. Now, we were just messing around, reliving some of the best moments from tonight's session.

Julian playfully pushed me face down onto the bed, rolling against my back. He grabbed my right side for leverage, and something about the way his fingers gripped me activated an ancient reflex. I laughed and jerked away from his hand.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing."

With the side of my face trapped against the mattress, I couldn't see his fingers reaching higher up, digging in just where my armpit began. I yelped again and pulled my arm tight against my side.

"Are you ticklish?" He sounded disconcertingly interested.

"No." The denial was automatic. And probably not very convincing, even with my head turned away.

His hand came for me again, this time lower, just above my hip. Damn, it was getting worse with each attack, like my body was remembering where these laughter-inducing pathways were.

"You are! How did I not know this?"

The truth was, I wasn't that ticklish under most circumstances. Certain places, touched in the right way, definitely were, but Julian wouldn't have had any reason to find that out. Most of the time I forgot all about it. Yet the way he was specifically searching for what made me squirm turned my nerve sensitivity up to high. I supposed it shouldn't have surprised me - Julian was masterful at discovering all the best ways to make my body respond to him.

Before I could figure out any safe response, Julian adjusted his position. He settled more body weight on me and hooked a leg around mine. His left arm was already woven under my left shoulder. Then he grabbed my right wrist and started pulling my arm over my head.

Immediately, I realized what was about to happen. He had me pinned; he was too strong for me to get out from under him in this position. He'd be able to hold my right wrist in his left hand, leaving his right hand completely free, and my right side completely unguarded.

"Julian, no!" I tried desperately to pull away, already laughing.

He froze with my arm half-raised. "Are you actually telling me to stop?" he asked seriously. "Because if you are, I will."

I struggled internally while he waited for me to answer. He'd never physically restrained me before. My ticklish places were already buzzing, and my cock was already thickening. Julian was so fucking good at getting me worked up; I knew he'd have me writhing uncontrollably and leaking through my pants in no time. Yet I didn't actually want to stop him. Where was the fun in that?

"Avery?"

"I heard you."

Slowly, he pulled my arm taut over my head, and I didn't resist. When he transferred my wrist to his left hand, an embarrassing groan escaped me. I was reactive enough under his touch normally. Now that he'd discovered this secret about me, there was a 100% chance he was going to exploit it to devastating effect.

"Good," Julian murmured, satisfied with my surrender. I didn't quite understand why this was turning me on so much. Did I have a kink I'd never known about? Something about being literally defenseless, and Julian wanting me that way, was mainlining excitement into my veins. Losing control of my own body seemed to make every sensation more acute. I waited in excruciating suspense, not able to see what his free hand was doing.

His fingers slipped under the hem of my t-shirt and crept past my waistband, beginning to stroke the unprotected skin of my side. He explored slowly, deliberately, with a soft touch, on the border between pleasuring and teasing. I held my breath and vainly imagined I might be able to hide that he was already getting to me. Those searching fingertips ticked more than I expected, more than they should. The effect was probably more psychological than real: my body knew what he was planning, and traitorously, it decided to help. That didn't make me feel it any less.

I tensed all my muscles, the only shield between me and Julian's efforts to unravel me. How did he know to curl his fingers at that exact angle, working front to back across my side, waking nerve endings I hadn't even been aware of?

"You said you weren't ticklish, right?" Julian taunted as I struggled not to respond to a firmer prod between two ribs. I could hear the impish curve of his smile. "So you don't mind if I do this?" There was a jolt through my nervous system on that last word, originating from some weak spot Julian's fingers were pressing into. "Or this?" Another targeted jab, deeper into my muscle, and I spasmed beneath him before I could stop myself. He laughed quietly.

His fingers stroked a little more, creeping higher, toward my helplessly vulnerable armpit. My pulse sped up, and I fought the urge to squirm. Like many people, it was one of my most ticklish areas, and right now it was stretched and immobilized, only inches away from the fingers climbing my ribs.

"Julian..." I moaned as his fingers skimmed the edge of that sensitive hollow, which should have been tucked safely beneath my shoulder. Even the fabric of my t-shirt would have helped dull the sensation a little. Julian's hand sneaking around inside my clothes made me feel extra exposed, plus I couldn't help thinking about other places he could touch while I was pinned down. More heat fled to my groin as fingertips passed millimeters from my areola.

I bit my lip, braced for the invasion of my armpit, but at the last moment, his hand reversed directions. God, the anticipation had me wound tight. I knew it was going to be that much worse when he finally went for it, and there was something decidedly erotic about being toyed with like this.

"You know what we need for you?" Julian asked instead, tracing up and down my ribcage. It tickled most when he reached the awkward place where my side became my back. "A safe word. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes," I gasped, trying to concentrate on his voice, and not his hand.

He paused, resting his palm flat against my side. "You can always tell me how you're feeling, or if you want to stop. I think I know you well enough that I'll be able to see if you're not enjoying something. But when you can't physically escape, things can be less clear. Do you have a preference about your word?"

"Not really." I'd never remotely expected to need one.

He ran a fingernail up my side, and I giggled involuntarily.

"How about 'scarlet'? I prefer it to the traditional 'red.' It's more distinctive; easier to hear."

"Ok." Imagining what he'd have to do for me to use a safe word was not helping my arousal level.

"If you just want to pause or back things off, you can say 'yellow.' If you say 'scarlet,' I'll stop whatever I'm doing immediately and let go of you."

"Ok," I said again. It was probably the wrong reaction, but the full-body contact and threats of exploitation had drugged my brain, and I was pretty sure I never wanted him to let go of me.

"So what are your words?"

"'Yellow' to pause; 'scarlet' to stop."

"Good. I don't intend for you to need them, but if you ever do, please don't hesitate." He drummed his fingers toward my armpit again. Instinctively, I pulled against the hand holding my wrist like an iron manacle, but of course I got nowhere. "You ok? Anything you need to tell me?"

I was losing track of what he was saying, with his fingers right on top of a trigger that could made me weak with laughter.

"God, Julian, just... Yes, I'm ok."

Teeth nipped the back of my neck, and heat raced down my spine. I was already so damn horny that when his fingers crawled softly into my armpit, I swear I felt it in my cock.

Julian traced my tender hollow just gently enough that I could bear it, yet it tickled wickedly. I held out as long as I could, clenching my jaw and my fist, but I was too sensitive, and Julian was too persistent.

"Oh shit!" I exclaimed as laughter burst out of me. "This is so not fair!" I writhed fruitlessly against his strength while he scratched lightly beneath my arm, inside my shirt.

Julian just laughed. Some people, discovering this weakness, would have held me down and dug in until I was thrashing and screaming. That wasn't Julian's way - thank god, because I don't know who could enjoy that. He took his time, mapping every lit-up centimeter from my pec to my triceps. He tested my reactions, finding out what triggered me, how much I could tolerate without losing it completely. No one had tried this on me in so many years; I couldn't even anticipate which spots would be the worst.

He lingered for a while toward the front of my shoulder, discovering the very ticklish dent where my bicep attached to my torso. He played in and out of my deepest recess, pausing for effect just before plunging in again, feinting and retreating, until I got to the point where I started laughing before he even touched me.

Then he ran fingertips lightly up and down between my pit and my elbow, where I hadn't even known I was sensitive. He managed to find just the right pressure and speed to ignite the nerve endings there. It was worse when he moved downward again to stroke softly against the line of hair inside my pit. The barely-there touch teased more than tickled, and it made me crave more direct contact, especially on my swollen cock. I ground my hips against the bed, which Julian noticed.

"This isn't turning you on, is it?" he murmured into my ear. "Being held down, having all your sensitive spots found out? Not knowing where I'll touch you next, or how far I'm going to go?" While he spoke, his fingers trailed all the way down my side and slid just inside my pants, prodding into the joint between my torso and leg.

I bucked against him, giggling uncontrollably. He eased off, just brushing a fingertip against that tender crease, and need surged in my core. Fuck, it was hot that he could manipulate me this way, making me yearn and squirm at will. I whimpered, but his hand pulled back to my waist.

"I don't think I checked you here yet," he said, low and provocative. He played me like a fiddle, pressing different fingers into my flesh as if holding down the strings for a favorite melody, vibrating against me to create the perfect tone. He let all five fingers grip me for a while, squeezing laughter out. Then he found another seriously ticklish place just above my hip, slightly beneath me. Whenever I was getting my breath back, he would press his fingers in again, a different rhythm every time, so I couldn't control my reaction.

He didn't torment me, except with the overall stratospheric level of excitement and intensity. His kept his touch sensual, never rough. He didn't linger too long in any one place, or repeat anything too often that I found unbearable. And all the while, my desire grew sharper.

He was back up at the smooth skin at the base of my armpit when I started to get desperate - not for him to stop tickling me, but to do something about my rock-hard cock and achy balls. His fingers ventured so close to my nipple, but never touched it, which, stupidly, was making me hornier. Sometimes I thought that everything made me hornier when Julian was involved.

"Julian, please." I rocked my hips with the small amount of force I could generate while he was laying on top of me. "I need to come."

He replied in that sensuous, tantalizing tone he had. "How are you going to manage that, when you can't reach your cock?"

"You can reach it," I whined.

"Who says I want to?"

I froze, then instantly got so hot I thought I might catch fire. It had never occurred to me, when I let Julian pin me in this position, that he might withhold my sexual release. Fuck! Not physically being able to get stimulation where I wanted it so badly was making me exponentially needier.

He went for my nipple then, and I think I might have dissolved. He teased it so exquisitely, giving me intense pleasure and demonstrating his complete control over my body. He could make me feel this, make me want him, for as long as he chose to, and I chose to do nothing about it. It was the strongest high I'd yet gotten from this blend of vulnerability and trust.

He let me burn and float for a minute, then he turned me slightly to the side so he could reach under me. Somehow he unbuckled my pants with one hand, pushing them down enough to get my cock out. I wriggled to help him, and I sighed in relief when his hand closed around my straining shaft.

He stroked me as if it were his own cock in his hand, and it wasn't very long before I was primed to blow.

"You ready to come, babe?" Julian crooned beside my head.

I couldn't create words; I just moaned urgently and thrust into his hand.

"What if I didn't let you?" he asked, sinfully sexy. At the same time, he loosened his grip, his strokes becoming light and slow.

"Oh, god, Julian!" I groaned deeply, tugging again at his hold on my wrist. I didn't know what was getting to me more, his hand teasing my erection, or his threat to deny my orgasm.

"Tell me what you would do, if I stopped right now and left you like this, desperate and throbbing."

"I don't know!" I gasped. How was I supposed to comprehend that level of frustration, in my current state?

"Then tell me what this feels like," he said, still sultry, still stroking me with a maddening lack of pressure.

"Pleeease," I begged. "It aches so badly when you go slowly like that! You made me so fucking hard holding me down - I can't stand being this close and not coming - please, I need to!"

"Fuck, you're hot," he told me. "Ok, babe. You've been very, very good, and I want you to come for me."

He gripped me with purpose, and in three strokes, I exploded, inside and out. Blinding pleasure rocked me, while thick fluid spurted forcefully from my cock.

Julian didn't let go of me until the last of the shockwaves passed. I turned to face him, hungry for his kiss after so much tension. He took my mouth passionately, and I remembered that he must need to come as badly as I had. I pressed a hand to the bulge inside his pants, and he made a quiet sound. Wanting to tease him just a little, I rubbed his hot length through the fabric, kissing him thoroughly. Patient as ever, he let me have my way, but I didn't make him wait long. Soon I moved down his body, pulled him out, and sucked him in. He moaned my name, one hand in my hair - not to control me, but to show appreciation.

It was gratifying, how hard he came. I snuggled close to him, afterward, letting his embrace reset my nervous system after all that stimulation. Too worn out to talk, I drifted blissfully into oblivion.