#robert gorham

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“You know damn well—”

“No, I don’t, because you have been very insistent that you are fine and that this is not bothering you whatsoever.” He was smug. Damien could hear it in his voice and he wanted to punch him. He wanted to turn around and kiss him. He wanted him to dig his fingers in just a little harder. “Which we both know is a lie, but as the game goes, you don’t get what you want till you admit it.”

It was a stupid game, largely because it played off of Damien’s least favorite activity—not getting what he wanted. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Every ounce of desire he had was going into Mark, making him want to dig his fingers in, making him crave Damien’s laughter. And, sometimes, it worked. Sometimes, the nails dragging up his sides would scribble over his ribs in an almost crazed frenzy and Damien would choke and fall back into his arms with a rush of relief. Then, in the next moment, Mark would recover, looking a bit flushed himself, and go back to his teasing game. He was barely holding on, but so was Damien, and so it all came down to who broke first.

Damien bit his lip as Mark teased skittering touches over his stomach, his skin jumping and twitching under his hands. Every part of him wanted to squirm away or at the very least grab Mark's hands, but he couldn’t risk that ending this and leaving him entirely unsatisfied for the night. “C’mon, Mark, I know you can feel it, so why don’t you just do it already.”

“Feel what, Damien?” He couldn’t see it with his eyes closed, but he could practically feel Mark’s raised eyebrow. “What desire are you projecting tonight? Enlighten me.”

Damien sucked in a shuddering breath. “Fuck you.”

Fail once, try again. Fail seventeen thousand times, try again anyway because it has to work eventually. He closed his eyes, feeling around for the tether in Mark’s mind. He focused on his psyche, grabbing onto his consciousness and molding it between his fingers. Damien let out a soft whine of effort, barely perceivable if you weren’t listening for it. He felt Mark tense behind him and grinned in delight when the scribbly touches turned to squeezes pinching gently at his hip and up his sides.

“Oh, ho, you are—” The squeeze tightened until Damien nearly fell out of his lap with a bark of laughter. “This is entirely cheating. And dangerous. You have no idea what I want to do with you—do to you.”

Damien squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling shakily. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Don’t let him see how horrendously giddy the last couple seconds made you. “Please. You’re at my mercy, don’t you remember? This night will go however I say it will go.”

The teasing touches had returned to just that, sliding up his ribs carefully and forcing an involuntary shudder as they edged too close to the top. “Right, well, right now your mercy wants you to be at my mercy, so maybe you should ease up on your desire just a bit so I don’t actually kill you.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

“I mean it, Damien.” Damien could hear the serious edge in his voice—or rather how hard he was trying to keep a serious edge in his voice. It was clear that desire and excitement were winning out over any kind of concern for Damien’s wellbeing. “I don’t think you understand the full breadth of your own powers sometimes. Not to mention the fact that I—well. It’s not a desire that I wouldn’t already be feeling. It’s possible I’d never stop at this rate.”

“I’d stop you if you went too far.”

“Would you?”

Would he? Damien kept his mouth shut, mostly because he himself didn’t know the answer to that question. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine something like this ever going too far. Every time the teasing touches ended, every time Mark finally let him go for the night, every time the laughter died down on his lips, Damien couldn’t help but yearn for more. He had learned to get some of that yearning under control for fear of not wanting to overwhelm Mark with it, but it thrummed underneath his skin in a wild frenzy of want that one day would boil over and consume them both.

Tonight could be that night.

Mark had finally let go of his sides, gaining enough control to move again without destroying the other man. He stayed on the safe side with pleasant touches this time, scratching his back in a manner hard enough to only feel good. It was a decent strategy, as it threw Damien’s wants into disarray. It’s hard to want someone to do something to you when it comes at the price of a different pleasure ending. He hummed reluctantly, leaning his head forward on Mark’s shoulder. Strands of his hair clung to his forehead. They were both sweaty, not from any physical exertion per se, but from the mental strain of holding onto their collective willpowers—in Damien’s case, trying to hold onto both of theirs.

Mark glanced down at the mop of hair disguising the man he was currently tormenting. “You okay?”

“Feels good.”

Mark smiled. He dragged his nails in sharp loops down his back, causing Damien to shudder. And then his smile tensed and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Goddamnit. You’re good. It’s specific tonight, too. The hips, huh?”

Damien’s heart leapt. A giddy smile tugged at his features and he found himself glad that his face was covered. He shook his head against the other man instead of giving any kind of real answer, but evidently that wasn’t enough to satiate him. Damien couldn’t tell if he was prompting the teasing or if Mark was simply eager to win. Possibly, both.

“Normally when it comes to this particular want, the desire is too overwhelming for me to understand its individual parts. But tonight…” Mark’s hands slid from his back, coming to rest at his sides—less than an inch above where Damien wanted them. “It’s the hips. To start, something light and gentle, a casual spidering. Just enough to have you giggling your cocky little head off. Then some pinches to really get you going, and for the finale, I’d dig in and vibrate my thumbs right here—” he tapped a finger against his hip bone—“until you’re begging for even an ounce of mercy. Sound about right?”

Bingo. Damien didn’t respond—couldn’t respond, really, with how hard he was concentrating. His body was shivery, like his whole nervous system was on edge. If Mark had dug in then, it was possible he would have screamed or let out some other embarrassing noise in order to release all this built-up tension.

If he wanted to, he could have made Mark snap right then and there. He had convinced people to do far worse than a bit of tickling, and in this case, Mark wanted it too, so it would have been a breeze to pull off. But he didn’t want to just force him into it. They were playing a tenuous game of tug-o-war, and Damien didn’t want to knock Mark off his feet. He just needed to pull him forward enough to make him break without doing something that might actually kill Damien from how intense it got.

Still, Damien had to admire Mark’s resolve. He was getting a lot better at resisting his ability.

Damien still couldn’t tell if he liked that or not.

Mark had gone back to kissing, though this time it quickly strayed from his neck. He pressed insistently on Damien’s chest, and the other man obediently fell back on the bed to allow Mark more access. Mark rucked up his shirt to his chest, his lips skimming over Damien’s skin—down his ribs, teeth grazing against the skin while his hands rested at his hips, drumming teasingly.

“Mark,” Damien growled out. He gripped Mark’s hair, but didn’t pull him away. “Just—”

“Just?” Mark had paused at his stomach, and the skin there trembled at the proximity. “Use your words, Damien. Just what?”

“Please.”

Mark paused. “I didn’t expect to get that.”

“Oh my god—”

“But you’ll have to be more specific—please what?” Mark glanced up at his flushed face, Damien's brows pinched together in an expression of want. “From how you’re acting, maybe you mean 'please fuck you'?”

Damien choked out a laugh, letting his hand fall over his face. “Don’t be crass. I don’t think we’d still be here if that was it.”

“Fair.”

Mark held horrendously, frustratingly still, waiting for Damien’s concession to give him the permission they both were looking for. Damien gnawed at his lower lip, desire squirming anxiously in his stomach. He was so close. He was still holding onto his pride by a hair and he was considering tipping that desire over the scale just enough to make Mark do what he wanted. It stood at his command, ready for him to wield it.

Mark inhaled shakily, resting his head against Damien’s stomach. They both ignored the jump as Mark’s hair brushed against his bare skin. “Damien, you’re killing me here—”

“Please—fuck, please just fucking tickle me already, Mark, or I swear to god—fuhuhUHUCK!”

Laughter spilled out of Damien in wild waves as fingers scribbled into his hips at last. They were clumsy, frantic movements as both Mark and Damien’s wills worked together to bring the latter to ruin. Still, hours of anticipation had served to ramp Damien’s nerves to such an intensity that it hardly mattered. His hands shot down immediately to try to pry Mark’s off of him to no avail. Normally he tried to keep up some semblance of dignity when the tickling first started, but at this point, he couldn’t be bothered to care what he looked or sounded like. All he knew was that it tickled and he needed to stay like this for as long as they both could last.

Mark’s lips were everywhere, biting, kissing and licking all over his torso in a manner that was unfairly ticklish. Though he was never able to pull off a full beard, Mark had a stubble that he had to tame every once in a while. Damien would never admit it, but he was kind of into the subtle shadow it added to Damien’s face. Now, he wanted to rip off what hair was there and shove it down Mark’s smug throat.

While his mouth was free roaming, however, his hands remained at Damien’s hips. Scribbling, pinching, digging, whatever Damien’s desire wanted in that moment. Mark followed the unspoken instructions to a T, and Damien was going to kill him if he didn’t stop soon.

“Markmarkmark plehehehease!” Damien’s legs kicked out violently, but with Mark in-between his legs, it didn’t do much good. His back was arched and his hair crushed and twisting in fifteen different directions against the bed. Sensation zipped through his body like he was a livewire, forcing his mouth up into a manic grin. He was sure he looked insane. He felt insane. He had never wanted to kiss Mark more. “It fuhuhucking tihihickles, it tickles you d-dihihick!”

“Well, then it seems like I’m doing a good job, doesn’t it?” Mark muttered against his skin. “Now sit back and enjoy yourself. It’s going to be a long night.”

And Damien did just that, pressing himself back against the bed. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to just laugh.