Extension November 2020 Drabble #2

They keep him on his toes; not only do they not give him the comfort of a simple hot-cold rhythm, they don’t even utilize the same same methods. Hanzo has been able to easily make out the candle wax and the ice cube, but other sensations are not as straight forward.

The washcloth with the ice cold water takes him the longest to identify for some reason. Jack is brushing it against his nipples in short little bursts that make him think of an animal. Some mythical being with frosty breath that has decided to join in on the play.

It takes him off-guard how his brain works without any visuals to go by. He had never pegged himself as being particularly imaginative.

There is also something that he thinks might be some kind of wire that they can heat to the specific temperatures that they desire. It is just short of burning hot at times. They can bend it into different shapes, and he has the distinct feeling that this Gabriel is having fun putting distinct red welts onto his pectoral muscles.

“It’s like branding a cow,” he murmurs after pressing the wire against Hanzo’s skin until he had cried out sharp and animalistic. His hands are curled into tight fists behind the back of the chair, blood pumping fast in his ears. He is sweating; it prickles beneath his arms and at the edge of his hairline.

“Hmmm you like that, don’t you?” Jack answers with an amused rasp in his voice. Hanzo can feel himself swaying toward the sound of their voices instinctively; his body turning toward one side, then the other; seeking for some kind of contact that isn’t trying to make his brain into some oversensitive mush. “You like all that animal play stuff…”

Gabriel hums. He does not seem particularly embarrassed by his friend outing him. Hanzo can’t say the same for himself. While he tries to hold on to the flush starting to color his cheeks, there is nothing he can do about it. He imagines all the welts on his pecs; the little symbols this Gabriel might have adorned them with by now.

“I can’t help it. Not when they’re such a nice pair of tits.”

Goosebumps run along Hanzo’s arms. He hears footsteps come closer, and, in anticipation, leans toward the noise. They haven’t touched him since binding him securely in the chair, apart from Jack stroking his throat and tipping his chin up like a priced animal. For some reason he finds himself craving those large, calloused hands.

What he finds instead, is yet another drip of ice cold water – this time directly on his neglected erection. He will forever deny having made such an undignified yelp, but… he had not been prepared for it. All their efforts had been focused on his pectorals, torturing them until they were throbbing and tender and impossibly sensitive. His cock had not been part of the equation until now.

The water drops seem even colder than they had any right to be, given that his blood is practically boiling beneath the thin stretch of skin. His muscles tense and tremble, the rope binding his wrists groans softly as he fights against it.

“Oh that’s nice,” Jack murmurs. “That’s real nice… finally starts to fight back a little.”

Gabriel hums in agreement. His steps move away again. Hanzo listens to him rummaging around on the low table he had seen when entering the private room. They had been walking back to it a few times, probably exchanging their equipment.

“Wonder how he’ll react to a bit of wax on his dick.”

Hanzo rears his head back like a spooked horse, alarm bells ringing in his ears. He fights harder against the ropes, heart thumping fast in his chest, but no word wants to come out. His tongue seems to be tied, lying heavy in his mouth as he listens to the steps coming back to him.

Jack places his large hands on his shoulders, gently pressing him back into the chair.

“Easy now… you’ll like it,” he murmurs, but the thought of hot wax dripping on his cock has Hanzo’s breath burning in his lungs. They couldn’t! They... they wouldn’t!

Gabriel’s steps come to a stop in front of him. There’s a reedy sound being emitted by Hanzo that he wouldn’t have been able to stop even if he tried. It sounds like a pathetic whine. All his muscles are clenching again, his brain trying to brace for the coming scorching heat that will drip down on his cock.

“No-” he groans, a pleading lilt in his voice now. He feels… humbled, even as his cock flexes, heartbeat pulsing hard along its underside. The men around him are now deathly silent. He wants to know if they are exchanging glances. If they are amused or disgusted by his frankly embarrassing display of weakness.

The seconds draw excruciatingly long. Maybe they are waiting for the candle to burn down enough so they can have a nice fat dollop of wax dripping down on him, encasing the sensitive tip of his cock. Making him blind with desperation rather than the silky cloth wrapped over his eyes.

Hanzo’s breath hitches, burning in his lungs. It occurs to him that maybe… Just maybe… is this… fear? Is he actually dreading what is about to come? He is sweating, the air of the room cooling down his body somewhat while his cock remains a pulsing core of need. He wants to grab it and rub it fast and sloppy like he used to when he was a young man, whining into his pillows, trying to be as quiet as possible so neither the guards nor his father would hear…

“Easy now… you’re hyperventilating. Slow and calm… In… and out…” Jack’s rough voice is low and soothing, his big hand rubbing Hanzo’s shoulder and biceps in a rhythm that helps him adjust his own breathing.

He’s still wondering whether to thank him for it – something Hanzo’s whole being seems to rebel against – when there is the touch he had been expecting… but not in the way he had anticipated.

His arms jerk hard enough against the ropes that he knows nasty bruises will form against his wrists in moments. The touch to his swollen crown is gentle but firm. Designed for him to notice it above all else.

It is not hot, though. It is cold. Ice cold. A slippery cube of ice pressed against his cock and short circuiting his brain that has been completely focused on wax.

Hanzo tries to pull his legs up and shield his poor cock, but hands patiently press his knees back down, holding him in place. Holding him open and vulnerable for the touch of the ice cube.

“No! No, please! His mouth is working independent from his brain which is frozen in indecision as it still grapples with trying to process what is happening. There’s chuckles all around him, though it does not sound malicious. A cold drop separates itself from the cube and slides down his flexing shaft. Hanzo groans, insides balled into a tight fist, balls swollen like grapes in his mind. In his blindness, everything feels grotesquely bloated, ready to burst.

His cock first of all…

“Damn, you’re so sensitive… never did temperature play before, have you?” Gabriel says gently. The cube moves away from Hanzo’s weeping crown and slides along his cock. The icy water starts to soak his pubes and gets warmed against his overheating body.

“Please, please, please, please,” he whines; for what, he couldn’t say himself. He wants to squirm and wriggle and bounce but the hands are holding him down calm and secure… forcing him to endure the impossible cold against his painfully hard cock.

“Shhh it’s alright. You don’t have to wait tonight. You can come whenever you want, okay? Want something warm? Here… have this…”

The icecube vanishes. Seconds later, Hanzo’s cock is engulfed by warm, soft… thing. It’s a bit wet, too, he realizes when it slowly rubs against his shaft. It’s a hand engulfed in a… it has to be a washcloth. He is slowly getting jerked by a hand in a warm washcloth, rubbing away the icy cold from before.

It swamps his body in a wave, all encompassing, there to stay, impossible to ignore.

Hanzo throws himself back, mouth open wide but no sound coming out for the longest time. The hands still hold him nice and secure, keeping him from toppling backwards with his chair. He’s coming. He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming, and all around him are deep voices murmuring sweet, soothing nothings as rope after rope of cum pumps out of him and splashes over his heaving belly.

Waves of hot and cold wash through his body, limbs prickling wildly as his brain feels… overworked like a computer struggling with a backup of tasks.

He’d never have imagined… he’d never even thought… such a simple, cheap trick, playing with temperatures, yet…

“Got off like a freight train,” Jack murmurs. The rough voice sounds a bit smug. “I really want to swap numbers. Think the three of us could have a nice thing going for a while, Hanzo.”

...Yes… he thinks so too...