I'm glad to hear that you like my story of the two guys so mich
.
So let's go on and see what's going to happen next...
________________________
part five
David still held Malcom’s chin, their gazes locked tightly together. The grin on his face seemed frozen – cheeky, arrogant, but full of energy. For a moment the whole room was silent. Only the low hum of the console and the flicker of the television filled the air, the paused video game still glowing on the screen.
Then David slowly released his hand, letting Malcom’s head sink back onto the carpet. He pulled back slightly, but didn’t release him. His weight remained firmly on Malcom’s chest, heavy but not crushing – just enough to make any movement pointless.
“Well, that was pretty clear,” David murmured quietly, almost satisfied, pushing his glasses back into place with a casual gesture. “I beat you – again.”
Malcom panted through his nose, his chest rising and falling in quick bursts. The tape sat firmly across his lips, his muffled sounds more like a strained growl than actual words. Defiance still flashed in his eyes, but underneath there was something else – a flickering tingle he couldn’t name.
Damn… I’m on the ground, tied up like a package. I lost. But… why does a part of me not want this to be over?
David watched him closely, the sparkle in his dark eyes unmistakable. “You don’t sound very convinced,” he teased when Malcom let out another muffled noise. “Or are you trying to tell me you secretly won after all?”
Malcom let out a frustrated, muffled sound and rolled his eyes. He tried to move his shoulders, pushed once more against David’s weight, but all he achieved was a faint creak from the carpet beneath them.
David chuckled quietly – that short, deep laugh that both annoyed and fascinated Malcom. “It’s kind of cute how you’re still fighting back.” He let his fingertips wander playfully across Malcom’s shoulder, giving a quick poke to his side that made him jolt and protest muffledly again.
He’s playing with me. Openly. And I can’t do a thing. Malcom felt his heart beat faster, sweat running down his temples. The bitterness of defeat still stuck in his throat, yet at the same time an uneasy curiosity burned inside him. Do I want him to stop? Or do I want to see how far he’ll go?
“You know,” David said finally, his grin widening again, “you’re not a bad opponent. But you’re way too stubborn. You just don’t know when it’s over.” He leaned in closer, until their faces were only a few centimeters apart. “And that’s exactly why it’s fun.”
Malcom stared back, his eyes sparkling even though they were glassy from exhaustion. Behind the tape his lips formed words no one could hear – Let me go! or maybe Keep going! – even he wasn’t sure which.
David paused for a moment, then slowly leaned back, tilting his head. His gaze wandered through the chaotic room: the overturned sports bag half hidden under the chair, the scattered notebooks and pens on the desk, the laundry basket still untouched against the wall. His eyes lingered briefly on the sports bag, then returned to Malcom.
The grin returned – sharper now, with a hint of anticipation. “You know what?” he said slowly. “I think… I’ve got another idea.”
Malcom’s heart jumped. He felt David’s weight, the belts at his joints, the tape across his mouth – and at the same time the gleam in his friend’s eyes. A shiver ran through him. Not from fear. From suspense.
What the hell is he planning now?
The question remained unanswered, as David’s grin widened and he leaned slightly to the side – toward his sports bag.
For a moment, neither of them moved. David still sat on Malcom’s chest, his knees tight against his arms, head tilted slightly, glasses a little askew. His grin hadn’t changed – cheeky, confident, full of anticipation.
Malcom panted faintly behind the tape, his chest rising and falling quickly. Sweat trickled down his temples as he tried to look away from David’s eyes and yet couldn’t.
What is he planning now? he thought, watching David’s arm slowly reach toward the sports bag. Is he going for another belt? Immediately, his mind raced. Would he tie my legs even tighter? Maybe strap my arms straight against my body so I couldn’t move at all?
An image flashed in his head: David wrapping him with another belt, loop after loop, until every little movement was impossible. Already, he could feel how the karate belts at his wrists and ankles were both soft and unyielding at the same time – what would it be like if David bound him even more tightly?
Malcom swallowed hard. Would that really be so bad? He knew he was supposed to feel ashamed of the thought. Everything in him wanted to shout in defiance, to insist he was just waiting for his chance to break free. But there was also that other feeling, that tingling in his chest that wouldn’t leave him. Or would I actually… like it?
The idea unsettled him – and yet, he couldn’t deny the strange pull it carried. His resistance was still there, burning bright, but cracks were beginning to show.
And just when he was sure David would reach for another belt, David did something else: instead of grabbing into the bag, he reached over it, snatching up something Malcom couldn’t see at first. Only when David leaned back did Malcom catch sight of it – a black bandana, which David twirled casually between his fingers as if it were nothing more than a toy.
The grin on David’s face grew wider. “Funny what you can find lying around in here,” he said, his voice sounding innocent and mischievous at the same time.
Malcom’s heart jumped. A bandana? he asked himself immediately. What’s he going to do with that?
He tugged hard at his restraints, feeling the soft but unyielding pull of the karate belts, the cold press of the skater belt buckle against his joints. A muffled, annoyed sound escaped him, stubborn and frustrated. Yet behind all of it, the question wouldn’t leave him: And if he really uses that bandana… then what?
David let the bandana slide loosely over his fingers, turning it slowly as if he were just examining it absentmindedly. But his eyes sparkled as he kept them fixed on Malcom.
“You’re probably wondering what I’m going to do with this, aren’t you?” His voice was playful, yet carried an undertone that made Malcom’s heart beat faster.
Malcom let out a guttural, muffled sound and tugged at the restraints, as if to answer the question with pure defiance: I don’t care what you do! But deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. Every fiber of his body was waiting for David’s next move.
Is he going to gag me with it? Malcom thought feverishly. Or cover my eyes? Maybe just to tease me… or to make it even harder.
The thought made him shiver and tingle all at once. If I couldn’t see… if I had no idea what he was about to do next…
David chuckled softly, that short, deep laugh that had driven Malcom crazy so many times before. He leaned forward, dangling the bandana threateningly close to Malcom’s face. “Well, what do you think? Should I give you a little extra?”
Malcom’s eyes glittered with defiance. He shook his head as much as his position allowed and growled lowly through the tape. Everything about him screamed resistance – and yet there was that other voice, quiet, insistent: Do it. I want to know what it’s like.
David was clearly enjoying the game. He let the bandana brush lightly across Malcom’s cheek, then drew it back again, as if only to taunt him. “So stubborn,” he murmured with a grin. “But you know full well you don’t get to decide in the end.”
Malcom’s chest rose and fell faster. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his muscles burned from the strain – and still he stayed defiant, even though he knew his protest was growing weaker.
“I think we’ll give this a try,” David said finally – and this time, it didn’t sound like a joke.
He took the bandana in both hands, bent forward slowly, and slid it beneath Malcom’s head. Malcom gasped through his nose, writhing and shaking his head violently – but David’s knees pinned him in place, giving him no chance to move.
No… no, he can’t… Malcom thought, desperately trying to turn his head. If I can’t see, then—
He froze. Then I won’t know what he’s going to do. Then I’ll be completely at his mercy.
A cold shiver ran down his spine – and at the same time, a tingling rush that made his chest tighten. Do I want this? he asked himself. Or do I want him to stop?
David took his time. With slow, almost deliberate movements, he pulled the bandana up across Malcom’s forehead and tied it neatly behind his head. The fabric pressed softly but firmly over Malcom’s eyes, covering his lids. The world dissolved into darkness.
Malcom gasped loudly, his entire body tensing. Panic? No. But an electrifying feeling of absolute uncertainty, mixed with the awareness that he was completely in David’s hands.
David grinned, satisfied. “Now this is much better,” he said quietly. “This way, I can do whatever I want – and you won’t even know what’s coming.”
Malcom growled behind the tape, twisted and pulled at his bonds. But every attempt was useless. He was forced to rely on his other senses: the weight of David’s body, the press of the belts, the faint rustle of the carpet beneath him, the slight chemical tang of the tape adhesive in his nose.
And David’s voice – close, warm, almost triumphant. “You’re so stubborn, Malcom. But sooner or later, you’ll realize that resistance won’t get you anywhere.”
I have to fight back, Malcom thought feverishly. I can’t just give in. But the darkness before his eyes made every attempt feel doubly hopeless. And deep inside him, a dangerous new question stirred: What happens if I let go?
The world was black. The bandana pressed softly but firmly over Malcom’s eyes, and yet it felt like a wall. All that remained were the sounds and sensations: the faint creak of the carpet beneath his back, the pull of the belts at his wrists and ankles, the weight of David on his chest. His breath came in short bursts, the smell of dust, sweat, and the faint glue-scent of the tape filled his nose.
Damn… I can’t see. I don’t know what he’s going to do next. Malcom’s heart was racing. And that’s exactly what he wants.
“Well, how does that feel?” David’s voice came close to his ear, playful yet laced with pure control. “Weird, isn’t it—when you don’t even know where I am?”
Malcom growled through the tape, tugging stubbornly at his restraints.
David laughed, that deep, short laugh that always irritated and fascinated Malcom at once. “Oh, I love that stubborn head of yours.” As he spoke, he suddenly ruffled Malcom’s damp hair with his hand, mussing it roughly.
Malcom let out a muffled, indignant sound, shook his head—only for David’s fingers to dig into his sides.
Surprise. Tickling. Malcom jerked, laughing through the gag, thrashing wildly, kicking his legs—useless. The belts held him fast.
“So, where are you more ticklish, huh?” David’s voice danced, now near his ear, now further down his body. Fingers pressed into his ribs, skittered across his stomach, then down to his knees. Malcom twisted, muffled screams of laughter tearing through the tape, biting down in frustration as tears welled in his eyes.
David paused now and then, leaning close. “Well? Giving up yet?”
Malcom shook his head furiously. Defiant. Stubborn to the core.
David grinned. “Good. Then we’re not done.”
His hands attacked again—knees, ribs, stomach—until suddenly they slid further down. Silence for a beat—then Malcom felt David tugging at his socks. A rush of air brushed his bare toes, sending a shiver through him.
“Aha,” David murmured almost with delight. “So this is the spot.”
Malcom knew what was coming—yet he couldn’t prepare. David’s fingers scratched and teased at his soles, slid between his toes. Malcom screamed into the tape, shaking uncontrollably, desperate to pull away. But David’s grip was merciless.
“Come on,” David called with a laugh, “say you give up and I’ll stop right now!”
Malcom’s whole body convulsed with laughter, his chest heaving, every nerve aflame. Still he clung to his defiance. Only when David’s unrelenting assault continued did Malcom finally nod violently, signaling: Enough. I give up.
David stopped at once, leaving Malcom’s feet alone. With satisfaction, he climbed back onto Malcom’s chest, pinning his bound arms tight against his torso. Malcom’s breathing was ragged, the tape trembling with each gasp for air.
Slowly, David pulled away the bandana, peeling it off his eyes. The light stung, and the first thing Malcom saw was David’s wide grin. “There you go,” he teased. “That wasn’t so hard.”
Then David reached for the tape across Malcom’s mouth. Carefully, almost leisurely, he peeled it off, the strip already loosened by sweat and laughter. Malcom inhaled deeply, ready to speak—but before a word escaped, David’s hand clamped firmly over his mouth.
Malcom’s eyes widened in surprise.
David grinned, low and energized. “You only gave up because you couldn’t take the tickling anymore. Deep down, you’d still fight—because you think you’ve got a chance.”
Silence. David held his chin, their gazes locked, burning with challenge.
Malcom’s thoughts raced. Pride. Defeat. Defiance. Curiosity. Everything tangled inside him. Yet deep down, one feeling won out: I want more.
Suddenly he shoved back, trying to throw David off. For a heartbeat, it almost felt like he could. But David recovered instantly, pressed him back into the carpet, pinning him flat again.
A triumphant grin spread across David’s face. “Knew it. You’ll see—I’ll make you admit defeat for real.” He leaned closer, his voice low, brimming with amusement: “And guess what? The weekend’s only just begun...”
___________________
Would be a nice ending... What so you think?
Should I tell you how it's going on?
) story.
