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Gimme What I Want

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He hates places like this. It’s the kind of place that somehow manages to be pretentious and sleazy at the same time. It’s the kind of place where you need a password for entry and you’ll only get that if you know someone, bribe someone or sleep with someone. It’s the kind of place where after gaining entry, anyone not trying to flaunt their six figure salary to impress someone half their age looks out of place.

Thomas definitely looks out of place, lingering around the bar and nursing the smallest glass of house red.

He’s lucky, he knows someone, that’s how he got his entry. He knows the owner of the club, in fact. They’re a relative of his, on the Button side of the family, the side he generally avoids at all cost. But the reason he’s here, the reason he needed entry, helps them too.

All being well he’s about to secure them a front page worthy, exclusive scoop. And given the fact the Buttons owned and ran the majority of news outlets in the country, including the paper Thomas writes for, they happily obliged his request for entry.

The only problem is the man he needs for information. One Julian Fawcett MP. His sources inform him that he’s only interested in one thing and Thomas was never the best seducer. But he’s had experience with types like Julian and the charm offensive wasn’t always the best way to go about it.

He bides his time, watching Julian and company from afar. He waits for the other to head off to the bathroom alone, downs the remainder of his dreadful wine and follows.

They acknowledge each other by the sink, a small smile from Thomas earns him one back. It’s followed by a quick look up and down and an attempt at feigned recognition,
“Aren’t you that dickhead MP?”

A good riling argument later and Thomas finds himself locked in one of the stalls with Julian, pressed against the door, arms held behind his back as he’s fucked into, frantically and fast.
“Still think I’m a dickhead now?” He growls into Thomas’ ear and Thomas has to suppress shivers of arousal; this was a job, it shouldn’t be having the effect on him that it is. He concentrates on the cool plastic of the door pressed against his cheek before answering,
“It’ll take more than this to convince me otherwise.” It doesn’t come out with as much bite as he wants and Julian definitely speeds up to make him muddle his words but his provocation works. Once Julian’s finished, he gives him a card with a hotel name and room number and Thomas has his in.

A couple of hours later as Julian had instructed, Thomas heads to the hotel. It’s some soulless, modern affair with no character. A perfect fit, he thinks, for a man like Julian. The room is some “superior” or “deluxe” suite, Julian had bragged about it, but Thomas was more focussed on the cock inside of him at the time than Julian’s hotel room based ego.

He reaches the room with the specified number, takes a deep breath and gives a curt knock.

Before there’s any chance to finalise his plans to get information from Julian or how he might distract the other to search for evidence to support his article, he’s pulled onto the queen-sized bed and all thoughts exit him when Julian’s cock enters.

He doesn’t intend to stay until the morning but the fancy black-out blinds keep the room in almost complete darkness and has to rely on his own unreliable body clock. It’s fortunate for him that Julian is still completely passed out, the cocktail of booze, drugs and sex keeping him in an almost comatosed sleep and Thomas takes his opportunity to rifle through Julian’s belongings.

It’s Julian’s mobile phone that proves the most supportive of Thomas’ case. The only issue being that Thomas has no idea how to really use it or transfer the data so that he can reference it. That is, of course, beyond good old pen and paper, which, luckily the hotel provides in spades.

He leans over a desk and hand writes the messages down, getting increasingly lost in thoughts about how this might be his big break and ultimately his way out of boring, corporate article writing and into something more creative. He’s so lost that he doesn’t hear Julian get up, doesn’t sense him behind him until it’s too late and Julian’s arms are wrapped around his middle and a mouth is at his neck.

“No-one usually stays until morning and I love a good morning fu-” Julian begins before glancing at his own phone on the desk and several scrawly pages of handwritten copies of his messages. Thomas expects him to let go, to kick him out without so much as getting fully dressed. Instead, the hands around him tighten, the mouth at his neck bites down and Thomas whines.


The knots are tight and ripped up bed sheet is making surprisingly strong material for binding him with. Thomas can tell that Julian’s done this before, from the expert way he loops the sheets around all four bed posts tightly before spreading out Thomas’ limbs and binding them off to a respective corner.

He gives them a tug, tests their tightness and somewhere the logical side of his brain protests the fact that he agreed to this and keeps trying to convince himself that he didn’t have a choice. If he’d not agreed to Julian’s request, Julian might have told the police, Thomas’ own reputation would be in tatters, his dreams lost.

But that was only a fictional thought of Thomas’ own creation. Julian gave him the choice. Thomas chose poorly, a little bit out of guilt, a little bit out of arousal, a little bit out of stubborness.
“You can still back down, you know? I’ll untie you, you can leave noteless, we’ll drop the whole thing.” Julian remarks and Thomas can hear the smile on his face, like Julian has won either way.
“Remind me of the alternative.” Thomas states, just about keeping his voice level, emotionless as he stares at the ceiling and feels the bed dip as Julian sits down.
“Is your position not enough reminder?” Julian laughs and gives one of Thomas’ nipples a slight flick, the other writhing in surprise. “You stay here for the duration of my trip, you can keep your little notes about me and I get to do what I want with you. Sexually, that is.” Thomas rolls his eyes at the last part, as if being tied to the bed wasn’t indicative of Julian’s intentions with him.
“Fine. Do what you will with me.”


Thomas isn’t quite sure what he expects Julian to do but he didn’t expect to be on the receiving end of a blow job and a decent one at that, not that he has much to compare to. Perhaps that’s why he comes fairly quickly into Julian’s mouth with a sob as Julian swallows it all down.
“Is that it?” Thomas calls as he watches Julian stand up,
“Hardly.” Julian replies and returns with a bottle of lube.

Thomas has never really timed how long between orgasms he can go, he can’t say he’s ever really had the chance but he suspects, given the onsetting lethargy and his softening cock that it’s longer than Julian is about to give him. He could stop this; Julian has given him a word to say that’ll end the activity altogether but Thomas isn’t about to fall at the first hurdle and grits his teeth when the lube is poured liberally onto his cock.

He doesn’t understand why he feels a pang of arousal when Julian grabs his cock and begins again. It seems like pain, like it should hurt and it does hurt a tad but something about the pain, about being tied up, about being at Julian’s mercy has his cock springing to life again. Any residual pain melts into pleasure.

It takes him longer to come this time but it still feels embarrassingly quick. His hands ball into fists, he grits his teeth and everything goes taut as he stares at the head of his cock disappearing and reappearing into Julian’s broad, lubricated hands until he’s coming over himself and Julian’s hand.

It’s harder than the first; he feels like it takes much more out of him especially when Julian doesn’t still his hand like he expects him to. He keeps up a slow stroke until Thomas goes soft and instinctively pulls away from the touch, tilts his hips away from Julian’s hand and tries not to think about how the reminder of being trapped here, of being forced to endure this almost is enough to bring his cock to life again.

The next one starts as another blow job and in any other circumstances, Thomas would be pleased for the attention but in this case, even though Julian swallows his softness down and merely holds it there, he is not. Not yet anyway. He holds himself as still as possible to avoid creating unnecessary friction. He’s not sure why the question pops into mind but he’s determined to distract himself from the wet heat of Julian’s mouth on his overly sensitive cock,
“Why are you doing this? I mean, um, this activity specifically.” He’s noted Julian doesn’t seem particularly aroused by it so what was the reason?

Julian flicks his eyes upwards to see Thomas tilting his head to stare down at him. He pulls off the cock and ensures to catch the sensitive underside with his tongue, drawing out a whine and writhe from Thomas.
“I’ve no obligation to answer that…” Julian begins and keeps eye contact with Thomas as he lowers his head back down to Thomas’ cock, holding the base tightly in one hand and giving a hard suck just at the tip. Thomas cries out, twists his hips away and Julian pops off with a smirk, “...but since you were ballsy enough to ask, despite your precarious position, there’s two reasons. One…” He sucks down again, using his strong grip of Thomas’ cock to hold him still this time. There’s another cry from Thomas as tears prick the corner of his eyes. “...I want to see how far I can push your stubbornness, and two…” Another suck, somehow stronger this time as Thomas turns his head to bite into his bound arm to stifle the cries, “...I’ve got you for the next few days and it’s a lot more fun for me if you’re focussed on my pleasure and not your own, if every time I’m fucking you and you’re thinking about begging me to touch your cock, you remember this…” He sucks down again, to the root this time and feels Thomas getting hard again in his mouth, “...and concentrate fully on getting me off instead.”

It takes longer this time, to the point where Julian resigns from using his mouth and swaps back to his hand instead, it glides over the spit coated cock easily and Thomas grits his teeth to endure it. He’s not sure if it’s pleasure, not sure if it’s pain, something just edging on both perhaps, with pleasure just about winning and edging him towards something else. But every time he thinks he might, Julian gives a swipe over the head of his cock and the oversensitivity pulls him back towards pain.

“You’re not angry with me?” Thomas whines out, not entirely sure that Julian’s given reasons for doing this were genuine. Surely, there had to be some level of irritation there, fuelling Julian’s torture of Thomas?
“Don’t flatter yourself. Things like this happen to me all the time. Although, you’re the first moron who’s ever decided to stay. Is your career that important to you? What paper do you work for anyway?” Julian’s hand keeps a steady pace over Thomas’ cock through his questions and Thomas isn’t quite sure he’s registered them, too lost again in the labyrinth of pleasure-pain.
“Just, ah, just need money, recognition to, ah, for my other aspirations.” Thomas explains, trying to focus on his own shaky, breathy voice, and not how he’s close again or how his hips want to buck into the touch,
“And which paper?” Julian brushes over the head again, more definitely this time, bringing Thomas back down slightly but each time less so. It feels like interrogation, with how he urges Thomas to answer through borderline torturous physical means.
“Button Chronicle.” Julian does a knowing nod, almost as if he’s impressed.

There’s silence for a while other than the lewd sound of Julian’s hand over Thomas’ cock each punctuated with increasingly urgent moans. Julian lets him come this time. It seizes his body more so than the others and feels as if his entire soul has been sapped from him, even though the volume of come is considerably less than his first two orgasms. He’s left, chest heaving, taking in deep lungfuls of air and briefly glances down to see the cooling come on his lower stomach mingling with the dried come from earlier, before slamming his head back down against the pillow.

Julian disappears again, to the same place he got the lube from and Thomas waits with trepidation about what he might return with. His worries are founded when two objects are thrown on the bed next to him and Thomas twists himself to glance at them. Even with his limited sexual history, he knows what they are and where they go.
“Never know who I might end up sleeping with on these trips, but it’s good to be prepared.” Julian smiles at him, it’s a smile Thomas has seen Julian use on TV, seen him use in the club that night, a smile that’s meant to reassure but does anything but.

Thomas decides not to watch as Julian finger fucks his hole, hard, fast, rough, with purposeful presses against Thomas’ prostate. He hates how he gets painfully hard again, a fourth time in a row and this time from a couple of eager fingers. He hates how the ties keeping him spread and at Julian’s mercy fill his lower belly with tingles whenever he gives a slight tug at them. He hates how much he’s enjoying this weird pleasure-pain-torture-sex.

He could still say the safeword, he reminds himself. It’s an option now, just as it has been all the way through but the idea of relenting to a man like Julian still didn’t seem viable. Thomas could and would see this to the end.

Julian pulls out of him, just as he thinks he might enter the throes of orgasm. The first object, an egg shaped device attached to another box on a wire is pushed into him. It’s smaller than Julian’s fingers and it slips in easily and nestles against his prostate. The second item, a simple buttplug, a little wider than the fingers is coaxed into him gently. Not that the sensation of stretching really registers with him beyond his renewed need to come. It pushes in and adds pressure to the first toy.

Then Julian turns it on and Thomas sobs and bucks into thin air. Julian sets the box that controls the vibrations of the egg on Thomas’ chest,
“If you’re lucky, you might be able to reach it with your mouth and turn it off… or up, whatever. Although, given your complete lack of abs, maybe not.” Julian pats him on the lower stomach before standing, “I’m going for a shower, last chance to back out of this, beg me to stop, offer me anything else in return, etc. etc. before I go.” Thomas gives Julian a quick glance but can’t focus on the words, instead tilting his head down to see his overused cock, twitching to life and working out how possible it is for him to reach for the box. “No?” Julian repeats again and Thomas blanks him; he won’t give in. “Fine, see you in a few orgasms time then.” The bathroom door clicks shut.



“Yeah, he’s actually funded us a surprising amount.” Thomas hears Francis say over the phone about a week later,
“You mean he’s bribed the paper?” Thomas corrects,
“Whatever.” Francis replies, “Anyway, we’ll obviously not be running your article anymore.”