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ITrapped was, in all honesty, bored. Chance hadn't come around to see him in an awfully long time, and his savings were running dry.
Well, he could just call the chronic gambler and ask (demand) his presence, but that would take far too much effort. He just wanted Chance to appear and give him what he wanted. It wasn't like he was doing anything with those mile high stacks of money, iTrapped knew he'd find much better uses for it. Like finally not having to worry about rent.
Besides, his current silence was probably driving that chatterbox up the wall. It had done so every other time he'd tried, after all.
The darkheart thrummed by his side, a constant presence in the back of his mind- a guide used to keep himself focused on what mattered. Ever since finding it, things had become so much clearer. More straightforward. Simple.
He used to worry about getting left behind, about sustaining a connection so he could always tap into that wealth if he needed it. About whether Chance would find someone more interesting.
Now it was so, so simple.
Get access to Chance’s family vault. Any way possible.
A can was cracked open- the contents were cheap, but the alcohol had been a rather easy way to soothe his mind, which had been coming up with an awful lot of unsavoury thoughts in relation to Chance… but they were just stray thoughts, nothing to linger on.
All he had to do was wait for the right time to say things- to further lure Chance into his grip. And iTrapped was patient enough, he could deal with a few mind games.
Carbonation rushed down his throat- a cough stifled in favour of downing the whole thing. Soon there was hardly a drop left and he, resigned, got up to grab a new can from the fridge. Living alone was a pain, but at least he always had time to himself.
There came a knock at the door. Quick, eager.
He paused. That was certainly Chance's knock. It was hard to miss, just like the man himself. He was like a hare; large and as cute as a bunny, but with a bit more bite to him than met the eye.
Of course, the other sign it was Chance was the hollering. “ITrapped!! I'm here, didja miss me?” Below the cheerful demeanor, a crack showed.
iTrapped couldn't help but smile. His prolonged silence had gotten to Chance, just as he had intended. Now he had to flip things a little, hook into his mind and let him take the bait. He was calculated and willing to do anything to get Chance’s guard down. To coax out the most secretive parts of him until he had that man in the palm of his hand. Easy. Easier with the darkheart helping him. He just had to make sure Chance didn't think about leaving him.
“Not really.” Came his dry reply. He reached over and opened the door, only marginally surprised when chance stumbled - almost fell - inside. Had he been leaning on the door? What an idiot. He ignored how the term had gotten more endearing than insulting recently.
“Oh- you brought something?” It was small, a box neatly wrapped in shining silver wrapping. A gift. How Chance seemed to shower him in gifts- it was a delight, really. They were always expensive and exactly suited his tastes.
The last one he'd received was actually something he considered valuable for more than just monetary value; even if it was just because he adored the style. No other reason. Nothing sentimental.
( He used to collect. To find things he liked. Sticks and leaves and feathers that caught his eye.)
“Ah- yeah! Yeah, I did. Just for you.” Chance's eyes flittered about behind the sunglasses, when iTrapped looked hard enough it was easy to see just how nervous he was. Perfect. Those eyes eventually travelled down to his neck, mouth hanging open. How uncouth.
“Oh, you're wearing the choker I gave you! I thought you said it was cheap?”
(He kept them in a box under his bed. Tucked away into the shadows.)
iTrapped felt heat rise up into his cheeks at how incredulous Chance appeared. It was annoying how he couldn't quite smother the feeling. “It is. Awfully so, in fact.” He replied quietly.
( One day, after coming home from school, a box was sitting on the driveway.)
Frostbitten fingers reached up to fiddle with it, the silver charm cold under them. “I just wanted to get used to wearing other kinds of jewelry.” The lie smoothly slipped out of his lips, easy as breathing. The darkheart helped, invisible whispers supplying suitable tales to weave.
“A-ah, alright!” Chance smiled. It was a bit wobbly. He stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. “I hope you enjoy this gift, then.”
(He still remembered the sight of his father, gasoline in one hand and a lighter in the other.)
Letting out a low sigh, iTrapped walked over to his couch and slumped onto it. Chance followed like a lost duckling, plopping down right next to him.
A bit too close, really. He could feel the heat radiating from his excitable ‘friend’, pressed up tightly against his side. Despite the warmth, he shivered.
( The flames flew high in the air as he helplessly watched.)
Whatever, the proximity wasn't too much of a bother anyways. It helped with the chill from his crown, at least.
Before he opened the box, he made himself comfortable- perhaps disregarding Chance's own comfort in the process. It didn't really matter though. This was his house - well, crappy flat - and he was allowed to be comfortable in it.
Chance was left sitting a bit oddly, placed on the edge of the couch cushions due to iTrapped's half reclined position- one leg draped across the length of it and the other dangling off the side. Oddly enough, he seemed perfectly enthused by the awkward position.
So iTrapped finally decided to take a peek at the gift. It would probably appease Chance, who was staring like a damn hawk at the moment.
Paper was ripped apart, left scrunched up on the coffee table as he took a look at the oddly plain looking box.
“Open it…” Chance complained, pouting now and leaning so close his cheek was pressed right up into the crook of iTrapped's neck. Urgh, his stomach was twisting again. Maybe that beer had gone off..?
iTrapped let out a heavy sigh, hand coming up to pat Chance on the head. That odd fedora had been discarded somewhere, allowing his fingers to reach soft grey hair. He hadn't expected Chance to have such nice hair. “I'm doing it, be patient.” It was meant to be patronizing. So why was Chance turning red?
Whatever. Didn't matter.
He ignored the quiet whisper that arose in the back of his mind, ignored its familiar, venomous words.
(“Don't be a pansy, iTrapped. ”)
The lid to the fist-sized box was lifted, the interior soft velvet and holding a-
iTrapped almost threw the box against a wall, only barely keeping still. Though his grip was rather tight on it. “Is that a fucking wedding ring? I'm not going to marry you .” He hissed, ignoring yet another twist of his gut. God, that beer must've been off.
iTrapped didn't know why he'd immediately assumed it was a wedding ring, though. The silver band and intricate detailing only barely looked like an engagement ring- or at least, what he assumed they looked like.
Chance blinked slowly before snapping into action, frantically waving his hands about. Somehow, during the hassle of pushing himself upright he'd ended up straddling iTrapped- who had been cornered over the end of the couch. “No no no- nononoo it's not- not like that okay?” He started off at the speed of sound, pink in the cheeks. “I just saw it and it was pretty and you're pretty so I thought- wait, no-”
“You think I'm pretty? ” iTrapped didn't know what to think.
He'd been called all sorts of things. Feminine, a pansy, ( a fag- ) everything except just pretty. It, horrifyingly, seemed to set the alcohol in his stomach on fire. Twisting and coiling and- oh fuck, Chance was practically on his lap and-
Chance was still yammering on, tripping over his words and working himself up into more and more of a state, hands flapping out as if he was trying to use sign language (though iTrapped knew Chance was horrible at it. It was just him being flamboyant.)
…He noted that Chance was also quite pretty. Especially those eyes. They were usually hidden by sunglasses due to some bullshit about looking cool- but they made him look stupid. In his opinion. But whatever.
Now, he was graced with the sight of Chance's gorgeous brown eyes. They almost glittered gold in the sunlight (though it was dim and rapidly setting). Those sunglasses had been placed somewhere on his coffee table. Fedora and headphones had joined it soon afterwards.
“You're quite pretty, too.” He murmured, staring, entirely unaware that he'd even let it slip out and then all of a sudden Chance was gaping down at him with a complexion matching the one of a tomato.
Fuck, he was so cute when flustered.
…he wasn't a lightweight, was he? Why had the one beer made him such a pansy?
Shifting uncomfortably, iTrapped gave Chance a light shove. “C’mon, buddy . Get off.”
Chance squawked indignantly, wobbled, fell forwards and only ended up even closer to iTrapped. He couldn't even close his legs to try and hide the increasingly obvious problem between them, as a certain someone was currently occupying that space.
“You-” Chance was breathless, giddy, face far too close for his liking. Just a few inches away, every short breath fanned out over his face. iTrapped knew he was absolutely screwed, he didn't really work out enough to be able to pick Chance up. Especially since Chance had a lot of dense muscle hiding under all those fancy suits and ties.
“Shut it.” iTrapped hissed, popping a hand over Chance's mouth to once again try push him away.
Chance paused, staring as though he was trying to figure something out.
Then licked his hand.
A shudder ran through the base of his spine, heat pooling further down than he'd ever admit. Disgusting. God, he was so disgusting . Why did such an act make him react that way- it had to have been the beer, he needed to check the date on that pack.
He pulled his hand away as if Chance had burned it.
“Don't- don't fucking do that, you hear me?” He tried to threaten, only his voice wavered just enough to show weakness.
A weakness that Chance very, very quickly latched onto.
A slow smirk forming on that stupid face, Chance gave a deliberate push of his hips downwards.
iTrapped was suddenly set ablaze, face a poster for his shame.
…
Fuck.
No.
No.
He wasn't like that- wasn't gay, wasn't a fucking gay freak like Chance was- was it too late to change target? To stop?
Once again Chance rocked his hips, iTrapped’s own buckling up to match it despite his best efforts not to- he had to stop, he had to stop -
“F-fuck, Chance- Chance , i-” A groan tore itself from his throat, breathy and low and far too intimate. His hands fumbled for leverage, digging into Chance's hips.
Chance didn't pull away, unaware, hips pressed tightly against his own like two puzzle pieces that he'd forced to fit. The pieces didn't match- they didn't match because iTrapped wasn't gay, he wasn't .
His face was wet.
How pathetic.
Was he crying?
Chance finally, finally stopped. His throat felt raw and his mind rawer, as if the pansy had pulled out his brains and picked out every stray fantasy, every depraved thought from his mind.
“Are you okay..?” He asked quietly, voice a murmur and full of so much worry, so much care.
iTrapped felt his trousers tighten impossibly more at the low tone, so utterly and entirely shameful he could barely look at the man in front of (or, mostly on top) of him.
He was so fucked.
“I-” his breathing picked up as Chance leaned closer. No. “Yeah. Yes.” His mouth betrayed him, mind fighting everything else about how wrong it was vs how right it felt.
Yellow hair splayed against the couch below, he knew it was going to get tangled. He'd been growing it out ever since Chance had mentioned it looked good on him. When had his opinion ever mattered?
When had he ever cared?
He- no, he didn't care. It was fine. He could use this to his advantage somehow. Somehow. Chance obviously wanted him in a- in an intimate way, surely that would open up some new doors for him to cross, right?
(“ No son of mine is a- ”)
“Fuck, Chance -” He practically writhed as Chance pressed the palm of his hand against the hot bulge in his trousers, fingers closing in around the edges. More tears pricked at the edges of his eyes, the sensations too much and yet far too little at the same time. “Chance-” the air was too thick for him to get oxygen, mouth open as he gasped for air.
“Jesus, man. I'm barely touching you and you're this pent up?” An experimental press sent iTrapped’s mind haywire, more unsightly noises coming from the usually uptight man.
“Shh-shut up you fucking- ah- ” a moan punctuated his sentence, causing his face to turn a bright red as a few more tears ran down his cheeks.
Chance smiled lightly, gently wiping away the tears. It was cute, honestly. The stoic man he once knew had been turned into a whole whimpering mess and it was rewiring his brain with every passing moment.
He never used to care about who topped in his occasional situationships, but now? Now he wanted to ruin this man. To make him scream out his name. To make sure every single thought was about him and him only. To make sure only pleasure was felt.
His free hand cupped iTrapped’s face, intending to be soothing but maybe a bit much for the already overstimulated guy. Still, he gently caressed the side of his face. It seemed to help iTrapped get a bit more put together.
“It's gonna be okay, yeah?” He leaned in closer and god iTrapped was pretty. He was gorgeous. Those icy blue eyes were dazed, breaths coming in short gasps and already moaning out his name like it was prayer. Chance paused, brushing a few stray strands away from his face before pressing a light kiss to his forehead. Maybe a bit tender for the situation, but he couldn't care less about it. Not when he had one goal in mind; which was to make this experience the best it could possibly be for iTrapped.
...the tears were a bit worrying though. It could just be from overstimulation but Chance couldn't help but fret- lightly kissing his cheeks and murmuring more quiet praise. It seemed to help, the tears ceasing after a moment of break.
"Continue?"
iTrapped sat there for a moment. Maybe a moment too long as Chance got ready to back off, before a response came. "Y-yeah- yeah. please."
Chance shuffled out from between iTrapped’s legs, watching in amusement as he seemed to flip flop between wanting him back there and wanting to keep his ego intact, thighs sporadically twitching.
It was quick work, removing the belt from his trousers.
iTrapped knew exactly what was going to happen and felt his gut twist yet again, mind yelling at him to not let Chance get the better of him. To not let himself be degraded into being some sort of pansy. A girl. But he was just too flushed with excitement, and Chance was just too alluring, and he was already taking off his own belt with trembling fingers.
Chance was no longer the faceless cash cow led on by vague promises of friendship- (had he ever been?) Now he was in control, tearing him open bit by bit to devour.
iTrapped fought with his indecisiveness, mind screaming at him not to lower himself so badly while his heart hammered and gut pooled with warmth, a warmth he hadn't felt in so long and- and he couldn't help but chase the feeling, arms reaching out to grab onto any anchor he could find (and Chance was the one he found. Always Chance.)
He was so pathetic.
The couch's arm dug into his back in an uncomfortable manner, though it was disregarded as soon enough Chance was back between his legs without those thick layers of fabric between them, only thin boxers. So fucking warm. It was burning.
Chance's fingers prodded at his mouth and he complied. Since when had he been so obedient? A gag worked itself out as those fingers pried his mouth open further, eyes watering as they pressed down on his tongue.
“Good boy, you're doing so good for me.” Chance praised, working slowly to make sure iTrapped wasn't in too much discomfort.
iTrapped felt his cock get impossibly harder, pressing against the fabric of his boxers until it was tighter than he could have ever imagined. Everything burned, set alight by the lit match that was Chance. Every single action only pushed him further and further, edges starting to come loose.
If he came without even getting to the sex part he would probably die from embarrassment. Not that he wasn't already embarrassed to hell and back, somehow having been forced from being in irrefutable control to… this. Whatever it was. A pathetic mess.
(“ Get your act together before I send you to-” )
It was only a little later when Chance pulled his fingers from iTrapped's mouth, wet with saliva.
He groaned quietly as his boxers were removed, cock springing free and flush with need.
Every movement seemed to make it worse, warm a hand on his thigh, pushing it apart even further- molten desire coiling about inside his gut as two fingers pressed against his unprepared rear. The muscle twitched at the sudden contact.
“Hhng- Chance, are you-?” The words were cut off by a choked gasp, legs clamping around Chance’s sides as he was slowly (gently always so gently ) pried open.
He didn't think it would burn as much as it did, what little lubricant used only marginally softening the sting with every press of Chance's fingers inside him. It hurt but with how careful Chance was being iTrapped started to feel himself slip.
Pain bled into pleasure and it scared him, such an unknown sensation being too much .
Hands rose up from his waist and found their way around Chance's shoulders, gripping at the shirt he'd neglected to take off. His nails dug in, probably leaving marks though the fabric.
It hurt. Everything hurt.
Chance hesitated, a frown dancing across those frustratingly handsome features. “Are you- you good? iTrapped?”
“I- Chance please-” his voice cracked at the end, pitching far higher than he'd have liked. He could feel his face, only just starting to dry, dampen yet again. (Pathetic.) “No- not like this. Please, no -” everything crashed down on him, a sudden wave of clarity. Chance pulled away in an instant, giving him space and a worried frown. All he could think about was his own disgust as he pushed Chance as far away as physically possible.
God, how much more despicable could he get? Letting Chance- letting himself get degraded so thoroughly. There was still room for error, right? Nothing had- nothing had really happened, they hadn't even kissed so he wasn't gay, couldn't be.
He put on his underwear, then trousers, ignoring the lingering tightness. Ignoring Chance. God, it fucking hurt. Ached. Why had he reacted so badly? Why did he let it go so far? Why did he not want to stop ?
“iTrapped?” Chance's voice wavered, a hand reaching out but not quite closing the distance. “I'm so sorry, are you okay? Can I do anything-”
iTrapped scowled, stepping away from Chance. Words spilled out of his mouth, not his own. Never his own. “You disgust me.”
He was so filthy, filthy for even entertaining the idea of doing such an act with another man.
(“I won’t tolerate a faggot living in my house. Pack your bags.”)
His head swam, dizzying and disorienting and yet he just kept talking .
“You-you’re not. Natural. It's not natural.”
The words felt more directed at himself than Chance but it didn't matter as he turned away, waiting for Chance to get out. Soon enough he'd realize just how disgusting iTrapped was and then he'd leave. Find a better friend. They weren't friends though, were they? They never were .
iTrapped stared at a blank wall, the apartment eerily quiet. He wanted to drown his feelings, stuff them deep down where nobody could reach them again.
Chance stared at him. Silent. Gaze piercing. Staring into him, looking like he could find everything he wanted to know just by eye contact. iTrapped felt like he was getting flayed alive, shame burning under his skin.
The choker around his neck was too tight, strangling with sentiment and the simple fact that he liked Chance .
(It was not a fact, it wasn't true it wasn't true it wasn't true)
He tried to not cry more than he had already. To not let those tears stain his image any further.
(“ Boys don't cry. Are you a boy? Or are you one of those-”)
He cried. Sobbed.
Chance was saying something, he couldn't hear it, everything was washed out and all he could think about was the sickly sweet pleasure that felt so wrong now, thrilling and a rush of adrenaline and not going away.
He was so disgusting. He was a fucking freak of nature and didn't deserve anything, he should have let the admins terminate his account the first time they found him.
Each new thought swirling around his mind made him more and more sick, the cheap beer rising up as did bile and-
The acidic taste left him reeling, barely having noticed that he had thrown up, the only sign being his heaving and Chance's sudden, worried attention. A hand on his back, too warm and still not enough and his hair was getting pulled back, out of his damp face-
Before he knew it, he was drowning on dry land, lungs inexplicably failing. The smell of his own puke made him retch even more, everything amplified tenfold and too much and he kept thinking back to how Chance had touched him so carefully and gently and- and just how wrong yet right it felt, and how Chance had backed off when told-
A hand was gently (too gently) placed on his chest, Chance standing beside him. That hand moved down and was now supporting him by the waist (when had his legs given out?) while the other was lightly rubbing his hand.
“iTrapped, come on- breathe, it's going to be okay, alright? You're safe, I won't do anything to you, you're not in trouble uh- it's okay, iTrapped.” Chance was such a chatterbox. Always talking. His voice was a constant in the storm of emotions he was getting tossed about in and he couldn't help but listen, needing something stable right now so he wouldn't fall apart.
Bit by bit he wound down, sat on the floor (away from the vomit) as Chance kept on reassuring him, words having no real meaning to him since he could barely think at the moment, let alone process the words being said. Everything felt muted except for Chance's presence next to him, warm and still the same as he always had been.
iTrapped took a few deep breaths, feeling his heart rate slowly drop, the heaviness in his head lessening. It thumped against Chance's shoulder, luckily not getting pushed off.
God, he was so tired.
..he was so pathetic. Causing such a large scene, and for what?
( He was eight years old. Arm clutched close to his chest. He'd fallen when trying to climb a tree, trying to prove himself to the other kids.)
(“...dad..?”)
He couldn't even calm himself down. Instead, Chance had to step in and tell him to calm down for it to work. To lure him in with comfort that could be ripped away at any moment.
(“ You're such an attention seeker. Go fix it yourself and stop bothering me.” )
Shouldn't he have been able to fix everything himself?
(The bone ended up healing wonky. It hurt.)
Chance paused after seeing how quiet iTrapped was, a hesitant smile forming on his face- too soft, too gentle for someone like him. He was jagged and broken and sharp while Chance was thoughtful and kind and just utterly perfect. Too perfect to be bothering with someone like him. “Are you feeling better?”
“Why?” He murmured, too much swirling around his mind to vocalise his question properly.
Chance blinked, brown eyes staring at him. Seeing everything. Every flaw, every secret was being dissected. And for some reason he didn't look away, reaching forward to fix iTrapped's hair again. He let out a shuddering sigh, the yellow strands brushed out of his face where they had previously hung. “Why what?”
A pause. He frowned, curling up a bit more. Knees tucking up to his chest as he hid his face amongst them. He didn't want to see Chance's expression once he chipped away his outer shell. Didn't want to see the inevitable disappointment, the disgust.
He was such a child.
“Why.” He paused and tried to find the words to say. The darkheart had seemingly left him to flounder by himself. “...why do you care so much?”
There was no hesitation. “Because you're my friend. I… We're friends, right? Or did that- was it- are we?” Maybe he was a bit unsure. iTrapped was as well.
He chewed on his lower lip, not noticing how Chance's eyes followed the action. “Just- Just friends. I guess. I'm not-” a pause, “-gay.” iTrapped lied.
They both knew it was one.
But Chance was willing to play along if only to keep him calm for a little longer, nodding a bit. “Okay.”
They sat in silence.
“I should probably clean that up.” iTrapped murmured, wincing as the acrid scent of puke started to spread. He didn't want it staining the apartment, it was crap enough as it was.
Standing up, Chance almost ran to the storage cupboard to grab cleaning supplies before he could. Still groggy from his ‘fit’, iTrapped only looked on in confusion as Chance started cleaning it himself. “Uh. Didn't I say I was gonna clean that up..?”
“Well- well you're not well, right? So I gotta look after you.”
iTrapped frowned at the sheer genuine care he was faced with, pulse quickening for just a moment before he shoved those feelings down. “I cried like a five year old. I'm not terminally ill.” he stated, shame creeping up on him “...you shouldn't care so much.”
“Maybe I shouldn't.” Chance replied, faltering for once as he cleaned. “You can't choose who you love, though.” He quietly said. The confession left a heaviness in the room as iTrapped struggled to come up with a response. He was stuck in limbo, weighed down by the knowledge that it was wrong and yet the feelings that bubbled up were so cozy and tempting, trying to drag him to the surface.
What was he meant to do? He couldn't date another man, it would be wrong.
Right..?
( “Boys don't like boys. Do I have to make it any clearer for you?” )
“I. Don't want to love you. I shouldn't .” God, what was wrong with him? He should just kick Chance out instead of playing along with whatever game that was happening right now. He couldn't help but stare at Chance, mouth running dry. Heart getting dragged out from wherever he had shoved it.
Chance finished cleaning. He returned all the stuff to where it was meant to be, leaving iTrapped by himself for only a few minutes.
It had never felt longer.
Once he returned, iTrapped had migrated back to the couch, sitting stiffly as he stared at the ring box.
“You… don't have to keep it. It's probably got some bad memories attached to it now anyways.” He murmured, sitting on the other side of the couch.
He shrugged, silent. It wasn't unusual for him to have few words, but Chance knew better. The ring was taken out of the box, silver band glinting starkly between frozen fingers.
It fit. Of course it fit.
“...I'm not in love with you.” The words were hollow- desperate, moreso trying to convince himself of their contents than he was trying to convince Chance. In all honestly he expected Chance to see right through it- he was far too tired to put on his usual façade and he'd already felt stripped bare. (He had been stripped bare.)
Chance let out a small sigh, grabbing his accessories off the table. “Sure thing.” Once the items were in their proper places, Chance eyed the empty beer can. “Have you been drinking again?”
“Just the can.” He deigned not to disclose the fact that he was itching to grab the rest of the pack, instead just… staring at the ring that had caused all this hassle.
( It wasn't the ring's fault. )
“Mmh. Sure.” iTrapped felt his ego flare up at the silent insinuation. Because he wasn't drinking heavily, it was just a good vice. A good way to make his stress simmer down a little.
It hadn't worked this time, though. He still felt things rise up where they had no business being.
“I'm going to bed.”
Chance raised an eyebrow as iTrapped shifted his gaze away. “It's 7pm. Have you even had dinner yet?”
A bit of fluster appeared on his face.
( Since when had his emotions been so easy to draw out? )
“Can't be bothered to cook anything. Bet I'll just throw it up again anyways. Might be sick.” It was a horrible excuse. Nothing on the level he could spew with the help of the darkheart- but it seemed to have left him by himself for now. It probably knew just how filthy he was and left.
Everyone would leave eventually, so he had to take what he could get before that happened.
( He could take anything from Chance if he wanted to. Everything.)
He hadn't noticed Chance's hand edging towards his own until they were right next to each other.
“I could take you out for some food..?” Their fingers linked.
He stared down at their clasped hands with a churning gut. Maybe he could pretend this would last. “...Chinese.”
Chance smiled lightly. “Of course.”
Nodding in response, iTrapped continued looking at the interlocked fingers. Deep purple-blue flesh contrasted with light grey. Their hands fit nicely together.
He couldn't admit it. Couldn't say it out loud.
(I love you.)
But it was more than clear already.