Deep in the Act
Quality Check: Isalee
First Published on Chaleuria
Gao Zhun sat at his desk in his office. A collection of Albrecht Dürer sketches lay open on the tabletop before him. There was a sublime beauty to Dürer’s linework, as if each stroke was drawn with the Creator’s divine touch; those hands and medieval pleats had always filled Gao Zhun with wonder and awe. But they appeared dead to him now. He felt as if he had never left Fang Chi’s bedroom – as if he was still pinned to that bed with the full weight of a man on his back….
Pressing down on Gao Zhun, Fang Chi grabbed his arms from his sides and squeezed inwards until his back was forced into a complete arch. Then, latching onto the proffered flesh, Fang Chi began biting at will, lustfully licking without end. All the while, he humped against the body below him, rubbing hard at the sensitive skin between Gao Zhun’s thighs and ass with deliberate, torturous thrusts. It was a most delirious and perverse affair, witnessed only by the creaking mattress and the light glimmering through the curtains.
“Fang…” Gao Zhun wanted to speak, but Fang Chi clamped a hand over his mouth at once. Fingers slid down Gao Zhun’s chin and throat to dig into the fine skin on his chest. As if playing with a woman’s body, Fang Chi groped the handful of flesh relentlessly, squeezing again and again at a hard, bruising speed. Gao Zhun could not stand it. He bucked into the sheets, rubbing his vulnerable length back and forth on the sodden bedding. His body burned from the sensation. Tormented at once by both an insatiable itch and the most agonizing pain, he spread his thighs farther and farther apart – only to be punished by a cruel pinch on his chest.
“Close your legs… Close them tight!” Fang Chi ordered, tweaking hard at Gao Zhun’s nipples.
“I can’t… I can’t…” Gao Zhun begged for mercy. Knowing that he had failed to please Fang Chi despite doing his best, Gao Zhun wept like a child bullied to the point of being broken. Crestfallen tears streamed down his face. “Can… Can I jerk you off instead? Please…”
Thump. Gao Zhun closed the book, licking his thirst-reddened lips with a quick swipe of his tongue. Just then, a soft knock came from the door. It was probably Justin, judging by the sound. “Come…” he called out, his voice dry and hoarse, “come in.”
It was indeed Justin, tall and well-built, with large eyes shining with youthful brightness. Standing by the desk, he towered over Gao Zhun as usual. This time, however, the older man no longer seemed as terrified of his downward gaze as he used to be. “Are the samples ready?”
Surprise flashed in Justin’s eyes. Raging hormones rushed to his head, like those of a teenager who had just returned from vacation to the unexpected sight of a female classmate changed by puberty. “Yes…” He paused, momentarily lost for words, before continuing with a little stutter, “The colors for Set A are a little o-off. I’ve already sent those back. Here are the samples for Sets B and C…” As he spoke, he could not help stealing glances at Gao Zhun out of the corners of his smitten eyes.
But Gao Zhun was oblivious to these telltale looks; he did not notice the young man’s lingering, obsessive affection in the least. “I’ll call for you when I’m done with these.” He dismissed Justin and opened the booklet with feigned interest. Obeying instructions, the young man turned to leave. Right before he pulled the door shut, his movements were marred by a hint of hesitation.
The booklet was filled with renderings of the upcoming exhibition. Its pages were covered with images of paintings, sculptures, and performance art, but Gao Zhun could not register any of them in his mind. His head swam. The world spun around him as his entire body began to shiver in time to the trembling in his butt. Gao Zhun felt Fang Chi’s grip on his wrists again, holding him down, refusing to let him move at all. Strength and consciousness drained away until only a single awareness remained: Fang Chi had come all over his body, marking him in the most primal way a man would mark a woman as his. “Ahh…” A long, shuddering sigh escaped Gao Zhun’s breath, and he fell limp to one side, his ass jerking uncontrollably in his leather seat. Hooked and desperate, he ached with the need for Fang Chi to do it again, to mess him up once more…
All of a sudden, the door opened. Without so much as a single knock, Justin charged into the room and locked the door behind him before Gao Zhun, flushed and dazed, could recover his wits. “What is it…?” Gao Zhun asked, heat on his breath, unsated arousal in his voice. In a heartbeat, Justin shoved his table aside, grabbed him by the tie, and yanked him out of his chair. At last, as he was hauled to his feet, Gao Zhun realized he was in danger. Still struggling to extract himself from his sexual fantasies, he pushed weakly at Justin’s arms. “Get… Get out!”
In response, Gao Zhun found himself assailed by the smell of smoke on Justin’s lips and tongue, the slippery ooze of spit against his skin, and the sound of dirty, shameless words: “… Wanna do you!” Helpless spasms spread through Gao Zhun, down to the tips of his fingers and every hair on his body. Like a burned child thrust before the dreaded fire, he quaked in terror, staring at Justin in disbelief. All the images from that night returned in a flash: being stripped bare, having his lower body toyed with, and… Gao Zhun wanted to scream, but he stopped himself – because he thought of Fang Chi. If his therapist were here, Gao Zhun knew, Fang Chi would tell him to calm down and not to provoke his aggressor any further. He would tell him not to cry.
Then, Justin placed a hand on his buttocks. Gao Zhun shrank away at once, unwilling to put up with even the barest touch from the young man. Even as he backed away, trembling, Gao Zhun fought to free his tie from Justin’s grasp. The young man pressed forward. As if unsure of what to do with Gao Zhun for the moment, Justin stalked along the wall and drove the older man further back, step by step.
Three art prints clattered to the floor, followed by one whiteboard and a set of collector-grade bronze shears from East Europe. “Justin… Justin…” Gao Zhun called out meaninglessly. He tried to run again and again, but not once did he escape the young man’s grip on his tie. All of a sudden, he felt his body press up to something hard and cold. He had been backed into a corner. In a split-second, Justin slammed his palms against the wall and trapped the older man between his arms.
Gao Zhun reached his limit. He slid down the wall as his knees gave out under him, but Justin caught him again and held his body up with a single hand. Like a rutting bull, the young man flushed and panted with excitement. After sweeping his feverish gaze over Gao Zhun several times, he finally closed his large hand around the neck before him and hooked his index finger into Gao Zhun’s collar.
Justin was so close to getting his way; all he needed was one last forceful tug. He had it all figured out: he would tear that shirt apart and bind those wrists together with the tie before removing Gao Zhun’s pants. Justin was ready, condom and lube in his pocket. Yet, despite having rehearsed countless times in his head, he found himself beginning to waver just as he was about to realize his fantasies. Nervous and urgent, Justin tried to embrace the older man instead.
Gao Zhun was spooked. Shrinking from the rough, fumbling touch, he curled up on himself pitifully. “No…” Broken, tremulous whimpers fell from his quivering lips. “No… Don’t…” Impervious to Gao Zhun’s pleas, Justin lunged forward again to kiss him, only to have the older man flinch away once more from his advances. Frustrated, Justin raked his near-frantic hand all over the body before him. From Gao Zhun’s chest to his waist and the base of his thighs, the young man groped and kneaded wherever he could.
Cries of fear welled up in Gao Zhun’s throat; tiny, frightened screams fell from his lips at every single touch. Justin was torn. He wanted the man before him, wanted to take things further, but he could not bring himself to continue. Like a bewildered tiger cub trying to eat a chicken for the first time, he pawed at his limp prey with helpless anxiety. “S-sir! Please stop pulling away!”
Feeling the grip on his neck loosen a little, Gao Zhun peered up at Justin with a timid gaze. He neither begged nor fought. Instead, he kept his voice level, as if he was discussing or reasoning with the younger man: “First… let me go. Calm down…”
Justin did not seem to hear him. Holding on to Gao Zhun’s chin, he rubbed hard at his lips with a thumb. If those lips had belonged to a woman, such rough handling would have smudged her lipstick everywhere by now. But these were a man’s lips, tinted red by the rush of real blood; their color would never wear away like the paint on a woman’s face. Justin loved that true, vital pop of red on Gao Zhun’s mouth; it drove him crazy with desire. Foolishly imagining himself to be the older man’s lover, Justin released his grip and leaned in to kiss Gao Zhun with tender, affectionate care.
Their lips were less than a hair’s breadth apart when Gao Zhun reared up all of a sudden and pushed. Justin fell backwards, taken by surprise, and Gao Zhun darted away at once from the confines of those arms. His silken tie slipped across Justin’s loosened palm. It was almost free – it would have been free if Justin had not seized its tail at the very last moment with a backward flick of his wrist. The force of the abrupt pull sent Gao Zhun crashing onto the floor. In an instant, Justin pounced on him like a real thug, overwhelming his movements with sheer brutality. Frantic eyes cast about the mess on the floor: crushed art prints, a whiteboard eraser, markers, and those bronze shears. Without thinking, Gao Zhun snatched up a pair at random and held it between them.