OurSpace - Chapter 6: Shrödinger's AIM Message
>>>there is smut in this!!!
8:06pm wilby: hi stranger
8:06pm mitch: been thinking about U lots today
8:07pm mitch: yeah? what about
8:08pm wilby: just couldn’t wait for my day 2 end so we could talk
8:10pm mitch: speaking of talking, i have something 2 ask U
8:11pm wilby: Ur scaring me LOL, wut?
8:14pm wilby: R u there? Ur freaking me out!
8:17pm mitch: sorry yeah just scared 2 ask U
8:17pm wilby: ask away, pls
8:20pm mitch: its a stupid question, maybe i shouldnt bother
8:20pm wilby: plzz! don’t tease me with a mysterious question for nothing
8:21pm mitch: ok but im scared give me a minute to write it out
8:26pm mitch: I tried to write down what i wanted to ask U, but it makes me sound pretentious so im just going to ask U. just plain me.
He stared at the blinking typing bar, it seemed hostile, blinking harder than usual like it was daring him to do something stupid, and go overboard and fuck it up Mike Wheeler style.
He felt ridiculous, because it was ridiculous, he could type obscenities at 1 A.M. without a care in the world, telling this mystery boy the way he was going to run his hands through his hair, take a tuft of it in his fist and pull him towards his mouth. Tell him what position to be in, even if it wasn’t real.
They could talk about that, it was smooth and effortless when they did and it felt reckless, but the right amount of it. The right amount of fear and lust that curdled in his abdomen and caused him to spill out his crude, perverted thoughts over a bright screen in a dark room.
This, however, could end in ultimate explosion and destruction of the perfect situation he had created for himself. The bubble that consumed them both in sweet, supple messages during the daytime, and during the night, out came the vulgarities that sometimes seemed straight from one of those books that his mom read, with the buff, oiled up men on the cover next to a damsel in distress.
He read one of Karen’s once, just a little.
His hands hovered above the keyboard and he knew he was useless in a state like this. His heart was pounding so hard that if he looked down to his chest he might almost see his skin moving with it.
The sweat collected on his forehead, curling his baby hairs into their natural shape against his skin. His palms were clammy, he kept having to wipe them on his sheets, just for them to get a cold sweat again ten seconds later.
A jittery rhythm of anxiety built in his throat, it buzzed in his fingertips and turned in his stomach like this whole body had been hijacked by an electrical current that was surging through his bones.
mitch: want 2 be my boyfriend?I
The cursor blinked repeatedly at the end of the sentence before he tapped the backspace button with a sense of urgency, like it might send by itself if he left it too long.
Too blunt. Wilby deserved better.
He winced, trying again, softer this time, but it was written like something he’d write in a creative writing assignment about young romance. It wasn’t him, and it still felt like stepping on a cliff.
Who was he? Fucking Penny Jordan?
His stomach twisted into knots. Some knots of dread, some of excitement.
It was Will on the basement couch all over again, not knowing when or how to lean in and just do it. There was a fear, both then and now, that sat in his stomach like a lump of coal, rotting him from the inside out.
He could hear his fathers voice in his head, along with the long and snores that he let out on the recliner,
This is what happens, Micheal.
A buzzing heat crept up the back of his neck, drowning out any sense of actual thought he had about this situation, and replacing it with a guttural fear of getting it all wrong and pushing it too far, the possibility of stepping over another invisible line that may have never even been put down, because maybe he was developing psychosis.
He wouldn’t put it past himself.
But maybe the line had been put down, and he was about to flush it down the shitter.
Like he always did, losing whatever this was with Wilby before it actually had the chance to become something real and fathomable to Mike.
Under the clammy hands, unbelievable cotton mouth, the cold sweat forming on his temples, his molars grinding and the 7 tonne weight free-hanging in his abdominal cavity, there was still the pull.
The pull he felt in the diner with Will, the pull he’d been feeling every night for weeks that kept drawing him back to his computer like it was a Mike magnet.
But the pull was the thing that made the fear bearable.
A voice in his head, probably from the psychosis, told him that he wanted this, he wanted him, he wanted Wilby and he wanted it now.
Of course, it wasn’t a hallucinatory voice, it was just himself, but he’d die before he got rid of that coping mechanism for suppressed sexuality.
He dragged in his breath through his teeth, and it hit the back of his throat, cold. A gulp of spit went down, failing to cure the, what now felt like, chronic mouth dryness.
He typed the words again, slower, each key was purposeful, he wouldn’t dare risk a typing error. Especially with the aggressiveness in which his hands were shaking.
Both physically and mentally, he hovered over the Enter bar, suspended between the safety of never asking, and whatever came after he did ask.
Schrodinger's AIM message.
8:35pm mitch: Wilby, do you want to be internet boyfriends? Like, for real?
He pressed it, fast, his hands immediately raising in the air, and he scooted back from the laptop as if it was now contaminated with emotional intimacy and accountability, two of Mike Wheeler's worst fears.
The room was quiet, the inner drum of his pulse was loud in his ears and he could hear the blood running thick and red through his veins, a crimson tide that was usually rushing towards his groin at this time of night, now going everywhere but.
His chest buzzed and he thought he was going to have to lean over the edge of the bed and throw up onto the floor as every second stretched thinner and thinner, spaghettifying his mental and emotional cognizance into the black hole that once held his inner organs.
Mike’s eyes were wide, practically taped open and unblinking, watching the blank chat room intently, watching it almost pulse itself out of the screen and throw itself onto him in a humiliation ritual of bracing for an answer he wasn’t sure that he could handle.
8:36pm mitch: yes really?
8:37pm wilby: take my answer before i change it
8:37pm mitch: yes. Ur right. ok.
8:38pm wilby: hi boyfriend
8:38pm mitch: hi boyfriend.
8:39pm wilby: god ive been waiting for U to ask
8:40pm mitch: should i have asked sooner?
8:42pm mitch: what do we do now? LOL
8:42pm wilby: i think we have to do a christening
8:43pm mitch: christening? Like a baby?
8:43pm wilby: No, U know.. when ppl move into a new house.. And they christen it
8:44pm mitch: i cant say i do know
8:44pm wilby: when a couple buys a new house they usually fuck on the first nite
8:45pm wilby: christening! LOL
8:45pm mitch: house? We have no house.
8:46pm wilby: U know what i mean.
8:46pm mitch: Ohhhh sexy talk time
8:47pm wilby: dont call it that! I h8 it when U call it that
8:47pm mitch: sorry, i’ll restart
8:48pm mitch: Ohhhh you want me 2 talk to you until Ur on the edge of cumming?
8:49pm mitch: you been waiting all day?
8:50pm wilby: yeah i have.
8:50pm mitch: you poor thing, what do you want me to do about it?
8:51pm wilby: i want you do to me about it
8:51pm mitch: i wish i could. It kills me that i cant feel you underneath me
8:53pm mitch: i bet ur already hard, huh?
8:54pm mitch: tell me how hard you are
No matter how many times they’d done this over the past couple weeks it was still awkward in the beginning, before Mike got a grip on the conversation and he could make things happen he’d feel like is true self, a virgin who’d barely kissed another boy let alone do all the things he said he was going to do.
And Wilby seemed experienced, and that scared him, but he liked it.
He liked that he knew what he was doing, he liked that Wilby knew the feeling of taking something so well, and so deep, so when Mike told him to do it, even though it wasn’t real, he’d follow orders in pursuit of praise and desperation.
8:56pm wilby: it hurts. Thats how bad
8:57pm mitch: why dont you touch yourself?
8:58pm wilby: im waiting for you to tell me
8:58pm mitch: You like when i tell you what to do?
9:00pm mitch: Does it feel good?
9:01pm mitch: keep going. Slow.
9:01pm mitch: Ur such a good boy, u know that?
9:04pm mitch: I remember the first time we did this, i let U lie back and take it without talking
9:05pm mitch: But i like to think of U trying to do two things at once while touching yourself
9:05pm mitch: So youre going to have to keep talking to me Okay?
9:06pm mitch: Use ur words
9:07pm wilby: Yes. I understand. It just feels so good
9:08pm mitch: Tell me what U want
9:09pm wilby: i want U to touch urself
9:10pm mitch: I already am, im thinking about U, lying on ur back underneath me
9:10pm mitch: U make me so hard, all i want is to touch U
9:10pm mitch: I want u to speed up now and think about my hand around your cock
9:11pm wilby: U feel so good please keep going
9:12pm mitch: i want u to flip onto ur back so I can see all of you
9:12pm mitch: and im going to run my hands down your bare back
9:13pm mitch: im gonna cup ur ass in my hands and hear U moan into the pillow
9:14pm wilby: I want u to hurt me it feels so good
9:14pm mitch: I’ll do whatever I want to do to U
There was a surge running through him, electrical and lust-filled, coursing through his veins and coating his skin in sexually-induced goosebumps.
His heart thrummed inside his chest so hard it made its way up to his temples, and a pulse started, and quickened in his crotch. He couldn’t help it when they were talking like this, and he especially couldn’t help it when the image of Wilby, head thrown back and hips stuttering into his hand struggling to send absent-minded messages just to keep going until they both got off.
9:15pm wilby: i want u to do so much to me
A shaky breath came through his parted lips, wet with spit and bitten red with desire,
9:16pm mitch: im grabbing my cock so hard
9:17pm mitch: you make me so hard
9:17pm wilby: i wish you were here i need you to touch me
9:17pm mitch: just imagine that i am, behind you gripping your ass in my hands
9:18pm mitch: i want to leave marks all over U. hand marks,i want to dig my nails into ur skin
9:18pm mitch: I want to bruise your skin with my mouth and make it hurt
9:19pm mitch: i want to slap U on ur perfect ass and leave the skin red
9:20pm wilby: pls tell me what you’ll do to me
9:21pm mitch: I’m going to slip my tongue into your mouth and taste you
9:21pm mitch: I want to grab a fistful of your hair and push you on your knees
9:22pm wilby: please i want to taste you so badly
9:22pm mitch: I want to see Ur eyes so filled with lust that youre about to cry
Mike thought he’d often get too literature-y at times.
9:23pm mitch: im going to make u open Ur mouth i want u to suck on my thumb
9:23pm wilby: i want to put U in my mouth
9:24pm mitch: i know u do
9:25pm mitch: i want u to speed up and tell me how it feels
9:26pm wilby: it feels so good i wish U were here so u could see me
9:26pm mitch: maybe one day i will be there
9:27pm mitch: and ur going to be on your knees in front of me with ur mouth open
9:28pm mitch: i want u to open Ur mouth wider
A brief moment of curiosity stirred inside his mind as he wondered what it actually might be like to do anything remotely like this with someone.
Him and Jane had dated, sure, but they were 14, the most they’d done was kiss, and there wasn’t even any tongue.
Lucas and Max were practically a newly wed couple, and now Dustin and Jane called each other the most sickening, disgusting, horrifying and down-right offensive pet names.
They called each other Mickey and Minnie.
For gods sake they called each other Timone and Pumba one time.
Hopper had taken Jane to Disneyland once for her 18th birthday and now she was relentlessly obsessive over it.
And Mike wondered, what it might be like to be like that.
He’d say, wrapping his arms around some mystery person doing the dishes before he’d take over and go have them sit on the couch while he made dinner. Then after dinner they might watch a movie, with their arms around each other and legs intertwined on the couch under a blanket. And then an arm would slide somewhere, a leg might brush something, lips might softly graze a neck and from then on, well, someone would eventually really be on their knees with a mouth open wide.
9:29pm wilby: i will. I wish u could see me right now
9:30pm wilby: im so close
9:30pm mitch: describe it to me, tell me what ur doing
9:30pm wilby: im on my back, im sitting up on my bed leaning against the wall
9:31pm wilby: i still have my shirt on, i kicked my pants off and they're around my ankles.
Mike’s stomach flipped, imagining him like that, depraved and desperate for any sense of sexual touch that he could get,
9:31pm wilby: my dick is in my hands, my left hand, and im typing with my right
9:32pm mitch: i wish i was there to make u get on ur knees
9:32pm mitch: and take my hard cock in your mouth
9:33pm mitch: youd do it so well, i know u would, and it would feel so good
He threw his head back, giving into the un-distracted pleasure for a minute or two. Pulses of heat jolted down into his crotch as his hips bucked up, forcing himself farther into his own hand, a small moan escaping from his mouth before he looked back down to the computer,
9:36pm wilby: i wanna taste the precum off the tip of ur dick
9:37pm wilby: and i wanna touch myself while i do it and i want u to watch me
9:38pm mitch: i could watch u for hours Ur so beautiful.
9:38pm mitch: fuck im so close thinking about ur face looking up at me
9:39pm wilby: me too i want u to come on my face
9:40pm mitch: youre such a good boy for me saying exactly what you want
9:41pm mitch: ur getting so good at this. I want u to speed up more
9:41pm mitch: i want to get you on the edge of finishing
9:42pm wilby: i already am i just wanna feel u in the back of my throat so badly mitch
It wasn’t his name, not even a nickname anyone called him, just the next best thing over. A name that didn’t have anything to do with him still felt like a rush of adrenaline through his body when it was spoken by him.
He wished he could hear him speak, over the phone and video, hearing him gasp while he stroked himself senseless like he knew he was on the other side of the screen.
Another jolt of pleasure pooled, growing warmer, and bigger, and more sensitive, having to force himself not to tip over the edge of pure sexual ecstasy
9:43pm mitch: i wanna watch the way ur pretty throat swallows me
9:44pm mitch: i wanna feel how your warm mouth makes room for me
9:44pm mitch: i wanna kick open your legs as you kneel on the floor so i can see more of you
9:45pm mitch: more of you pumping yourself senselessly
9:46pm wilby: fuck im so close
9:47pm mitch: u have no idea how much i enjoy making u wait this long to cum
When this whole thing had started, their sessions were a lot shorter.
But as time went on Mike felt a perverted pleasure in making both of them wait this long to come.
He liked having control over it, part of him thought it might be because he lacks control in every other aspect of his life, he likes holding the pleasure of someone else in his hands and deciding for himself if he even wants them to give into it. It drove him insane. And there was more he wanted to say, more he wanted to do but in utter honesty he was scared.
There wasn’t a face behind either of their names, not even a city that they lived in, a town, school, not even a real name.
And yet he was still scared to let part of himself go, but one day he could do it.
One day he’d pick up his phone and call Wilby at 12am, and tell him in the dark of his room how he wanted him to put his hand down his pants and start touching himself.
How he wanted to coat his fingers in spit and curl them into him, how he wanted to watch him squirm under him in pleasure. He wanted to hear his voice moan and tell him that was just the way he liked it, right there, please keep touching me, please let me come.
How he wanted to run his fingers through his beautiful head of hair and pull his head up towards his mouth, he wanted to taste every inch of him feel the way he writhed in gratification when he was pinched a little in the right place, bitten and sucked raw and red on his skin begging for more.
9:48pm mitch: Ur doing so good for me bunny
9:49pm mitch: U want me to countdown for u? U like when i do that
9:50pm mitch: Ur so pathetic the way you want this
He found a comedic pleasure in this, counting down. He was doing it to himself too, which was a con, but thinking about Wilby panting to himself until the very last second where he could release himself on Mike’s terms made it all better in the end.
He’d do anything to feel his mouth around his dick, warm and soft, his tongue lapping across the tip before running it up and down the sides, stuffing his face into his crotch just to breathe him in.
It would feel so good to watch him do it too, his reddened lips sliding slick with spit and precum against his skin, swollen from the heat and the friction and the pleasure of it all. The swirl of his tongue around him, sloppy and filled with moans from his mouth that would vibrate against his cock,
How his cheeks might hollow when he sucked hard, watching his head bob up and down as his throat gulped and gagged and tried to breathe past what he had sucked so deeply into his own mouth.
Mike imagined him, ever so gently scraping with his teeth just a little over the top, swallowing around it and engulfed in a wet heat.
His eyes looked up at him, dark and teary from the gagging but he couldn’t stop, it’s like he was hungry, with the spit and cum sliding thick down his chin and onto his own chest. He’d bring his hand up and scoop some of it up with his fingers, bringing it back down and palming himself with it, the pleasure making his eyes roll back in his head a little before focusing back on Mike.
His lips darkened wet with saliva and Mike, in his imagination, shot his hand down and took a tuft of his hair in his fist, practically started to face fuck him. His head bobbing up and down along the length of his cock, suctioning every last part of his mouth to him no matter how badly the coughing and the gagging got.
He could feel himself getting closer, the ticklish, warm feeling was building up more and more with every passing frame of imagination that ran through his head like a movie. A movie that he could almost feel.
He wished he could, he wished he could feel the way he would dip his tongue into the slit, curling his lips around the top and forcing his head back down onto him before moaning at the feeling of touching himself beneath Mike again.
He felt a final shiver run through him in real time now, a gasp he let out of his mouth without thinking as his own body quivered beneath him, his breath hitching in his throat as the pleasure caused him to let out an incoherent babble and sputter of a moan.
His vision practically blacked out in the corners as, what felt like, the earth stuttered on its axis, dissolving him into pleasure as a full body reaction came undone, waves of it hit him everywhere, like a shockwave of electricity rippling through his legs, they shook and bounced and jerked off the mattress along with his hips and his abdomen and practically his whole body lifted partially off the bed as if he lost gravity for a second.
The coil of pleasure wrung tight in his belly and sprung free, a ringing noise sounded in his ears like a bomb had gone off a mere metre away from his head, he felt himself pulse into his own hand as he spilled out of himself in a jerking, splintering moment of pleasure.
Another incoherent babble, a mixture of Wilby’s name and, “fuck” sounded out from his mouth, that was now dry from all the gasping.
He lay there, his eyes closed, still his hand loosely wrapped around himself and his muscles weakened with the almost hour long wait period of an orgasm was now over.
He lazily turned his head over to the screen where the last message he sent was still there, he blinked slowly and let out another gasp before sliding his hand off of himself.
He took his shirt off, slid it over his head and wiped the evidence away, balling it up tightly and securely, throwing it towards the pile of clothes in the corner he called his laundry.
The room smelt like heat, sweat and salt.
The drops of sweat on his body cooled in the open air, his back was damp against the sheets and he felt hot, the kind of heat that lingers, like the morning after a bonfire when all you can smell is smoke and burn, beautiful and ruined.
Sometimes he imagined that the computer was almost Wilby. It was practically all he knew of him. A body, lying almost lifeless beside him drifted apart by inches for enough space for them to breathe and enough space for thoughts to crawl back in, thoughts that were cruel, thoughts that meant he had an essay due in 2 days, thoughts that were he was still hungry after dinner with Will.
A light sense of pleasure still pulsed through him, though most of his blood flow had regrouped towards the regular regions of his body now.
He lay there in aftershock, lazy and golden in the hue of the light like the end of a song at a party where the vibrations still move through the floor up into your legs even though there's no sound anymore.
He wished that it was real, that next to him was a boy, turned away and his bare shoulder catching moonlight through the blinds in silver slashes across his skin. If they had touched each other, if he had touched him, it all still glowed faintly underneath his skin, fingerprints turned constellations and galaxies, tasting each other in the back of their throats like expensive wine he had never had the chance to drink, tasting of dark fruit, sweet and bitter as they swore it got better with time.
The hunger that panged in him an hour ago was gone now. Or maybe transformed.
Law of Conservation of Energy.
It cannot be created, nor destroyed. Maybe it had always been inside him, festering and waiting, disguised as something else before he knew how to use it. The desire that was once an animalistic holy flood, something that drowned language completely out of his head despite language being the only thing he knew what to do with himself. Now the energy had descended into silence, a slight actual hunger and a strange emptiness.
The emptiness, a vast, tall wave creeping over the hills and through the valleys of his existence came crashing down beneath a cliff and left him there. He would stand, at the edge, looking down and over what once was and he noticed that now it was utterly dark in the abyss.
Because lust was easy, lust asked for nothing except touch, lust could exist in the abyss, in the dark. Alone.
But this softness crept in the edges, climbed up the rock cliff, hung onto roots and branches like watching dawn leak in through the crack in the curtains. But the softness was so small, inconsistent and bad at climbing up to him, it might stumble and fall into the darkness, into the lust and the lust would take it in within itself and so he said to himself it was small enough he was allowed to pretend that it was not there at all.
Outside the dorm window a siren wailed, faint, but it howled and wailed like a lonely animal in the night, under the moon, perhaps also being taken by the abyss.
A smell of sex and skin clung to the sheets with the faint reminder of what deodorant he had put on earlier that day, and he realised with a terrifying clarity he always remembered these moments more than the orgasm itself.
These moments where he lay alone with himself wishing upon a silhouette to be lying next to him swept up within the sheets, but for now, instead, it was just,
10:04pm wilby: now please tell me how your day was, lover
10:06pm wilby: so i can think about you smiling as i fall asleep.
author note: guys I am so sorry this took so long its been almost a month since my last upload I KNOW IM SORRY!!!! ive had a lot of uni work but its easing up so hopefully I will lock in soon. not my fav chapter ive done but sigh its okay
titsay
izzy806
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
vaporwave
kianamaiart
kaledo-art
turnnoffyourmind
discoholicmusic
