spiral&chill
Ben first encountered Charles on a quiet evening, scrolling through Grindr out of boredom more than intent. He wasn’t the kind of guy to often meet strangers from the app—he preferred getting to know someone a bit first. But when Charles messaged him, something about the man’s profile struck a chord.
Charles had a slim, athletic build, a sharp jawline accentuated by a neatly trimmed goatee, and eyes that seemed to sparkle even through a screen. His messages were witty, confident, and just the right mix of playful and direct. They chatted back and forth for a week before deciding to meet at a local bar.
When Ben walked in that night, scanning the crowd nervously, Charles had stood out immediately. He looked just as good as his pictures, maybe even better. There was an air of ease about him, a self-assuredness that put Ben at ease too. His French accent only added to his appeal, each word dripping with charm. By the end of the night, Ben was smitten, though he hadn’t let it show too much.
So when Charles invited him over for a casual evening of “Netflix and chill,” Ben had hesitated at first. It wasn’t something he usually did, and he had a hard and fast rule about not rushing into things. But Charles was different. Just being near him made Ben feel good in a way he couldn’t explain. Relaxed. Safe. Drawn in.
That’s how he found himself standing in front of Charles’ apartment door a few weeks later, shifting his weight nervously as he knocked. He’d gone for his usual laid-back look: a simple shirt, shorts, and sneakers. Nothing too flashy, but he felt comfortable. He bit his lip as he waited, butterflies flitting in his stomach.
The door opened, and there was Charles, more handsome than ever. He was dressed casually in gray joggers, a tight-fitting shirt that showed off his lean physique, and socks. His face lit up with a serene smile, but his eyes sparkled with something playful, something knowing.
“Benny,” Charles greeted warmly, his voice as smooth as ever. His gaze swept over Ben, not in a way that made him feel self-conscious, but appreciated. “Come in.”
Ben stepped inside, and Charles led him into the living room. The space was minimal but stylish, with clean lines and soft lighting. On the coffee table sat a bottle of wine, two glasses, and an assortment of snacks. It was cozy, inviting. Ben’s initial nerves began to melt away.
“I already picked a movie,” Charles said as he gestured for Ben to sit. “You’ll like it. It’s… so meaningful.”
Ben chuckled, unsure what that meant. “Okay, I’m intrigued.”
Charles settled in beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. Ben could feel the warmth radiating from him, and his presence was calming, magnetic. Charles poured them each a glass of wine, handed one to Ben, and picked up the remote.
“Let’s see,” Charles said with a smile, pointing the remote at the TV.
The screen lit up, and instead of the Netflix homepage Ben expected, a vibrant, colorful spiral burst to life. It twisted and turned, the hues shifting seamlessly in mesmerizing patterns. Ben blinked, momentarily confused.
“What’s this?” he asked, his voice light with curiosity.
Charles chuckled softly. “Just watch it, Benny. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Ben’s eyes were drawn back to the screen almost instinctively. The spiral was indeed beautiful, each movement smooth and hypnotic. He couldn’t look away.
Charles’ voice came again, low and soothing. “So beautiful, so alluring. You don’t need to think about it too much. Just let yourself watch it.”
Ben shifted in his seat, trying to focus on what Charles was saying, but his gaze kept returning to the spiral. There was something so calming about it.
“Do you feel it, Benny?” Charles continued. His voice seemed to deepen, each word drawing Ben closer. “How your body begins to feel warm? So relaxed, so tingly. Like all the stress of the week is melting away.”
Ben blinked slowly. His limbs felt heavy, yet a pleasant warmth spread through him, lulling him into a sense of ease he hadn’t known he needed.
“Yeah…” he murmured, not even sure why he responded.
Charles smiled, his hand resting lightly on Ben’s arm. “It’s been a long week, hasn’t it? Wouldn’t it be nice to just… focus for a while? On my voice, on my words.”
Ben wanted to question it, wanted to ask what was happening, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words. He just kept staring at the spiral, its endless motion captivating him more with each second.
“That’s it,” Charles said, his tone soft yet commanding. “Feel your body relax, Benny. Let your muscles go limp, one by one. Just let go. You can trust me.”
Ben’s shoulders sagged, his body melting into the couch. A part of his mind screamed that this wasn’t normal, that he should snap out of it, but the rest of him felt so… good. Safe.
“Your body rests, and your mind begins to rest with it,” Charles continued, his voice wrapping around Ben like a blanket. “Doesn’t it feel nice? To let me in?”
Ben nodded weakly, his lips barely moving. The spiral was all he could see, and Charles’ voice was all he could hear. The rest of the world faded away, leaving only this moment.
And then Charles leaned closer, his lips near Ben’s ear. “Good boy, Benny. You’re doing so well. Now, let’s go even deeper…”
Ben’s head lolled against the back of the couch, his lips slightly parted as he stared into the swirling abyss on the television screen. Time felt slippery—had it been minutes? Hours? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. The sensations coursing through him were all that mattered. Charles’ voice guided him like a tether, soothing and irresistible, each word wrapping around him like a warm, silken cocoon.
“You stopped wondering what was happening a while ago,” Charles murmured, his tone intimate and laced with authority. He was close—Ben could feel the faint brush of his breath. “Or has it been hours, Benny? You can’t tell anymore, can you?”
Ben’s lips moved, but no sound came out. The thought of speaking felt distant, irrelevant. All he could do was sink deeper into the pleasurable haze Charles was weaving around him.
“Everything is just a pleasurable swamp of need now,” Charles continued, his voice curling into Ben’s thoughts like tendrils of smoke. “Your body. Your mind. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is how good you feel.”
Ben’s body responded involuntarily, a soft shiver coursing through him. He was dimly aware of his limbs moving, of his body shifting, but the hows and whys were lost to him. The effort of questioning seemed insurmountable, like wading through molasses. Instead, he let himself drift, wrapped in warmth and the promise of pleasure.
“Just the idea of resisting… it feels like too much work, doesn’t it?” Charles asked, his voice almost teasing. “Why fight the pleasure? The warmth that surrounds you. That engulfs you. That entices you.”
Ben felt a wave of heat bloom from his core, spreading outward until it seemed to touch every nerve. His mind, already softened and pliable, melted further under the weight of Charles’ words. Thoughts bubbled up like steam and then evaporated, leaving behind only a need that pulsed in time with his racing heart.
“The pleasure melts your thoughts, Benny,” Charles said softly. “It makes them leak out. And how could you resist when there’s nothing left? When your thoughts have just… dripped away.”
Ben’s breath hitched, a quiet gasp escaping him. Somewhere, deep down, a part of him recognized the oddity of what was happening—the way it felt like he was observing himself from a distance, like an outsider looking in. But even that flicker of awareness was fleeting, drowned by the steady rhythm of Charles’ voice and the seductive pull of the spiral.
“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Charles said, his voice taking on a conspiratorial edge. “It feels like you’re having a conversation in your head, doesn’t it? Like someone else is talking about you, but not to you. But that’s silly, isn’t it? You’re alone, Benny. There’s only you.”
And Charles, Ben thought faintly, though the notion seemed to dissolve as quickly as it formed.
“I can’t resist,” Ben whispered, startled by the sound of his own voice. It came out clear and unbidden, as if it had been planted there and simply bloomed into existence. A tiny spark of panic tried to ignite, but it was extinguished instantly by a sudden, overwhelming burst of pleasure.
It started in his core, a white-hot bloom that radiated outward in waves. Ben gasped, his body arching slightly as the sensation consumed him. He felt his arousal peak, trembling on the edge of release, but it didn’t happen. Instead, the pleasure held him there, suspended, teasing him with its intensity.
“I am a good boy,” he heard himself say, the words slipping out without thought or hesitation.
The moment the words left his lips, the pleasure intensified, flooding him with another surge of heat. His mind felt like it was unraveling, each thread of thought dissolving into nothingness as his body obeyed without question. His hand moved—he wasn’t sure when it had started, or how—but it moved in slow, rhythmic motions, driven by a force he couldn’t control.
“Deeper down,” Charles coaxed, his voice a steady anchor. “Feel the pleasure guide you. Let it take you deeper, Benny. Let it wash through you.”
Ben’s hand moved in time with Charles’ words, and his mind followed. Each pulse of pleasure pulled him further down, stripping away what little resistance remained. He felt weightless, untethered, floating in a sea of warmth and arousal. His thoughts, already thin and fragile, collapsed entirely.
Ben's breathing quickened as he sat transfixed by the spiral on the screen, his mind melting into the swirling colors and Charles’ intoxicating voice. His body was warm and heavy, the tension in his muscles long since dissolved. The arousal burning through him was undeniable now, sharp and aching, straining against the fabric of his shorts. He wasn’t sure when it had begun, but it was impossible to ignore.
Charles chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate. “You’re so close, Benny,” he murmured, his hand resting lightly on Ben’s thigh. The touch was warm, firm, and grounding in a way that made Ben’s already scrambled thoughts dissolve further. “I can feel it. You’re holding so much inside, aren’t you? So much tension. So much need.”
Ben swallowed hard, his body shivering as Charles’ hand moved slowly, teasingly. The pressure on his thigh sent sparks of pleasure racing through him, each one pulling him deeper into the haze.
“You don’t need to hold it back,” Charles said, his tone both soothing and commanding. “Let me take care of you. Let me guide you, Benny.”
Ben moaned softly, his hips shifting involuntarily as the tension inside him built to an unbearable peak. He felt Charles’ fingers trail higher, pausing just shy of his cock. The anticipation was maddening, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to speak or move.
“You’re so good,” Charles continued, his hand now firmly cupping Ben’s bulge through the strained fabric of his shorts. “So obedient. So ready to let go.”
The contact made Ben gasp, his body trembling as pleasure surged through him. He was leaking now, the damp spot on his shorts unmistakable. Charles chuckled again, a note of playful satisfaction in his voice.
“Such a good boy,” he teased, applying just enough pressure to make Ben squirm. “You feel it, don’t you? How close you are? How much you need this?”
Ben nodded weakly, his head lolling to the side as his need consumed him. His body was no longer his own—every movement, every sensation was dictated by Charles’ touch, his voice.
Charles’ other hand came up to cradle Ben’s face, his thumb brushing gently over his cheek. “Look at you,” he said softly. “Completely mine. Isn’t that right, Benny?”
Ben’s lips moved, but no words came out. His thoughts were too scattered, too drenched in pleasure to form anything coherent. He felt himself leaning into Charles’ touch, his entire being surrendering to the man who had claimed him so thoroughly.
“Say it,” Charles coaxed, his voice a velvet whisper. “Say you’re mine, Benny. Let go. Let me have you.”
“I’m yours,” Ben whispered, the words tumbling from his lips without hesitation. His voice was breathy, broken, but filled with certainty.
The moment he said it, Charles leaned closer, his lips brushing against Ben’s ear. “Good boy,” he murmured. “Let go, Benny. Become mine.”
Ben’s entire body shuddered as the command sank into him, deeper than anything he’d ever felt. The pleasure, already overwhelming, surged to new heights, washing over him in wave after wave until he thought he might drown in it. His mind, already blank, dissolved entirely, leaving nothing but the echo of Charles’ words and the bliss that consumed him.
His back arched sharply, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he released against Charles’ hand. The thin fabric of his shorts clung to him, darkened by the evidence of his surrender, unable to contain the full extent of his release.
Charles’ chuckle was low and satisfied, a sound that made Ben shudder with lingering arousal. His hand remained firm, teasing and encouraging. “That’s it, Benny,” Charles said, his voice smooth and approving. “Keep going. Don’t hold back. Let it all out.”
Ben whimpered, his head tilting back as his eyes rolled. The pleasure didn’t ebb; it built and twisted inside him, pushing him to the brink again and again. His body trembled uncontrollably, his muscles spasming before finally going limp, leaving him slumped against the couch.
“Good boy,” Charles murmured, his tone dripping with warmth and pride. His hand moved from Ben’s soaked shorts to his face, caressing his cheek with gentle fingers. The touch was soothing, grounding, a stark contrast to the intensity of what had just happened.
Ben’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, his mind still swimming in the aftermath. His thoughts were soft and distant, his body utterly spent, but the sound of Charles’ voice anchored him.
“You’ve done so well,” Charles continued, brushing a stray strand of hair from Ben’s forehead. “You’re perfect, Benny. My good boy.”
Ben sighed softly, leaning into the touch. He felt weightless, floating in the warmth of Charles’ approval. Nothing else mattered—only this moment, and the man who had claimed him so completely.
Charles leaned back on the couch, a satisfied smirk playing at the edges of his lips as he took in the sight before him. Ben was a picture of pure surrender—his body slumped and trembling, his shirt clinging to his sweat-slicked skin. The fabric of his shorts was soaked, sticking to his thighs, and Charles’ own hand bore the evidence of Ben’s unrestrained release, sticky and glistening.
Ben’s eyes were unfocused, half-lidded and glazed over, staring at nothing. His jaw hung slack, soft breaths escaping in uneven intervals. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, the effort leaving him even more vulnerable.
Charles tilted his head, his sharp gaze drinking in every detail—the tremor in Ben’s limbs, the flush that painted his cheeks, the way his body seemed to hum with the remnants of pleasure.
“You’re utterly spent,” Charles murmured, his voice filled with quiet satisfaction. “Completely gone, aren’t you, Benny?”
Ben gave no response, his mind too far gone to process the words. It was as if every ounce of him had been drained, leaving only an empty vessel behind.
Charles leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a finger along Ben’s slackened jaw. The simple touch drew a faint sigh from Ben’s lips, a small sound that only deepened Charles’ amusement.
“You’ve done so well for me,” Charles said softly, his voice almost a purr. “Such a good boy. Just look at you.”
He chuckled again, low and indulgent, savoring the sight of Ben in his utterly surrendered state. There was no need to rush—Ben wasn’t going anywhere. He was right where Charles wanted him, lost and malleable, a masterpiece of submission.
Charles leaned back once more, his smirk broadening as he picked up his glass of wine, taking a slow sip. The night was far from over, but for now, he was content to simply bask in the result of his work. Ben, sweaty and trembling, completely undone, was the perfect picture of blissful ruin.
The spiral on the screen continued its mesmerizing dance, its colors swirling in endless, hypnotic patterns. Even in his utterly spent state, Ben’s body moved on its own, his hand sliding over the damp fabric of his shorts. The wetness clung to his skin, but he didn’t seem to care. He was lost, his mind floating in the pleasurable haze that Charles had woven around him.
Charles chuckled softly, the sound laced with amusement and satisfaction. “Silly boy,” he murmured, watching as Ben’s fingers toyed with himself through the soaked fabric, a faint, needy whimper escaping his lips.
With a click of the remote, the TV screen went black, plunging the room into a sudden stillness. The absence of the swirling spiral only seemed to emphasize the quiet, intimate atmosphere. Charles leaned forward again, his hand coming to rest gently on Ben’s face. His thumb traced along Ben’s cheek, wiping away the faint trail of drool that had escaped his slackened lips.
Ben sighed softly at the touch, leaning into Charles’ hand instinctively, his body responding even though his mind was still far away.
“I’m so glad we matched” Charles murmured, his voice warm and low. His thumb moved to brush over Ben’s bottom lip, his touch both tender and possessive. “You’re so handsome, Benny. My handsome boy.”
The words wrapped around Ben like a cocoon, drawing another faint moan from his lips. His eyes fluttered, but they remained unfocused, his body pliant under Charles’ hand.
Charles leaned closer, pressing his forehead against Ben’s for a moment, the intimacy of the gesture deepening the bond he had so carefully cultivated. “You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Aren’t you, my beautiful boy?”
Ben’s lips moved faintly, the words forming without thought, a soft and automatic response. “Yours,” he whispered, his voice fragile but certain.
Charles smiled, his satisfaction evident as he pulled back slightly to admire his work. His hand lingered on Ben’s face, his fingers brushing against his jawline as if to reassure him. “That’s right,” he said softly. “You’re mine, Benny. Always.”
Charles' hand moved with deliberate intent, his fingers brushing over the wet, clinging fabric of Ben's shorts. He pressed firmly against the sensitive flesh beneath, eliciting a shuddering gasp from Ben. The sound was soft, barely audible, but it was enough to make Charles’ smirk deepen.
“And this,” Charles murmured, his voice low and commanding, “this is mine too.”
Ben’s body responded instantly, a tremor running through him as Charles’ grip tightened slightly, possessive and unyielding. Ben’s head lolled to the side, his lips parting in a faint moan, his entire being surrendering to the touch.
“You feel that, Benny?” Charles asked, his tone teasing but laced with authority. “Every part of you belongs to me now. Isn’t that right?”
Ben whimpered, his hips shifting instinctively toward Charles’ hand. His words, when they came, were barely above a whisper. “Yours…”
Charles’ chuckle was quiet, almost tender, as he leaned closer, his face mere inches from Ben’s. “Good boy,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against the damp fabric, savoring the way Ben’s body shivered beneath him.
“This is just the beginning,” Charles added, his voice a seductive promise. “You’ll learn, Benny. You’ll understand what it means to be mine.”
Ben couldn’t respond—his mind was too far gone, his body too overwhelmed. All he could do was surrender, letting Charles guide him further into the haze of pleasure and submission.
