answer_key

Knotted Desires Part 1/2

Waya isn’t really gay for the record. He does like girls, just to be clear. He’s also not really kinky in the grand scheme of things. It’s frankly embarrassing how happy he can get just by holding hands; filled with the feeling of joy, a resounding chorus of "she likes me, and I like her!” resounding through his head.

Just he occasionally finds himself… well it’s normal to want to be spoiled by your seniors and to feel like indulging your juniors. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. It’s nice when someone else in charge setting the stage – it lest you know exactly where you stand. But it’s something else; to be tempted by something more.

Like having fantasies about wanting to be held down by someone larger and stronger than yourself, wanting to be fucked, wanting to be teased to the edge of release and left panting and wanting, so that when you finally do find your eventual release it’s all the sweeter. Wanting to be relax, being petted and taken care of in the aftermath. No need to stay strong, and impress anyone. Wanting to just completely be able to let go.

Waya doesn’t quite know where it comes from. He does know what triggered it into a higher level of intensity.

A few years ago, while searching online for reasons of research – legitimate research even, he’d stumbled across a video. The scene was some kind of sketchy looking club, taken on someone’s handhold camera focused on the show taking place on the stage, starring a swarthy blond foreigner and a slim boyish looking blue-haired neko.

Normally Waya would click away quickly, but the neko’s silver eyes (it must have been contact lenses right? Contact lenses and a blue wig with cat ears attached?) flashing at the camera just looked so unreal and inhuman compared to how amateur the rest of the video looked that he’d stayed watching, and the way that the neko gasped when the swarthy guy grasped him, the way that his head and eyes rolled back in submission, Waya just couldn’t look away.

It was utterly hypnotizing watching the rough shoves to force an arm into place were combined and contrasted with gentle strokes once the rope had been slipped through. It was amazing watching the expressions captured – so open and unguarded, the bright silver eyes making it incredibly obvious every time the neko’s eyelids fluttered. The way that the rope knots combined to make beautiful artistic designs, butterflies that strained against human flesh as the body they were hosted on was hoisted to allow the audience a better look.

“Oh no.” Waya finds himself saying once the video ends, and it’s not just due to the tenting in his pants.
It wasn’t just that Waya found it hot, that made it wrong. Nor the fact that Waya desperately wanted to watch more. It was that Waya wanted that to be him; the neko. Waya wanted to experience that ecstasy as shown when helpless in another’s grip, to gasp and feel as knots are slid into place. Waya wanted to feel the relief as blood rushes back into his limbs.

Waya never to be in that position. Waya wanted someone to read his mind and play out his desires. Waya would die if anyone ever found out.

Since then, it's stayed lurking in the back of his head. He can go a few weeks without thinking about it, but then it will come with the force of a speeding bullet train and he’ll spend a painful night being unable to stop thinking about it.

But no one can ever know.

Since the internet brought him the problem, you’d think that the internet would be capable of taking it away, but it just doesn’t quite work like that. Rather than feeding the urge, the more exposed Waya finds himself to it, the stronger the cravings become. It’s probably because he’s still single, but he can’t seem to hold onto a girlfriend long enough to fix it.

Waya finds that he can’t even settle these urges with normal heterosexual porn; it sometimes works if it’s the woman doing the tying, but most of the time it needs to be a smaller guy being tied up by a larger man. He’s fascinated by the patterns that can be made. It’s getting to the point where Waya’s worried that he’s starting to undermine his paranoia with how badly the urge to see if someone’s updated in one of the roleplaying threads, by wanting to do normal things and stay logged into the porn profile he set up on the laptop. The whole point of setting up the second profile was so that there was no chance of anyone accidentally stumbling across something on his laptop if he left it unattended accidentally.
Maybe if he did it for real, that would settle things.

Despite Waya’s paranoia on being discovered, he does find it a relief when he’s tracked down who one of his partners that’s indicated that they might be open to something in real life is.
(Waya maintains that he’s not a stalker! He just happened to search on yahoo the email address and just so happened find it connected to a real world name, minor celebrity in their field, that has a history that matches up with everything that the RP partner said. If they were really paranoid about it, they’d get a burner email address.)
They don’t play go – the way that their dismissive of the game actually from one of their blog posts that Waya just so happened to stumble across, would normally fill Waya with indignation, but fills him with relief instead. He can do this. He can try it out, see how it would work and hopefully get it out of his head. The guy isn’t bad looking either, slightly taller and broader than Waya.

Waya’s feeling super awkward as he sits in the café, shifting a little bit nervously. He keeps needing to remind himself that he has nothing to be nervous about, that he’s left a note on the kitchen table and people will miss him if he doesn’t show up to one of his teaching games tomorrow. He’s come under an alias similar to his name; Yoshiyuki (after Oyama Yoshiyuki, one of the designers of Legend of Zelda), and said that he’d be wearing a green shirt. He’s watching the doorway, as the guy he’s meeting up with, going by his real name even, comes to the doorway, looks around before making eye contact with Waya and zooming in.

The cafe’s mostly empty and Waya’s alone, he reminds himself. It’s not that he’s a super obvious mark.

His partner for the night, slouches across the table, “You must be Yoshiyuki”, he declares with a smirk, waiting only half a second for Waya to nod back, before continuing brazenly on. “Right. Just laying it all up front, I like to get a little rough, I don’t do rope around the neck and shit like that, I don’t like to have the scene super controlled - you want out, just say so or safeword or whatever.”

Waya is positive that he’s gone bright red. “That’s all okay.” he swallows. He’s thought about this, how he wanted to seem knowledgeable and cool. “Like I said in my email, safe word is Zelda or I’ll tell you I want out. I don’t want any humiliation talk. Photographs of the knots are okay as long as there’s no shots taken of my face. I’d rather we start simple to see how things go. All cool?”
Kaga smirks at him across the table. “All cool. Right, let’s get going to the hotel then. This is going to be fun!”

TBC