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It was driving Ishir crazy.
“Zee,” Ishir sighed in exasperation, throwing his legs over him to stop him from vibrating. Zee’s knee had been bopping for the last half hour, shaking the couch they were both on.
Zee threw him a sheepish look, locking a hand around Ishir’s ankle. “Sorry. Don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Just chill,” Ishir ordered. It was kind of a stupid thing to say, but it seemed to work for a while, Zee settling further into the cushions.
It lulled Ishir into a false sense of security. He sprawled on his back, scrolling on his phone, distracted enough that he didn’t quite pay attention to the hand that was drifting up his leg.
A soft touch to the inside of his knee. The knob of it. Up to his thigh. Suddenly, Ishir was painfully aware of his own body. Zee rubbed circles right above his joint through his sweatpants. It was innocent, really. Something they could have done before all this mess began.
Ishir tried to refocus on the screen in his hands, but it was difficult to do. Zee’s fingers shifted upwards inch by inch, rubbing up and down, landing dangerously close to Ishir’s junk.
“Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish,” Ishir muttered, not even glancing at Zee.
There was a pause. “You’re the one who can’t finish.” It was teasing, but there was something dark threaded through his words.
Ishir lowered his arms. He raised an eyebrow, challenging. “Then don’t start shit.”
Zee smirked. “No?” His palm gripped the crease of Ishir’s thigh, brushing against his balls.
Ishir tried to hold his composure, but he was already half-hard. “Zee…” He wished it came out as a deterrent, but it was more of a whine.
Zee hummed noncommittally, delving further in, cupping him with his big hand.
Ishir let his head drop, closing his eyes as Zee toyed with him, massaging him through his clothes, rubbing at the head of his cock until he was hard and straining.
“Zee,” Ishir mumbled pleadingly.
Zee ignored him, digging a thumb in that spot behind his balls, making Ishir jerk. He was leaking in his briefs, flushing at how fucking easy he was for Zee.
It felt like all Zee would have to do was stroke him half a dozen times and he would blow.
“Yeah,” Zee said. “Fucking love seeing you like this.”
“What, suffering?” Ishir protested.
Zee snorted. “Yeah. Fucking begging for it.”
“I’m not begging.”
“Not with words, but fucking look at you. Can’t get enough, can you?”
Ishir threw an arm over his eyes, hiding from the truth.
Zee seemed to be having the time of his life. It didn’t matter how much Ishir writhed or groaned or whined, he didn’t slip his hands under Ishir’s pants, denying him the relief of skin-on-skin.
“I wanna fuck you with that toy you have.”
Ishir blinked, Zee’s words percolating slowly. “I…”
“Where is it?”
Ishir had to take a moment to breathe. Was this a good idea? Did it even matter? “Box under the bed. Lube’s in the drawer.”
Zee squeezed him roughly, a reward, and shimmied from under Ishir. “Stay right there. Actually, get naked, but stay here.”
Ishir huffed as Zee didn’t give him a chance to respond, disappearing instead. He did as he was asked, though, undressing with shaking fingers.
