It was always the same thing… Over and over and over and over… Sometimes Sitka was stupid enough to think he might be able to move out of the house and have all of the attention cease. That was until he was reminded that he could be followed practically anywhere he decided to go unless he agreed to be a toy for some other magical creature in exchange for keeping that torturous mass of gloves away from him…
Walking in out of the blistering summer heat, Sitka heaved a sigh and wiped the sweat from his forehead onto his forearm to remove the short, midnight bangs from his sun-burned face. The sleeveless shirt and cargo shorts had been a bad idea to go out in. His arms were already red after the half an hour in the sun, and his legs from his knees to the top of his ankles were turning red, too. It was going to be an uncomfortable week for Sitka trying to get to sleep, if nothing else.
Not daring to remove his shirt, Sitka tossed his car keys down on the coffee table in the living room and allowed himself to carefully fall onto his stomach on the couch and, even more carefully, wrap his arms around one of the decorative pillows that sat at opposite ends of the piece of furniture. He would have to make do with the couch to get his rest at that moment. The last thing he needed was to go lie in his bed and have that troublesome mass of gloves begin touching him and causing pain even if it didn’t mean to.
When the burns on his arms and legs and face stopped stinging, Sitka managed to slowly relax his body, hoping for a little sleep before he was harassed by the gloves that wandered the house. After all, it was inevitable that he would be touched in an unwanted manner, but he was hoping he could hold off on that for a little while. Sitka wasn’t given that chance, however. Just as the crimson-eyed man was dozing off, he felt something cold on his sun-burned legs. It felt rather nice, and Sitka found himself relaxing into the couch further, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as he felt the chill of whatever was touching his legs find its way to his arms and even his exposed cheek and ear.
It never occurred to Sitka that he shouldn’t be feeling cold on any of his burned skin. He was just too exhausted, and he couldn’t fathom the idea. It wasn’t until a quiet moan slipped from between his parted lips and caused the enigma hovering over him to chuckle that Sitka realized something was wrong. He didn’t get the chance to push himself up and bolt for the door. He didn’t even have enough time to grab his keys from the coffee table before the gloves, filled with ice and sealed, took hold of his upper arms and ankles and swung him over so he would be facing up instead of staring at the floor. Sitka immediately started cursing and thrashing about in his attempts to get loose.
“Gods damn you, Diro; let go of me! I’m in no mood for your games!” A lot of cursing left the young man’s mouth as he heard his keys being grabbed off of the coffee table and jingling behind him. It was only at that point that Sitka glanced down and found his hiking boots being untied. “Diro, lay off of me!” The gloves ignored his order and finished untying the laces. Once that was accomplished, Diro slowly wiggled the boots off of Sitka’s socked feet despite the kicking and carried them back to his room alongside the disgruntled man.
By the time Sitka was placed on his bed, his socks had been stripped off and the gloves were in the process of unbuckling his leather belt from around his waist. Sitka tried twisting his body as many ways as he could manage until he felt the tie holding his shoulder-length hair back being pulled out to let the silken strands fall. It was a well known sign between the man and the enigma that Sitka wasn’t going to be going anywhere for awhile.
“Shit! Diro, let go of me, gods damn you! I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t!” Once again, Sitka’s threats and curses were ignored. Instead, Diro focused on pulling Sitka’s sweat-drenched t-shirt up and over his head, never releasing the hold on Sitka’s arms, though Diro didn’t actually need to let go. Most of the time, being an enigma had its advantages.
“I’m just going to rub something into those burns for you. I know it can be uncomfortable wandering around without them being treated properly.” Diro was quite pleased with himself when Sitka flinched at the sound of his voice. It amused him that Sitka hated flinching or twitching yet he did it so often, mostly around the floating mass of gloves.
“Somehow, I just can’t believe that is your only intention…” Sitka all but growled at the voice over his head, but there was really nothing he could do to escape the gloves’ hold on him. The fabric may have been empty, but its grip was strong, nevertheless.
Rather than respond to Sitka, one of the gloves grabbed a bottle from on top of Sitka’s dresser and quickly brought it over, flipping the top off with its thumb. Once a few pairs of the gloves were rubbing the lotion into themselves, the glove holding the bottle held it up for Sitka’s inspection. Sitka was surprised to see that Diro knew that aloe lotion was better than a simple moisturizer, but, after a bit of thought, Sitka found he shouldn’t be too surprised. Diro was obsessed with harassing people for long periods of time. Having one of his toys injured or in pain while he worked them over wouldn’t do the mass of gloves any good, after all.
Fidgeting, twitching, Sitka simply couldn’t stop himself as the first pairs of gloves landed on his lower legs and began rubbing the lotion into the burned skin, slowly at first, meticulously trying to get every inch of reddened skin covered without rubbing too hard. Sitka should have been used to this kind of touching by now, he was sure. The moment Diro had discovered his sensitivity, purely on accident after Diro had come to live with him and his numerous roommates, Sitka had been dealing with the near constant touching of the sadistic gloves. Sitka had even gone over the incident a million different times since it had happened and all but ruined his life.
Unfortunately, there had been no way Diro was responsible for the broken rung on the old ladder Sitka had been using one day a few summers back to get up to the roof. In fact, Sitka was sure he would have broken something, maybe more than one something, if Diro hadn’t been there to catch him first and untangle his legs from the rungs. Sitka had even been grateful until his feet had touched the ground and Diro had dug fingers into his ribs. Sitka had tried to keep the reaction minimal. He had been expecting Diro to test his sensitivity at some point, but his body jumped regardless.
No one else would have noticed the reaction other than Diro, and that had been when Diro began testing Sitka’s sensitivities further. If Diro had caused the accident, though, Sitka was sure he could use that to his advantage and find a way out of his mess. It didn’t help, however, because it hadn’t been what happened.
Now, with Diro’s gloves rubbing his burned calves, Sitka managed not to twitch too much beyond a little squirming. “You’re doing much better than when I started touching you, you know.” Diro’s tone was gleeful, if nothing else. It pissed Sitka off to the Nth degree.
“Just because I’m behaving better doesn’t mean I like having hands on me anymore than I did back then.” Sitka almost continued speaking until another glove with lotion flew over and began rubbing into his knee. The only problem with that, though, was that the glove squeezed just enough to seem like it might be accidental. Sitka knew better. The young man tried to ignore it, but both of his legs twitched when just the one knee was squeezed, and the few times the fingers found their way underneath it certainly wasn’t helping his case by any means.
The moment a second glove flew over and landed on Sitka’s unmolested knee, Sitka knew he had lost the battle. He gritted his teeth, held his breath, squirmed against the gloves’ hold on him, even kicked a few times until more gloves held the limbs down, but no matter what he tried, Sitka could feel the laughter catching in his throat and forcing his shoulders to shake slightly. It was an action Diro noticed, and it was enough of a signal for him to send more gloves, this time, to Sitka’s curling toes and wiggling feet.
They started by pulling the young man’s big toes back, effectively keeping Sitka from being able to do more than twitch the rest of his toes. “Those are not burned you…! Shit…!” The rubbing… Rubbing into his arches as another pair of gloves began rubbing under and between his toes… Sitka gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, even stopped breathing. Nothing seemed to dull the sensations. Not even the intense struggling he was doing against all of the lotion-soaked, latex gloves did anything to deter them. Instead, it made Diro rub deeper into Sitka’s arches, the tops of his heels, underneath the balls of his feet, into the toes again.
“Fuck!” The curse broke ground for the snickering the fingers were causing. Sitka tried to stop it, but it only made him hiccup and yank at the hands holding him down harder, none of which was helping his case at all. His brain tried to count the fingers on him, the hands working him over, but Sitka never managed to get very far before his brain was distracted by a particularly well-placed finger or motion.
When Sitka was sure he could shout and scream for help with his remaining breath, Diro added new gloves to his burned calves. Through his snickering, Sitka felt more aloe being rubbed into the burns, more gently than the fingers at his feet were being. However, Sitka was almost immediately distracted by a pair of gloves giving his knees a squeeze while a second pair dug in underneath them, causing a yelp to slip from between Sitka’s lips and forcing a bit of laughter out for a few seconds. Afterward, Sitka managed to keep it to snickering and gritted his teeth again.
“Gods damn you!” Sitka all but growled at the gloves that flew up to his arms to rub more aloe into the burns there. He knew Diro was trying to help him out a little, but he couldn’t forgive the fact that the enigma was taking advantage of the situation either.
The few thoughts Sitka was managing to have were scattered again the moment gloves snuck into his pits and began rubbing deeply into the hollows. The young man’s body twitched, jumped, and jerked hard against the gloves holding him still, half-noticing the gloves raising his arms to make him even more vulnerable. Diro snickered himself, right into Sitka’s ear, as he halted his attack. Sitka immediately slumped and really had to let the gloves hold him up while he caught his breath then. He couldn’t even be pissed off; he was just too exhausted.
“Five minutes.” Diro sounded rather happy relaying that message to the worn out young man. That was apparent in his tone, and Diro was only amused further at the sound of Sitka’s tired growling.
“Fuck off, you sack of filthy laundry.” Sitka had always despised Diro’s adoration for notifying him of exactly how long he had been laying into him. It was more apparent when the time was short and Sitka had barely been able to stand what was done to him, was trying so hard to fight against the energy that made up Diro and his gloves, that energy that was stronger than Sitka times infinity if it so chose to be…
“I could just get back to business if you would rather I didn’t put any of this stuff on your face. I can’t do it while I’m having my fun, unfortunately, or I wouldn’t have stopped at all.” If Diro had a body, Sitka was sure he would have been shrugging his shoulders, but, rather than argue and start the unwanted rubbing and digging, Sitka begrudgingly nodded his head.
The gloves pushed Sitka’s dark hair back from his burned face while another pair approached, rubbing lotion into one another. Despite Diro telling him he couldn’t tickle him while the hands were taking care of his face, Sitka visibly flinched as they landed, the lotion cold against the heated skin. Though Sitka couldn’t relax, he did manage to sit still, squeezing his eyes shut while the gloves gently worked the aloe into the young man’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead, along his jaw and chin. Another pair of lotion-soaked gloves came up to help the first, and, while the first worked its way to his neck and collarbone, the second found his ears.
Immediately, Sitka knew Diro wasn’t through with him. He gritted his teeth, jerked against the gloves still holding his limbs as well as the ones settled around underneath his arms, his knees, calves, and feet, as if that might help to shake them off. The moment he made the attempt, the gloves around his neck focused in on his collarbone and chest, rubbing and stroking, sometimes moving to dig into his ribs. When the gloves began counting them, another pair coming to help with the chore, Sitka felt the first chuckle pass his lips. It wasn’t long before the two pairs of gloves had him snickering again, and the pair at his ears was beginning to tease, rubbing the soft spot behind and beneath both, moving to rub along the rims of his ears and down to the lobes.
All Sitka wanted to do was squirm, kick, flail, struggle as hard as possible against the gloves just from the teasing around his ears that made sure the forced grin remained on his face. When Diro saw the grin, the previous gloves dug in again. They were everywhere at once… Rubbing between each of his toes and under them, practically massaging their lotion-soaked fingers into his arches and making Sitka want to kick his legs more with each passing second as a spurt of laughter and gasping escaped him before he could stop it. Sitka only barely forced himself to hold his breath and return to his previous snickering, eyes squeezed tightly shut, head shaking back and forth to throw the gloves working his ears over, clenching his fists while he couldn’t do the same with his toes…
Fingers squeezed and feverishly rubbed beneath his knees, making Sitka jump as he remembered they were still there. It was at that point that Sitka felt more fingers above his knees, groping, rubbing, squeezing, stroking as they tested the waters until they slipped beneath the fabric of Sitka’s shorts and dug into the young man’s inner thighs, causing Sitka to pull his knees together quickly while his gritted teeth released the pressure and gave Sitka the chance to yelp so loudly that Diro was sure the neighbors heard him and the frantic laughter that followed suit.
While Diro allowed Sitka to clamp his knees together, he never stopped the gloves caught between his thighs from wriggling their fingers, rubbing deeply into the skin and making Sitka jerk every which way even as he found control over his laughter again. Sitka was all but whimpering, giggles sneaking through until the point where Diro went in for the kill. The moment Sitka opened his eyes to hold back the tears that had welled up in them, Diro slowly sent a pair of gloves to Sitka’s stomach and abdomen, which almost returned Sitka to laughter when they began digging in and rubbing circles around his navel. The point of the action was to make Sitka believe Diro wasn’t going to go near the one spot that would send him over the edge. Even though Sitka knew better, his body couldn’t help but consider the option.
It wasn’t much longer than that, however, that Sitka watched a final pair of gloves wriggle their way beneath his waistband, which made the young man gasp audibly and let out a few boyish giggles in the process, and dig into his hips, kneading deeply, sometimes moving up to do the same to the soft spot just above them before moving down again to continue the onslaught. Sitka couldn’t keep his eyes open and shut them tightly, allowing the tears to run down his cheeks.
“I hate you!” Sitka’s words instantly devolved into frantic laughter. He tried to continue threatening the gloves touching him, all of them and every last finger that went along with them. He kept shouting at them through fits that he hated them, was going to kill them, shred them, destroy them in whatever way he could manage, but, after awhile of more rubbing, stroking, squeezing, kneading, digging, massaging, and teasing, Sitka had returned to cursing through the laughter and giggling. His ability to snicker through the most intense torture was lost the second those fingers found his hips, and the rest of the hands on him were not helping by any means. He couldn’t even consider escape and any real thoughts he might have had were in his brain and gone in no more than a fleeting second, drowned out entirely by all of the hands on him, touching him, making him feel every last one of them.
It took Sitka several long minutes to realize the sensation had stopped, that the gloves had been removed and he had been gently set down on the mattress before he stopped laughing, and, even then, he couldn’t hold back from snickering. It was only once that stopped as well that he felt a glove move to his face and poke his nose playfully. It rested on his chest as if to tease him further.
“Twenty minutes.”
Walking in out of the blistering summer heat, Sitka heaved a sigh and wiped the sweat from his forehead onto his forearm to remove the short, midnight bangs from his sun-burned face. The sleeveless shirt and cargo shorts had been a bad idea to go out in. His arms were already red after the half an hour in the sun, and his legs from his knees to the top of his ankles were turning red, too. It was going to be an uncomfortable week for Sitka trying to get to sleep, if nothing else.
Not daring to remove his shirt, Sitka tossed his car keys down on the coffee table in the living room and allowed himself to carefully fall onto his stomach on the couch and, even more carefully, wrap his arms around one of the decorative pillows that sat at opposite ends of the piece of furniture. He would have to make do with the couch to get his rest at that moment. The last thing he needed was to go lie in his bed and have that troublesome mass of gloves begin touching him and causing pain even if it didn’t mean to.
When the burns on his arms and legs and face stopped stinging, Sitka managed to slowly relax his body, hoping for a little sleep before he was harassed by the gloves that wandered the house. After all, it was inevitable that he would be touched in an unwanted manner, but he was hoping he could hold off on that for a little while. Sitka wasn’t given that chance, however. Just as the crimson-eyed man was dozing off, he felt something cold on his sun-burned legs. It felt rather nice, and Sitka found himself relaxing into the couch further, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as he felt the chill of whatever was touching his legs find its way to his arms and even his exposed cheek and ear.
It never occurred to Sitka that he shouldn’t be feeling cold on any of his burned skin. He was just too exhausted, and he couldn’t fathom the idea. It wasn’t until a quiet moan slipped from between his parted lips and caused the enigma hovering over him to chuckle that Sitka realized something was wrong. He didn’t get the chance to push himself up and bolt for the door. He didn’t even have enough time to grab his keys from the coffee table before the gloves, filled with ice and sealed, took hold of his upper arms and ankles and swung him over so he would be facing up instead of staring at the floor. Sitka immediately started cursing and thrashing about in his attempts to get loose.
“Gods damn you, Diro; let go of me! I’m in no mood for your games!” A lot of cursing left the young man’s mouth as he heard his keys being grabbed off of the coffee table and jingling behind him. It was only at that point that Sitka glanced down and found his hiking boots being untied. “Diro, lay off of me!” The gloves ignored his order and finished untying the laces. Once that was accomplished, Diro slowly wiggled the boots off of Sitka’s socked feet despite the kicking and carried them back to his room alongside the disgruntled man.
By the time Sitka was placed on his bed, his socks had been stripped off and the gloves were in the process of unbuckling his leather belt from around his waist. Sitka tried twisting his body as many ways as he could manage until he felt the tie holding his shoulder-length hair back being pulled out to let the silken strands fall. It was a well known sign between the man and the enigma that Sitka wasn’t going to be going anywhere for awhile.
“Shit! Diro, let go of me, gods damn you! I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t!” Once again, Sitka’s threats and curses were ignored. Instead, Diro focused on pulling Sitka’s sweat-drenched t-shirt up and over his head, never releasing the hold on Sitka’s arms, though Diro didn’t actually need to let go. Most of the time, being an enigma had its advantages.
“I’m just going to rub something into those burns for you. I know it can be uncomfortable wandering around without them being treated properly.” Diro was quite pleased with himself when Sitka flinched at the sound of his voice. It amused him that Sitka hated flinching or twitching yet he did it so often, mostly around the floating mass of gloves.
“Somehow, I just can’t believe that is your only intention…” Sitka all but growled at the voice over his head, but there was really nothing he could do to escape the gloves’ hold on him. The fabric may have been empty, but its grip was strong, nevertheless.
Rather than respond to Sitka, one of the gloves grabbed a bottle from on top of Sitka’s dresser and quickly brought it over, flipping the top off with its thumb. Once a few pairs of the gloves were rubbing the lotion into themselves, the glove holding the bottle held it up for Sitka’s inspection. Sitka was surprised to see that Diro knew that aloe lotion was better than a simple moisturizer, but, after a bit of thought, Sitka found he shouldn’t be too surprised. Diro was obsessed with harassing people for long periods of time. Having one of his toys injured or in pain while he worked them over wouldn’t do the mass of gloves any good, after all.
Fidgeting, twitching, Sitka simply couldn’t stop himself as the first pairs of gloves landed on his lower legs and began rubbing the lotion into the burned skin, slowly at first, meticulously trying to get every inch of reddened skin covered without rubbing too hard. Sitka should have been used to this kind of touching by now, he was sure. The moment Diro had discovered his sensitivity, purely on accident after Diro had come to live with him and his numerous roommates, Sitka had been dealing with the near constant touching of the sadistic gloves. Sitka had even gone over the incident a million different times since it had happened and all but ruined his life.
Unfortunately, there had been no way Diro was responsible for the broken rung on the old ladder Sitka had been using one day a few summers back to get up to the roof. In fact, Sitka was sure he would have broken something, maybe more than one something, if Diro hadn’t been there to catch him first and untangle his legs from the rungs. Sitka had even been grateful until his feet had touched the ground and Diro had dug fingers into his ribs. Sitka had tried to keep the reaction minimal. He had been expecting Diro to test his sensitivity at some point, but his body jumped regardless.
No one else would have noticed the reaction other than Diro, and that had been when Diro began testing Sitka’s sensitivities further. If Diro had caused the accident, though, Sitka was sure he could use that to his advantage and find a way out of his mess. It didn’t help, however, because it hadn’t been what happened.
Now, with Diro’s gloves rubbing his burned calves, Sitka managed not to twitch too much beyond a little squirming. “You’re doing much better than when I started touching you, you know.” Diro’s tone was gleeful, if nothing else. It pissed Sitka off to the Nth degree.
“Just because I’m behaving better doesn’t mean I like having hands on me anymore than I did back then.” Sitka almost continued speaking until another glove with lotion flew over and began rubbing into his knee. The only problem with that, though, was that the glove squeezed just enough to seem like it might be accidental. Sitka knew better. The young man tried to ignore it, but both of his legs twitched when just the one knee was squeezed, and the few times the fingers found their way underneath it certainly wasn’t helping his case by any means.
The moment a second glove flew over and landed on Sitka’s unmolested knee, Sitka knew he had lost the battle. He gritted his teeth, held his breath, squirmed against the gloves’ hold on him, even kicked a few times until more gloves held the limbs down, but no matter what he tried, Sitka could feel the laughter catching in his throat and forcing his shoulders to shake slightly. It was an action Diro noticed, and it was enough of a signal for him to send more gloves, this time, to Sitka’s curling toes and wiggling feet.
They started by pulling the young man’s big toes back, effectively keeping Sitka from being able to do more than twitch the rest of his toes. “Those are not burned you…! Shit…!” The rubbing… Rubbing into his arches as another pair of gloves began rubbing under and between his toes… Sitka gritted his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, even stopped breathing. Nothing seemed to dull the sensations. Not even the intense struggling he was doing against all of the lotion-soaked, latex gloves did anything to deter them. Instead, it made Diro rub deeper into Sitka’s arches, the tops of his heels, underneath the balls of his feet, into the toes again.
“Fuck!” The curse broke ground for the snickering the fingers were causing. Sitka tried to stop it, but it only made him hiccup and yank at the hands holding him down harder, none of which was helping his case at all. His brain tried to count the fingers on him, the hands working him over, but Sitka never managed to get very far before his brain was distracted by a particularly well-placed finger or motion.
When Sitka was sure he could shout and scream for help with his remaining breath, Diro added new gloves to his burned calves. Through his snickering, Sitka felt more aloe being rubbed into the burns, more gently than the fingers at his feet were being. However, Sitka was almost immediately distracted by a pair of gloves giving his knees a squeeze while a second pair dug in underneath them, causing a yelp to slip from between Sitka’s lips and forcing a bit of laughter out for a few seconds. Afterward, Sitka managed to keep it to snickering and gritted his teeth again.
“Gods damn you!” Sitka all but growled at the gloves that flew up to his arms to rub more aloe into the burns there. He knew Diro was trying to help him out a little, but he couldn’t forgive the fact that the enigma was taking advantage of the situation either.
The few thoughts Sitka was managing to have were scattered again the moment gloves snuck into his pits and began rubbing deeply into the hollows. The young man’s body twitched, jumped, and jerked hard against the gloves holding him still, half-noticing the gloves raising his arms to make him even more vulnerable. Diro snickered himself, right into Sitka’s ear, as he halted his attack. Sitka immediately slumped and really had to let the gloves hold him up while he caught his breath then. He couldn’t even be pissed off; he was just too exhausted.
“Five minutes.” Diro sounded rather happy relaying that message to the worn out young man. That was apparent in his tone, and Diro was only amused further at the sound of Sitka’s tired growling.
“Fuck off, you sack of filthy laundry.” Sitka had always despised Diro’s adoration for notifying him of exactly how long he had been laying into him. It was more apparent when the time was short and Sitka had barely been able to stand what was done to him, was trying so hard to fight against the energy that made up Diro and his gloves, that energy that was stronger than Sitka times infinity if it so chose to be…
“I could just get back to business if you would rather I didn’t put any of this stuff on your face. I can’t do it while I’m having my fun, unfortunately, or I wouldn’t have stopped at all.” If Diro had a body, Sitka was sure he would have been shrugging his shoulders, but, rather than argue and start the unwanted rubbing and digging, Sitka begrudgingly nodded his head.
The gloves pushed Sitka’s dark hair back from his burned face while another pair approached, rubbing lotion into one another. Despite Diro telling him he couldn’t tickle him while the hands were taking care of his face, Sitka visibly flinched as they landed, the lotion cold against the heated skin. Though Sitka couldn’t relax, he did manage to sit still, squeezing his eyes shut while the gloves gently worked the aloe into the young man’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead, along his jaw and chin. Another pair of lotion-soaked gloves came up to help the first, and, while the first worked its way to his neck and collarbone, the second found his ears.
Immediately, Sitka knew Diro wasn’t through with him. He gritted his teeth, jerked against the gloves still holding his limbs as well as the ones settled around underneath his arms, his knees, calves, and feet, as if that might help to shake them off. The moment he made the attempt, the gloves around his neck focused in on his collarbone and chest, rubbing and stroking, sometimes moving to dig into his ribs. When the gloves began counting them, another pair coming to help with the chore, Sitka felt the first chuckle pass his lips. It wasn’t long before the two pairs of gloves had him snickering again, and the pair at his ears was beginning to tease, rubbing the soft spot behind and beneath both, moving to rub along the rims of his ears and down to the lobes.
All Sitka wanted to do was squirm, kick, flail, struggle as hard as possible against the gloves just from the teasing around his ears that made sure the forced grin remained on his face. When Diro saw the grin, the previous gloves dug in again. They were everywhere at once… Rubbing between each of his toes and under them, practically massaging their lotion-soaked fingers into his arches and making Sitka want to kick his legs more with each passing second as a spurt of laughter and gasping escaped him before he could stop it. Sitka only barely forced himself to hold his breath and return to his previous snickering, eyes squeezed tightly shut, head shaking back and forth to throw the gloves working his ears over, clenching his fists while he couldn’t do the same with his toes…
Fingers squeezed and feverishly rubbed beneath his knees, making Sitka jump as he remembered they were still there. It was at that point that Sitka felt more fingers above his knees, groping, rubbing, squeezing, stroking as they tested the waters until they slipped beneath the fabric of Sitka’s shorts and dug into the young man’s inner thighs, causing Sitka to pull his knees together quickly while his gritted teeth released the pressure and gave Sitka the chance to yelp so loudly that Diro was sure the neighbors heard him and the frantic laughter that followed suit.
While Diro allowed Sitka to clamp his knees together, he never stopped the gloves caught between his thighs from wriggling their fingers, rubbing deeply into the skin and making Sitka jerk every which way even as he found control over his laughter again. Sitka was all but whimpering, giggles sneaking through until the point where Diro went in for the kill. The moment Sitka opened his eyes to hold back the tears that had welled up in them, Diro slowly sent a pair of gloves to Sitka’s stomach and abdomen, which almost returned Sitka to laughter when they began digging in and rubbing circles around his navel. The point of the action was to make Sitka believe Diro wasn’t going to go near the one spot that would send him over the edge. Even though Sitka knew better, his body couldn’t help but consider the option.
It wasn’t much longer than that, however, that Sitka watched a final pair of gloves wriggle their way beneath his waistband, which made the young man gasp audibly and let out a few boyish giggles in the process, and dig into his hips, kneading deeply, sometimes moving up to do the same to the soft spot just above them before moving down again to continue the onslaught. Sitka couldn’t keep his eyes open and shut them tightly, allowing the tears to run down his cheeks.
“I hate you!” Sitka’s words instantly devolved into frantic laughter. He tried to continue threatening the gloves touching him, all of them and every last finger that went along with them. He kept shouting at them through fits that he hated them, was going to kill them, shred them, destroy them in whatever way he could manage, but, after awhile of more rubbing, stroking, squeezing, kneading, digging, massaging, and teasing, Sitka had returned to cursing through the laughter and giggling. His ability to snicker through the most intense torture was lost the second those fingers found his hips, and the rest of the hands on him were not helping by any means. He couldn’t even consider escape and any real thoughts he might have had were in his brain and gone in no more than a fleeting second, drowned out entirely by all of the hands on him, touching him, making him feel every last one of them.
It took Sitka several long minutes to realize the sensation had stopped, that the gloves had been removed and he had been gently set down on the mattress before he stopped laughing, and, even then, he couldn’t hold back from snickering. It was only once that stopped as well that he felt a glove move to his face and poke his nose playfully. It rested on his chest as if to tease him further.
“Twenty minutes.”
