SB23's Livestream: Reading fairy tales
Timestamp: 3 minutes 28 seconds in
Chat:
- What next?
- I can't stop admiring this sexy voice!!
- Wow
- I can't, how exciting
- What a handsome man
Donat: let's continue this story [link]
- Dream man
The atmosphere on the stream was no different from others: excited men constantly throwing off their money, secretly connected teenagers spamming the same type of messages and moderators stopping it.
Only one thing was different: the streamer himself.
No, he looks the same on the outside. Half-naked body, protruding collarbones and specially painted lips, as if torn by the devil himself.
But the devil sat across from him.
Directly opposite, in a chair, out of frame, but inside the room, sat the one who changed the rules of the game.
Hades.
He looked at Rava with the lazy attention of a predator. He did not speak, did not move, only watched. His gaze was tenacious, like a wire tightly wrapped around the throat. There was no touch, no word from him, but his presence was felt physically, like heat under the skin.
A vague, forgotten memory surfaced in Rava's head. He had once sat opposite this man. Hades had also looked at him predatorily, surrounded by other men who were caressing his body. But what was Rava doing at that moment?
He could not remember, no matter how hard he tried.
Rava read out loud the dirty stories that his subscribers sent him. His voice was viscous, like honey. Each word flowed from his mouth smoothly, envelopingly, as if steam was dripping from the screen. The story was simple: a handsome guy, a library, a late evening and a forbidden desire. Everything as usual - escapism veiled as sensuality. As usual.
- "He buried his forehead in his shoulder, and in the semi-dark library his exhalation, escaping from his lips, sounded.
"Shut up," he whispered, "or do you want us to be heard?" He knelt down right in front of the shelf with philosophical works, facing the swollen member. He unzipped his fly and began to slowly kiss the mound. And his hips trembled under his hands.
"Blaine, not here..." he whispered, pressing himself against his chest.
The name. The name that flared up his nerves.
Blaine.
He read it automatically, but the next second Rava's face turned pink. Not from embarrassment in front of the camera, but more from an internal blow. His voice wavered. He lost the pace for a split second, but then continued, differently. The voice became deeper, slower, and most importantly more intimate. As if the words were now not just text, but something personal. As if he himself were not a reader, but a participant in the scene.
He saw not a screen in front of him. Not an audience. Not even a text.
He saw Blaine.
Warm, alive, attentive. He saw how he slid his palm along his back, breathed into his neck, pressed him to himself as if he would never let go. Fantasy spread its wings. Rava forgot where he was. He read with such sincerity, with such a subtle breath, that even the chat fell silent. This was not just a stream. This was desire, naked in a live broadcast.
But it was not only the viewers who noticed the change.
In a chair, slightly away from the camera, Hades stopped breathing. His eyes narrowed, his shoulders tensed. He was silent, but inside him a wave was already growing, wanting to explode. His face froze, his fingers clasped, as if he was holding himself back with all his might.
And then he coughed loudly.
Deliberately.
Rava shuddered with his whole body. His voice broke. Everything around him became real: the light again, the camera, the sweat on his neck, the teeth clenching the inside of his lip, and he, sitting opposite, silently, tensely, with a look that made you want to disappear and a swollen member between his legs.
"Excuse me...," he squeezed out into the microphone, in a hoarse voice.
But the viewers did not believe it. The chat exploded.
Chat:
- Who was that?!
- Seriously, is there someone there?
- Who coughed?
— He's not alone?!
— New guy behind the scenes?
— SB... everything ok?
Rava didn't answer. He just opened another story, launched a new window and continued reading. The voice was no longer the same, there was no longer that fire in it. Only the old role, a carefully put on mask, slippery phrases and ritual detachment.
And Hades...
He didn't say a word. But his eyes contained everything Rava was afraid to see.
Jealousy. Rage. Threat.
It was as if someone had compressed a spring in Rava's chest, his body went limp and cold, because he remembered what this man was capable of when he started to lose control.
And then... everything broke off.
The screen flickered, the chat froze.
The broadcast splash screen was replaced by a notification:
"Live broadcast ended."
Rava's fingers trembled, he looked sharply at Hades.
"What are you doing?!" The voice broke, shaking with rage and horror at the same time. He almost screamed, breaking out of the veil of stupor. "You had no right!"
Hades slowly rose from the sofa. Not a single shadow of guilt on his face, only predatory calm and frightening determination.
"I always have a right. Here. To you," he said quietly, almost casually.
He came closer. One step. Two.
Rava wanted to retreat, but he was already sitting on the edge of the bed and did not notice how he clutched the sheet, as if trying to hold on to something real.
"Don't come closer," he breathed out, but it sounded plaintive, stifled.
Hades did not listen. His palms closed on Rava's shoulders, and he, losing his support, fell backwards onto the mattress.
His body went limp, but his breathing quickened, Hades pressed him to the bed.
"You're shaking all over," Hades whispered, hanging over him. His voice was viscous, enveloping. "You know what I want. You felt it back then... You feel it now."
The men's voices became heavy.
His hand slid down Rava's side, not roughly, but with that insistence that did not allow ambiguity.
He tensed reflexively.
"Stop it." I told you no, - his voice broke, but still held the boundaries.
He exhaled sharply. There was no way to fight. The man was twice as big as Rava.
Hades leaned closer. He lifted Rava's head by the hair and their foreheads almost touched.
"But you still let me be near. Still invite me into this world, into this stream, into this room. Into you."
He ran his finger along his chin so slowly that the touch seemed to burn.
"Tell me, Rava... Did you remember something?" Hades's hard member pressed against his back.
Rava pushed his chest away sharply.
Not hard. But enough to show that the boundary had been drawn.
Hades froze. Something wild flashed across his face, but not rage, more like disappointment.
He pulled away. First the man lowered his neck, and then basically moved to the window. He stood in front of the window, took out his phone, wrote a message to someone and left.
Rava was left alone in the apartment.
His thoughts were mixed up, he did not understand the meaning of Hades' words and his sudden outburst of anger and jealousy.
But this man was never known for his sensible statements.
There was no point in continuing the stream.
Rava took out his phone, wrote a post about the technical problems he had been having lately, and promised to fix it tomorrow by making an unforgettable stream.
He didn't specify what he meant by "Did you remember something?."
And he himself didn't know if he would keep his promise.
His tired and foggy gaze fell on the laptop that was left open on the table. The screen had already dimmed a little, but the tab was still active. The story that had been sent to him during the stream. The one with the name Blaine.
Rava stood up, picked up the laptop, walked barefoot on the cold floor, sat down on a chair, and without turning on the light, reached for the touchpad. He started reading from the beginning.
Somewhere in the middle, he was already completely immersed: in the dialogues, in the feelings, in the smoothly unfolding plot, in the warmth that was gradually growing between the characters. It was just a vulgar fairy tale, but there was something real in it, tenderness that wasn't torn apart by teeth, words that didn't sound like a sentence. There was meaning in this story.
He didn't notice how the night passed.
When the screen went dark and his eyes began to sting from fatigue, Rava felt for the key and closed the document.
He sighed from the strange calm.
Blaine's story ended positively.
He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and allowed himself to believe for a second that light was possible after all.
"I hope our story will end the same way.