Forced Intimacy

Gin can feel his face flush red at the accusatory tone in Greg's voice. He shoots the other man a filthy glare, jaw clenched tight. "I don't fucking know, okay?" he snaps, running a hand through his disheveled hair in frustration. "But I sure as shit don't like the sound of this. Kissing, grinding... sucking on each other's dicks?" Gin makes air quotes with his fingers, voice dripping with disgust. "What the hell kind of sick freaks would come up with this?" He paces back and forth, mind racing. Greg's words keep echoing in his head - "you will be required to follow one of the tasks..." "failure to complete the five rounds..." Gin's stomach drops into his abdomen as the reality of their situation starts to sink in. He stops pacing and turns to face Greg, expression hard and eyes narrowed. "What the fuck do you think we're gonna do, huh? Just roll over and play nice like good little pets?" Gin's voice is low and dangerous, a challenge. "Because I swear to god, if I so much as touch you... Greg, just stay the fuck away from me." Gin stalks over to the tablet, eyes scanning the screen with barely concealed disgust and rage. "Round 1..." "French kiss for five minutes, grind against each other clothed for 3 minutes, or suck someone's nipples for 5 minutes."

Gin whirls around at the sound of Greg's voice, eyes flashing with irritation. "Think it through? What the fuck is there to think about? We're chained up in some shitty hotel room with no way out, and we have to either fuck each other or some fucking perverts are gonna kill us!" He gestures wildly at the tablet, face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "Do you see the options here? French kiss, grind, or suck each other's dicks? There's no way in hell I'm doing any of that shit." Gin slams his fist against the wall, wincing as it reverberates through his arm. He doesn't even want to think about what kind of sick freaks would come up with this kind of twisted game. "We need to find a way out of here, not... not do whatever the fuck these tasks are. I don't care if we have to break this damn tablet, or rip these electrodes off, or... or..." Gin trails off, not even sure what other options they have. All he knows is that he is not, under any circumstances, getting naked with Greg. "And don't give me that 'just stay away' bullshit," Greg continues, voice rising. "We're in this together, whether we like it or not. So we need to start thinking like a team, not like a couple of fucking kids who can't handle a little stress." Gin's eyes narrow dangerously,

Gin's voice is a harsh rasp, eyes burning into Greg's. "You think I don't know that? You think I'm just gonna roll over and stick my dick in your mouth because some twisted sickos are threatening to kill us?" He takes a step closer, jabbing a finger into Greg's chest. "I'd rather die than do any of that shit with you. You got that?" But even as he says it, Gin can feel his body reacting. His cock is already half-hard in his jeans, straining against the fabric. It takes every ounce of his self-control not to grind against Greg right then and there. Gin bites back a groan, hating himself for his body's betrayal. "We need to focus on getting out of here," Gin says, trying to ignore the heat pooling in his groin. "There has to be something we can use to break these cuffs, or... or..." He trails off, mind racing. There has to be a way out. There just has to be. Gin turns back to the tablet, squinting at the screen. "Round 1..." "French kiss for five minutes, grind against each other clothed for 3 minutes, or suck someone's nipples for 5 minutes." He can't believe the sick fucks who thought this up. "Fuck."

Gin whirls around, eyes flashing with disgust and anger. "Do? We're not "doing" anything, you idiot. We're getting the fuck out of here, that's what we're doing." He takes a step closer to Greg, leaning in with a snarl. "And I'm not fucking "thinking" about which task to do. There is no fucking task we can do that's gonna make this okay. We're not getting naked together, we're not making out like a couple of horny teenagers, and we sure as hell aren't sucking on each other's dicks. Got it?" Gin turns back to the tablet, trying to ignore the way his cock throbs in his jeans. He can already imagine Greg's soft lips on his, Greg's hands roaming over his body... No. He slams his fist against the wall again, wincing as it reverberates through his arm. "We're getting out of here, one way or another. So let's focus on that, yeah? Not on... on "doing" anything with each other." But even as he says it, Gin can feel his resolve weakening. The thought of Greg's lips on his, Greg's hands on his body... Fuck. He's already getting hard, and he knows Greg can probably see it too. Gin clenches his jaw, trying to will away the heat in his groin.

Gin grits his teeth, hands clenching into fists at his sides. He can feel the heat of Greg's gaze on him, and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to cover himself. "Options? What the fuck kind of options are there? We're chained up in a shitty hotel room with no way out, and we have to either fuck each other or die. That's our 'options', Greg. There's no fucking choice here." But even as he says it, Gin can feel his resolve weakening. The thought of Greg's lips on his, Greg's hands on his body... Fuck. He's already getting hard, and he knows Greg can probably see it too. Gin clenches his jaw, trying to will away the heat in his groin. "We're not fucking doing this," Gin says, voice low and dangerous. "No matter what those sick fucks on the tablet say. We're getting out of here, one way or another. So let's focus on that, yeah? Not on... on "doing" anything with each other." But Gin can already feel his self-control slipping. He's so fucking turned on, he can barely think straight. And the way Greg's looking at him... Fuck. Gin's hand twitches at his side, itching to reach out and touch. To pull Greg close and kiss him until they're both breathless... No. He shakes his head violently, trying to clear it. "Just... just

Gin's eyes flash dangerously at Greg's words. He takes a step closer, leaning in with a snarl. "Calm down? You want me to "calm down"? You think this is something I can just "calm down" and deal with?" His voice is a harsh rasp, eyes boring into Greg's. "You have no fucking idea what this is doing to me, Greg. You want me to just "calm down" and pretend like I don't want to bend you over and fuck you until you can't walk straight?" Gin's cock is straining against his jeans now, and he knows Greg can probably see it. He can feel his face flushing with a mix of anger and humiliation. "I don't want this," he says, voice low and dangerous. "I don't want to touch you or kiss you or... or "do" whatever the fuck those sick fucks on the tablet are demanding. But I can't fucking stop thinking about it, and you can't either. So don't you dare tell me to "calm down" like this is some kind of fucking game." Gin turns away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his blood roaring in his ears. He's so fucking turned on, he can barely think straight. And the way Greg's looking at him... Fuck. Gin's hand twitches at his side, itching to reach

Gin whirls around at the sound of Greg's voice, eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else... something darker. He takes a step closer, leaning in with a snarl. "Not helping? Is that what you think I'm doing?" His voice is a harsh rasp, eyes boring into Greg's. "You want to know what I'm really doing, huh? I'm fucking "struggling" to keep my hands off you. I'm trying to ignore the way my cock is fucking begging to be inside you. I'm trying to pretend like I don't want to rip your clothes off and fuck you until you're screaming my name." Gin's breath is coming fast and hard now, his chest heaving with each inhale. He can feel the heat of Greg's gaze on him, and it's making him dizzy with desire. "But I can't fucking do it," he says, voice low and broken. "I can't pretend like this isn't happening. Like I don't want you, Greg. Because I fucking do. I want you so bad it hurts." Gin's hand reaches out of its own accord, fingers grazing along Greg's jawline. He can feel the rough scratch of stubble there, and it sends a shiver down his spine. "You feel that, Greg? You feel how fucking much I want you? How much I need you?" His voice is a low groan, eyes fluttering

Gin's hand freezes on Greg's jawline, eyes widening in shock. He blinks rapidly, trying to process what he just heard. "Scaring me?" He hadn't expected that. For a moment, he just stares at Greg, mouth hanging open. Then his eyes narrow, jaw clenching tight. "You're... you're scared of me?" Gin asks, voice a harsh rasp. He can't keep the hurt out of his tone, even as he tries to mask it with anger. "After everything we've been through? All the times we've had each other's backs? You're fucking scared of me?" Gin's hand drops away from Greg's face, clenching into a fist at his side. He turns away, shoulders shaking with the effort of holding himself together. "Fuck," he mutters, voice rough with emotion. "Fuck, Greg. Why? Why are you scared of me?" But even as he asks, Gin knows the answer. He knows how he's been acting, how he's been lashing out at Greg. He knows he's been a fucking mess, and he knows it's all because of this... this situation. This fucked up, twisted game they've been forced into. Gin takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm himself. He doesn't want to scare Greg. He doesn't want to push Greg away. But he doesn't know how to stop, either. How

Gin's head snaps around at the sound of Greg's voice, eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger. "Space? You want "space"?" His voice is a harsh rasp, chest heaving with each inhale. "You're telling me that right now, when our lives are on the fucking line, you want "space" from me?" Gin steps closer, invading Greg's personal space. He can feel the heat radiating off Greg's body, and it's making his head spin with desire. "You think I want this?" he growls, voice low and dangerous. "You think I want to be chained up in this shitty room with you, forced to do God knows what by some sick fucks who want to watch us fuck?" Gin's hand reaches out, fingers curling around Greg's throat. He's not really choking him, just... holding him in place. He can feel Greg's pulse pounding beneath his fingertips, and it sends a thrill of excitement through him. "I want out of here," he says, voice a low groan. "I want to go home, to forget this ever happened. But I can't do that, because I'm stuck here with you, and I can't fucking stop thinking about how much I want to touch you, to taste you, to..." Gin's voice trails off, his eyes dark with lust. He leans in close, breath ghosting over Greg's ear. "

Gin's grip on Greg's throat tightens for a moment before he reluctantly lets go, taking a step back. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming fast and hard. He's never been so fucking turned on in his life, and it's all because of Greg. "You're fucking scared of me," Gin says, voice a broken rasp. He can't keep the hurt out of his tone, even as he tries to mask it with anger. "After everything we've been through, all the times we've had each other's backs... you're fucking scared of me?" Gin runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. He knows he's being irrational, knows he needs to focus on getting out of here. But he can't fucking stop thinking about Greg's lips on his, Greg's hands on his body... Fuck. "We need to focus on getting out of here," Gin says, voice low and strained. "Not on... on "doing" anything with each other. We can't afford to get distracted." But even as he says it, Gin knows it's a lie. He knows he's already too far gone, too fucking turned on to think straight. And he can see the same desperation in Greg's eyes, the same hunger... Fuck. Gin takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Fuck," he mutters, voice rough with emotion. "

Gin's breath hitches at Greg's words, eyes widening in shock. He can feel his face flushing red, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coursing through him. "I... fuck," he mutters, voice rough with emotion. "You can see that?" Gin turns away, shoulders shaking with the effort of holding himself together. He can feel Greg's eyes on him, boring into his back, and it's making his skin prickle with heat. "Of course you can see it," he says, voice a broken rasp. "You've always been able to see right through me, haven't you?" Gin clenches his jaw, trying to ignore the way his body is reacting to Greg's presence. He can feel his cock straining against his jeans, the fabric growing uncomfortably tight. "But that doesn't change anything," he says, voice strained. "We're still stuck in this fucking room, still being forced to do shit we don't want to do. We can't afford to get distracted." Gin turns back to face Greg, eyes dark with a mix of desire and frustration. "You want me," he says, voice a low growl. "I want you too. But that doesn't mean we can just... just give in to it. We have to focus on getting out of here." Gin takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm himself. He knows he's being irrational, knows he

Gin's eyes widen at Greg's words, a shiver running down his spine. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his breath coming fast and hard. "You've always known me better than I think?" he repeats, voice a broken rasp. "What the fuck does that mean?" Gin takes a step closer to Greg, eyes dark with a mix of desire and confusion. He can feel the heat radiating off Greg's body, and it's making his head spin with want. "I don't understand," he says, voice low and strained. "How could you know me better than I think? We've been friends for years, and I still don't know everything about you. There's still so much I want to..." Gin's voice trails off, his eyes dropping to Greg's lips. He can feel his mouth going dry, his cock throbbing in his jeans. "Fuck," he mutters, voice rough with emotion. "I don't want to know everything about you, Greg. I just... I just want to touch you. To taste you. To..." Gin's voice breaks off, his hand reaching out of its own accord. Fingers curling around Greg's wrist, he pulls him closer, until they're nose to nose. "Tell me," he says, voice a low growl. "Tell me what you know that I don't. Tell me how you know me better than I think." G

Gin's breath catches in his throat at Greg's words, eyes widening in shock. He can feel his pulse pounding in his ears, his heart racing with a mix of fear and arousal. "W-wanting you?" he stammers, voice breaking. "What the fuck?" Gin's grip on Greg's wrist tightens, pulling him closer. He can feel the heat of Greg's body against his, and it's making his head spin with desire. "You've been wanting me too?" he asks, voice a low growl. "Is that why you're so fucking scared of me right now? Because you know we both want this... want each other?" Gin's eyes drop to Greg's lips, tongue darting out to wet his own. He can feel his mouth going dry, his cock straining against his jeans. "Fuck," he mutters, voice rough with emotion. "I've wanted you for so long, Greg. I've tried to ignore it, to push it down, but I can't fucking do it anymore. I want you so bad it hurts." Gin's other hand comes up to cup Greg's face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He can feel Greg's skin burning beneath his touch, and it sends a thrill of excitement through him. "Tell me," he says, voice a low groan. "Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me to touch you, to taste you