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"You've never orgasmed?!" Reki asked, voice shocked. "Not even once?"
Langa blushed, something he rarely did. "It's never really occurred to me," he answered quietly. "I don't… not really, anyways."
"Well, I mean… we kinda have to now, don't we?" the other teen responded in that teasing tone that meant business.
Stripping down from the waist down and sitting on the edge of the bed, Langa found that the strangeness of being naked from the waist down quickly wore off. Reki had a talent for never making him embarrassed; it was odd, considering he felt like an outlier in nearly everyone else's presence.
The sound of the lotion dispensing into Reki's hand made Langa flinch momentarily. He had never been one for the texture of it, but if the other boy insisted on it, he'd follow.
Reki kneeled in between him, looking up at him with a smile. Soft hands wrapped around Langa's cock, moving up and down.
"Think about someone hot, you know?" Reki explained in, breaking the silence. "Like, Chiemi from school."
He tried to concentrate, to follow the instruction. There were pretty women, but none had ever seemed especially special or hot to him, not in the way Reki or his old school friends from Canada had described.
Closing his eyes, Langa tried to not focus on the uncomfortableness that came when his dick grew erect, bobbing up against his stomach. It left his lower belly sticky with precome, and it was a sensation he couldn't help but focus on.
A curl of pleasure, something phantom and strange in his stomach rose, and he swallowed. "Reki, I don't know—"
"Shh, come on, you'll like it. Promise."
Relenting, he nodded, looking at Reki's mess of clothes on the floor rather than himself. He couldn't find it in himself to turn his attention to himself. Something like shame licked like flames in every part of him.
Logically, Reki's ministrations were gentle, lotion aiding the way as he all but fisted Langa's dick. All Langa was doing was sitting back; he should've been grateful. Reki was being a good friend, doing this for him.
The tightness wound further and further, and he breathed heavily, semi-pleasure clouding his mind; it was something he couldn't describe. He hated it, never wanted to do it again, but it felt strangely good at the same time.
He needed— wanted— to stop it, but Reki kept pumping, and he couldn't find it in himself to tear himself away. It felt forced, as though his body was only reacting to the pressure on him.
Coming felt like a betrayal of himself and yet a relief. The feeling was gone, but the guilt that had merely creeped in at the edge before was all consuming now. Langa's brain was fuzzy, senses let down, and he swallowed the urge to cry in his throat.
Reki left the bedroom, leaving him alone with only his mind. He hadn't felt this way since his father's funeral when his aunties had flown from Japan, only to stare and chatter about how he wasn't weeping like his inconsolable mother. It wasn't a feeling he wanted to repeat.
It had felt horrible, and he didn't want it. Something whispered consent, but then there was the evidence of precome and hadn't he agreed? Hadn't it been his fault, in the end? Reki would've never done this if he had known. Langa simply hadn't said no hard enough.
The door creaked open far too soon, interrupting his thoughts, and the other boy was throwing him a hand towel. "Here, you can use this to clean yourself up."
The soft towel against his skin was the only noise in their silence. Langa didn't know what to say; evidently, neither did Reki.
Reki, unsurprisingly, was the one to speak first as Langa pulled his boxers back on. "So, how was it?"
"I don't want to talk right now, Reki."
"Why not?"
Langa shrugged, unable to word the feel of twisted disgust and nausea rising in his stomach; nor was he sure if he wanted to. He wasn't sure what to think of it. Really, it had felt like forced release, more than anything, but Reki had seemed overjoyed to be his first in the matter.
"I should get going," he quietly said instead, ignoring the hurt look on Reki's face.