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Well-Being Road
Your one stop site to all things well-being!
SOULMATE BONDS
OVERVIEW
Soulmate bonds, otherwise known as “soul bonds” or “bonds”, usually begin to develop when humans reach the age of eighteen, although they can start slightly earlier or later depending on the age of the soulmate. Unless a significant amount of time has already been spent in the presence of a soulmate, the bond should start weak and should cause only mild discomfort when the soulmate experiences pain. When sensation is passed across a bond, this is known as a “flare” or “spark.”
SYMPTOMS
Unexplained pain, or feelings of pleasure, accompanied by the site of sensation glowing. The light that emanates from a soulmate bond is usually golden in color, and can be bright or dim depending on both the strength of the bond and the severity of what your soulmate is experiencing. This light will bloom in the same shape as the pain the soulmate is being exposed to (e.g. if they cut their thumb, a glowing line of the same scale will also appear on their soulmate’s thumb in the same place).
A change in libido—often towards the hypersexual (more frequent, harder to ignore arousal), but can also include issues such as anorgasmia (difficulty with orgasming) when not in close proximity of your soulmate. Some may feel compelled to resort to extreme or unsafe sexual practices to achieve orgasm. Acting on this compulsion is not advised.
Other symptoms include vomiting, headaches, and changes to senses; such as hearing, sight, smell. These symptoms are considered rare and you should seek medical attention if you experience them.
EXCEPTIONS
Most people feel at least one flare of their soulmate bond by age twenty, with studies[1] showing that over 95% of soulmates are born within 50 miles of each other. Most are inexplicably drawn to relocate to the area where the other lives if they don’t already live within walking distance by age twenty[2].
Less than 0.01% of individuals who have yet to feel their soulmate by twenty-five will ever feel a flare in their bond. This is usually due to their soulmate passing away before a bond could form, or no soulmate existing due to a medical anomaly. Large age gaps between soulmates are thought to occasionally cause delayed or atypical bonds, but research around this subject is ongoing and inconclusive[3].
Doctors advise that individuals who have never felt a flare through their bond DO NOT relocate or travel in an attempt to find their soulmate, but instead continue to live as normal, due to the statistical near impossibility of this being successful. It is important to note that there are no negative physical effects directly linked to not finding a soulmate, although a soulmateless individual may experience mental health struggles due to societal pressure and expectation around bonds.
You will find a list of resources below for individuals who have yet to find their soulmate, don’t have one, or have lost their soulmate through tragedy.
Crisis Hotline
S.O.S (“Souls of Sympathy”)
Soul Without A Mate
The Buddy Program
The Secret Joy Of Being Soulmateless
[1]Jampa, AK. Flare Age Across the Continent. Thai S Med. 2003 Jun 8;296(2):145-9.
[2]Adelsköld, M. Soulmate Magnetism in Action. Geografisk själsfrände studie. 1997 Oct 25: 21.
[3]Johnson, DC. Late or Nonexistent Soulmate Bonds And Their Causes. SCCI. 2012 Mar 21:188(2): 96.
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— Monday, April 22, 2019 —
Soulmates.
What does that term really mean? To be two halves of the same star? For the essence, the core of someone’s being, to match perfectly like a puzzle piece with just one other person’s in the whole universe?
For Zee, it means he’s broken. Twenty-six and not a single sign that there’s someone on the other end of his red string, a fishing line cast in a barren lake. Or that’s what he tells himself while getting his mom’s last words tattooed across his heart; “be good” in an imitation of her shaky handwriting, a scrawl symbolising the end of the one connection that ever truly mattered to him.
There’s no one else to feel the pain of the needle against his skin. Zee is sure of it. The occasional odd twinge of something resembling a soulmate bond has never manifested into anything solid enough to guarantee its existence—dismissed by doctors as aches and pains of Zee’s own body, their glow so brief that Zee can’t be sure it’s not his own imagination.
— —
NuNew is in the middle of an exam when he first feels it—the searing pain in his chest knocking the air from his lungs. He gasps in a breath, a couple of classmates turning to him in concern as he whimpers. For a moment, it feels like a heart attack, but no. It burns, sharp and persistent on his skin, just under the surface, and he finds himself thinking, is this it? Is this what I think it is?
He raises his hand, the other clutched over the ache. “May I go to the bathroom?”
The teacher begrudgingly agrees, and NuNew is scrambling from his seat barely a second later. He needs to get to a mirror. He needs to see.
A couple of his classmates have already started to develop soulmate bonds, some genuine and some less so. Yim had stubbed his toe badly in the cafeteria one day and had heard the answering yelp from Tutor across the hall before the pair had devolved into poking and prodding themselves to see each other’s bodies glow. Meanwhile, Film had sworn she could feel the pain in her left side when her boyfriend fell over playing soccer, a whiney “owwww” falling from her lips several seconds after he tumbled on the field. Unsurprisingly, she’d been unwilling to show anyone whether his fall had any visible bond blooming on her skin.
So NuNew might not be the very first in his class to experience a soulmate bond, but he’s definitely the youngest, still seventeen for another few months. It’s exciting but terrifying, his eyes watering with the sharp sting. Everything he’s ever heard about bonds is that they’re meant to start vague and unobtrusive unless a pair of soulmates have spent a considerable amount of time together—it should just be a dull ache.
So who the hell has he spent enough time with to cause this?
His hands shake as he unbuttons his shirt in the school bathrooms, already spotting the telltale golden glow of an active bond through the thin fabric.
“Holy crap…”
Pulling back his shirt, NuNew’s eyes bulge. It had felt like his soulmate was shot or stabbed, and yet…
“Be… goo?” NuNew squints, leaning towards the mirror to try and read the letters appearing on his chest. Looking at them closely, it seems they’re still in the process of being written—a tattoo over his soulmate’s heart. He can’t stop staring until the final letter appears.
“Be good…”
The glowing letters lose some of their intensity, but don’t fully disappear as the pain starts to lessen into something less insistent.
“I’ll try,” NuNew replies like the words are meant for him, resigning himself to go back to his classroom to finish his exam despite the urge to run around screaming about his soulmate bond. There will be time to brag later, and if the lingering sensation is anything to go by, the slight glow of the tattoo should still be there to show off to all his classmates.
Shrugging his shirt back on, the mark smarts against the fabric.
Did his soulmate really have to make themselves known like this?
— Saturday, December 28, 2019 —
“Wha’s it like?” some random drunk girl asks from her seat next to Zee at the bar. Zee can't recall how they started talking, or when he revealed he’s soulmateless, but now he's wishing he'd gone back to his apartment several drinks earlier.
It’s not the first time Zee’s been asked, but it is the first time since he left Bangkok. Apparently people are no less nosy outside of the city.
“Well, for me it's just normal. Anything I feel, any pain, I know it's mine and mine alone.”
There had been one moment several months ago where Zee thought he'd felt something, something that resembled a soulmate bond, but there was no proof. Zee couldn't be sure he wasn't dreaming the glow of his cheek with a sharp pain, the resonance of a slap echoing through his skull in the middle of the night. It must have been a dream. There was no sign before, no sign after. Just that one night his face had seemed bright with a troubling connection to someone unknown.
It wasn't the first time he'd had a dream like that—one that came shaped like a bond. But that was the most real of the lot, that last dream before he moved up North.
Of course, Zee doesn't tell that story now. Not when the girl is suddenly on the verge of tears, eyebrows pinched together with an almost comical pout. “How lonely! I… I've not worked out who my ssssoulmate is yet, but I love given’ ‘im a lil poke in the morning. Letting him know I'm h-here.”
She takes a few long gulps from her drink.
“I dunno if life would be worth livin’ without knowin’ he's out there thinkin’ ‘bout me too, y'know?”
Actually, Zee thinks, I don't know. That's kind of the point.
“I jus’ couldn’t do it. I’d die. I’d…” One glance at Zee’s undoubtedly sour expression has her backtracking, “But i’s whateverrrrr, I guessssss. You an independent woman who don't need no man.”
“Sure,” Zee replies, because what else is there to say? He is independent. He's twenty-seven, has settled into his apartment and job in a new town, and he's done it all without a soulmate. A fresh start for him and him alone. Goodness knows none of his living relatives were going to lend a hand or try to steer him one way or the other. They could only see him as the soulmateless freak. He was better off without them.
“Suuuuure,” the drunk girl repeats with an exaggerated tone, clearly not believing the word as it falls from her liquor-wet lips.
But Zee’s doing great. Really, he is.
— Wednesday, July 22, 2020 —
No one can work out why NuNew’s bond has been silent for so long. Fifteen months without a single flare.
He did try to retrace his steps after the day of the tattoo, to find who his soul is bonded to, but he had no luck. His soulmate must have been nearby, but clearly they weren’t still in school if they were getting tattoos. Unless they were some sort of delinquent.
NuNew’s only guess was if they frequented the cafe he often went to with friends. Fae’s. It was the only place other than his home or school where he spent a significant amount of time—enough to justify how clearly he’d felt the bond.
He’d spent many days there since then. Watching. Waiting. Occasionally he’d pinch his own arm, looking around for signs of anyone reacting. But there was nothing. No one was feeling his pain with him.
The tattoo is the one thing NuNew ever felt.
As the pain had faded, so had the words, leaving nothing but NuNew’s memory of its presence.
“Be good,” NuNew jeers, lying in his childhood bedroom the night after yet another unhelpful doctor’s appointment. They all say the same thing; that his soulmate probably died a quick and painless death, too far from NuNew and too long after they’d been in each other’s presence for him to feel a thing.
He punches his leg and prays that someone out there can feel it—is watching their own flesh glow like soft candlelight because of him. Prove everyone wrong, he wants to beg, hit me back and show me you’re still alive.
It’s not the first time he’s tried this; the occasional punch, a slap across his own cheek, massaging his muscles just a little too hard after a rough day. Initially, it had been out of impatience and curiosity, just to see whether he could cause a response. Lately, it’s been from desperation.
“Please,” NuNew whispers, letting his hand fall against his skin once more.
The room remains pitch black, the only pain in his body the pulsing ache of his thigh from his own fist.
What’s the point of being good for someone who’s not here?
— Thursday, September 10, 2020 —
“Happy birthday, Bro.” Max stands up behind a seated Zee, holding him in a headlock, messing up his hair with his free hand. “Twenty-eight and still as handsome as ever!”
Zee struggles against his grip with a laugh, the sticky September heat acting like glue between their skin, eventually freeing himself to look up at his best friend long-sufferingly.
Max shoots double finger-guns at him. “Might wanna fix your hair though, it’s a mess.” Then he disappears off to the bar to get drinks.
There’s still a smile on Zee’s face as he tells the rest of his friends to fuck off, pretending to be irritated by their laughter at the bird’s nest Max has made of his hair. Really, he’s happy. There’s something nostalgic about having all his friends from Bangkok around him, like they’re back at college, living out the good old days again.
“Wasn’t it just sooooooooo kind of me to offer to drive these fuckers out here for the birthday boy,” Max croons loudly to the bartender. “Not that he’s said thank you though, cos he’s an ASSHOLE!”
“THANK YOU, YOU DICK!” Zee screams back, more laughter erupting from their gaggle of friends.
Max sets a tray of shots on the table in the middle. “You’re so welcome, my precious little douchebag.”
Time passes in a bit of a haze of alcohol and laughter after that, their rowdy group somehow not getting kicked out despite their constant loud chatter and boisterous behaviour. Well, most of them are constantly screeching and playfighting. Zee, however, is quietly observing.
He’s not been back to the city since he moved away over a year ago. That’s how long it’s been since he last saw the whole gang, not just Max for the occasional weekend. This—the joy of being around so many friends who accept him wholeheartedly—is something he’d missed. He’d overlooked the value of friendship when he’d decided to leave Bangkok, the loss of his mom hitting him too hard to think logically.
Despite the stresses of city life, the reminders all around him that the person he cared about most is gone, he actually… misses it. Misses the friendships, the long catch up sessions at Fae’s Cafe, the even longer hangouts in each other’s tiny apartments. Not that he’d ever admit it.
“Hey, um…” Zee gets Max’s attention, the drunken smile on his friend’s face falling ever so slightly. “Thank you. Seriously.”
Max shrugs, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”
Zee waves his own hand back, mimicking Max. “I’ll worry about it if I want to.”
“Oh yeah? Well…”
The pair dissolve into a battle of pathetic slaps of each other’s hands, then the occasional push; Max shoving Zee, Zee shoving twice as har-
Max falls off his stool.
“That HURT!” a short guy, barely five meters from them, hollers—an already visible glow to his elbow and lower back from a bond freshly blooming. Max’s soulmate, apparently. Just… here. Now. Appearing before Max out of the blue.
Of course, Max is now far more interested in talking to the shorty with shocking red hair than his long time best friend.
It makes sense now. Why Max had started visiting Zee more and more frequently. Why he’d drag Zee out to cafes and restaurants and bars whenever he was here. It was never about Zee. Not that Max ever mentioned a bond flaring while visiting, not until this second, rambling to his supposed soulmate about “looking for him for months, whenever he could.”
Once again, Zee is reminded that he’s alone.
— Monday, March 16, 2021 —
NuNew’s not doing this out of spite for his MIA soulmate. That’s not what this is about. He’d just rather do a job he can actually get some enjoyment out of than work a crappy job where he’d get treated like shit.
The countdown for his stream ticks down to zero, and he does a final check of his lacy black bodysuit in the viewfinder before switching from the “Be Good For Nhu” loading screen to his camera. His lips are shaped into what is becoming his signature smirk.
“Have you been good for Nhu?”
The phrase and his username definitely have nothing to do with his soulmate. Nothing at all. He totally didn’t choose that as a way to mock the one flare he ever experienced of his bond. Zero percent chance.
His lack of soulmate is irrelevant when the praising messages pour in; people begging him to take his sorry excuse for clothing off, to give himself pleasure, to let them give him pleasure. They treat him like he's a queen.
BaobeiMaybei: You’re so fucking pretty
CutiePie2022: READY, MY KING
NhusGoodBoy: Good evening, Nhu x
BadBoyOfNhu: let me FUCK YOU
OtakuGoneRogue: ILY <3
Bananalvr3000: STRIP STRIP S T R I P
1ForDaMommies: loving the fit tonight!!!
WhyRUGay: ur so bootyful let me make ur booty full
They treat him like he’s a queen the most desirable person they’ve ever seen, and that’s got to be worth something. It at least keeps his bank account healthy. And he likes practically everything about the job!
NhuFan1: I swear you’re my soulmate. Last time you fingered yourself, I could feel it.
Only4Nhu: no he’s my soulmate
BloomingBabe: UH HE’S MINE??? OUR BOND FLARES EVERY STREAM???
Apart from that.
Soulmate.
His heart always stutters at that word like the dozens, if not hundreds, of obsessed fans are telling the truth. He knows they’re not. There’s certainly no way they can all be his soulmate.
He knows how to turn his one ick into a yum, though.
“My soulmate, huh?” NuNew chuckles darkly, grabbing the thickest dildo he owns and weighing it up in his hand. He stretched himself before today’s stream, a plug currently holding him wide open under the bodysuit, so why not? He always finds it easier to come when he pushes his body to its limits. Go big or go home.
His words are aimed at no one viewer in particular.
“Well, lucky you. Your asshole’s gonna be glowing for days after this.”
— Wednesday, August 25, 2021 —
Zee truly can not explain how he ended up on this website.
It had started with sitting at his desk, scrolling through his phone, looking at support groups for people who have lost or never had a soulmate. Then that shifted to dating sites for soulmateless folks. And now he’s… watching porn. Live porn.
The guy on his phone screen moans prettily while fingering himself, three digits stretching him open. He must have been wearing red silk panties earlier, the fabric left dangling from his elevated ankle, his elbow hooked under one of his legs to give the camera the best view of where he’s stretched and pink.
It’s generic jerk off material—impersonal, explicit. The man’s face isn’t shown from this angle, obscured by the way his body fills the frame. Soft curves and smooth skin all that’s on show, Zee could imagine anyone’s face belonging to that alluring body. If he wanted to. Zee’s still not sure if he’s going to stay and… indulge. This stream is nice and all, but it’s not what he actually went online to look for, so…
The man sits up enough for his face to be visible, plump lips open with a plea of “more," dark eyes splitting Zee’s resolve in two.
Anything Zee could have possibly imagined pales in comparison to this beauty, and any thoughts of exiting the website are long gone.
“Let me… ah!” Zee can’t look away as three fingers turn into four, though he grimaces a little at the man’s cut off whine, the slight furrowing of his eyebrows at what is surely a burning stretch. It must hurt. Zee can almost imagine it. Almost.
Tweaking a nipple, the man distracts himself from the pain, his cock twitching against his stomach.
Zee becomes aware of his own cock now straining against his pants. He palms himself, but doesn’t make any move to free his aching member from its confines. Not yet.
It’s a lewd sight when the man’s fingers slip from his hole, leaving himself gaping, muscles clenching on nothing. He reaches for something off-camera, chuckling in a way that leaves Zee unsettled but curious. Anticipation winds tight in Zee’s stomach at the sound.
“Do you deserve to feel this, hm?" a seductive voice pours from those pillowy lips, holding Zee’s attention. The man shows off a dildo to the camera, its size surely emphasized by the dainty hand holding it.
“Has my soulmate earned it?"
The words shoot straight to Zee’s dick, and he’s suddenly on the verge of coming.
“Shit,” Zee grits through his teeth, closing his eyes to focus his mind, not wanting this to be over too soon. He takes deep breaths, counting down from ten. It takes all his willpower not to listen to the soothing tones of the man’s lustful drawl through his phone speaker, knowing it’ll push him over the edge if he does.
Nothing’s got Zee going like this since… ever. This is entirely new and already twice as addictive as any drug. There’s something hypnotic about this man; his moans a siren’s song and Zee a sailor willing to lose it all just to hear him sing.
One yelp from the beauty on his screen and Zee’s eyes fly open of their own accord, needing to watch as the piece of rubber disappears inside him, his hole slowly welcoming inch after glorious inch. The toy and his skin are slick with lube, glistening with it, and it’s gorgeous. He’s gorgeous. Something about the whole scene feels right. Natural. Like his body was made for doing exactly this; taking, taking.
The toy slides the rest of the way in, the man pressing the base flat against his asscheeks, and Zee comes in his pants.
Zee closes the tab and clears his search history immediately. He turns his phone fully off, too, just for good measure.
“What the fuck.”
He stares at the blank screen of his device before throwing it down on his desk like it’s about to burn a hole through his hand.
Alone in his apartment, jizz congealing in his pants, Zee has the closest thing he’s ever experienced to a sexuality crisis. Not because he’s just realised he might like guys—no no no, that’s old news—but because apparently he’s attracted to that. Soulmate talk, size kink (fisting??) crap, moans as sweet as candy. He’s never been one for porn, and definitely nothing more than vanilla clips, usually ones that avoid the mention of soul bonds, and yet…
His breaths come as fast as his thoughts, blinking repeatedly like that will somehow help him make sense of the last fifteen minutes.
“What. The actual. Fuck.”
— Friday, April 22, 2022 —
“Have you ever thought about dating?” NuNew’s mom asks when they meet for coffee and cake on a Friday afternoon in Spring, and he should have seen it coming. There’s no way it was merely coincidence that she asked to meet with him exactly three years after the one flare he ever felt from his soulmate bond.
He takes another sip of his iced coffee as he readies himself to reply. Somehow, the drink tastes more bitter than it had before his mom asked that question. But, then again, the coffee here has never quite been to his liking. That’s why he used to frequent Fae’s instead—the cafe he sat in day after day, hoping his soulmate would reveal themselves. He can’t stand going in there now; the memories too painful, the pitying glances from the staff too damning. So, bitter coffee it is.
“We’ve been over this. My soulmate is dead, Mom, and I don’t want anyone else.”
The resigned sigh his mom lets out is a sign of how many times they’ve had this argument discussion.
“I get that you’re very young to be going through all this, but-”
“I’m not going through anything. That’s the problem,” NuNew snaps. “Or, you see it as a problem, anyway. I see it as a blessing. My body is mine now. I don’t have to deal with pain from some random asshole doing whatever the fuck he wants to his body anymore.”
Noticing that he’s drawn the attention of several people around them, he lowers his volume, though the venom remains present in his tone.
“Like you said, Mom, I’m young. Why should I rush into a relationship when I don’t even want one? Is this about my job?”
It had become impossible to hide the source of his income from his mother, despite him moving out before taking up camming. There was no way out of explaining how he started earning so much despite only working in the evenings, especially after his mom turned up at his apartment one day unannounced. Giving her a key hadn’t been NuNew’s brightest idea, but at least she’d turned up before the stream had started, when NuNew still had lingerie and a silk robe on. Not exactly how he wanted to be caught, but it was better than her walking in on him naked and with a disconcertingly large and/or vibrating object up his ass.
“No, of course not! I just want you to be happy. I want…” His mom bites her lip, chewing over her reply. “I would like to see you move on from your soulmate. I worry that you still think they’re out there. And, more troublingly, that you’ve started to imagine what kind of person they are—building up some sort of fictional soulmate in your head that doesn’t exist.”
Some feral part of NuNew’s brain wants to growl, to rip her throat out for daring to say such a thing. He forces himself to remain civil. “What makes you say that?”
Her eyes meet his.
“You never knowingly met your soulmate, right?”
NuNew nods, then shakes his head. “Yeah. No. No, I’ve never met him.”
“Then how do you know they were a ‘him’?”
“A feeling.”
They stare at each other. NuNew wants to call it a stalemate, but he fears his mom could take him down.
His fears are proven correct when she opens her mouth.
“You never used to call them a ‘him’.”
NuNew’s breath catches in his throat.
“No flares, no meeting, nothing apart from that one incident three years ago. Yet your view of your soulmate has changed in the past few months. Would you not call that a fantasy creation? A denial of the facts because you’re struggling to accept that they’re gone, so you instead spend hours digging for ‘feelings’ that can’t possibly exist?”
He’s grabbing his bag before he knows it, his chair scraping against the floor as he stands. “I’m not having this conversation right now. Call me when you actually want to know how I’m doing instead of lecturing me about something you could never understand.”
Pulse pounding in his ears, NuNew walks out onto the street, deciding to take the long route home. When he reaches his building with rage still flooding his system, he decides to walk around the block a few times—just until he’s burnt off some of this energy.
He walks until the sun has set and his feet ache.
For the first time in his career, he doesn’t stream on a Friday night.
— Saturday, April 23, 2022 —
Pacing back and forth in his living room, Zee contemplates whether sending this tweet will cross a boundary—make him go from looking like one of those harmless fanboys to an obsessed fan. He’s commented on streams before, but a tweet? To talk to him directly? Out of streaming hours? It might still be public, but it feels… different.
He looks at his screen, where his tweet remains drafted.
@BeGoodForNhu hope you’re okay! Missed your stream yesterday.
He’s also been wondering how to end that tweet so he doesn’t seem like such an old man. A kiss? Total millennial energy. An emoji? …Zee wouldn’t even know where to start with those.
Yes, Zee has become Nhu’s fan. It had taken him a while to revisit the stream after that first time, but eventually he’d given in to the niggling desire to do so. That saying, ”curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back”? It’s true. He should have known he would become hooked—that one glimpse wasn’t enough. He was returning to the website, and creating login details so he could access the stream easier, within two weeks.
It started as an experiment. He jerked off before joining the next in-progress stream to see if he’d just been pent up the last time he stumbled across this website, yet found himself hard again within minutes. At least he properly got a hand around himself before blowing his load this time, though.
From then on, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Zee’s been there under the name of “BeGood1992."
He tries hard not to think about Nhu’s username, this pseudo-connection between them that he logically knows is pure coincidence. The words on Zee’s chest symbolize the bond he had with his mother—the most pure, perfect bond between an understanding mother and a loving son. There was nothing pure about the way Nhu started each stream with, “Have you been good for Nhu?”
Still, hearing Nhu say those words makes his heart ache.
Watching him strip, or talk, or pleasure himself makes another part of Zee ache.
In short, Nhu’s streams are emotional whiplash for Zee’s dick.
Zee switches out the period at the end of his tweet for a red heart emoji and hits send before he can chicken out. He’s already spent the better part of an hour setting up a Twitter account and working out what he wants to say, so he might as well get on with it. Otherwise it really will be time he’s wasted.
There’s nothing creepy about making sure someone is okay… right?
He’d glanced through Nhu’s twitter profile and there was no sign of him posting anything since his Wednesday stream. It was practically unheard of for him to go silent for that long, based on what Zee could deduce. So Zee is just… showing concern. Politely. Not demanding an explanation, not jumping to conclusions. Simply checking in. That’s all.
— —
@BeGood1992: @BeGoodForNhu hope you’re okay! Missed your stream yesterday ♥️
NuNew’s received hundreds of similar messages since last night, but something about this one stands out when it pops up at the top of his screen. Maybe it’s the username that catches his attention; so similar to his own, those words haunting him once again.
His mother’s words are also holding him hostage.
He hates to admit it, but she might have had a point.
The whole situation of his soulmate bond is frustratingly atypical, with very few studies on similar cases, and each of those with irritatingly varied findings. Based on what he’s been told by specialists and what he can find online, his soulmate is likely dead, or on the other side of the planet with no way to reach him. The latter seems unlikely due to that one flare.
There could be an age gap, which may have meant that the bond only developed one way at first, but it should be working fine by now. It could be weak if they’ve been geographically separated for a long time, but it should be there if he’s near. He should be near. NuNew should be able to cause a tiny flicker, a flare, if he they are still alive.
But he’d have to do something extreme to cause it.
It’s been too long since NuNew promised he wouldn’t do that anymore—wouldn’t put himself at risk just for the sake of a potential spark.
There’s the possibility that his soulmate, much like NuNew, simply hasn’t had an injury great enough in the past couple of years to cause a major flare in their bond. Maybe too far away for anything to be carried to NuNew, maybe too uninterested in NuNew’s pain to react to all the times he tried to reach them as a teen.
Maybe there are too many maybes and NuNew needs to take his mom’s advice and move on.
He could, if he really wanted to, leave Bangkok for a bit. Go somewhere with a slower pace to get his head on straight. Somewhere up North where he knows no one.
He groans, flinging the blanket he’d buried himself under to one side.
Logically, he knows he’s not going to find out if he keeps hiding from the world, so he might as well face it.
Replying to @BeGood1992: i’m alright thanks for asking. had a tech issue that i couldnt fix until today. will be back to streaming as usual on monday.
This BeGood1992 guy, along with several other fans, respond almost instantaneously.
@Baobeiishere: Yippeeeeee!
@Nhus_Sweetie: I’VE MISSED YOU! IT FEELS LIKE ITS BEEN YEARS ALREADY! I NEED MY NHU FIX!
@BananaLvr3001: you gonna do an extra long stream to make it up to us?
@xNoticeMeNhux: NOTICE MEEEEE
@NhuFan1: missing our soulmate bond nhu x you didn’t even stretch yourself yesterday, did you? i’ve stopped glowing.
@BeGood1992: Just glad you’re alright. Have a good day and take it easy if you need to.
He regrets replying to this one specific fan instead of putting out a general tweet about it, BeGood1992 clearly getting the wrong idea and thinking they can be all… all… understanding and nice! It pisses him off. NuNew knows this person probably only watches his streams to get off. It's not like there’s any other reason for someone to watch a camboy, so why are they acting like they care about his wellbeing and shit? Has getting a tweet from their favorite slut really gone to their head that quickly?
NuNew responds to a couple dozen messages with a generic “thanks x” or “thx” or “thank youuuu.”
When he reaches BeGood1992’s message, he skips over it.
Got to knock that polite fucker down a peg.
— Friday, May 6, 2022 —
Nhu is different after his “tech issue.” His smile is a little weaker, his moans closer to desperation than salvation. He’s been back for almost two weeks and… Zee has seen his viewer base start to dwindle. The chat on tonight’s live stream is moving slow enough that Zee can actually read it.
The face that is meant to seduce is etched with discomfort, his cock flagging against his thigh, his legs spread wide in something akin to defeat. He continues to plunder his hole with messy fingers, like he has been for the past twenty minutes, with no sign of moving things along.
“Is Nhu… ahhnnh… Is Nhu doing good?”
The chat is a lazy river of “yeah baby”, “so good”, with the occasional question of something like “what the hell happened to you?” floating by.
Zee’s usually interested dick is barely at half mast. This is, by far, the worst stream of his that Zee has ever seen.
He contemplates what he could write in the chat. The last thing Zee wants is to come across as preachy or to somehow upset Nhu. Apart from that one tweet Nhu had replied to, it’s not like they’ve ever really spoken. It’s not Zee’s place to tell Nhu what to do.
BeGood1992: What does Nhu need?
The regular names pop up, replying to Zee like he asked them.
BadBoyOfNhu: my cock
Nhus_Sweetie: who the fuck are you to ask that
BloomingBabe: I’m giving him all he needs. Can’t you see the glow of his asscheeks from where I’m flogging myself for his pleasure? Got my fingers deep inside him too #soulmateshit
Bananalvr3002: A GOODF UCKING
NhuFan1: He only needs me. Fuck off.
But Zee didn’t ask these random people. He asked Nhu.
He watches as Nhu tries to make sense of the argument he’s no doubt seeing in the chat, his eyes unfocused and eyebrows furrowed.
Zee asks again.
BeGood1992: What does Nhu need?
Nhu reads the message before throwing his head back with a groan, exposing the long line of his throat at the same time as hiding his facial features from the camera.
BloomingBabe: I hit his g spot just now. Look how gorgeous he is when I pleasure him.
LoveNhu: shit ur so hot
Bananalvr3002: OH FUCK YES HE WE GO
If Zee had the power to boot these people from the chat, he would. Unless he’s incredibly mistaken, Nhu is…
There’s a sniffle through Zee’s phone speakers, the Adam’s Apple on his screen bobbing a few times with aborted breaths until Nhu sobs, “Nhu needs his soulmate.”
The chat surges to life, everyone and their mother coming forward as Nhu’s soulmate like the fairest maiden in the land just offered her hand in marriage. It’s a rambling mess of empty promises and pleas coming from perverts too feral to see that now is not the time for lies and delusions.
But Zee has an idea.
He’s never used the Super VIP Chat feature before—a way to send one message directly to Nhu without it being seen by the other viewers—but the button for it has always been right there on his screen. Without a second thought, he presses it, relieved when his card details autofill and he’s in.
BeGood1992: I know I’m not your soulmate, but let me help you through this? I’ve watched you long enough to have seen what works for you, I think.
The “ding” of his private message resonates from Nhu’s room. With the astronomical price of that top tier feature, it’s an uncommon sound to hear, making Nhu’s tear-stained face snap towards the screen.
Nhu hiccups in a breath. “Y-Yes… Please.”
RIP Zee’s bank account.
Also, what the fuck is Zee doing? He’s never sexted before. What made him think he could do this?
Well, it’s too late to worry about that now…
BeGood1992: Stop fingering yourself for a bit. You’re tired. Just focus on the rest of your body. Touch slowly. Squeeze your thighs and give your nipples some love. Slow, remember.
Another “ding” and his message is delivered.
He’d rather spread that out over more messages, but he’s genuinely concerned about how many times he can possibly use the Super VIP Chat before his card will be declined.
Luckily, Nhu reacts just as he hoped he would; he listens, step by step.
With a wince, he lets his fingers slip from his hole, wiping them on the bedsheet beneath him. He closes his legs a little, takes a deep breath, and begins.
His hands go to his legs. Firm grip of flesh, soft touch to soothe, a teasing swipe of the fingertips—he keeps changing it up as his fingers wander up his thighs to his hips.
Those delicate hands caress over the flat plane of his stomach, breath catching with something closer to pleasure than Zee’s seen from him all evening.
If not for the concern he feels for Nhu, Zee is sure he’d have lost his mind by now. Never did he think that Nhu would actually listen to him. But that man is following his every word, cupping and groping his chest. It’s Zee who told him to do this; to catch his nipples lightly between two fingers and pull until a sweet moan is finally dragged from those achingly beautiful lips.
The regular chat is going nuts with questions of “what’s going on?”, “which one of your fuckers paid for that?”, and “why’d he stop the good stuff?”
Zee notices Nhu reading it, his eyes flickering from the side of the screen that must have contained Zee’s private message, and Zee knows he needs to draw him back in.
BeGood1992: Just focus on me. My words and your body. That’s all that matters. Want to twist those nipples? Show your soulmate who’s boss?
It's something Zee noticed pretty early on in his days as a viewer. Nhu would often make himself teeter on that line of pleasure and pain, talking dirty all the while about what his soulmate must be feeling. It always made Nhu cum the hardest, getting off on the powertrip.
“Yesss,” Nhu hisses, his gentle tug turning into something less forgiving, his cock twitching up against his stomach like it’s connected by a direct line to those perky buds. He tweaks and twists them, back arching, pushing his chest towards the camera—towards Zee.
It’s a visceral enough image that Zee can almost feel his own nipples smarting, treated so roughly by such delicate hands.
With lack of other instruction, Nhu keeps abusing those nubs even when they turn red and swollen. Fresh tears spill down his cheeks, but these are accompanied with gasps of pleasure, his wet eyelashes fluttering with each sharp tug. He’s devastation incarnate. A lustful wreck from head to toe.
Nhu’s eyes don’t waver from the Super VIP side of his screen when he drawls, “Can you-ahhhnn… Can you feel it?”
Zee is hard as a rock at the implication, the idea that Nhu is imagining him as his soulmate. He palms himself briefly through his pants with a groan. He can’t let his concentration slip. This isn’t meant to be about his own pleasure. Not really.
BeGood1992: Look how your cock is leaking. Making a mess. So desperate for attention. Will you touch yourself?
There’s a thrill to seeing the hold he has over Nhu—his eyes shooting to the new message as soon as the telltale sound plays through the screen.
Nhu shakes his head. “Not y-yet. I want… I want to feel it…Need you to touch yourself, too. Be good, anhhh!”
“Oh, fuck.”
This man is really something else.
Zee pulls himself out, stroking his length, the drag quickly slickened by his precum. It feels like he’s burning alive now that he’s got a hand around his cock, his entire body on fire with lust.
[DRAFT] BeGood1992: I am. So go ahead.
Would it be too much, too personal, to add something more?
Fuck it.
BeGood1992: I am. So go ahead. Be good for me.
Nhu’s eyes roll. He barely gets a hand around himself before he’s shooting his load, hips jackrabbiting up into his tight fist before stilling, one hand still groping his chest as he screams through his orgasm.
Zee follows him over a second later, lost to the erotic sight and sound, the knowledge that he brought Nhu over the edge. Cum stripes up his shirt the same way Nhu’s falls upon his bare chest, the two a mirror image of satisfaction.
The world floods back in around him. Specifically, the digital world of Nhu’s live chat.
WhyRUGay: the fuck was that about
CutiePie2022: THAT WAS SO DIFFERENT TO USUAL BUT SO GOOD?? WHO WAS DOING ALL THOSE MESSAGES???
BloomingBabe: It was me. I paid to talk to my baby privately.
OtakuGoneRogue: HAWT AF BUT SRSLY WHAT JUST HAPPENED
LoveNhu: whoever did this is deranged and seriously overstepped :/ what about the rest of us?
NhusGoodBoy: We all know you’ve got no money, Blooming, stop lying
Corn101: I’d like to shake the hand of whoever Nhu was talking to. Preferably *after* they’ve washed their hands tho.
BadBoyOfNhu: nothing in your ass when you came? this fuckin sucked
xNoticeMeNhux: I bet it was BeGood1992. Creepy old dude.
Slut4Bussy: nhu literally ignored all of us. what the fuck.
WhyRUGay: woldn’t surprise me if it was him. treating this shit like a private show. u seen him on twt the other day? talking like he cares about nhu. hah.
vcard_shmeecard: Didn’t realize we could pay our way into Nhu’s virtual pants? I know what I’m doing when I get paid…
Usually, Nhu would stay live for a while after coming—talk with his audience, interact.
Today, he blinks, takes one look at the chat, and the stream abruptly ends.
Zee doesn’t blame him.
It’s less than a minute before a notification pops up at the top of Zee’s screen, the money he’d spent on Super VIP chats apparently being refunded to his account, along with a note under ‘reason for refund’:
I don’t need your pity money.
His breath comes in short, panic rising in his chest.
Moments later, he gets an email.
BeGood1992,
BeGoodForNhu banned you from their site for inappropriate conduct. Your account has been permanently deactivated.
Zee fucked up, didn’t he?
— —
NuNew had refunded the money immediately, of course. And then he’d disabled the Super VIP Chat option entirely. It was clear that, after that show, everyone thought they could buy a piece of him. And they could, in a way, buy his attention a little through their messages. But not like that. It was never meant to be like that.
The thought scares him. The idea that he is no longer the one in control.
On shaky legs, he carries himself to the bathroom, hoping a shower will clear his mind. Really, all it does is wash the tears, sweat, lube, and cum from his skin.
“Why’d I even…”
He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror.
That’s the one thing he can’t wrap his head around. Viewers have made similar offers before—usually involving the promise of a large cock to bounce on if he wants to meet them in person, or just getting a little big for their boots and thinking they can boss him around. He’s never entertained any of those messages before. Nothing beyond acknowledging he got a private message, thanking them for the offer, and turning them down. That’s all he’s ever wanted to do.
But something had made him agree to BeGood1992’s little game, that first private message feeling like his one shot at salvation.
The last time he came that hard would have been, well… Maybe never.
NuNew points a finger at his reflection. “Be-”
The phrase he spent years repeating like a prayer feels sour on his tongue, too unpleasant to say.
He waggles his finger. “Just pull yourself together.”
It’ll be fine. He’ll work something out—some way to distract his viewers in the next stream and nip this whole thing in the bud. His fans aren’t known for their intellectual abilities and long term memories, anyway.
“Pull. Yourself. Together.”
No matter how he enunciates the words, they’re still shaped like “be good.”
— Wednesday, June 22, 2022 —
“Hey there, Handsome,” Max jests, stepping out from behind the fitting room curtain to join him. It’s the day of their final suit fittings before Max’s wedding to Nat. A wedding that will be taking place in some fancy hotel in Bangkok in a month’s time.
Zee is more nervous about going back to the city than the best man’s speech he’s been preparing.
“Not looking too bad yourself,” Zee replies, eyes flitting from Max to their reflections in the large mirror in front of them. “How do you feel?”
“About the suit or the wedding?”
“Both.”
“Good,” is Max’s one word response. He shifts a bit, moving his weight from one foot to the other, checking out his suit from different angles. It’s pink, and Nat’s is apparently blue. Zee feels like a bit of a lemon—dressed in a fully white suit despite not being one of the grooms. Nat’s choice, supposedly.
“Yeah, good…” Max repeats, and his eyes meet Zee’s in the mirror. “You gonna be okay?”
A part of Zee wants to be offended that he asked. Another softer, squishier part of him is immensely grateful. “Of course. It’s your wedding. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
“I won’t lie and say I know what it’s like, but… it can’t be easy. I know this soulmate stuff gets to you. And the wedding will have that stuff in it—all that mushy, fairytale shit that is somehow my life now.” Max breaks off with a huff of laughter, shaking his head disbelievingly. But he blinks and that serious expression is back. “Between that and memories of your mom…”
Weirdly, the “soulmate stuff” doesn't even bother Zee anymore when it comes to Max and Nat. With most people, yeah, it still makes Zee feel like he’s been stabbed in the chest and his organs are falling out of his ass when they bring up soulmates and bonds. But Max and Nat? His best friend and the sweetest little guy with hair that makes him look like a big red button that Zee lowkey just wants to push? There's no way he can feel anything but love for them.
He puts a hand over the tattoo on his chest.
Walking the roads he’d walked when his mom’s health was declining… Seeing the sights he’d only ever seen with her in his life… That’s the only thing left to make him doubt. But love conquers all, right?
“I promise you, I’ll be fine.”
Max breathes out sharply, nodding at Zee in small jerks of his head like he’s trying to make himself believe Zee’s words. “Okay. Okay, yeah, that’s good. You wanna join us for dinner tonight or are you doing… whatever you usually do on a Wednesday evening that keeps you so busy?”
Yes, Zee had become a loyal enough viewer of Nhu that even his long distance bestie had noticed a pattern to Zee’s unavailability. Not that Zee ever explained beyond, “Can’t. Got plans. Sorry.”
Zee almost says he’ll be busy on reflex before he remembers that that isn’t an issue anymore. Not since a certain ban almost seven weeks ago. He’s visited the website a few times since then, just without signing in—merely checking in on Nhu and his numbers before leaving, once watching a couple of recorded clips from Nhu’s archive. Going cold turkey was too much to bear, but he’s working on weaning himself off. Slowly. Upsetting Nhu had definitely helped him realize that he needed to put some more effort into his real life and stop investing so much time in a stranger on the internet.
“No, I’m free. I’d love to join you. Thanks,” Zee says instead, a genuine smile stretching his lips.
— Monday, July 11, 2022 —
Most of NuNew’s viewers moved on from The Incident pretty quickly, and those who didn’t stop complaining after a week were banned. Between that and NuNew buying a couple of new toys to spark that excitement in himself again, the vibes of the Be Good For Nhu streams are almost back to normal. Almost.
The one tiny difference makes itself known when NuNew is about to come—the same as every time he’s been about to come, on stream or off, since that day.
He has to close his eyes and picture BeGood1992’s words. It’s the only thing that gets him over the edge anymore, despite repeated attempts to get by without it. Vibrators, dildos as big as his forearm, hardcore porn, fleshlights, sensual ASMR compilations when he’d been desperate… none of it had worked.
But thinking about seven fucking words in straight Arial font with some stupid username before it? “BeGood1992: So go ahead. Be good for me”? NuNew pictures it now and shoots off like a rocket, his hole spasming around the sizable dildo he’s been bouncing on for god knows how long.
NuNew doesn’t open his eyes until the words have faded from the inside of his eyelids.
“Mmmm,” he purrs to disguise the discomfort as he lifts himself off the toy. “That was good. Did you all enjoy the show?”
Walking on his knees down his bed, he gets closer to the camera, giving the audience a good view of the cum splattered up his chest. He giggles, running his fingers through it. “Look at the mess I made!”
NhusGoodBoy: I’m a mess too. Wish you could see what you do to me.
CutiePie2022: How can you be so CHEERFUL after ALL THAT. I’m exhausted just from watching! Good job as usual omg…
Corn101: You’re a fucking goddess
1ForDaMommies: Mucky pup! I love you!
LoveNhu: Beautiful as ever x
NuNew flutters his eyelashes at the camera, a warmth bubbling in his gut from the praise. This is why he cams. This is what the chat should always be like.
“You’ve all been so good lately… I think you should be rewarded. I’ve planned something.”
OtakuGoneRogue: OH???
NhusGoodBoy: I’m always so good for you x
CutiePie2022: AHAFEIOJEWPVNPO???!?!?!?!?!?
“As many of you know, my twenty-first birthday is coming up in two weeks. It’s on a Monday, a day I usually cam… No, 1ForDaMommies, I won’t be skipping my stream. I… I thought we could celebrate my birthday together.”
A wave of people all asking for the location of the party has NuNew hastily clarifying, “ Virtually together. A stream, like normal. But to make it special, I’ve booked a room at a hotel. Honeymoon suite. There’s enough room for all of us that way, right? No fighting over who gets what side of the bed if you’re all watching me through a screen.”
NuNew lets out a half-forced laugh to keep the mood light, and can only hope it doesn’t undermine the seriousness of what he just said. He has to make it clear that this is a stream only —not an in-person gig. The last thing he wants is anyone trying to find him. He’s only safe when there’s a screen between him and his viewers, and even then, the incident involving BeGood1992 has proven how precarious his situation is.
That’s why he’s also not giving away any more information about the venue. Like the fact he’d been unable to book the lavish honeymoon suite he’d actually wanted, apparently reserved for a couple getting married at the hotel that day, so was instead offered a still luxurious but slightly less extravagant room. It barely matters anyway. From the pictures he’s seen, the room is still impressive enough for him to show off in a ‘hotel room tour’ at the start of his birthday stream like he’d planned. And the bath is big enough that he might be able to film a little something extra in there the next morning, too…
CutiePie2022: NO FUCKIN WAY
NhuFan1: Fuck. Baby. That’s so hot.
LuhFarts: omg what nice
OtakuGoneRogue: OH I AM SO DOWN!! VIRTUAL WEDDING NIGHT WITH NHU *SWOONS*
Nhus_Sweetie: this gonna be so good omg
“So I hope you’ll all join me here on Be Good For Nhu then, 9 PM on Monday, July twenty-fifth. Thanks for watching and remember to be good! Goodnight.” He blows a kiss at the camera and ends the stream.
— Monday, July 25, 2022 —
Bringing his old camera from when he used to be into photography was definitely a good move on Zee’s part. There’s only so many times he can have the conversation of “yes, it does feel unusual to have such a lavish wedding on a Monday. Apparently someone told the grooms it was an auspicious date” before Zee needs a way out. His camera gives him exactly that.
He might not be a professional photographer, but he knows he must have taken a couple of good shots today.
The issue is that it’s now almost 10 PM. Everyone is drunk (or well on their way to being drunk), Max keeps trying to goad him into a dance-off, and Zee is stuck babysitting his camera. He’s too paranoid to leave it on the table while he jumps up to boogie, but he doesn’t trust its safety if he keeps hold of it either. He’s not quite sober himself, and he’d already lost the camera’s case at some point between the cake cutting and the first dance…
Zee points to his camera when Max threatens to forcibly drag him to the dance floor yet again. “Let me just go put this in my room,” he yells over the music. “Then I’ll dance.”
There’s a blank look in Max’s eye like he caught approximately zero of Zee’s words, but he nods anyway, relinquishing his hold on Zee’s wrist.
Zee makes for the exit before anyone else can stop him. He could use a moment away from the noise, anyway. Honestly, he’s so tired that he could probably go to sleep right now, but he doesn’t want to be one of the first people under fifty to turn in for the night.
The corridor outside the hall is comparatively silent, though the pounding bass of the music still reverberates through his feet. His ears feel like they’re full of cotton wool as they try to adjust to the quieter environment.
He’s glad Max and Nat organised for the key guests of the wedding (which includes Zee—Best Man privileges!) to stay in the hotel rooms above the venue hall. A short trip in the elevator and he’s already walking down the corridor to his-
Zee drops his camera.
His ass feels… weird. Not in a “about to shit himself” type of way. It’s…
Stars light up Zee’s vision in a flurry of color, his body rocking forward with the sensation, and he has to grab the wall to steady himself. The feeling eases up for only a moment before it’s there again; a stretch, a pressure deep within, a pulse of light.
Confused but interested, his dick twitches to life, filling out as the bizarre assault on his senses continues. His fingers scramble for purchase against the wall, his suddenly sweaty forehead knocking against the surface while the world spins around him.
It’s then that Zee hears a voice—a moan—through the wall.
He’d know that moan anywhere.
With a shaking hand, he retrieves his phone from his pocket. Zee had caught wind of Be Good For Nhu booking a room at a hotel for tonight’s show, to celebrate his twenty-first birthday apparently, but there’s no way he’s in the same hotel as Zee… right?
The stream loads just as another moan pours through the thin hotel wall, the sound echoed exactly by the aphrodite on Zee’s screen a second later.
“Holy shit.”
He’s right here. Through the wall.
Zee should leave. He will. In a second. When he stops feeling so odd. For now, he’ll watch. No harm in that. It’ll be a good distraction from what feels like a phantom examining his prostate.
Speaking of prostates, Nhu’s got two fingers up his ass, angled in such a way that Zee knows from his viewing days that he’s got to be hitting his sweet spot—or trying to. Nhu shifts his hand ever so slightly, thrusting in again, and-
“Ahhhn!”
“FUCK!”
Zee slaps a hand over his mouth. He felt that. He felt it.
Nhu’s lips shimmer golden on the screen, the indent of Zee’s fingers against his own jaw visible on Nhu for a moment.
“No way…”
In the middle of a fancy hotel corridor, at approximately 10 PM on a Monday evening, a twenty-nine year old Zee finds himself trying to look at his own asshole (through his suit pants) to see if it’s glowing. He bends this way and that; trying to get his head between his legs or look over his shoulder, holding a hand close to the central seam of his pants like he might be able to see the light reflecting off of it. No luck. Plus, it’s hard to concentrate when the camboy Zee was is lowkey obsessed with is currently stretching himself open just a few meters away. It’s even more difficult when Zee is experiencing it with his own body, what must be a soulmate bond flaring to life.
Nhu removes his fingers, thus giving Zee a reprieve. He fights to catch his breath until it’s knocked out of him by something new breaching his soulmate. A glance at the stream shows Nhu slowly sliding a small plug into himself, not stopping until the black, flared base is resting against his plush ass.
He watches Nhu fiddle with something on the base of the toy and Zee’s blood runs cold. Zee remembers now. He’s seen him use this one on stream before. He knows for a fact that that shit vibrates.
It hums to life and Zee’s knees buckle, leaving him sliding down the wall, overwhelmed by the onslaught. His foot slides past his forgotten camera as he sinks onto all fours on the floor, unable to do anything else.
Zee can barely breathe, let alone think. All his brain cells have gone to his ass, to where Nhu is rapidly taking himself and Zee apart. They’re both falling apart at the seams—panting, sweating, shaking.
The strength of the vibration increases and Zee’s body locks up, coming untouched, and Nhu follows suit. It’s an orgasm that just keeps going, his prostate milked through the bond.
He’s left gasping for air while Nhu is apologizing to his viewers for coming so soon.
“I must have been super pent up,” he reasons, though there’s an uneasiness to his tone. “Or maybe it’s the excitement of being here with all of you that got me going.”
Already, Nhu is playing with the plug again, though with the vibrate function mercifully switched off. He pulls it almost all the way out just to insert it again, slowly, stopping when the widest part sits just inside his rim.
The stretch is obscene.
Zee feels like he’s going to die.
His cock is somehow still hard—a radiant rod stretching his pants obscenely—and more sensitive than ever. He’s going to die of horniness and overstimulation and embarrassment, right here on the floor. Do soulmate bonds continue after death? If so, the autopsy results will surely claim he’s an inverted angel—his asshole no doubt a glowing, golden halo when they peel back his white suit.
The “ding” of the hotel elevator stopping on this floor shocks Zee into the present. He can hear quiet talking of what must be two or three hotel guests. They’re heading his way, by the sound of it.
Zee can’t let anyone find him like this, but equally his legs are too weak to carry himself to his own room right now. He can feel the plug back inside his soulmate now, being thrust against his prostate.
He does the only thing he can think to do; he drags himself up to his feet despite his ass feeling like it’s being pummeled, straightens out his suit as best he can, and knocks on Nhu’s door.
“H-Housekeeping.” His voice cracks, because of course Nhu had taken that moment to start touching his cock (which is both a relief and total torture), but he thinks he sounds mostly normal.
The sounds from the other side of the door go quiet. Looking at his phone, he watches Nhu go still, his eyes glancing in the direction of what must be the door, although he can’t see it on screen. Only the large bed is visible on stream, all plush white sheets and pillows and a large wooden headboard, with just a sliver of what must be bedside tables to each side. It’s a small relief to know that, if Nhu does open the door to him, he won’t immediately be on camera.
Zee knocks again. “Housekeeping.”
“Not right now,” Nhu replies, his jaw visibly clenched, voice tight.
The chat to the side of the stream picks up pace.
Corn101: Tell them to fuck off, you’re busy!
NhusGoodBoy: What’s happening???
CutiePie2022: CRAP is it a noise complaint? Is he gonna get kicked out?
The voices down the hall are getting nearer and Nhu still hasn’t taken that damn toy out or stopped touching his dick. Zee is running out of time before he gets kicked out of this hotel. It’s got to be public indecency to be this horned up in a hotel corridor, his pants cum-stained.
“Please come to the door, Sir. It will only take a moment.”
An agitated huff and Nhu lets go of his cock. He stands with the plug still in his ass, nestled up against that bundle of nerves.
Zee bites his lip to stop himself from moaning, switching off his phone screen so as to not be caught watching the stream—either by passersby or by Nhu.
The man of Zee’s wet dreams opens the door with only a skimpy silk robe wrapped around himself. His face immediately contorts with disgust when he takes in Zee’s dishevelled and obviously turned on appearance.
“I think you’re my soulmate,” Zee blurts urgently, though he tries to keep his volume down so as to not be picked up on stream. “I was walking by and… And I felt… I heard…”
Those probably aren’t the best words to start with, one half shockingly blunt and the other half as clear as mud, but they’re something.
“You’re my soulmate, I think,” Zee reaffirms.
Hopefully it’s enough to not have the door slammed in his face.
Or maybe not, based on Nhu’s reaction, his expression souring further.
“And I think you’re a creepy fuckin’ perv getting off to my moans through the door and I should call hotel security on you. What do you think about that, Mister Eyebrows?”
“Oh? Mister Eyebrows?” A surge of desperation and anger passes over Zee, the passersby visible in Zee’s peripheral. He leans into Nhu’s room as much as he can without actually stepping into it, hoping to hide himself from the unsuspecting hotel guests.
Why is this guy so fucking defensive? Why won’t he even hear me out when it’s so obvious?
“Maybe I should use that as my new name to watch you stream, since you banned me as BeGood1992.”
He catches the moment Nhu makes the decision to shut the door on him, a quick flex of muscles as he goes to shove it closed, and Zee puts his own arm in the way.
“OUCH!” Zee shrieks, at the same time that Nhu flinches with a pained, “AGH!”
The answering glow of Nhu’s arm, visible through thin silk, is concrete proof. It’s the nail in the proverbial coffin for them both.
Nhu’s expression morphs into something indecipherable. His skin goes pale and he wobbles in place, before heat rises across his face, his lip pulling up into a snarl while tears fill those beautiful eyes.
It’s not quite a sob that passes Nhu’s lips as he mutters, “Why do you always show up at the most fucking inconvenient times? Asshole.”
Either forgetting their connection or testing it, Nhu pounds a fist against Zee’s chest, wincing immediately at its echo through their bond.
Hushed and venomous, Nhu gives him a choice:
“I’m streaming right now, as I’m sure you know, and I’m not putting an end to it for you. So you either come in and sit quietly off-camera until I’m done, until I can give you a piece of my mind, or… you walk away right now. If you choose the latter, I never wanna see you, hear you, feel you, ever again. This is already your second chance. There won’t be another. Do you understand?”
Zee gets it. He’d made problems for Nhu before; butting in during a stream and getting himself banned, making other fans believe they could get Nhu to do almost anything for the right price.
He swallows against the muddled emotions in his throat. “I’ll come in. If that’s okay.”
“Nothing about this is okay,” Nhu snaps, lunging towards Zee like a rabid dog. “But I’ll give you this one last chance, ya hear me? Come sit down before I change my mind. I’m not letting you out of my sight, but don’t you dare disturb my work.”
Silently, Zee nods. He only enters the room once Nhu moves out of the way enough for him to do so, those eyes staying on him as he makes for the chair that Nhu points to, just beyond the tripod positioned at the end of the bed. The route he takes around the edge of the room should keep him off camera.
He watches Nhu almost fall against the door as he closes it. Watches him take one shaky breath, then another.
Nhu’s eyes fall closed. One, two, three seconds.
When they slide open again, his posture has shifted back into the persona everyone sees online. His shoulders are relaxed, his lips set into a soft curve.
But the fire in his eyes, the anguish and hurt that appeared as a result of Zee, takes a moment longer to tamp down. Still, it lingers just below the surface.
Nhu bounds back over to the luxurious king sized bed, and throws himself down on it, bouncing hard enough to make the springs in the mattress squeak. The sudden pressure has sparks appearing behind Zee’s eyes—the plug in Nhu’s ass making its presence known, but Nhu barely seems affected.
His voice is pleasant and airy as he addresses his viewers. “Now, where were we?”
The slight downward turn of his smile after a few seconds tells Zee that the audience must have heard some part of their conversation. He dreads to think how much of it.
“Nah, it’s fine,” Nhu dismisses, likely responding to one such comment. “I’d, um, asked for extra towels earlier. Housekeeping came to drop them off.”
Through a screen, Zee had found it tricky sometimes to deduce when Nhu was lying, versus when he was telling the truth. In person though, it’s clear—a slight shift in his left eyebrow his tell.
“No, there’s no one with me. I told you, this is an online only event. Housekeeping brought in a couple more towels just now is all. I asked for them because…” Nhu leans forward, towards the tripod. The angle gives both Zee and the viewing audience a direct line of sight down his robe to the flawless skin of his torso, the small buds of his nipples. “I was thinking I could film a little something in the bathtub later. As a thank you gift to all of you for the wonderful birthday wishes.”
He throws a wink to the camera and Zee can’t help but feel like he’s third wheeling a little.
On the other hand, Zee knows for a fact that he’s the only one experiencing the show so intimately. The stimulation of his prostate is near constant now that Nhu is sitting down, not to mention all the little details he can take in about Nhu that simply can’t be conveyed through a screen. He’s gorgeous. Godlike. Real.
Their argument had made Zee’s cock start to soften, but the way Nhu wiggles has him rising once again, pressing painfully against the zipper of his pants. And, well, he might not be in the corridor anymore, but exactly what is appropriate to do in front of your soulmate the first time you meet them? Zee resists the urge to touch himself.
Nhu has no such reservations. He is still streaming, after all.
He kneels on the bed, legs spread, and unties his robe with teasing fingers. The fabric slips from his shoulders, pooling at his hips. It remains noticeably elevated over a particular part of his anatomy. Apparently, arguing with a soulmate isn’t enough for either of their libidos to entirely tap out.
His hands stroke across every inch of freshly exposed skin delicately; down his beautiful neck, to his chest, tickling across ribs before landing on his small waist. Dainty fingers dart down to exposed thighs, rising back up, removing the draped silk as they go.
It makes Zee think back to his own words during that one fateful stream: “Just focus on the rest of your body. Touch slowly.”
Nhu’s gaze shifts slightly to one side of the camera, meeting Zee’s like he knows, like he’s doing this on purpose.
“Are you going to be good?” Nhu asks, finally throwing off the robe, his eyes still locked on Zee.
Zee nods. He tries not to think about the phantom feeling of hands on skin when Nhu decides to drag his nails along his own thighs, electricity left in their wake.
Clenching and unclenching his hands, Zee fights to maintain his composure. If Nhu wants him to sit here silently and pretend he’s unaffected, he’ll do it. Because his soulmate asked him to; someone who he didn’t think even existed until a matter of minutes ago, but he’s waited a decade to meet.
He has to squeeze his eyes closed when Nhu takes ahold of himself, his firm strokes echoed on Zee’s aching member. But with his eyes closed, it feels like the sensations are further heightened. It’s like he can make out each finger as it slides along his length, how Nhu rubs his thumb over the tip, every motion infuriatingly coaxing.
Biting his lip, Zee suppresses the urge to groan. Nhu must feel the nip of his teeth, chuckling in response.
“Get comfortable,” Nhu demands, his bottom lip glowing faintly from Zee’s bite. “I’ll allow that much.”
The vague instruction feels like a test. “Get comfortable” could mean anything from taking off his jacket to stripping entirely and fucking his own fist.
Zee decides to at least try to be a gentleman. A little bit.
Once Nhu’s gaze goes back to the camera, Zee takes off his jacket and leaves it crumpled behind him… And then he unzips his pants, alleviating enough of the pressure on his cock that he no longer feels like it’s about to fall off. He adjusts his briefs. Not to take himself out, but to bully the head of his cock back under the waistband, concealing himself. It’s the closest thing to decorum he is capable of at this moment.
As silently as possible, Zee sinks back into the chair with a sigh.
Nhu’s attention is drawn back to him anyway. His eyes don’t even track down Zee’s body—instead going directly to where Zee’s cock is now encased in just one layer of thin, white fabric.
The moan that falls from Nhu’s lips suggests it’s an erotic sight. His briefs barely hold his faintly glowing length, a smear of wetness growing from where he continues to leak. The suit Zee was wearing is almost beyond recognition; pants undone, jacket lost behind him on the chair, the first few of his shirt buttons undone. He doesn’t even remember when that happened.
“Good,” Nhu purrs, speeding up the motions of his hand.
“Uhhnng!” Zee chokes when Nhu’s free hand reaches behind himself to play with the base of the plug, making the tip bump against his prostate. Pant-clad legs shoot apart, feet planted on the floor as his hips jolt.
Nhu freezes and shoots him a warning glance.
Zee barely has time to process it before Nhu’s eyes are fluttering closed, the toy being drawn out a small amount before being plunged back in. And again, pulling the plug slightly further out. And again, reaching the widest point.
The plug slips free from Nhu’s body. They gasp in sync.
Zee has watched enough of Nhu’s streams to have a pretty good idea of what comes next.
He’s rewarded with a front row seat to the sight of Nhu’s asshole, stretched and messy with lube, as the man turns around on the bed to search for something behind the pillows at the headboard.
“I bought this,” Nhu says, “as a twenty-first birthday present to myself.”
The toy he reveals has Zee on the verge of going feral, nearly busting right then and there, a confusing cocktail of arousal and possessiveness swirling in his gut. It’s definitely not the largest toy Nhu has used on camera—this dildo fairly realistic in size, possibly even a little smaller than Zee—but…
Nhu’s tone is deceptively light, as if he were discussing the weather. “I’d seen other people use dildos like this and thought it looked like fun. All I have to do is squeeze this pump here, and it’ll fill me up with cum. Perfect for our night together in the honeymoon suite, don’t you agree?”
He chuckles darkly, his eyes ghosting over the screen. “‘The proper way to consummate our relationship as well as a perfect way to celebrate your birthday,’ exactly!”
Zee grips the arms of the chair and tilts his head up to the ceiling, something akin to a prayer passing his lips because holy fuck.
“Now, let’s see… I know that usually I try to give you all the view of my… assets. But what do you say we change things up tonight? Something a little more intimate?”
By the time Zee dares to look at the bed again, the suction cup base of the dildo has been attached to the wooden headboard of the bed.
“No,” Nhu giggles, “I’m not putting a camera inside myself, silly! I meant intimate like… romantic. Don’t you want to see my face properly as I come? Want to know I’ll be reading your comments as I fuck myself, instead of always craning to see the screen?”
The one and only time Zee has seen Nhu’s orgasm face, truly, was that fateful stream where he got involved. Usually, pleasure overtakes Nhu too much at the last moments to hold his head up anymore, his clenching hole and shooting cock becoming the main focus. But when he’d been reading Zee’s private messages, his face had stayed trained on the screen. Zee’s been unable to move on from the image ever since.
Nhu must like what he sees in the chat, because he’s lubing up the dildo before getting on all fours, backing up until it rests against him. His head drops down in focus as he lines it up with a hand.
Zee feels as it breaches him, his own legs spreading further as if to accommodate the girth.
In small thrusts, Nhu works it in, inch by inch. It’s a far cry from his usual plundering.
“It’s… I’m so tight…” Nhu says, like he can read Zee’s mind. Zee can feel that Nhu is telling the truth, not putting anything on for the camera, the burn of the stretch pouring torturously across their soulmate bond.
Zee’s hips twitch, trying to escape the feeling.
Dazed eyes look up at Zee, wavering between him and the camera, pearly teeth gritted in an expression of pleasure-pain. He warns, “I’m going to take it all.”
Zee nods, grabbing his discarded jacket to bite down on the sleeve, bracing.
Nhu bottoms out and Zee knows he moans with him, the sound pouring out from around the fabric clenched in his mouth, animalistic. It was pain he’d been anticipating. Not this… Not…
He gives Zee no time to adjust, immediately falling into a rhythm as he bounces his ass back against the dildo, the head slamming against that bundle of nerves.
Zee can’t stop whining, his voice mixing with Nhu’s. His fingernails dig into the arms of the chair as he slobbers onto his jacket, briefly going cross eyed from the assault on his senses.
His vision refocuses and it’s almost unbearable. Nhu is in front of him, glassy-eyed, his gaze switching infinitesimally between the camera and Zee. He moans freely, mouth hanging open with a constant stream of noise. And he’s smirking despite it all, open lips tilted in smug satisfaction.
That last bit shouldn’t be as arousing as it is.
Is Zee allowed to touch himself now? At least rest a hand over his cock and squeeze? If he did, would the ghost of his hand appear on Nhu’s cock where it’s bobbing underneath his body, rocking with each of Nhu’s thrusts onto the dildo behind him? Would he be able to identify each of his fingers against the hot, hard flesh?
Eyes glued to Zee’s bulge, Nhu’s moans grow in pitch, and he slips a hand down to touch himself.
Zee feels it keenly on his own cock; a fist gripping him, working him. He bucks into the phantom touch, Nhu’s hand slicking all the way down to the base, hips lowering again as Nhu spears himself on the toy once more.
It’s driving Zee wild. He’s slipping down the seat, pistoning his pelvis into the air like a damn fool, dick still held tight by ruined underwear.
Too much. Not enough. Too much. Their bond is bright on Zee’s body, flaring with pleasure, his hips jerking back and forth in a fruitless plea for more, less, more, less, more more more.
He spits the sodden fabric from his mouth, needing oxygen, overwhelmed.
At the same time, something in Nhu’s moaning shifts—that same keening tone appearing as that day, just before Zee had overstepped the line in Nhu’s stream. Nhu sounds desperate as he continues to bounce his ass back onto the dildo, fisting his cock for all he’s worth.
“I can’t…” Nhu groans, frustrated. He whines, shaking his head like he’s arguing with himself, before meeting Zee’s eye again. The smirk is long gone, replaced with pure need. “L-Let me see you.”
Zee eases himself out with little fanfare, his cock bouncing up to slap against his stomach, a hand hovering over himself.
Yes, would have been the answer to Zee’s earlier question. There’s a glowing imprint of Nhu’s hand on his shaft, traveling up and down. Zee fucks into it, his dick bouncing obscenely in open air.
Nhu keens, letting go of his cock to lift himself up to grab the headboard with both hands, his back bowed with each thrust, pulling himself back onto the dildo. He looks so vulnerable—his body on display like this, the bulge of the toy inside of him visible in the warm light of the room. The tears in his eyes spill over, flowing down cheeks reddened by exertion. “F-fuck. Fuck, I… ahhgn, I can’t come until you touch. Light me up with you-r LOVE!”
Zee pinches his own nipples and watches Nhu’s glow, his chest puffing out like he’s aching to have Zee’s hands on him for real. Each twist, flick, pull; Nhu cries through it all, cock spilling precum.
He’s close. Zee can feel it.
Fuck it.
Zee wraps a hand around himself, fisting his cock roughly, aware that they’re both teetering that edge. His other hand keeps playing with a nipple, abusing it.
One of Nhu’s hands scrambles for the dildo’s pump, his breaths fast and rough, and he squeezes.
Zee feels the artificial cum pump into him.
Zee hears Nhu moan out.
But Nhu doesn’t come.
Neither does Zee.
Nhu falls back onto all fours with a sob.
“Fuck, it’s…” Nhu works himself back on the piece of rubber, tone aggravated, sparks flying errant through Zee’s vision. Zee’s hand on his cock has stilled, merely holding himself at the base. Every sensation in his body is dialled up to a hundred but… “It’s not enough. I need you to…”
Zee’s cock is granite. Couldn’t be harder. But what can he do? What is he allowed to do?
“B-Be good,” Nhu wails, calling to him with teary eyes. “Fuck me. Give me— Give it to me. I’ve waited so long, you asshole, and now my body…”
His arms give out, and he drops to his elbows, still fucking himself on the toy like his life depends on it. Pants turn to sobs, loud and ugly, pleading with Zee. “I n-need my soulmate.”
Much like the last time Nhu said those words, Zee’s logic goes out the window.
By the time Nhu cries, “Please,” Zee is bolting from his chair.
“Turn,” Zee orders, making for the side of the bed. He feels as the dildo slips from Nhu’s body and reaches down to grab Nhu’s hips. Zee manhandles him into position, keeping him on all fours but turned so his feet hang off the side of the bed. If Zee’s not mistaken, the camera won’t show his face from this angle. The audience should only see Nhu, his body in profile, his hips raised to take the faceless man behind him.
He lines himself up with that glorious hole he’s seen so often on his screen.
“You sure?”
The answer comes in the form of a moan, a grind back that has Zee’s cock nudging against that plush ass, and an enthusiastic “Yessss,” muffled into the bedsheets.
Zee pushes in slowly, gasping like a fish out of water as soon as his head pops inside. This is too much. Yet it’s perfect. It’s all-encompassing, the sensations swallowing him whole the same way Nhu takes all of him like it’s nothing. No, not like it’s nothing; like Zee is the perfect fit.
“Shit! Nhu,” Zee grits when he’s fully sheathed inside the man beneath him—inside his soulmate. The fake cum from the toy is forced out by Zee’s cock, squelching lewdly when he grinds in to the hilt. Zee’s member is slightly longer than the dildo, a stretch resonating through their soulmate bond once more, a new depth suddenly reached.
Zee’s body nearly buckles forward from the intensity. But he can’t. Not unless he wants his face on Be Good For Nhu’s stream for the whole world to see.
For the first time since Zee entered the room, he can see the screen of Nhu’s laptop.
He was correct about the view.
Zee can see his pelvis pressed against Nhu’s ass, Nhu’s head against the bedsheets, his blissed out face turned to the camera. Zee still has his suit pants around his thighs, his underwear only pushed low enough to get his cock out. They’re a perfect picture of desperation and lust.
“Finally! I… I can feel…” Nhu mutters as Zee begins to thrust, his pace building quickly. He’s a bomb ready to blow, too on edge for too long to take it slow. “I feel y-you in me. I feel how your- ahh, your cock is being squeezed by m-my- ahh! ”
Zee knows when he grazes past Nhu’s prostate and adjusts his angle, grabbing Nhu’s hips to haul his lower half into the air, making sure he hits it just right. It’s a feedback loop of ecstasy. Zee pounding into Nhu, Nhu clenching around Zee.
Gasping, Nhu reaches back, his hand squeezing over Zee’s on his hip. The force of Zee’s pounding has his voice wobbling. “Y-you c-can n-never l-leave a-again, o-okay? Nhu n-needs… N-Needs…”
“Soulmate,” Zee grits, and then it’s over. His body locks up with the force of his orgasm, Nhu’s hole a vice around him, holding him deep. Zee watches Nhu go off like a rocket on the stream cam, his cock spurting ropes of white onto the sheets beneath him.
Once Nhu catches his breath, Zee still inside of him, he wriggles and reaches over for his laptop perched at the end of the bed and closes the lid without a word.
The atmosphere in the room is suddenly stifling.
“I hate you,” Nhu says, and the endorphins floating around Zee’s brain cease to exist.
“I’m sorry,” Zee replies. He pulls out slowly—not because he wants to separate from him, but because it feels wrong to have this conversation when they can’t even look each other in the eye. With great care, he lowers Nhu’s limbs, helping him get comfortable on the bed.
Nhu crawls away, and Zee tries not to look at his cum seeping out of Nhu’s abused hole. It is very much not the time to be focusing on that.
He still won’t turn to look at Zee, instead burying his head in the bedsheets, his hands fisted on either side of his head.
Not sure what else to do, Zee fixes his own appearance as best he can. He takes it slow, buying time, pretending not to hear the sniffles coming from the bed. It’s not clear whether his presence is really welcome, let alone whether Nhu would like to be comforted by him.
When there’s nothing else for Zee to do, he takes a cautious seat on the edge of the bed.
“If you hadn’t asked me to do all that, I would have stayed out of the way. I promise. But you said you needed me and I…”
“THEN WHY HAS IT NEVER WORKED BEFORE?” Nhu’s usually soft face is all hard lines—anger etched into his features—until it crumbles with a cry.
“I begged, ” Nhu sobs, face scrunching up with fresh tears. His head falls against his forearm as he brings all his limbs in, curling up, making himself small while his body shakes. “More than three -hic- years. Everyone thought my s-soulmate was DEAD!”
Zee stares down at him, trying to process what Nhu is saying.
“You… You felt me once before?” Zee asks, his voice soft and trembling.
“Be good,” Nhu spits, and Zee feels sick as the realization hits.
More than three years ago… Nhu was just seventeen… and Zee had…
Zee had branded him, lit him on fire with a cryptic flame, and left.
“I’m sorry.” The words feel too small, but anything else feels too large—too clumsy, too defensive. Zee ignored the signs that someone was out there, waiting for him. He’d been led to believe in doctors despite an inkling in his gut that they’d gotten it all wrong. He should have known.
With one more sniffle, Nhu sits up. He finds the discarded silk robe from earlier and slips it around himself again. Only once he’s covered does he turn to face Zee, anguish burning in his eyes. “I hated you.”
Zee nods. “I understand. If you want me to leav-”
“But I don’t think I have it in me to hate you anymore.”
Zee’s mouth shuts with an audible clack of his jaw.
Looking away, Nhu fiddles with the tie of his silk robe, winding it around his fingers and pulling it. “I’m not saying that I forgive you just yet, but…”
“One last chance?” Zee says quietly.
Nhu nods.
They sit there in a silence that’s not quite companionable, not quite hostile. It’s… fragile, but bearable, as they take it all in; Zee coming to terms with what he has to atone for, questions as to how they were close enough to form a bond back then, Nhu’s mind no doubt whirring with his own thoughts. Both their worlds are shifting on their axis. Whether they’re spinning out of each other’s orbit or they’re starting to align, only time will tell.
A few minutes pass before the corner of Nhu’s lip ticks up. “Plus the sex was pretty good. Might be worth keeping you around just for that.”
A bark of laughter is shocked out of Zee’s mouth, and Nhu moves close enough to bump his slim shoulder against Zee’s, his own giggle lighting up his features.
“You’re funny, you know.” Zee nudges him back, indulging in looking at his features up close. It’s the first time he’s seen such a calm expression on Nhu’s face—no desperate hunger, no torment either.
“There’s so much you still need to learn about me, Be… ah?” Nhu breaks off halfway through his screen name.
“Zee Pruk Panich.” Zee holds out his hand.
Hesitantly, Nhu reaches out, too, clasping Zee’s hand in his. “NuNew Chawarin Perdpiriyawong.”
“It truly is a pleasure to meet you, NuNew, my soulmate. I never thought I’d see the day…”
The tentative smile on NuNew’s lips grows. “Likewise.”
— —
“You know, I did promise my followers that I’d record something in the tub.”
“Lead the way!”