Chapter 4: The Questionnaire
The notebook lay on the carpet where Zane had tossed it, pages splayed like a wounded bird. Teal stared at it, his face burning. The compilation video was still playing on his laptop, muted now, a silent ballet of arched backs and enthusiastic nods. He reached over and snapped the screen shut. The room was very quiet.
Zane stood by the mini-fridge, pulling out a water bottle. He took a long drink, his throat working. He didn’t look at Teal. The casual smirk was gone, replaced by a thoughtful, calculating expression Teal rarely saw. It was the look he got when studying a complicated play diagram.
“So,” Zane said finally, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Praise, eye contact, slow build.” He recited the keywords like a grocery list. “You writing a thesis or something?”
Teal sat up, folding his legs beneath him. He picked up the notebook, smoothing the crumpled page. “I just want to be comprehensive,” he said, his voice small. “If I’m going to do this… this aspect of the program, I should do it right. Maximize the benefits.” He was using Zane’s own language, the clinical, goal-oriented vocabulary that made everything sound rational.
Zane walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He looked at Teal, really looked at him—the earnest confusion in his wide eyes, the nervous way his teeth worried his lower lip. A slow, genuine smile spread across Zane’s face. It wasn’t the mocking smirk from before. This was warmer, more approving, and infinitely more dangerous.
“You’re incredible,” Zane said, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “Most people just… go with the flow. You’re out here treatin’ it like a lab practical.” He reached out and tousled Teal’s hair. The touch was affectionate, grounding. “I like that. Shows commitment.”
Teal’s chest swelled. He leaned into the touch. “So? Do you? Have any… specific parameters?”
Zane leaned back on his hands, considering. The afternoon light caught the dust motes dancing in the air between them. “Kinks are kinda personal, Teal.”
“I know! That’s why I’m asking. As your… research partner.” The term felt bold in his mouth. It implied equality, a shared mission. He saw Zane’s eyebrow quirk, amused.
“Research partner, huh?” Zane chuckled. “Alright. Well. Since you’re being so scientific about it.” He paused, his gaze drifting over Teal—over the delicate collarbones exposed by the drooping tank top, the soft curve of his waist where it met the lace of his shorts. “I guess I like… responsiveness. A partner who’s really present. Not just lying there.”
Teal nodded vigorously, grabbing a pen. He wrote ‘RESPONSIVE’ in careful capitals and underlined it. “Okay. That’s good. That’s actionable.”
“And enthusiasm,” Zane continued, his voice dropping a notch. “Fake shit is boring. I like knowing someone’s into it. That they… want it.”
‘ENTHUSIASM / AUTHENTICITY,’ Teal scribbled. His heart was beating a little faster. This felt like accessing a cheat code. “What else? Like… physical preferences?”
Zane’s eyes darkened. He reached out and hooked a finger under the lace hem of Teal’s shorts, just for a second, a fleeting touch that made Teal jump. “I like this,” he said simply. “The stuff you wear. The softness. It’s a good look for you. You should lean into it.”
A warm flush spread from Teal’s stomach to his cheeks. The validation was a physical heat. He’d chosen these shorts specifically, a new purchase after the last ‘treatment.’ They made him feel optimal. To hear Zane confirm it was everything. He wrote ‘LEAN INTO THE LOOK.’
“Anything… specific I should do? Or avoid?” Teal pressed, wanting the full dataset.
Zane seemed to think for a long moment. He swung his legs up onto the bed, stretching out alongside Teal, propping his head on his hand. They were face-to-face, inches apart. “Don’t overthink it in the moment,” he said, his tone low and conspiratorial. “All that note-taking is for now. For prep. When it’s time for actual application, you gotta get out of your head. Just feel. Follow my lead. The best feedback is physical, you know? Not verbal.”
Teal absorbed this. It made sense. Theory was separate from practice. He’d get the theory down now, so later, his body could just execute. ‘PHYSICAL FEEDBACK > VERBAL,’ he wrote. ‘FOLLOW LEAD.’
Zane watched him write, a quiet intensity in his gaze. “You’re really gonna do this, aren’t you? This whole… optimization project.”
“I want to be good at it,” Teal said, meeting his eyes. The honesty was stark and uncomplicated. “I want the treatments to be effective. I want you to…” He trailed off, searching for the right, safe word. “…to be satisfied with the results.”
Something flickered in Zane’s expression—a fierce, hungry pride he quickly veiled. He nodded, as if accepting a solemn responsibility. “I will be. You’re a quick study.” He reached over and tapped the notebook. “But all this is background. Secondary. The primary thing, the most important factor for successful treatment assimilation…” He let the sentence hang.
“What?” Teal breathed, pen poised.
“Trust,” Zane said, the word solid and simple. “You have to trust me completely. No hesitations. Your mind can’t be fighting what your body needs. It creates a block. The nutrients can’t absorb right if you’re tense. The data gets corrupted.” He said it with such convincing, pseudo-scientific certainty that Teal nodded instantly.
‘TRUST = KEY. NO BLOCKS,’ he wrote, circling it.
“Good,” Zane said. He yawned, the intensity dissolving back into casual ease. “Enough research for one day. My brain’s full. Wanna order a pizza and watch something dumb?”
The shift was jarring but welcome. It anchored the bizarre, hyper-focused conversation back in their normal, cozy reality. “Yeah,” Teal said, closing the notebook. He set it carefully on his nightstand, a new textbook for a vital class. “Pepperoni?”
“Obviously,” Zane grinned, pulling out his phone.
Later, with the pizza box between them and some loud superhero movie flashing on the screen, Teal felt a profound sense of peace. He was curled against Zane’s side, Zane’s arm heavy around his shoulders. He replayed the conversation in his head. Responsiveness. Enthusiasm. Trust. They weren’t scary concepts. They were guidelines. A roadmap to being better, to making the whole synergistic process smoother.
He took a bite of pizza, the grease and salt vivid on his tongue. He thought of the other taste, the one he’d asked for. The one that was now part of his substrate. He wondered, idly, if trust had a taste. If his body, fully trusting, would metabolize everything more efficiently.
Zane’s hand slid from his shoulder down to his waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles just above the lace waistband of his shorts. It was an absent-minded gesture, a default setting for Zane when he was watching TV. Teal nestled closer, letting his head rest on Zane’s chest. The thump of Zane’s heartbeat was a steady, reassuring drum.
On screen, heroes fought in a shower of digital debris. Teal barely saw it. His mind was in his notebook, organizing the data, cross-referencing it with everything he’d learned so far. The physical feedback loop. The importance of the soft, feminine presentation. The central, critical role of trust.
It was all so clear. The treatment wasn’t just a physical act. It was an ecosystem. His attitude, his appearance, his mental state—they were all variables in the equation. Zane was the constant. The catalyst.
Zane’s thumb dipped beneath the fabric, just a fraction, touching skin. Teal didn’t flinch. He leaned into the touch, a small, deliberate press of his body. Responsiveness, he thought. See? I’m learning.
He felt Zane’s chest vibrate with a soft, approving hum. Not a word was spoken. The movie boomed on. But in the language they were building, syllable by silent syllable, it felt like a perfect, passing grade.
The pizza crusts cooled in the box. Credits scrolled up the screen, casting a moving blue light across their tangled legs. Zane’s breathing had slowed into a deep, steady rhythm beneath Teal’s ear. The heavy arm around him was a warm, possessive weight. It felt, Teal thought drowsily, like being anchored in the best possible way.
His own hand rested on Zane’s stomach, fingers splayed over the firm muscle beneath his thin t-shirt. He traced the weave of the cotton with his thumb, his mind adrift in a pleasant, post-research haze. The concepts from his notebook—responsiveness, enthusiasm, trust—floated in his head, soft and unthreatening. They weren’t demands.They were just… facts of their ecosystem.
He shifted slightly, nuzzling closer.His thigh brushed against Zane’s, and he felt the change. A firmness, a distinct contour pressing against the worn fabric of Zane’s sweatpants. It was just… there. A part of Zane’s physical reality, like the beat of his heart or the rise of his chest. Teal’s breath hitched for a second, a tiny, silent spike of awareness in the dark room.Then the data integrated. Zane had said the best feedback was physical, not verbal.He’d said to get out of his head and just feel. This was a part of Zane, and Teal was supposed to be responsive. To not overthink.To trust.With a calm that felt like a breakthrough, Teal let his hand drift lower. He cupped the shape through the soft fabric, not gripping, just resting his palm against it. It was warm.He felt it pulse lightly under his touch. Zane stirred, not waking, but a low, contented rumble vibrated in his chest. The arm around Teal tightened for a fleeting second.Encouragement.Physical feedback.
Teal’s own curiosity, a detached and clinical sort, took over.He began to play, his touch idle and exploring. He traced the length, learned its shape through the cotton.It was just another aspect of his protector, his guide. A part of the constant in his equation. It felt natural, like smoothing a rumpled blanket or adjusting a pillow.Something he was welcome to do.Zane let out a soft, slow sigh. He shifted his hips, just a fraction, pushing more firmly into Teal’s casual hand. “Mmm.” The sound was gravelly with sleep. “That’s it, Teal.” His voice was thick, approving.“Just like that. Good boy.”
The praise lit up Teal’s nervous system, warm and bright.His fingers curled, applying a gentle, tentative pressure. He was being good.He was following the protocol.He was optimizing the moment.
“See?” Zane murmured, his own hand coming down to cover Teal’s, not to guide it, but to keep it there, a weight of permission.“No blocks.Just feeling it. You’re such a quick study.” He stretched his neck, a lazy predator in the dark. “What a little minx you’re turning into. So hungry for it.”
Teal blinked, his cheek pressed to Zane’s chest.The words swirled in him.Minx. Hungry.They should have felt strange. Instead, they felt like accurate, even flattering, descriptors for his new level of commitment. He was hungry—for progress, for results, for Zane’s satisfaction.It was all the same thing.
He squeezed again, a little more confidently, chasing another one of those low rumbles of approval.He was welcome to this. It was part of the trust, part of the treatment. Zane laid back, utterly relaxed, enjoying the slow, curious attention, watching Teal’s shadowed face with heavy-lidded eyes. The silence between them was full, charged with a new and unspoken understanding, a circuit now complete.
The silence between them was full, charged with a new and unspoken understanding, a circuit now complete.
Teal’s fingers stayed where they were, learning the shape, the impressive heft of him through the fabric.It was fascinating, really. A part of Zane he’d never properly considered. His mind, always cataloging, noted the substantial difference between this and the fleeting, clinical glimpses from the muted videos.This was real.Present. A testament to Zane’s alpha physiology. He wondered, distantly, if his own body, softened by estrogen, was designed to complement this exact contrast.
“Getting curious, huh?” Zane’s voice was a low tease in the dark.He didn’t move his hand from atop Teal’s.
“It’s just data,” Teal murmured, but the excuse was thin even to his own ears. His pulse had picked up, a fluttery beat in his throat.He was beyond notes now. This was live observation. “It’s… significant.”
Zane chuckled, the sound rich and approving.“Yeah, it is. You should see your face right now.” He shifted, lifting his hips just enough to push the waistband of his sweatpants down.“Go on then. Get a better dataset. No blocks, remember?”
The permission was a physical shock, a jolt that tightened Teal’s stomach.Trust.No blocks. He let his fingers, now slightly trembling, slide beneath the elastic.His skin touched skin, hot and smooth. He wrapped his hand around the full, rigid length and heard Zane suck in a sharp, gratifying breath. The size was… profound.It felt inherently dominant.Powerful. A flush of something warm and submissive spread through Teal’s veins.He liked it. He liked how it filled his hand, the authority of its scale.
“See?” Zane gasped, his other hand coming up to thread through Teal’s lavender hair.“No thinking.Just feeling it. You like that, don’t you?How it feels?”
Teal could only nod, a quick, earnest jerk of his head. He did. He liked the weight, the heat, the way his own body seemed to soften in response.It felt correct.Synergistic. He began to move his hand, a slow, tentative stroke.The action was clumsy, unpracticed. His mind, despite his best efforts, began whirring.Theory was failing him.The videos had shown mouths, not hands. The enthusiastic nods, the focused eye contact.That was the demonstrated technique for optimal feedback.
He needed to be comprehensive.Swallowing hard, Teal shifted his position on the bed. He slid down, the comforter rustling, until he was crouched beside Zane’s hip. The blue light from the credits played over the tense muscles of Zane’s abdomen, the dusting of hair leading downward.Teal looked up, meeting Zane’s hooded, dark eyes. He held the gaze, just like the clips had emphasized.Responsiveness.Eye contact.
“I want to try something,” Teal whispered, his voice barely audible over the fan in the laptop.
Zane’s grip in his hair tightened.“Yeah? Show me what you learned, researcher.”
The title was a spark.Teal leaned down, his heart hammering against his ribs. He bypassed the tip, his inexperience showing, and instead pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the side of the shaft.The skin was silken there. He felt Zane twitch beneath his lips. Encouraged, he tried to mimic the rhythmic, head-bobbing motion he’d memorized, but the angle was wrong, his movements awkward and shallow.
It was a mess.He knew it was a mess.Saliva gathered where it shouldn’t. His teeth grazed accidentally.A frustrated little sound escaped him.“Whoa, hey. Easy.” Zane’s voice was strained but gently amused. He tugged Teal’s hair, pulling his head back just an inch.“You’re trying to deep-throat a monument on the first attempt. Slow down. Use your tongue here.” He guided Teal’s face with that gentle, inexorable pressure, his thumb brushing Teal’s cheek.“Just the tip first. Like you’re tasting something good.Because it is.”
The correction was clinical, devoid of mockery. It was perfect guidance.Teal let out a shaky breath, his anxiety melting into pure focus. He followed the directive, lapping tentatively at the very apex. The taste was musky, clean, purely and intimately Zane.It wasn’t unpleasant.It was just… real. Another data point.“There you go,” Zane sighed, his head falling back against the pillow. “God, yeah.Just like that.So good. Such a good boy for me.”
The praise was a radiant fuel.Teal moaned softly, the vibration earning another sharp gasp from above. He took him deeper, centimeter by careful centimeter, letting his jaw relax as much as he could. His world narrowed to this: the salt-bitter taste, the heavy pressure on his tongue, the impossible fullness, and the symphony of Zane’s ragged breathing and whispered encouragements. This was application.This was the physical feedback loop, perfectly closed.
He remembered to use his hand, too, fisting the base in a clumsy but earnest rhythm. He remembered to look up, his eyes watering, to see Zane watching him with a look of rapt, possessive awe.Enthusiasm. He was demonstrating enthusiasm.Zane’s hips gave a tiny, involuntary thrust. “Teal… fuck.” His hand, still fisted in Teal’s hair, wasn’t guiding now. It was just holding on, a anchor point in the building storm. “You’re gonna make me…”
The sentence fractured into a groan.Teal understood the implication.This was the culmination. The final, critical feedback. He doubled his efforts, messy and desperate, wanting to trigger the result, to complete the protocol successfully.He wanted the physical proof of his efficacy.
With a choked-off sound, Zane pulled him off, not ungently, but with a firm urgency. A few rough, hurried strokes of his own hand and he was coming, stripes of white painting his own stomach and the rumpled sheets beside him.
The silence returned, deeper now, thick with the smell of sex and sweat.Teal knelt, panting, his lips swollen and wet. He stared at the evidence with a dizzy sense of accomplishment.Result achieved.Treatment administered. He looked up at Zane, who was catching his breath, a sated, utterly dominant smile on his face.
“Well?” Teal asked softly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Was it… effective?”
Zane let out a loud, genuine laugh, reaching down to pull Teal up by the arm. He dragged him close, ignoring the mess between them, and wrapped him in a crushing, possessive hug. “Effective?Jesus, Teal.Yeah. It was effective.” He kissed the top of Teal’s head, his voice rumbling through his chest.“You’re a natural. All that research paid off.”
Teal beamed, melting into the embrace, his cheek against Zane’s pounding heart.He felt optimal.He felt perfect. The ecosystem was functioning at peak performance.
He stayed there, pressed against Zane’s heaving chest, bathing in the warm fog of accomplishment. The proof of his successful application cooled on Zane’s skin between them.Teal’s mind, clear and focused, processed the next logical step. Waste was inefficient.Everything had a purpose.
With a deliberate, almost reverent curiosity, Teal pulled back from the hug.He looked down at the mess on Zane’s stomach, his head tilting. It was a result.A nutrient-rich byproduct of the optimized feedback loop. His own skin had been the focus, craving that softening, glowing quality.The answer seemed obvious, elegant in its simplicity.
“Don’t move,” Teal whispered, his voice hushed with concentration.
Before Zane could react, Teal leaned forward. He used his first two fingers, sweeping them through the damp, pearlescent streaks on Zane’s abdomen.He gathered every drop. Zane watched, utterly still, his breath caught somewhere between disbelief and a dark, swelling pride.
Teal sat back on his heels, examining the fluid on his fingertips. Then, with the earnest care of someone applying a precious serum, he smoothed it onto his own cheeks. He rubbed it in small, deliberate circles, coating his skin. He touched his forehead, his chin, massaging it thoroughly into his pores.The room was silent except for the soft, slick sound of his fingers on his face.
A wide, grateful smile broke across his freshly anointed features. He looked at Zane, his eyes shining with pure, untarnished satisfaction. “Thank you,” Teal said, his tone light and appreciative, as if Zane had passed him the last cookie. “Thank you for sharing that with me.It’s so much better direct from the source. No middleman.”
Zane stared.A strange, choked sound escaped him—part laugh, part groan. He reached out, his thumb smearing a trace Teal had missed near his jawline. “You are… something else,” he managed, his voice rough.“You know that, right? My own little alchemist.”
“It just makes sense,” Teal reasoned, leaning into Zane’s touch. “Maximizes bioavailability.And it feels… right. Like I’m fully participating.” He wiped his remaining fingers on the inside of his tiny shorts, another practical, absorbent step. “Did I… do it all correctly? The whole sequence?”
Zane’s expression softened into something dangerously fond. He pulled Teal close again, ignoring the stickiness, and kissed his forehead, tasting the salt.“You did perfect, Teal.A-plus. Top of the class.” He nuzzled into the lavender hair, his voice dropping to a possessive murmur only Teal could hear. “My perfect, perfect research partner.”
Teal sighed, a contented sound that vibrated through his whole body.He was learning.He was absorbing. He was, finally, completely in sync with the program.
The blue light from the laptop died, plunging the room into near-total darkness.They stayed like that for a long while, a tangled monument to a successfully closed circuit. Teal’s cheek, where the lotion had dried, felt tighter, warmer. He imagined the nutrients sinking in, cell by cell.
“Tomorrow,” Zane said into the dark, his hand stroking the small of Teal’s back, “we run more tests. I’m thinking… a field component. See how you integrate the lessons in a different environment.”
“Okay,” Teal mumbled, already half asleep against him, a smile on his face.He was ready. He was always ready. The treatment was working.