Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.
Background music: Blood by Band of Skulls
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Roger doesn't really know what pushes his buttons and makes his blood run hot in his veins, but he does know he has no control over himself when he watches Eric wander into the jungle by himself (Sam is bathing, he probably wants to find something to eat then). Although Jack is talking, he gets up off the spot he's been sitting in and follows the boy into the foliage. He spots the flaxy-haired boy and vaults over a few low bushes to catch up to him.
At the sound, Eric turns, and he runs, deeper into the forest with alarm, just like the pigs at the run, just like Roger's youngest cousin who has never liked him in the least. Roger wonders what makes him break into a run too, dodging the tree trunks that come at him, what makes him chase Eric. Perhaps it's this:
Feet – Those tiny, stubborn things, that think they can outrun Roger but Roger's been an awfully good runner even back in school. Eric is smaller and he can't cover as much ground. They are clumsy and frantic and Eric trips over something sticking out from the path and before he can get himself up again, Roger is upon him, snarling and sneering. And those feet, they kick at him, but Roger's good at dodging too.
Legs – They are skinny and resistant and they get in the way as Roger bears down on him. A knee catches him in the left rib but the impact is weak with fear and hardly makes a difference. Roger takes hold of both knees and forces them apart, and the legs tremble and Roger makes himself at home between them.
Hips – Still skinny and shapeless with adolescence, the shorts come right off.
Torso – The skin is smooth and supple without the hair of adulthood and the strain of athleticism. Roger runs his nose up the stomach, which quivers and rises with each breath, and he pauses to lick a nipple. It perks with attention and Roger laughs, the sound reverberating through the skin.
Hands – Which push him away, solid pressures against his shoulders, but when he touches Eric and runs a hand down his length, they claw at him desperately, they leave marks down his back. That's okay; Roger supposes it's a good enough trade for this. The hands flutter all over the place when Roger strokes him. They settle somewhere behind his shoulder blades, somewhere between rejection and foundation.
Arse – Soft, and it twitches in Roger's hand. He makes Eric lick his fingers and he puts his fingers right where he wants them, and they come out wet and slippery.
Mouth – Always open, whether speaking to Sam or saying things like stop, don't come any closer and don't, no and ah, Roger. It lets out a whimper when Roger bites his collarbone but the cry doesn't escape his throat when Roger pushes in and burrows in deep.
Eyes – Two, blue, clear and wide from panic, hazed and overwhelmed when Roger keeps thrusting. They keep him grounded until they're closed and Eric bites his lip, willing himself not to believe he feels like this, when Roger is whispering sharp and jagged words in his ear and touching him. Pushing into him and he won't look at the light of day, not now.
He comes, and Roger thinks it's all of these. It's all of these, all of these.
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Note: Written for the prompt A person gives a list of things he loves about another person only I made it dubcon. I will never write dubcon again. Thanks for reading.