Brad stares up at the ceiling from where he lays on the bed. He's purged in darkness. The curtains are drawn, giving no opportunity for even the slightest bit of light to seep in, but he liked it this way, he realizes. He likes the darkness.
He hears the front door slam open downstairs, but he already knows who it is, he doesn't have to guess. The clinking of stainless steel being shifted around in the kitchen is apparent now and Brad wonders what's happening downstairs. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns to his side, the mattress squeaking as his weight shifts.
Brad feels his heartbeat speed up in time with the sound of someone coming up the stairs. He hears the padded footsteps and the creaking of the steps beneath heavy feet and he doesn't move or open his eyes, he can't.
The door of his room swings open with a shuddering bang and the light from the hallway outside leaks in. Brad hears the soft click of boots against the hardwood floor of his bedroom and his eyes fly open.
He finds himself staring at Adam who is standing at the doorway. The only problem was that it doesn't look like Adam. His eyes are too dark to be Adam's, too evil. For a moment, Brad is unsure and he swallows hard against the dryness in his throat.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Adam snarls. His voice is low and sharp and Brad flinches. He doesn't know how to answer that question, doesn't know what Adam expects of him.
Adam doesn't wait for him to reply, "You don't think," he snaps. "You never fucking think."
Adam's words are sharp. It cuts Brad, slicing him open and his eyes automatically shift downwards. And then he sees it, a gleam in the dimness of the room. It was knife, carefully concealed and wrapped perfectly in Adam's hand. Brad's eyes shoot back up to Adam's face and his expression must have given away his shock and fear because Adam's lips almost immediately forms into a twisted, almost cruel smile.
"Kneel down with your back against the wall and strip," Adam commands, his voice quiet and low, promising something dark.
Brad scrambles off the bed without hesitation, appreciating the routine command. His knees are shaking though, as he sinks down into position; He wrenches apart his fly and struggles to kick off his jeans and shrug out of his shirt, and then he's naked.
Adam's towering over him from across the room and he's still fully clothed, which makes Brad feel inferior and so very exposed. The realization makes his face heat and he can't look up at Adam. Can't face the fact that Adam has that much control over him. It's unnerving.
Adam's watching him with unnaturally dark eyes and when Brad's fully naked he stalks towards Brad, approaching slowly. The knife is still gleaming in his hand, the threat apparent, and this time, Brad can't help but to stare up at Adam, unable to tear his gaze away.
He lets out a gasp and chokes down another quick breath as the knife extends towards him. Brad starts shaking involuntarily as Adam runs his fingers through Brad's hair gently, and then almost immediately grabs a fistful of his hair and wrenches back, the other hand pressing the tip of the knife against Brad's cheek.
Brad wonders if he's bleeding as he feels the pressure of the cold blade of the knife against his skin. He wonders if it's blood dripping down his cheek or just his tears. He can't tell.
His skin feels damp and cold. Adam drags the knife, pressing down harder as it crosses the fleshy part of Brad's cheek, but it doesn't hurt. At least that's what he tells himself. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. The knife tip continues over Brad's lower lip, and he can tell now that it isn't cutting his skin, it isn't making him bleed, but Adam digs it in anyway, just to the point of breaking through but not beyond.
"So tell me, Brad, what were you doing at a club when I specifically told you to stay at home?" Adam asks calmly, a sharp contrast to the predatory look evident on his face.
"I...I don't know," Brad answers pathetically, his voice a mere whisper. He's being honest, he really doesn't know.
Adam lets his grip on Brad's hair go and slams his hand on the wall above Brad's head. "When I ask you a question, you answer it properly," Adam growls through gritted teeth, right at Brad's face. But Brad can't seem to find his voice. It's like he lost everything the moment Adam stepped into the room. He feels stupid, but then again, maybe he is.
Brad feels the knife travel down to his neck, pressing down. His heartbeat quickens. But there's something else. He's aroused, and he finds that the harder Adam presses the blade against his skin, the more pleasure seems to shoot down him, pulsing through his cock. He's half hard now and he silently prays that Adam doesn't look down and realize that he's enjoying this.
Adam sinks down to his knees in front of him and traces the tip of the knife around the side of his neck, still teasing.
"Tell me who you were with," Adam murmurs, sounding sweet, but Brad stares into Adam's dark eyes, and he's not fooled.
"I— Just some friends," Brad's voice is barely a whisper, as if he's afraid. He is. "I promised them that I'd join them."
"You promised," Adam says. "Like you promised me you would listen to me? Are your promises to them more important than the ones to me? Is that what you're implying?"
Adam looks as if he's ready to kill. His eyes have gone impossibly darker and Brad's cowering now, visibly shaking under Adam's unfaltering gaze.
Brad shakes his head with tight, quick movements, careful not to press his throat against the sharp tip of the knife. "No— I.. I just wasn't thinking."
Adam nods as if he understands. His face smoothens a little and he looks less harsh, less.. animal. He lifts the knife from Brad's neck and sets the tip against his sternum instead.
His voice is calm and more controlled when he speaks again, "Be still now baby. Quiet and still. I'm gonna tell you the rules."
Rules. Brad can do rules. He can follow rules. He nods and clamps his lips together, determined to obey Adam.
"You're mine," Adam tells him. He sets the knife into motion, drags it around in a wide circle across Brad's pecs, around his nipple, back to the middle of his chest. "Your body, your mind, your blood. All mine."
The sharp point digs into Brad's skin and a bright bead of blood wells up making Brad suck in a sharp gasp of pain.
"You're not allowed to go out without my permission," Adam says. The knife digs in again and this time Brad can't hold back his cry. Adam reacts swiftly, his free hand backhanding Brad, throwing his face to the side. "I told you to be quiet," Adam says harshly and Brad's only response is a muffled whimper as he looks down to see the little spots of blood on his chest.
Adam continues, "You're not allowed to touch anyone, or let them touch you. Noone. I don't want to hear your fucking excuses. You belong to me. Do you understand?" Adam growls.
Brad nods mutely and clenches his hands into fists. Adam twists the knife and another sharp stab of pain forces a cry out of Brad, and again, Adam slaps him and snaps, "Shut. Up." Adam's being cruel. And it hurts Brad more than he will let show.
"You're not. Allowed. To lie to me. Again," Adam tells him, the initial calm in his voice breaking into anger. His tone makes Brad look back up, and he opens his mouth wanting to apologize, but the knife slides across his nipple, slicing the skin in a long, smooth line and Brad screams.
Adam's hand comes into contact with his cheek again, this time harder again, and again when Brad doesn't – can't quiet down. He can't breathe through the pain. Blood slides slickly down his chest, and it dries cold. A sob catches in Brad's throat, and the tears flow down his cheeks in earnest. He hears the metallic clatter of the knife as Adam tosses it away but he still hurts, all the cuts hurt.
Still, he forces his eyes open. Forces himself to look up and catch Adam's gaze, but Adam only holds it for a moment before he bends down and flattens his tongue against the cuts on Brad's chest, licking the blood right off his skin. Adam can taste the metallic sweetness rush into his mouth and over his tongue, and he wants more. Wants all of Brad.
It's a delicate moment. Adam's tasting Brad, drinking him from the inside out and he leans in to kiss Brad, letting him taste the coppery flavor of his own blood, sharing it. His kiss is deep and possessive.
"Get on the floor," Adam commands and for a moment Brad doesn't want to move. Doesn't want to let the intimate moment slip away, but he obeys anyway.
He gets onto his back on the cold wooden floor, raising his arms above his head and spreads his knees to make space for Adam, which Adam fills almost immediately.
Adam rests his hand on Brad's chest and pushes hard, as if he's struggling. But he isn't. He's pliant, just the way Adam likes him. The only thing it did was to send sparks of pain coursing through Brad's body as the pressure intensifies on his fresh wounds.
Brad feels tears escaping as the pain takes over. It feels as if his chest is being torn open with the pressure Adam is applying. He tries to blink away the tears when he hears the click of Adam's belt unbuckling and the loud scrape of the zipper being undone.
Brad's gaze shoots down to see Adam pushing his pants down and taking his cock out, stroking it, teasing him. He doesn't have to wait long before Adam's hooking an arm underneath his knees and he feels the slick push of Adam's cock at his hole.
Brad holds his breath as Adam pushes in just a fraction, smearing precome around Brad's ass, and stretching it just enough for the head of Adam's cock. Then he pulls back out and positions himself again. Adam's teasing him, he knows it, and he would have begged by now, begged for his ass to be filled, begged for Adam to use him, if not for the pain. He can barely breathe or think.
"Open up for me," Adam demands as he forces his cock past all resistance. Brad grits his teeth, trying to focus on opening himself up for Adam instead of the nagging pain from his recently sliced open chest.
Brad desperately tries to ignores the pain from his chest and the pain from his hole being so brutally stretched open by Adam's thick cock and rocks into his thrusts, spreading his legs and letting the sensations consume him. Letting Adam inside him. He wants to make it up to Adam, needs Adam to take him.
Adam grips Brad's hips harshly and pulls him until he can't go in any further, as deep inside him as he can manage. He pulls back out fully before slamming back into him again making Brad cry out.
"Fuck, Brad. So fucking perfect for me," Adam pants, and he picks up a punishing pace, not letting Brad adjust. His thrusts are frantic and artless and rough and it's just what Brad needs. Craves for.
Brad feels taken in a way he has never felt before. He wants Adam to take. Wants him to take everything away. And Adam does. He gives no thought to Brad's pleasure or comfort as he slams into Brad, again and again and again.
Adam's hands slide up to Brad's neck and rests heavily around his throat. Strangely, that feels right too, but still, Brad tenses up in anticipation. He doesn't have to wait long though, because Adam's hands are tightening around him slowly and at first it's a struggle to draw a breath in, until finally, he can't breathe. Can't breathe at all.
"Fuck yeah, Brad, look at you," Adam says. "All blood and bruises. So marked up and pretty for me. Feel my cock inside you baby? Feel me inside you? You're mine." The words try to find it's way inside Brad's hazy brain but at this point, he can't understand. Can't get his brain to function, but it doesn't matter.
Adam comes with his hands around Brad's throat, spilling himself into the heat of Brad's body, lost in the high, with Brad so fucking pliant and perfect under him. He drifts for a moment, catching his breath and relaxing the grip of his hands around Brad's throat before looking down at him. His eyes are glazed and his lips are parted, gasping for air. His chest is heaving in an effort to draw in oxygen.
Adam heads to the bathroom to get a washcloth, leaving Brad on the floor momentarily. He carries Brad and puts him on the bed and cleans them both up, paying special attention to Brad's chest. It had stopped bleeding by now and when they're both clean, Adam closes the door of their bedroom, plonks down onto their bed and wraps his arms around Brad and watches as he falls asleep in his arms, evidently too tired to say anything.
Adam makes a mental note to praise Brad in the morning for being so good, he reminds himself how lucky he is to have someone who is so open to try the freaky shit he's into. He leans in to kiss Brad's forehead and whispers an 'I love you' before he too slips into unconsciousness with his angel beside him.
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