"R-r-r-r-gr," Yao purred. With his small hands, he pulled the Englishman towards the bed.

"That little hole better be dripping for me," Arthur growled. You monster, that voice inside his head threw at him again, but he could ignore it this time entirely.

He lifted up the soft, loose fabric of the blanket on the bed and, after a moment's hesitation, threw it over his and the Chinese boy's heads. Yao squirmed, but Arthur pulled him snugly inside, trapping him against his bare midriff. Arthur's breath was hot and humid against the boy's flesh as he pulled at his clothes, feverishly undressing him; all the while, Yao was maneuvering coyly out of the Englishman's grasp, covering his bare chest with kisses. When they were both naked, a large palm found the nape of Yao's neck, and he was pulled forward.

Yao felt a tongue descending on one nipple. Tears nearly sprang to his eyes, as the Englishman was being so gentle—he shuddered at the sensation. Arthur's lips were soft, his tongue smooth and very wet, his teeth barely noticeable at first. As he started to nip gently upwards, towards the curve of Yao's neck, Arthur encased the boy within his arms; Yao could feel the Englishman's heart beating fast against one sharp shoulder-blade.

"I have something more to give you," Arthur said. "Turn around, child."

Following the command, the boy moved to lie on his stomach, where Arthur laid his cheek above the small of Yao's back, the fine strands of his blond hair kissing all over it. The boy stiffened as a large hand trailed to his entrance. Yao's grasp on the sheets tightened as Arthur began to massage his entrance, his knuckles pushing between his cheeks and corkscrewing him. All the while, his free hand was stroking Yao's lower belly; Yao's member grew hard.

"No," Yao gasped, and Arthur grinned against the boy's sharp shoulder blades. Slyly inserting his own, much larger member against Yao's entrance, he inserted it roughly.

"Shhh," Arthur breathed into Yao's skin, above Yao's high-pitched wail of "Noooo!"

Arthur pinned down the flailing child, feeling joyous little prickles of excitement as Yao struggled against the iron grip around his waist. Deeper and deeper he inserted into Yao, eliciting in him a strange thrill as he saw his member disappearing, increment by increment—

"Ahhhh! AHHHH!" Yao screamed, and one hand wrapped around his mouth, muffling the cries, while the other stroked his member. A trickle of tears hit Arthur's gagging hand as he grunted in frustration—the boy was tight, and so dry; in his fevered impatience he had not prepared the child properly at all.

"Please!" Yao half-sobbed behind Arthur's hand. Arthur held onto him only tighter, pushing through the discomfort. "You're splitting me in half!" Arthur winced once or two, persisting until the small passage could accommodate his organ perfectly. The sensation was overwhelming; proving more than what the boy could endure.

When the boy came, Arthur felt the muscles contracting around his own member, and with a loud grunt he followed, squirting into the boy until there was nothing left. Yao sobbed into the sheets, his small body wracked; as Arthur pulled away, a warm reflux of semen trickled down the boy's thighs.

"I love you," Arthur said to that little face, half-hidden behind a curtain of black silken strands.

Monster.

"I love you, Arthur," the exquisite little voice came, only slightly muffled from the sheets.

Staring at the naked child, Arthur was unable to tear his eyes away. How lovely Yao was; how very striking. He wanted to seize hold of him, pin him down and… and… do this to him over and over tonight…

Yao let out a dry sob as he turned to fully face Arthur. His golden eyes were swimming in tears.

"Shh. Come here," Arthur whispered, and the child came over to him, obediently and meekly. The minute Arthur had wrapped his arms around the child, Yao closed his eyes and began breathing in a more relaxed manner.

"Go to sleep, Precious," the Englishman sighed, and that voice in his head, far from calming down, only seemed to grow in volume and hatred.

His passion spent, Arthur was able to more closely examine the little prize in his arms, one hand caressing the moon-shaped face in loving detail. Yao lay cradled in his arms, apparently asleep, his long, lush eyelashes unmoving.

Arthur combed his fingers through the hair, admiring all the unexpected colors to be found in it, hidden inside the deep, deep black: rich shades of dark blue, nearly indigo; wisps of cobalt, a single, strange strand of auburn. The boy's skin, nestled against his, was like nothing he'd ever seen. On every limb, on the boy's small stomach and hips, it smelled luxuriously aromatic; his thin pubic hairs were shiny with sweat and semen.

Preying on innocents… you're the lowest of the low.

As Arthur drifted off to sleep, he was plagued with a sudden, dreadful anxiety that he'd somehow never see the boy again.