Aaaaaaaannnnd things keep rolling! I hope this story isn't turning to crap. The middle-end is a little chunky, but I'm happy with the way it ended up. The next chapter will be something new, at least.
Review please!
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Bryan's POV.
Okay, I take back what I said earlier. Now I'm in a world of trouble.
He's dead.
Or at least, I think he is. He's not moving. He's only a few feet away from me, but I'm shaking with adrenaline and rage too much to tell if he's even breathing. I move closer, cautiously. Cutie? You okay?
I poke him. He doesn't move. Shit. Okay, check his pulse. Press your fingers there… Oh thank Moses, he's alive. My fingers are still on his neck. I kneel and slide my hand beneath him, flipping him onto his back. I can't get over how light he is. His face is wet with tears. I smile. At least he stopped screaming, the birds in the rafters were freaking out.
Heh. They'll freak out again next time he screams, but I'll be doing that. I lean in and feel the warmth radiating off of his small form. His chest is slowly rising and falling, and upon impulse, I rest my head on it. I listen to the beat of his heart for a long time and close my eyes, my hands on his stomach. I move them around slowly and hold his sides. So tiny! I run my hands up to his chest without moving my head, and back down to his hips. I'm smiling. I've never had such complete control over another human being before. I could do anything to this kid, anything at all. I could rape him right now if I wanted too. No wonder Boris loved his job so much.
Wow. I just had the oddest urge to pull his shirt off. I smiled, suddenly recognizing that if I wanted too, there was nothing stopping me. So I do. I pull it up over his head, his arms shifting upwards before the article of clothing slides off. It's still warm. I press my face into it and breathe deeply before I rest the side of my head back down onto his chest. If I press, I can feel his ribs. After a few moments, he starts shivering. Aw, I'll make you warm you poor thing. I move upward so that my chest is covering most of his torso, and rest my head on the V-line of his neck. I could fall asleep like this, I swear. But I can't let myself.
He smells like strawberries. Again with the strawberries, what is with that? I twitch. Does he taste like strawberries? I lick his neck slowly. Nope. But he tastes sweater then I thought he would. Adorable, he's like a giant piece of candy. And I just have to take off the wrapper to enjoy it.
Music. I blink my eyes open, tongue still against his neck. What is that? I pull away reluctantly and listen. It's coming from below him. I shift and slide a hand down his back, letting it linger on his ass. There's something in his back pocket, and in the next instant, I realize it's a cell phone. I blink again, startled. Pulling it out, I lift it to see just what is causing it to ring.
Lee
The illuminated face of the cell phone read the name of the last person I wanted to think about. I'm about to ignore it completely when I think about the fun I could have, and happily flip it open.
"Hello Leeroy."
"Wha-…. Bryan! Where the fuck are you, what have you done to Kevin?!"
Ff. What a bitch. "Calm down. I'm just having a little fun with him, that's all. He's fine."
"For how long?!"
Ooh, he's smart. "Heh. Until I feel like I'm ready for a little more than just licking."
I can hear the disgust and horror in his reply. "I'm going to kill you, Bryan. I'm going to kill you for this."
"Yeah? Fine. Good luck finding me to do that."
The phone shifted and I could hear muffled voices. And then another voice all together.
"Fucking hell, Bryan, what have you done?! You've screwed us all over, you dumb prick! Why couldn't you leave that little brat alone?!"
Tala. I snort with laughter and stroke Kevin's hair. He's still out cold. How sweet.
"Oh calm down. You're not the one at risk of a lifetime in jail."
"But I could get charged for not turning you in, dumbass! Bryan, just give up and let the kid go, you're only doing more damage by keeping him!"
"Ff." I roll my eyes and shift my position, sitting up and resting my weight on Kevin's chest. He coughs a few times and moans absently, making me laugh. "Oh piss off, you pratt. You're no better with your fetishes. I'm keeping this kid and you know full well that I'm not going to change my mind. So butt out."
"Brya-" He starts angrily, but I hang up. I slide back down into my prior position and break the phone into two pieces with a single flick of the wrists, and drop it to the floor. I slide my hands back onto Kevin's ass and massage it happily, before I lean in and suck on his collar bone.
God, this feels great. What a rush.
-x-x-x-
Kevin's POV.
Stop the room, I want to get off. My head is throbbing and realing. Something is sucking on my neck, and then hands running up and down from my lower back to the back of my upper legs. Back and forth, squeezing along. I moan. What happened? Where am I?
Wind. Screaming. A pipe. In stop-action flashes, the events that had recently happened began to course back into my head. I crack my eyes open and feel my face flush. Bryan is lying on top of me. For a moment, I can't tell what he's doing, until I hear him moan in enjoyment.
He's molesting me. One hand, I think his right, slides up and around onto my stomach. His hands are so huge, I'm so small beneath him. It doesn't help that I can't move. The hand starts to travel lower toward my shorts, and then suddenly, underneath. I flinch and moan again, but he doesn't notice. He's taken my shirt off. Suddenly, he's holding me. I gasp sharply and my eyes fly open. Now he notices, but he doesn't stop. I gag. He chuckles and rubs his hand back and forth. I'm flinching repeatedly now, face burning. I squirm in every direction, but I can't get out from under him. I'm whimpering. Something rough and wet runs up my neck again and I cry out, affiliating the feeling with a human tongue.
His hand continues to jerk. I start blathering, begging for him to stop. No, don't do this Bryan, it's wrong, it's sick, please stop. I realize, suddenly, that I'm not talking. I'm just crying, and he's watching my face closely. I try to take a deep breath and gag again. Okay, screw that. I pull a hand down and do the only thing I can; I smack him hard, across the face.
And it did damage. Shocked, Bryan pulled back, removing his hands from me. He stared down at my face blankly, surprised. I whimpered and pulled back, out from under him. My shirt has been discarded on the floor a few feet away, and I scramble to get to it. He doesn't stop me as I pull it back on, but when I turn back to him, he's moving toward me. His face is still blank. My cell phone is lying on the floor, shattered. Shit. I'm still crying, still sobbing. I back away, barefoot. I have no idea where I'm going. He keeps moving toward me slowly, hands outstretched. Neither of us say anything. Perhaps I should.
"Get away from me, stop it!"
Well hell. That came out as a raspy whisper. My head his pounding mercilessly. I want the pain to go away so badly, I want this to stop. I start to feel the air around me rush in what was, at first, a gentle breeze. It picked up. His eyes were blank, and his hands were outstretched, his fingers spread like a fan. He's doing it. Nests are being blown from the rafters above, birds are fluttering desperately in the sudden rush. My hair flies in and out of my face, but the tears keep coming. I keep backing up. He keeps coming forward. I stop, suddenly, by back pressed against a wall. I spread my hands against it and close my eyes tightly, trying to brace against the powerful winds.
"Just do yourself the favor and come to me on your own volition, baby." He's shouting over the roar. I hear the beginnings of splitting wood. I don't know which to focus on. He keeps talking.
"You'll like it, you'll see. Just come to me." Splinters. Cracking. Bryan's chilling voice. And then, all of a sudden, the floor is giving way beneath me. I see Bryan rising up and out of side, before the rungs of a ladder are flying passed me at a startling speed. The floor far below approaches fast. I reach out, feeling my palms smack against the first few runs hard before I finally catch something. My weight drags down, and I almost lose my grip, but suddenly, I'm just hanging there. I look up, horrified. The trap door had cracked under my weight. How could anything crack under my weight? It doesn't matter. I got away. I look down. Five feet left. I can make that. I let go, hearing the wind die down above me and Bryan roar in anger. I hit the floor and turn, finding a winding staircase. Without thinking, I feel myself leaping down it, taking the steps five or six at a time. I don't misplace my feet once.
Wind comes back. It blows be against the walls of three landings before I reach the bottom floor. An old door was locked, but it was my only way out. I shove my arm against it again and again, struggling to unlock it. The gears had rusted over, apparently. I swear again and again. My hair begins to fly all around my face again; Bryan is getting closer.
Crunk-chk
The door is giving! Oh my god, I'm out! I don't even notice the snow, the freezing temperatures, or the fact that I'm barefoot. I don't notice that it's dark out, and no one is around. Wind whips around me as I race blindly into the snow storm, not caring where I ended up. Anywhere but there. Anywhere but with Bryan. But I can hear his crunching footsteps behind me, growing closer. I can't feel my feet. Adrenaline is pulsing through every vein in my body, but he's still gaining speed. I think I just screamed for help… Oh, I just did it again. Will anyone answer? I don't care, it's the most I can do.
Blackness. Snow. Freezing cold. Wind, rushing all around me. Crunching footsteps behind me, a hand in my peripheral vision, and then suddenly, light. Warm, glowing light. I pound towards it, and my pursuer seems to vanish.
Suddenly, I'm not in the snow anymore. There's wood beneath my feet, and warmth. Well, not immediate warmth. I'm completely numb. I can hear a woman gasping, speaking in Russian quickly and with shock in her voice. I trip and fall to the floor, smacking it. Things are blacking out again. God damn it, how many times am I going to black out? I roll over. Stay awake, stay awake, he'll rape me if I don't!
But someone leans over me, and it's not Bryan. It's a young girl, and then right beside her, a young boy. Twins. They're frightened, but curious. Their mother shoos them away and leans in herself, panicked. The door slams shut against the cold. The last thing I see is the face of the woman, so worried and comforting that I stop screaming.
-x-x-x-
Damn it! Shit! He got away, how could I let him get away?! I was so close to getting what I wanted! Why couldn't I just have raped him when I had the chance? I pound my first back into the wall. Across the cobblestone street is the green door to the flat he had escaped into. I couldn't let myself be seen, not with the trouble I'm in. But he's in there, I know it. He's hiding. And I'm going to wait for him to come out. Then I'll grab him, and run far, far away, where he can't run away any more. I'll find some disserted island and live there with him forever. I'll…
I'll take him to the abbey. It's abandoned, after all. No one is there. No one will find us. There are all sorts of locks and bars and cells in the abbey. He'll never get away. He'll be mine and mind alone forever.
The door opens. A man steps into the snow. Its early morning, and the snow had stopped falling hours ago. Still, it piled up three feet. Dim white light is illuminating everything. The man closes the door and locks it behind him, before he starts walking. He's got a large cloth bag under his arm. I can only assume he's going grocery shopping. So he'll be gone. Should I storm the house while he's out? I don't know who else is in there, beside my neko-jin. It wasn't a stretch to assume it was just a woman and their children. I could easily take that. They probably didn't even speak English, or at least not well. Besides, if he had already told them what had happened, the police would be swarming the place and everywhere nearby, looking for me.
Damn little prick. I know I keep swearing that I'll hurt him, but it's harder than I thought. He's so fragile; I just want to touch him when I have the chance. Well now, I really am going to hurt him. I'm going to hurt him before I even whisk him away. Then he won't try to run again; he'll know what I can do. He'll be too afraid to run.
Maybe I'll break his leg or something. I don't know. I'm exhausted. And then I see them; two police. They're walking side by side, looking out across each street. I swallow and duck deeper into the alley, pressing myself against the wall. The crunching of their footsteps grow louder and louder before they start to fade.
I can't stay here. I need sleep too badly. But if I leave, he'll get away while I'm not here to catch him. And then what? He'll be in a hospital. Then his team will leave Russia. And I'll never see him again. Then I'll have to break into the abbey and steal one of the false identities they have stored there. I'll have to change my hair and seek a plastic surgeon.
Wait… That's it! I'll change who I am completely. He'll calm down, and then when I find him again his guard will be totally closed off; I'll have him in a heartbeat! I turn quickly and dart down the alley.
"Goodbye baby." I breathe as I run, the breath rushing out of my mouth in foggy clouds. "I'll see you soon."
-x-x-x-
Five months Later.
Kevin's POV.
Aw, afternoon naps. The pinnacle of summer vacations. I press my face into the pillow harder and purred. The sun fell through the leaded windows beside my head, and I reached back, pushing on the frame in the middle of the window with a little force. The two sections opened outward into nature, and the gentle summer breeze blew the white curtains around me in a bored fashion. I sighed and rolled onto my back, stretching.
What had happened last year was like a bad dream now. Once we returned home, the Blitzkrieg boys stopped trying to patch things over with us. Bryan vanished. I got out of the hospital after a bad fever, a broken collar bone, a concussion and a cracked shoulder blade. My family was overjoyed that I was safe. Time passed and I pushed the events from my mind. Lee stopped asking me how it had all happened. The family who owned the house I had stumbled into couldn't speak English, but they still called the police. Before anything else could happen, the woman had made me a nice bowl of soup, and the twins had showed me how they could read chapter books. I was still jumpy when the police arrived, but I had calmed considerably.
And here I lay, comfortable and warm, happy and safe. The nightmares that had unfolded were a thing of the past. I yawned and mewed a little, rolling my head to the side. I gazed out the window for a long time, watching the sun splash through the leaves and cause glittering shadows to dance across the flowers in my mother's garden. The bushes in the far end of our yard didn't catch my attention until I noticed something flash within the far bush. I blink and sit up slowly, curious, but whatever it was that made that flash was gone.
-x-x-x-
Bryan's POV.
Shit, that was close.
It's taken a year to find him. My hair is short and spiky, my nose is round, and my lips are paler. My name is Christian Sinclair. Or at least, that's my name to those who don't know me. Tala and Spencer are aware of what I'm doing. What I want to do. I just can't give up, not with the prize being so glorious. I remember the first day I saw him, so small and cute, so adorably innocent. He still is. He hasn't really grown at all. I had been watching him sleep, and as he woke up and began to move, I couldn't run away. Not until my camera glinted in the light, and he noticed.
I have too many pictures of him. I need to get help, I need to turn myself in. But then I'll never have him. Tonight, I think. Tonight will be a good night. His parents are going to a play tonight, he'll be all alone. Tonight.
Ooh, I'm getting giddy all over again. Four hours.
I bide my time. The sun sets. His parents pass through the front door. His mother reminds him not to set the house on fire. I wonder if he told anyone that I had molested him like that, all those months ago. It feels so long since I last touched him. I remember that feeling, suddenly. I want it again. The car pulls away, and I see a light go on in a room upstairs. He lives in a nice house. It's old, with vines growing up the brick front. There's a pond out back, nice a big, with black Koi fish in it. I slide toward the house. The front door is locked, but I pick it quickly and silently. It opens without noise, and I move into his home. It was so intimate, this feeling. Being in his house. I slide up the stairs. There's his room! I've never had my own room, not in a setting like this. Not with parents. Not with a family. I push his door open slowly, silently.
There he is. He's sitting on the floor, cross legged, back turned to me. He's leaning over a short table, drawing or writing. How cute, look how he holds the pencil! I step into the room. He has music playing, something catchy. I've heard it before. I recognize it to be a Russian band, but this version of the song is in English. I turn it off. He stops, tensing. He doesn't turn right away, but when he does, it's slow and afraid. His eyes meet my knees first. Then they travel upwards.
My new look doesn't do me justice; he recognizes me immodestly and lets the pencil fall from his hand. Horror takes over his facial features. I smile.
"Change your mind yet?" I ask simply. He opens his mouth to yell. I reach out and turn on the music again, boosting the volume to maximum. His cry is nothing in comparison.
I lunge at him. He dodges at first, but I catch him soon enough. I throw him to the floor and pull off my shirt. The music vibrates the floor. He pushed up, but I kick him back down. He's yelling for help, so afraid that he's already shaking. I hold him down and in a swift movement, pull off his shirt. To hell with cuddling. Finally, sense is with me; I'm going to go with my original impulse, and rape him. The song is still blasting. I tug his pants down. He's squirming strongly, but it's not doing him any good. I pull down my own pants. I pull him up and bend him over the small table. He pushes back, tears in his eyes. I turn the light off with a free hand. Now the whole house is dark. Then I lean in and press my chest against his back. He bucks, trying to break free. I smile, lick the side of his neck, and enter him.
The scream was louder than the music, but only just barely. Finally, time stops. I start thrusting, and close my eyes. He's screaming, begging, crying. I don't care. He's mine, all mine. It feels so good, I think I'm going to come before I've even made him scream my name. It might not matter though, I might not hear it anyway. The song ends and I hear a distinct scream from beneath me before another one, equally loud as the last, starts playing. I pull out of him and find my bag on the floor. He's gasping for breath, unable to move due to the pain. I take advantage of the moment and pull out the choke ball I had always seen him in in my mind's eye. I pull it around his face and into his mouth, strapping it behind his head. I spank him, feeling the rush of sexual pleasure rush across my finger tips. He pulls up, finally overcoming the pain, and I push back on top of him, entering him again. And it starts all over again.
I do it all night. I can't stop, it's just so good. Eventually, his voice grows so hoarse from screaming, and his head so light from not being able to breath, that he's reduced to gasping for breath, his head against the surface of the table. His eyes are half open, his face flushed a deep pink. Finally, I stop. Finally, I stand and dress myself, and then untie his wrists, undo the choke ball, un-handcuff his ankle from the leg of the table. He drops to the floor. I dress him after myself.
I feel bad. Is that really it? I want more. I want to take him with me. But I lift him and carry him to his bed, dropping him onto it carefully. I rest his head on a pillow and pull the blanket up to his shoulders, I sit down on the bed next to him and take a deep breath. He's trying not to look at me. I wipe my eyes and forehead; I had worked up a sweat. Then I lean in over him. He flinches.
"You tell anyone," I say slowly, threateningly, "And I will slit that pretty little throat of yours. I'll smear your blood all over your body. You hear me? I'll kill you if you tell a soul."
He whimpers, flinching, but he nods. I suppress a smile. All that time spent getting here, it was all worth it.
"Don't think I won't, you little mutt." Aha, racially offensive terminology. He flinches again. "If you tell a soul about what I did, I'll kill you and your family."
And before I can think, I hear myself saying this; "I'm coming back soon. I want to find you here, next time your parents go out. You'd better be alone. Or I'll kill you."
He nods. He's crying. On impulse, I lean in and kiss him full in the mouth. Then I stand. The music had stopped a long time ago. I took the small, stained rug out from beneath the table, and any other trace of my being there, and then I vanished.
God, that felt good.
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Nyeaahh. I feel too tired to keep going. It's not that short, just not as long as the other chapters. Boohoo. I have a sore throat. xP
So, now Kevin is in even more trouble than he was before. Good lord, Bryan is insane. Brownie points for being persistent, though. Sheesh. What a creep.