“Just so you know, you’re the Georgiy of my life,” he says as I gesture for him to lead the way out.
“I am.”
“Yeah. Georgiy of my life, who plans on getting me squeaky clean.”
I do plan on getting him squeaky clean, to watch that blood slip down the shower drain and disappear from sight. To watch that pale, scarred skin become more and more evident the cleaner he gets.
I want to trace every one of those cuts. Tie him down so he can’t move and etch some more onto his skin.
I want to mark him on every limb. Not just his ass. Everyone who looks at him will know he’s mine.
As we move through the dark, dank tunnels, I shuck my surgical gown and toss it aside. It can be burned along with everything else. My scrubs can go into the washer with some bleach, but at this moment, I find I just want to get under some water with some soap so I can have access to him. So he can be clean and fresh, so my skin won’t itch when I touch him.
I watch as Bane gets progressively more and more naked the further he walks. My eyes land on his bloody feet, and I want to redress the cuts on his soles when the shower is through. At least for now, he’s wearing some slides, and his feet are mostly protected by bandages.
With how he operates, it will take ages for them to heal properly.
I’ll have to make sure he takes care of them.
I’ll have to punish him if he doesn’t.
Not sure that would be much of a motivation for him, though. He might deliberately try to push all my buttons so he can face the punishments.
The wall creaks open, and we make our way down the hallway through the carnage. There is blood spatter on the walls, men dead on the carpets.This is going to take ages to clean, I think as I step over a dead body and move toward the bedroom. As we do, we see Doc running back and forth downstairs, working on several guards who have been injured. Angel is, of course, helping.
I should as well—I am a surgeon after all—but these aren’t my men and I couldn’t care less about any of them.
Bane is my task. He’s the most important.
My eyes flick to Bane, who is now completely naked, his ass wiggling as he bounces down the hall. Even through the mess surrounding him, I find that the only word left to describe him is perfect.
That’s something I never thought I’d say.
I hate disorder, hate how things don’t align, how they don’t wrap up nicely, but the chaos and mess suit him. It seems to suit me as well because by the time we move into the bedroom, my cock is hard.
“In the shower,” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes.
“I know. I know.”
The defiance and attitude make me grab a rope as I move into the bathroom. I’m going to tie him up and scrub him clean. The sass can wait. I’m going to make him sorry for talking back.
And then fuck that mouth with my tongue.
Bane skids into the shower stall, nearly slipping onto the tiles as I approach. I watch as he shakes his head under the water and then jiggles his dick under the spray.
I stand on the opposite side of the glass, stripping out of my clothes as the water turns pink beneath his bandaged feet. He didn’t even undress them. Of course he didn’t. He has no self-preservation.
He’s now flapping his dick around, like a helicopter, and I move inside, watching as he stutters and lets his eyes track over my body, his pupils blown out.
“What are you doing with your dick?” I ask.
“Getting some wind,” he replies.
“It is not a propeller. Stop that.” I slap his hand, and in turn, his dick, and he gasps, his cock growing erect.
“Oh, do that again. Slap my helicopter dick.”
“Bane,” I growl as I pull the rope from behind my back. “Arms up. I’m going to restrain you since you cannot seem to listen.”
