“Shit,” I murmur at the sight of it. The old blood stains on the wood, the glint of the blade. Sharp and rusty, but I know it’s strong enough to do damage. I’ve witnessed it.
“Scared?” he taunts, and I swallow.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
And then, he swings it down right beside my head, and I let out a blood curdling scream, but my eyes are locked open wide as the blade lodges itself in the wood beside my head. I think even some of my hair is caught beneath it because I can’t move.
“Oh, now that’s a pretty sight,” Static murmurs, dragging his ungloved finger over where his blade is wedged.
I feel like I’m about to spew vomit.
“Hope you weren’t too fond of your hair,” he adds as an afterthought before yanking his axe back up and slinging it overhis shoulder. I blink rapidly a few times, trying to process his words, before I shake my head.
I don’t really care about much of anything besides this, at the moment.
I’m sure I’ll carelater.But right now, I just don’t have the capacity.
“Always such a good boy for me, Madison,” he purrs gently, and I shiver. “I wonder how else you can be good for me…”
“Wh-what do you w-want?” I ask, stuttering over the words, surprised I’m even able to make out the words.
He seems to think about it, painted eyebrows scrunching together for a minute before a wide smile breaks across his face, sharp teeth flashing in the light.
“I want you…mmm,yeah. I want you to taste me like I tasted you.”
“Oh,” I squeal, face flaming at the thought. “I-I have, I’ve never…”
“Oh, treat. Most people haven’t donethis.”
This? What is he talking about?My mind starts swirling at a million miles a minute as Static stands in front of me. He glances to the right before tossing his axe to the floor, and then, he starts undoing his pants—which are one half black with the other half black and white striped. He drags them over his thick, black boots that are laced up tight and covered in chunky buckles. His shirt, which he starts to unbutton next, is striped like half of his pants. And the more he exposes his stomach, the drier my mouth becomes.
“Like what you see, my treat?” he taunts me, and I flush from head to toe at being called out. But Static looks absolutely incredible. I’ve never seen someone who looks so good.
He’s slim with the lightest ridges of abs across his midsection.His chest is narrow with a few scattered tattoos, and his nipples are small, but he has two spiked hoops through each one, and I swallow thinking about the needle that would have gone through such a sensitive area—how badly it must’ve hurt.
But the piercings match the rest of Static’s. From the two in his lip, the spiky one in his nose, the stretched black ones in his earlobes.
Every part of him fits.
It’s like he knows exactly who he is, and he has no shame in being that person.
And I… I admire that about him.
Static’s briefs are black and tight around his muscular tattooed thighs, and the moment he hooks his fingers into the waistband and starts dragging them down said thighs, I choke on my own saliva.
I don’t know what he wants from me, but I have a feeling that in this moment, I’ll give him whatever he wants.
It’s… different this time.
Iwantto be here.
I want this—just as much as he does.
I crave the freedom it brings, the resolution that settles deep in my bones when all is said and done. The fear, the trepidation, the overwhelming desire that burns through me hotter than flames—it all culminates into something so great that onlyhecan give me.
Freedom from who I thought I was. Freedom to be who I really am, as messed up as I may be.
