God damn he’s beautiful. Looming over me, holding my dick hostage, threatening to do something ungodly right here in this torture shanty like it’s the fucking apocalypse and nothing matters anymore.
All my thoughts of the outside world and things that are supposed to matter officially fly out of the non-existent window.
“So? Am I right? Does the poor strung-up rabbit want to be freed, or does he want to get his dick wet?”
“Um,” I say like fucking moron. “Both, please.”
The man shrugs and makes amehface. “You can’t have everything you want in life. You have to pick one, and maybe I’ll give you the other one as well if I feel like it. Or maybe I’ll kill you after. We’ll find out.”
Then his face shifts into a grin, but there’s no mirth to it. Flat affect, just his mouth twisted up and pulled to the side like a carnival clown.
Fuck, why does that make me want him even more? I knew I wasn’t super mentally healthy. You probably can’t be if you’re going to be a career criminal. But I never realized I was quite this fucked up.
“Dick, please,” I blurt out without thinking about it.
Like a child begging for dessert. Absolutely pathetic, but I don’t even regret it.
If he tries to kill me after, I’ll figure that out when it happens.
Or maybe I’ll just die happy.
He tilts his head at me again, obviously not expecting that answer but not displeased.
“Alright, little rabbit.”
Without further ado, he starts to strip.
Jesus Christ. I thought he was maybe offering to blow me. Or jack us both off, or something. Not anything that requires him to get fully fucking naked. But here he is, exposing miles of tanned, smooth skin, marred only by the occasional scar. Not a single tattoo in sight, which is not something I think I’ve ever seen in person. Not with the kind of company I keep.
He’s just as cut as I thought. A tapered waist, lines of definition everywhere, and absolutely no body hair from the neck down, like he waxes or something. The kind of torso I would expect to see oiled up in a magazine. Or maybe a Greek statue.
I’m not that picky when it comes to partners. I’ve been attracted to a wide range of body types, and while I make it a point to be as muscular as I can, I don’t give a fuck about there being some fat on top of it. And I definitely don’t care about body hair shit, on me or anyone else.
But in this moment, with this person, I want nothing more than to see him sweat-drenched and slippery before running my hands and tongue over every inch of that tight little body. So far, there’s not a single thing about him that I’m not attracted to.
He’s wearing a jock strap, which is so sexy I might incinerate right here in my torture chair, but also a bitter disappointment when it means I don’t get to see his dick.
As soon as he finishes efficiently stripping down—ignoring me the whole time—he does something that I really do thinkwill make me burst into flames. He reaches into the pocket of his abandoned jeans, pulls out an individual packet of lube, rips it open with his teeth and then gets to work with the same mix of clinical efficiency and wild enthusiasm that he just had as he butchered my kidnappers.
His fingers get coated and then plunged directly into his asshole. This is obviously something he does regularly, because he’s quick as he works his own hole open. Soon he’s breathless again, his hard cock pushing at the pouch of his jock, the room filled with nothing but his occasional moan and the wet sounds of him fingerfucking himself for me.
Jesus fucking Christ. If I make it through this without coming in my pants before he touches me, I’ll be proud.
As soon as he decides he’s ready, he pulls out his fingers and wipes them on one of the dead guy’s shirts, zero fucks given. Then he saunters back to me, once again a lion on the prowl.
My hands flex as I reach for him, even though I’m still bound.
“Untie me, please,” I groan. “I need to touch you.”
He tuts me for a few seconds with a condescending look, shaking his head.
“No. I like you like this.”
I groan in frustration, then my hips buck up, also desperate for him to come closer. For me to be able to put my skin on his delicious golden skin, that’s only a few inches away.
“Kiss me,” I beg on an exhale.
That earns me a silvery little laugh from him, making him toss his head back as if he’s genuinely amused.
