It feels like he’s marking me. Exactly like I was thinking about doing to him a few minutes ago. I don’t care though, because this seems like the closest I’m ever going to get to touching him.
His orgasm draws on and on, more cum spilling out of him than I was expecting. It drips down me, coating my dark chest hair and pooling in my belly button. When he’s finally finished, he keeps leaning for a second, catching his breath, before he finally releases his softening cock.
“Good job, tough guy,” he finally says on an exhale, before stepping away from me and taking his jock strap with him.
The next few seconds are all it takes for him to put his clothes back on, like nothing earth-shatteringly sexy happened here. Also like I’m not still strung up by my wrists, bleeding, but now covered in cum and with a full condom getting more uncomfortable on me by the second.
“So,” he says once he’s dressed again, knife in hand. “Do you think I should kill you or set you free?”
“I think my answer to that is pretty obvious,” I growl. At least now that I’ve come, a few more brain cells have returned to their functioning status. “The question here is what do you want?”
“Well, I was following you and your buddies when you got jumped. I saw the tattoos and knew you could lead me to who I’m looking for. Then all this happened and I went back and forth about whether to get involved. But frankly, I like murdering racists and homophobes. I don’t really need an excuse to kill one of the Aryan Brotherhood, so it seemed like a party. I guess now I just need to decide if you are going to be useful, or if you might rat me out and cause shit over my unsanctioned bloodbath. I don’t want to get in trouble with the boss.”
I think about it all for a minute. If he hates the Aryans and was following me, he must at least be connected. But I don’t know him, so maybe not Banna? Who could he be looking to get to through me? Padraig? Savage, just like these guys?
“Okay, well, who are you looking for?” I ask, still prepared to die to protect Sav if I have to.
“Someone named Colm. He’s supposed to be in charge here, and my boss sent a message for him.”
My pulse jumps, but outwardly I remain calm. At least this conversation is back to the things I’m good at keeping my composure for, unlike whatever the fuck we just did.
“Like a gun-to-the-face message or a piece of paper?”
He smiles. “If I tell you that, it would spoil the surprise. So, can you tell me where he is? Or do I need to cut up that pretty cock to get the information out of you?”
I sigh. “No need for more torture, I’ve had enough for one day, as pathetic as it was. If you want Colm, I’ll take you to him.”
He raises his eyebrows at me.
“Just cut me loose.”
There’s a long pause. “I hope you understand that I don’t care how big you are, if you try to fuck me over, or just fuck me, I will have absolutely no problem eviscerating you where you stand.”
He points to the bodies on the ground for emphasis, as if I could have forgotten the glorious massacre I witnessed a few minutes ago.
“You’re fine. I really will take you to him. He is the boss here, you’re right. Come on, let’s go before I lose all motor control in my hands and become completely useless to everyone.”
There’re a few more seconds of consideration, then he shrugs, looking unbothered.
The man steps close, cuts the ropes, and my arms drop to my side. Well, they kind of float down, because my muscles are all confused after this.
Almost immediately, the feeling of blood returning has me wanting to howl with pain, but I control myself. The man watches me the whole time with a blank expression, and I can’t tell if he’s impressed by my stoicism or unimpressed by everything about me in general.
Either way. I try to breathe through the worst of the pain, flexing my fingers until I have some control again, and my rational thoughts come back into focus. Then, when I’m ready to walk without keeling over, I look him in the eye.
“Are you gonna tell me who you are? Or do I have to guess?”
Another shrug. “You don’t know me.”
“Humor me,” I say, my voice raspy from abuse and frustration.
The man looks me in the eye, unamused. “Fallow. My name is Fallow.”
Chapter Two
Fallow
“Where’s your car?”
