Young-gi props his hip on a nearby table and crosses his arms, looking foreboding and sexy, staring at me with dark flames in his eyes. I shiver under his regard because I didn’t expect to see heat there, to see something a little dirty, a little possessive. I didn’t expect him to stare at me like I’m a treasure he wants to eat and fuck and hoard all at once. It’s a head rush to have him looking at me like that.
“Do you like it?” he asks, his voice gruff and low. “It’s for you.”
“I’d better finish unwrapping it then,” I quip. I toss the crowbar aside with a clang and grab Oscar by the shirt. With a grunt and a heave, I drag him up and over the edge and he hits the floor with a pained thud.
“Oooh.” I wince in sympathy. “That sounded like it hurt. You okay there, Oscar?”
Oscar, the maggot, whines and tries to talk through his cloth gag, his eyes wide and fixed on me pleadingly. When I don’t move to stop him, he reaches up with his bound hands and yanks the cloth from his mouth, spitting and coughing.
“Tommy! Tommy, please!”
“Oscar, Oscar, Oscar,” I interrupt, shushing him, crouching over him. “What happened, buddy? Karma finally caught up to you, hm?”
“We-we–” Oscar swallows hard, the whites of his eyes visible around the entire iris. “We had some good times, didn’t we? We were close, you and I, weren’t we? I–you were special to me, Tommy–I’d never–I mean–Please Tommy, please, for old times’ sake, just…just let me go, please!”
“Old times’ sake, huh?” I murmur to myself. I glance at Young-gi, wondering what he makes of all this. He’s changed positions now, gripping the table behind him with both hands, like he’s physically holding himself back. Like he wants to reach out and fuckinggetme, and the way he’s devouring me whole with his stare suddenly has my dick half hard.
Focus.
Right. Focus! “Oscar, we never had any good old days. Not once. Do you have any idea how many times I held a knife to your throat while you slept?”
“Wh-what?”
The memories come flooding back. Not that long ago, just a couple years, really. Certainly not long enough that I could forget.
“You’re scum, dude. And you showed me the worst side of you, because you were paying me.” I glance at Young-gi, but his hungry look doesn’t change. The reminder of my previous occupation never seems to phase him. With his obvious approval, I feel more confident as I continue, bigger and more powerful. “You didn’t rough me up too much, of course. But I heard that you hurt a few other boys, guys who worked blocks next to mine. You were meaner with them than me. Why is that, Oscar?”
“No! No, I never hurt nobody–” he tries to protest, but I roll my eyes.
“Shut up. I literally know you have. Just stop. Could part of you tell that I’d cut your tiny, pathetic dick off if you tried to make me bleed like you did with them? I should’ve killed you back then. I almost did so many times, but I was selfish; I was afraid of jail, Oscar. I didn’t think I could get away with murder a fourth time. Seems like bad odds, to me.”
Oscar pales, all his blood leaving his cowardly face, and I laugh. It’s not a mean or cruel laugh, it’s just one of genuine incredulity and amusement. For some reason, my fucked up brain thinks this is funny. He’s just so pathetic, it’s all so ridiculous, and the back of my mind is squealing like a teenage girl with a crush because Young-gi got Oscar forme.
I peek at him, make sure he’s still watching me, and get the dumbest masculine urge to puff up and show off for him. I’ve never been so stupid over anybody before, but he makes me this way and I can’t say I hate it.
He did this for me. For me. For ME.I love that. Even though it’s insane and bloody and weird, and it just shows how psycho Young-gi is and how broken I am, I love that he did something for me, even something like this. It speaks to me. To my deep and shameful desire to be wanted, protected, possessed.
And thinking about this is making my dick hard. With an uncomfortable cough, I straighten from my crouch, leaving Oscar on the floor. “Young-gi, it was…um, well, notniceof you, but certainly…somethingof you to grab him and, like, plan to murder or torture him for me or whatever–”
Oscar bleats with fear and starts trying to squirm away like a caterpillar, so I put my boot on his back to keep him in place. “But I really don’t give a shit about him. He’s small fish. He’s nothing to me. I mean, it’s the thought that counts, totally, and I love this. I can’t tell you how much. But you don’t have to bother with trash like this.”
“You want me to let him go?” Young-gi asks, raising a brow. It’s a measured question, cautious. It doesn’t seem like a test, more like he’s weighing how that would even be possible. The short answer is–it’s not. At this point, Oscar’s seen too much.
“Nah,” I reassure him. “You can’t let him go now, but you don’t need to cut him into little pieces or anything–he means nothing to me. He’s literally not worth the effort. Just send him somewhere that karma can sort him out. That’s more fun anyway. Alright?”
“If that’s what you want,” he says. He’s still a brick wall, but I think he might be a little reluctant to agree, but he does anyway because that’s what I want. And that just lights me up inside, makes me feel all pink and happy.
“Thanks, Daddy,” my mouth runs away before I can shut it off, and I snap it shut, but not before I say too much.
I freeze, he freezes. We both stare at each other. The word is heavy and spicy on my tongue. It tastes like everything I want and everything I’m terrified of. My first instinct is to deny, to reclaim it, to gloss over that or walk it back or bristle and get defensive. But I…
I don’t.
I let the word sit between us. Because…
Because maybe Young-gi has a thing for me after all. And maybe it’s okay for me to…let that happen.
He waits, giving me all the time in the world to snatch that word back. But when I don’t, he leans toward me and only his grip on the table seems to keep him in place. I’m already frozen, but now I feel turned to stone–I have the distinct feeling that I’m being hunted. And it’s exhilarating.
