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“You’re disgusting,” I bite out, slamming the sliding door shut. Silence engulfs us while we stare at each other. His knees are bent, and his head is lolled to the side.

“Did you just jerk off while I was outside?”

His breathing is labored, and his chest heaves from the pain or exhaustion I don’t know. He smiles without opening his eyes. “What if I did?”

“You’re sickening,” I seethe, quickly fastening one cuff around his wrist again while we struggle. I eye him warily, why does it feel like he’s humoring me?

“Says the woman who liked to watch me jerk off in the shower while her fingers disappeared into that tight pussy.”

He takes a deep breath but has trouble finishing the sentence because of his coughing fit. I take one step and stop, an image of me strung up the same way ten years ago flashing through my mind. Him walking in a circle around me like an animal studying its prey, while he kicked my legs apart and pushed three fingers inside as he stood behind me and whispered all the dirty things he wanted to do to me in my ear.

He lifts his head, flashing his red, bloody teeth at me. “If you’re going to kill me, better fuck me one last time before you do it, Dash. It’s a dead man’s wish.” His body shakes with every breath he takes, closing his eyes like he’s slowly losing consciousness. Like I did once while he taught me everything he knew and gave me free reign to do to him what I wanted. He used to scare me by the look he’d give me alone. Most of the time we were together he didn’t even look at me. But my heart would jump each time he did. That’s why I caught myself trying to catch his stare whenever I could, just to be scared for a couple of seconds before the feeling of missing something would consume me whole. Maybe I was addicted to his eyes. That’s why I detest him even more, because he took the one feeling I got by being with him. Peace.

“Dash,” he whispers, dropping his head as a line of blood runs down the corner of his mouth as he closes his eyes.

I take a step toward him and softly lift his head. Shit, is he really unconscious? I’m debating if I should uncuff him. In that moment of weakness, he opens his eyes and growls, grabbing me by the throat. He slams me against his body like before, not cutting off my air supply, but the way he’s applying pressure has me seeing little specs of bright light. His chest is heaving as I struggle to free myself as I claw at his hand. My heart goes into overdrive knowing he could easily kill me if he wanted to. He could have killed me before but instead he made me come. After all this time I’m still scared of him, of what he’s capable of. How deep his love and hate runs for me. How much he wants to hurt me, to drag me down to his own personal hell.

“I can feel your pulse,” he whispers, his breath blowing against my ear.

“Please, Tian,” I plead, seeing actual stars as he squeezes.

“Please,” he snarls right in my face, his breath hot against my cold skin. He keeps his assault steady on my throat, trying to take over control. My heart pounds rapidly as he leans in closer, those cold calculating eyes on fire. His hand moves up and grabs my chin, his thumb running over the middle of my bottom lip. I part them on a breath, doing exactly what he wants, and he smiles. I hate that smile. Leaning in closer, I watch as he runs his tongue over the bleeding cut at the right corner.

He likes how scared I am. How hard it is for me to breathe. Even with one hand still cuffed to the chains securing him to the ceiling he holds all the cards.

I tip my head back and wet my lips meeting his eyes. Pressing my thighs together, his little smirk tells me he knows what I’m trying to hide. I still want him; I still love him. Fuck. Me.

Ten years ago, Shanghai

Eliot and Moon

I don’t know when I started to hate myself. Maybe the moment my mother punched my lights out when she caught me watching some Japanese gay porn on my laptop in my own fucking bed. She probably thought she could beat the gay out of me, or whatever the fuck I am. Curious, confused, bored, fuck if I know. I’m not attracted to men, that I know for sure. I start to frown as I look out over the courtyard of the compound filled with men. They all wear dark suits and are trained to perfection. There might be one who caught my eye. Does hating someone with a passion count? Or does wanting to stab him in the dick with one of my knives?

Okay, fuck, maybe one guy has me pushing my hand down my pants every night, and sometimes in the morning before work. But he’s off limits. That’s the one thing I know for sure. I see my father walking with the main family across the yard, probably discussing how to infiltrate some shady government somewhere. Jokes on my father for having a son like me.

I’m the joke. Being here is a fucking joke, I think as I run a hand through my long hair. I dyed it platinum blond. It’s the only fuck yeah I can show my father. After I came to live on the compound, he hasn’t looked at me. That was almost three years ago. A part of me wants to push my luck. Like when I do in the boxing ring, getting others to beat the living shit out of me, so I can finally breathe. I live for it; I need the abuse. I want to feel used and wrecked while I slip my bloodied hand down my boxers and jerk off to feel like I’m alive. Maybe I live for the pain. Or can’t live without it. How fucked up is that?

I grab the black hair tie from my wrist with my teeth to pull my almost shoulder length hair in a bun, leaving some hanging loose down my neck. I roll my eyes at myself. I’m taking the historical Chinese drama references a little too literal with this hairstyle, but whatever, my best friend likes it. And that’s all that matters. Dash is always giving me shit that I should star in a drama with my face card and wearing a Hanfu1 like we’re in ancient China. Hell no bro, I’m good.

My phone vibrates and I read the text. Speaking of the devil. She sent me a meme about a cat who’s losing touch with reality. I scan the text going along with it; you better come here soon, birthday boy. I drop her a laughing emoji back and shoot her a message I’ll meet her on the rooftop in an hour. I only want to celebrate my birthday with the one person I love, and that’s her. No one on this compound could care less it’s my birthday. Living here with her is the only thing keeping me alive. Our late nights watching movies and C-dramas2 together in her room, sneaking out to explore the night markets and walk along the river talking about everything and nothing is what keeps me holding on.

I followed Dash here tonight because her father is selling her to the second son of the main family of the Triad. Moon, the first born, has been the bane of my fucking existence the moment I came here. I once bumped into him the first week I moved in. I wasn’t paying attention when I exited the sauna room and collided with him. I can still feel his eyes trailing over my sweat-soaked chest in disgust.

I stared at his satin black tie which was now moist with my sweat. He ran a hand over it like he wanted to rip it from his neck, and stuff it down my throat.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” I say, stuttering in Mandarin, then Cantonese.

He can barely stand to look at me, the look of disgust so evident in his stoic gaze. I have to suppress the urge to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness. I apologize again, watching his stare turn murderous while he presses his mouth in a straight line. I bow on reflex and bump my head against his groin in the process.

“I’m sorr-r-ry,” I stammer. The growl that escapes from his lips has the hairs on my arms stand up.

The moment my back snaps straight I close my eyes waiting for his fist to connect with my jaw. But it never comes.

“Get the fuck away from me, if you want to keep breathing,” he bites out.

He brushes his shoulder against mine and I slam into the wall with a thud. I watch him as he passes me, followed by his men, his broad back almost taking up the whole hallway down to the kitchen area while I rub a hand over my sore shoulder.

Many things happened since our first meet from hell, but I haven’t seen him in months. Rumor has it he’s going to make an appearance tonight. I’m not going to hold my breath; he has a good thing going on in Tokyo. I light up a cigarette and peer at the courtyard. I used to love Shanghai in the summer, but now the heat’s slowly killing me. Maybe I was dead the moment my mother died and my father showed up at the whorehouse I lived in to sell me to the family he’s been working for. I don’t know what I did in my previous life to end up with these cards.