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I grab him by his throat and haul him up against the wall. He flashes me a smile and I get hard instantly. I’m repulsed, and I’ve never been this fucking turned on in my life. No scratch that, when he told me he wanted to fuck me, I lost it. The things he said about me not wanting to be his first did the trick. Maybe this is what he wanted all along, to get me so riled up I would smash my fist against his face. But I knew he was lying to me. He’s in it for the pain, sick motherfucker, mine. But I like it and I like that smile he gets when I’m the one inflicting it. It’s as if he knows my deepest fantasies and was born especially for me to let them come true. He digs his fingernails in my arm as I keep dragging him over the floor toward the bed.

He’s always belonged to me. I bought him; he’s mine.

“Let me go, asshole,” he swears in Mandarin as he fights me, but my grip on his neck never falters. I lift him up and shove him against the door. He crashes inside, and I propel him against the wall. His back hits it with a dull thud. I cover his neck with my hand, and he smiles, letting his arms fall limp at his sides.

“You need to kill me before I let you fuck me, you asshole,” he says, spitting out every single word. He smirks and bares his red-with-blood teeth at me. There’s a cut on his nose and under his eye too; he looks like he just stepped out of the boxing ring. I know I’m being too rough, but I need to teach him a lesson.

“I’ll gladly kill you and see you take your last breath for me,” I tell him, and his half smile he flashes me has me clutching at my chest.

He hangs his head, his long hair traveling in front of his eyes. I cup his cheek and push his face up, the soft rug digging against the balls of my feet, in contrast to the hardness of his dark eyes.

He starts to laugh, a fucking crazy laugh, only adding to the thrill I feel building deep inside. I’m slowly breaking him until there’s nothing left. Only the parts that want me. That will live for only me. He’ll live when I tell him to. He’ll die when I tell him to. No one is going to take him away from me. I’ll be the first to die, and if he somehow takes his last breath first, I’ll kill myself and meet him in the afterlife a second later. Is this love, obsession, or is it hate for what we’ve become? You tell me. But I’d kill to love him. I’d burn the world down for him to give him everything.

“Come closer,” he says, and I lean forward, loving the anticipation of what he will do to me. “Closer.” He smiles and spits his blood mixed with saliva in my face. It drips down my nose, and when it touches my lips, I can’t help but let out a deep possessive moan as I hit him hard in his stomach. It feels like he just marked me. I throw him into the room, watching him fall against the floor with a dull thud. He topples over into a fetal position. I kick him again, and he turns on his back staring up at the ceiling while he smiles and rubs his palm over the bulge and cups it.

“You’re enjoying this.” I smirk; yes, he belongs to me.

Half-lidded eyes meet mine while I lean against the wall catching my breath. Rolling over until he’s lying on the soft carpet in front of the bed. He coughs, and blood spills out of his mouth, down his neck, before dripping onto the white sheets on the floor.

“How do you want to fuck me?” he asks, while I watch the outline of his cock twitch against the waistband of his sweats. He looks at me with such yearning in his eyes, so much anticipation. So much anger and hate, and I bathe in it. Pulling himself up in a sitting position, he reaches behind him with a grimace and pulls his shirt over his head. His long hair sticking out is cute as hell, my little psycho. He runs both hands through his hair, and damn, he’s never looked more beautiful as he tries to catch his breath, leaning back against the bed.

His eyes slide over my body as a caress, and I swear to whoever is listening that I’ll give my life to have him. It feels like his lips trail over my skin where his gaze lingers, and my heart starts to hammer in my ears. It feels like I’m already inside him.

“Take off your pants,” he orders, those burning eyes gliding over my tattoos.

I know he likes them, that night in the Onsen a year ago gave him away. I could see his erection in the water. And when he dropped to his knees with those pleading big depths of his, I lost every inch of self-control and had him choke on my cock a minute later. He watches me as I push my zipper down and lower the front of my slacks. My black boxers strain painfully over my hard-on. Seeing the cuts and bruises mixed with the blood on his body is almost enough to make me come. Watching me, he covers his chest with his arms. Observing me. He’s all lean, cut muscles, and darkening spots where I hit and shot him before.

He runs a hand over his stomach and traces the lines where I hurt him. Leaning back, he looks at me through those thick black lashes and licks at the cut on his lip. “Take them off,” he repeats, his deep rasp cutting through glass.

I take a step toward him and stop till I’m right in front of him, my eyes caressing his thighs and long legs.

“Only if you take them off too,” I order, motioning to his sweats. I grab the back of his head hard, loving how he winces from the pain. I twist his long hair in my grip, making him push up on his knees to get on eyelevel with my dick.

“Take them off with your teeth.” I try to keep my voice steady but I’m about to lose the last of my restrain.

He smiles up at me and runs his tongue over his red teeth. Placing his hands on my thighs, they start to tremble under his touch, and I eye the belt lying on the floor. Slapping him hard with the back of my hand he groans letting go of my legs. I grab the belt, and in one swift movement, turn him and bind his hands behind his back.

“Do you like me like this?” he asks, and his voice sounds hollow and sensual at the same time. I know he’s fighting with his inner demons. The fucker looks like an angel, but he’s waging a war within. Just like I am. We’re both exploring the fine line between consent and non-consent. But one thing I know for sure, if he tells me to stop for real I will in a second. I want him to feel both pleasure and pain but I’m not going to cross a line. If he says no, that’s it, I’ll stop. Or at least that’s what I try to tell myself. I grin down at him while his eyes widen in fear; I know I’ll never stop.

“Tell me to stop one more time,” I whisper but he shakes his head.

He tries to flex his hands, but I made sure to use my best work on him. I tower over him, and he eyes the bulge, pressing and straining my boxers. “Your teeth,” I grit out through mine.

His shoulders are pulled back, making his muscles stand out more. So beautifully painful it makes my heart ache. I want to run my lips over every inch of his body, I want to draw a map of his skin and get to know every single one of his tells, so I can use it against him for the rest of his life.

He rolls his eyes up at me and runs his nose over my stomach from left to right. I have trouble keeping myself upright as I let out a string of cusswords while I grab his shoulders to keep me from falling.

Eliot keeps looking at me, biting the left side of my boxers to slowly drag it down, freeing the tip of my cock. He runs his tongue over the tattoos and slowly moves to the right side. I push forward and he shakes his head while I swear under my breath. I seize the back of his neck and pull on his hair, and his eyes roll back into his head. Fuck, that’s a pretty sight.

“Don’t drag it out, Eliot.”

His eyes turn to little slits. Watching me, he bites the right side of my boxers and tugs them down. They catch on my thighs, and he gasps, eyeing my hard cock jutting out between us. I’m inches away from his pretty mouth. It would be so easy to have him choke on it again, but not this time. This time his ass is mine. I cup his cheek and run my thumb over his right ear, and he shivers.

“Your ears are so sensitive.” I lean forward and blow against it, drawing a guttural groan from him. I softly tap his cheek, and he bares his teeth at me in anger.

“Easy, now—” I pause for effect. “Take them off all the way, be a good boy,” I taunt. I see the war he’s fighting inside reflected in his eyes. He hates that he wants me to tell him what to do. But I know he needs to give up control to feel anything besides the pain when I hurt him.

“Damn it,” he swears in Mandarin. He ignores my cock and catches the fabric between his teeth and draws my boxers all the way down stopping right under my heavy balls like he’s bowing to me. He has to spread his legs wide to keep from falling forward and I have the perfect angle to watch those ass cheeks part and stare at his tattoos filling the better part of his defined back.