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He pulled out, then shoved his cock in my mouth. Salty, wet, filthy. I gagged, but he just jammed it deeper, hand in my hair. I choked around him, spit running down my chin, snot and tears everywhere.

“Swallow it,” he growled.

Malakar fucked my mouth with those savage thrusts. My brain emptied out.

He groaned out and caressed my cheek while he fucked my throat. “Good, bluebird. You make me feel so good. You make the dark vanish. This mouth of yours is like a fucking drug.”

I gagged around his cock and breathed through my nose. I used my tongue to rub on the underside of his mushroom head. He threw his head back and groaned again. Those noises went straight to my cunt.

“I want you to swallow every drop, got it? I want to be inside of you forever.” He kept both hands on my head and thrust harder. I gagged with each movement, barely able to breathe. His thrusts became sloppy, and I felt his cum shooting down my throat.

I coughed, gagged and struggled to swallow. He didn’t pull his cock out, just held my head and shot every last drop down my throat. He was panting, legs shaking, eyes wild.

I looked up at him and saw Milo, not Malakar. That filled me with even more pleasure. It was nice to pretend that he was always Milo, and this was a regular hookup.

He kept his cock there for a few moments, then pulled out. He wiped a tear on my cheek. “Don’t cry, bluebird. You did so good for me. Such a perfect creature.”

I sat there, dazed. I didn’t know what to say. He collected a towel and started to wipe me down. The gesture was so sweet, so simple.

My father never did that. Neither did Brandon. They never cared enough. What did this mean?

“Thank you.” I wasn’t sure what I was thanking him for.

“No need to thank me. I told you, I want to make you feel good. My head is clear right now. I don’t know when I will slip again, but I want you to know I do enjoy being good. I like to feel like Milo again when I’m with you.” He appeared so sincere. Could I trust him? Could I believe him?

His face was close to mine. He looked almost normal. Just a man. Just Milo. I remembered that night in the group home, the taste of his lips, the way my body lit up when he touched my hip, shy and needy. But that memory was poison now. The real thing was Malakar, brute strength, dark eyes, the knowledge of what he’d done to me.

Two people. One monster, one boy. Both wanted me. Needed me. Ruined me.

I sat on the edge of the bed, legs open, dress torn off me, skin burning from the rough way he handled me. I should have wanted to run. I shouldn’t have wanted him to touch me again.

But I did. That was the sickest part.

He set the towel aside but his hand lingered on my knee.

I tried to think about how to speak, how to move. I was limp, floating in this fucked up glow, too tired to hate him, too empty to hate myself. Back in the basement I thought I wanted to die. Now I just wanted the warmth of him against my side. I was so desperate for it the need turned my insides to shivering glass.

He sat beside me, his breath ragged, head lowered. “I’m sorry it hurt. I don’t want to hurt you, Starla. Not when I’m in my right mind.” His thumb stroked my knee. “I just want you to feel good.”

I remembered the way bad Malakar slammed me into the ground. The way he threatened me, cut me, left me sobbing. Sometimes I could feel those hands still, ghosting over my bruises, eager for more. That Malakar wanted to devour and destroy.

But this one was different. Milo. He was gentle, even when he was rough. He cared if I bled. He wanted to wipe it all away.

I didn’t know what to feel.

My lips worked but no sound came out. I sat there, shivering, staring at my hands in my lap. Wanting him to scoop me up and make the emptiness stop howling in my head. Wanting him to crush me just to prove I was still here.

He looked at me, his eyes soft, scared. “Did I break you?” His voice broke on the last word.

I shook my head. I was too tired to lie. “No. I just… I can’t hate you. Not when you’re like this. I try, but it doesn’t work.” I stared at the wall, unable to face him. “I want to hate you. I should. But I want to be here with you. I want you to touch me.”

His lips lifted into a slight smile. It was barely there, but I saw it. “Good. You’re mine to keep. You’re never getting away, my bluebird. Not on my watch. I lost you back then, I lost you a few days ago, I won’t lose you again.”

He crawled onto the bed next to me. For a moment, I was sure he’d pin me down again, maybe fuck me all over again. Part of me wanted him to do it. The other part—the part that remembered how much it hurt, how close I’d come to disappearing completely—just wanted him to stop. To be soft. To mean it, this time.

His arm pressed around my waist. I stiffened. He noticed. The tiniest flinch. He always noticed.

Malakar exhaled. “You’re so fucking perfect when you melt for me. But I don’t want you broken all the time. I want you to be happy too. Do you get that?”