Chapter 8
VIII
As I slip back into my clothes, trying not to shiver to death in this godforsaken hallway, I wonder how many more times I’ll be standing here half-naked, confused, and aroused.
I mean, I can’t say I didn’t expect what would happen in Aba?’ bedroom once I returned. A part of me knew exactly what would happen—provoked that very thing. But that doesn’t mean I enjoyed being treated like that. Well, at least, mostly.
I growl in frustration at my own behaviour. I need to get a hold of this.
Rushing back to my room, I slam the door behind me.
Fuck this place and all its bloody rules.
I crash onto my bed like a rebellious teenager, pull my Walkman out, and turn the volume up to max.
I lie there, scowling at the ceiling for the entirety of side A.
But the longer I lay there, the sillier I feel.
What was I even so mad about? Didn’t I get exactly what I wanted?
But everything was such a blur, the details a collection of smudged impressions.
Gleaming eyes, breath on my nape, soft lips whispering—fuck, not this again.
I switch the tape to the noisiest one I got, then I flip upside down, burying my face in the pillow. My hands push the headphones tightly against my skull until there are no more thoughts. Only music.
I must have fallen asleep because I startle at the sound of a groan, and I sit up, quickly looking around my room. But there’s no one here but myself. It’s still light out, but the sun has lost some of its earlier ulster.
But my cock—my cock is straining painfully hard against my trousers.
Buttons press into my skin, confusing my nerves even more.
I drop my Walkman onto the mattress and pace around my room until some of this pent up energy releases…
until my cock stops pressing against the fabric.
I feel determined, but determined to do what?
Go to Aba? and tell him not to treat me like this?
Yeah, that’s right. That’s absolutely what I’m going to do.
I brush my clothes off, clear my throat, and stride down the corridor, following this determination wherever it will take me.
But I can’t deny the eagerness I’m feeling right now is making me question what’s left of my already deficient morals.
I know, I know, I’m nuts to eagerly return to this clearly unstable man.
I’m aware no amount of determination can change the fact that he’ll likely shout at me.
Or possibly punish me again. But the thrill of it…
It’s sick, and yet, I can’t help but wish for it. Just a little.
What kind of a fool am I to crave such a thing?
When I reach his room, I find the door closed. I hesitate for a moment; maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But then—a fist on aged wood. The thudding of a knock.
The door slams open. My body is yanked against the wall as if pulled by a wire, the force knocking the wind out of me.
“Who dares to…” Aba? shouts as he spins around to face me.
With his hand stretched out, he stands at the centre of the bedroom. I can only see his blazing eyes inside the black silhouette of his body, wild and furious.
I stare back wide-eyed. I’m suspended several inches off the ground.
My pulse races through me as my feet scramble uselessly for the floor below it.
My breath fights its way through fear and confusion, as I struggle to understand how any of this is possible.
I start to feel hot, my lungs screaming for air.
My eyes drop to his chest, which is rising quickly, almost in effort.
He’s too far to be certain, but I think I see doubt flicker across his rage-filled eyes.
As the anger seems to fade, he lowers his hand, and I slide down the wall, crumbling to the floor.
He turns his back, leaning against the fireplace as if nothing unusual happened at all.
“What?” he growls, his voice barely human.
This is probably the moment I should carefully consider my next move, but instead the next thing that comes out of my mouth is, “I wanted to see you.”
At these words, he turns back around, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to read my mind.
“See me?” he asks, still watching me intently.
I take a step into the room.
“You aren’t afraid?” he says, tilting his head slightly.
“Why would I be afraid?” I ask.
“Because of this,” he replies and raises his hand again.
The door slams shut behind me. I try hard not to flinch, but I admit, my fingers twitch at the sound.
“You think slamming doors is scary?” I taunt.
The corners of his mouth lift, and the expression on his face is more terrifying than anything I’ve seen so far.
He takes one step closer, hand raised, and I can feel my throat constricting as his fingers squeeze the air in front of him.
If I had to guess, I’d say I’m three meters away, but I can’t be sure since I’m a bit distracted by my inability to breathe.
As I feel the blood rush to my head, I can’t come up with a single reasonable explanation for how he could possibly be doing this.
I try gasping for air, but an invisible grip closes tighter and tighter, almost gently, around my throat.
Just as I’m starting to feel light-headed and embarrassingly close to fainting, the grip lets go.
I hold onto my knees, letting the air rush back into my lungs in big gulps.
My brain feels electric once the oxygen rushes back in, and the feeling is almost euphoric.
“You truly aren’t frightened…” The words linger between us as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.
When my vision straightens and the world no longer spins, I take another step forward. “Are you a magician?” I ask.
He lets out a mirthless laugh. “Human, is there something wrong with you?” He looks at me as if I’m the only impossibility in this room.
“Yes.” I take another step.
He looks at my feet when I do.
“Are you?” I ask again. “A magician, I mean.”
“I am something far worse.”
“Something I should be scared of?”
“Terrified,” he says earnestly, leaning back on the mantle.
“I’m not. Does that disappoint you?” I stop at the centre of the room.
“I find it…intriguing.” He approaches, starting to circle me slowly, watching me too intently.
“I’m never scared,” I confess.
“Why?”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” I say, trying to stay still under his scrutiny.
“You could die.” He lets the words hang in the air.
I shrug.
“Is that what you desire?” he adds without judgment.
“I don’t care either way,” I explain.
He finishes circling me and lets out a soft mmhh. I can’t tell if it’s an expression of approval or disapproval.
“But you desire sex, then?” he asks.
“I’ve never cared about sex,” I reply.
He narrows his eyes as if he didn’t believe a word, then his features relax. “So, it seems you don’t lie,” he says. How could he possibly know that? Before I can think further, Aba? adds, “But tell me, why are you so needy for me?”
This time I have no retort. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t know the reason either.
He lets out another mmhhh, stepping closer this time.
My breath hitches the moment he enters my personal space, but I stay completely still.
He moves away as swiftly as he approached, making me wish he would come closer and finally put his large hands on me.
“Sit,” he commands, nodding to the bed.
Without hesitation, I obey. Usually, I would refuse anyone’s orders, but I’m more interested in what he’ll do next than defiance.
Aba? sits on the armchair, spreading his legs wide. For a split second, I hope he’ll take his cock out and ask me to ride it.
“Undress,” he says, voice flat but demanding.
I take my uniform off and let it fall to the floor, my cock already hard beneath my trousers. When my hand automatically reaches up to take my cap off, I waver. I might be bold enough to follow my new base urges, but I’m not ready to take my hair out. It’s much too intimate.
When my trousers hit the floor, Aba? lets a delicious sound escape, the sound someone makes after they’ve eaten the most delectable piece of cake.
“So eager,” he groans, his pants visibly tented. “Stroke yourself,” he commands. I reach toward my cock, but before I get there he adds, “Touch yourself like you want me to touch you.”
My hand pauses, and I close my eyes, trying to imagine what I want from him the most. I take a finger and stroke it along my jaw down to my chest. I trail it further toward my groin, but before it reaches my cock, I lift my hand and place my fingers around my throat.
A sound of appreciation escapes him, and I open my eyes to look at him.
His eyes are bright red. They look like split-open cherries.
Without breaking the gaze, I drop my hand and start to stroke myself.
“Is that how you touched yourself, thinking of me?” he asks.
My eyes go wide.
“What did you think of when you were desperate and alone in your quarters?” he continues.
Involuntary images flash across my mind, but I try to keep my face blank, not wanting to give anything away.
“Did you stroke harder, pretending it was my hand around your cock?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply. My breath comes out in ragged little gasps as I try to control my movements.
“Did you see my lips parting around your shaft just for you?” he taunts.
At the mention, my eyes drop to his lips, full and thick. I wonder what it would feel like kissing an insolent mouth like his.
“No, that wasn’t it,” he continues, thinking for a moment. “You pictured me screaming at you again, did you not?”
“Yes,” I press out, my hand squeezing harder at his words.
“Screaming in your face, as I did when you showed up at my threshold like a lost pup.” He tilts his head. “And then…” He pauses, and his eyes narrow once more. “You imagined me punishing you.”
“Yes,” I gasp.
My eyelashes flutter, and I know I’ve given away too much. His hand clumsily unbuttons his trousers, and his thick cock juts out, looking impossibly hard.
“Did you imagine my hand around your throat while I was screaming obscenities at your face?” Aba? asks.
I let out an involuntary moan, my hand quickening its pace. “Yes,” I reply shakily.
I’m so aroused, my body aches for release. I watch Aba? stroking himself, wondering if my hand would fit around his shaft. He notices my gaze and follows it with his own.
“Was I sodomising your ass with my thick cock while pressing your airways impossibly tight?” he asks, quickening his pace in the rhythm of my own.
I close my eyes, letting the image flood me.
“Answer me,” he growls.
“Yes,” I moan as I grit my teeth, trying not to come.
I hear the rustling of fabric before I feel fingers enveloping my throat. I open my eyes, staring at Aba?, still sitting on the armchair, his gaze crimson and wild. His hand is stretched out, just as it was earlier. Ever so gently, he constricts my airflow until I hear rushing in my ears again.
“You want to feel my fingers around your neck’s tender flesh,” Aba? says.
My eyes roll into the back of my head with the tension that’s building in my body.
I couldn’t answer even if I wanted to. The orgasm hits so hard, I can’t brace myself for it.
Its intensity nearly topples me to the side.
I feel hot cum spilling over my stomach and thighs, dripping down the sheets beneath me.
A muffled groan makes me look up. Aba? shoots up abruptly, shoving his cock into his pants.
I’m sure he hasn’t come, and I’m confused at the sudden change of atmosphere in the room.
He paces in front of the fireplace, looking like a caged beast. Still catching my breath, I try gathering each piece of me.
“Get out already,” he barks. “Can’t you tell when you are not wanted?”
“Fuck you,” I shout at him.
He straightens himself. For a second, I expect him to throw me across the room with his strange powers.
But Aba? just stares. I stare back, angry and confused once again.
I don’t know if I want to be torn apart or held together, but instead, I wait until my irritation recedes.
Then I feel silly sitting there, naked and sticky with my own cum.
I wipe it off with his sheet, tossing it on the floor, and pull my clothes on as quickly as I can manage.
As soon as I’m dressed, I turn and leave the room, hearing the door slam shut behind me.