Chapter 1 Lam 5 #2
Lam licked his lips. “Giving you what you came for,” Lam said simply. He pulled at the waistband to loosen it enough, and then started to tug it down. “Lift your hips.”
Brent didn’t, gaping up at him like a waterless fish. He was stuck. The train he’d been on had switched tracks, and he couldn’t figure out how to move forward.
Or maybe he was afraid Lam was going to take the knife to a certain tender part of him.
That would be such a waste.
“Come on,” Lam goaded. He tapped the blade against Brent’s neck. “I’m not going to cut your cock off. I’m going to let you fuck me,” he crooned. “But you’re a big boy, so you’re going to have to help.”
“I don’t–is this a joke?” Brent was really treading water now. He’d waded out too deep the moment he’d followed Lam out of the bar, he just hadn’t realized it.
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Lam asked, dropping the put-on affect to show Brent his true face.
It was flat, calculating. Lam had never been able to understand exactly what it was people saw in it, but he knew it triggered something primal.
Something that told people to flee. “Lift your hips for me.”
After a second of staring, Brent complied.
“Perfect. There we go.” Lam put the smile back on as he pulled Brent’s sweatpants down and then started to work on his own slacks.
It was awkward without getting up off of Brent, but Lam had done this enough times that he could get his pants down enough with one hand. He resat himself on Brent’s bare lap when he was done.
“Holy shit,” Brent said, eyes wide, confused. “Are you serious…?”
Lam wrapped a hand around Brent’s soft cock and started to stroke it. “If you can get hard.” Lam always prepped himself before he went out, so he was ready if Brent could be roused.
Some of them couldn’t. Lam was really hoping it wasn’t that kind of a night.
“Shit, you really are a psycho bitch,” Brent snarled.
Lam clicked his tongue. “Not sure you should insult the person with the knife and your cock in hand.”
Brent froze. “You said–”
“And I meant it, but piss me off and maybe the answer changes,” Lam said.
Brent gaped at him. Then the cock in his hand twitched, beginning to fill.
Lam quirked a brow. “Oh, you’re kinky.” He gave a slow, thorough stroke.
“No–I–! Fuck–!” Brent sputtered. “I’m not–I don’t control that–”
“No judgement,” Lam said, amused, as he kept stroking. His cock was filling, slowly but steadily.
Brent heaved a breath, “You can’t–you can’t do this!”
Lam almost laughed. “I asked you to let me go, and you didn’t, so you reap what you sow. But you can beg if you want, see how it feels.”
Brent stared slackjaw, speechless.
But his cock was hard enough to do the job now, so Lam shifted to get the right angle and put it to his hole. Without wasting time, he began to sink down on Brent’s cock.
The man groaned like a dying animal, face pinching. “Don’t–I–fuck–”
“Is it everything you imagined?” Lam teased.
Brent’s eyes fluttered open. He looked like a puppy abandoned in a park, unsure where his cushy, safe life had disappeared to.
Lam smiled. “Is this your first outing, or have you raped other men before?”
His brows furrowed. “I didn’t–I wasn’t–!”
“The lies are getting tiresome,” Lam said in warning, hand finding Brent’s injury once more.
Brent sputtered, and tried to push up in reaction to the pain. Immediately Lam tilted forward again, hand slamming down harder on the wounded arm, digging into the flesh. The man yelped.
“I told you not to move,” Lam said, razor sharp. “Even a musclehead like you should be able to understand the simple order. You have a job, don’t you? A boss? Why don’t you just treat it like that. I’m the boss, and your job is to follow orders.”
Lam leaned down into Brent’s face, meeting the man’s wide, uncertain eyes. The blade was against his cheek now. Lam tried not to get distracted by the blood from the first cut. It was almost black, dried and crusted in places already.
“I’m giving you what you wanted, after all.” To emphasize, Lam rolled his hips, squeezing around Brent’s cock seated inside him.
The man made a punched out sound.
Lam did it again, then pushed up with his legs and dropped back down, groaning when Brent’s cock rubbed up against his prostate.
It had been too long. This was good. Not perfect, but good enough for now. Good enough to scratch at that itch that always kept him up at night. Good enough to fall into as he rocked against Brent’s hips.
Lam’s knife lifted from Brent’s cheek to find his throat again. Fuck, he’d needed this. His eyes fluttered closed just a moment.
Just long enough to miss the headbutt coming.
The pain was a flash of light across his eyes, a headache inducing cacophony of sound in his head.
It hurt like a bitch.
Lam recovered quickly, bringing the blade up just in time to catch Brent’s arms swinging down again. It was the same as his first attempt, because Brent lacked for creativity.
His arm hit the knife, and Lam drew another wicked line with his knife, less careful this time. The man screamed.
“That’s strike two,” Lam grit, pushing and holding Brent’s arms back down. The second tally mark he gave more weight, slicing into Brent’s cheek with temper.
Blood welled quick, and it was too tempting. Lam scooped some up with the blade and brought it to his mouth, licking the flat of it clean.
It was sharp and metallic. Warm. The flavor sat on his tongue, then slipped down his throat and sent shivers down his whole body. It soothed the ache in his head, the pain radiating out.
It had been too long, and now Brent was trying to ruin it.
When he met Brent’s eyes again, there was real fear there this time.
Not the kind he’d had moments ago, but an animalistic one, a black, acidic one.
The fear of a prey animal when it truly saw a predator.
When it understood its life was not its own.
That it lived on because of the whims and mercy of someone else.
Lam smiled, sure there was blood in his teeth, blood on his lips.
“Three strikes and you’re out,” Lam said with heat. “You a sports guy? You want to keep swinging?”
Brent swallowed hard, his Adams apple bobbling. Both arms were now bleeding, they probably hurt badly. Lam wished he could see his work better.
“N-no,” Brent stuttered.
“Good.” Lam said. “Don’t mistake my enjoyment for distraction again. If you think you can catch me off guard, you can’t. Are you willing to gamble with your life Brent?”
“No. No–! I didn’t mean–!”
“I know sweetheart, you’re just a little thick.” Lam pat condescendingly at Brent’s face, smearing the blood before bringing one thumb to his mouth to suck it clean. His cock twitched. “Just lay back and enjoy, and you’ll be okay. If it’s your first time, I’ll be gentle.”
Lam kept the knife to his throat as he started to move again.
“What was your first thought when you saw me?” He asked conversationally a few seconds later.
Brent stared at him. “I–I don't know?”
“Oh come on, think,” Lam sighed dramatically. “Why me of all people?”
Brent hissed when Lam leaned on one of his forearms.
“You–um, you’re small,” Brent said. “Had been–been drinking.”
Lam almost rolled his eyes. “I looked easy. Defenseless. How’s that working out for you?”
“I–ah–fuck,” He couldn’t decide whether to shut his eyes or keep them open.
“You like the way I look?” Lam asked. “Not like your wife, huh?”
It was a guess, but Brent’s eyes widened in terror. “How do you–?”
Lam laughed. “Because you’re all the same. Not getting what you want at home. Or maybe she’s the taskmaster, and your fragile little ego has taken one too many kicks? You need to take it out on someone else. Someone… weaker.”
Lam pushed up with his knees and then fell back down, starting to ride Brent’s cock. He’d used enough lube in the bar bathroom to prep himself that the movement was slick, easy. Lam’s hips moved to keep knocking Brent’s cock right up against his spot.
Physically, it would be enough to get him there, but mentally this interaction was lacking.
Then again, most men who followed him ended up being the same. Disappointing. Predictable. Boring.
That was Lam’s own fault. He wanted something he couldn’t have. He wanted to fight, wanted to feel blood on his hands, a viciousness in his teeth. He wanted the unexpected, wanted the thrill of not being sure he could win.
But he couldn’t have it. He couldn’t risk one of these men killing him, or worse–realizing what he was and getting away. That was a one-way ticket to a cell, and Lam was not going to live in a cell.
He let out an annoyed breath as Brent laid there useless.
Brent was a big boy, had big hands that made Lam ache with desire.
If he could be trusted, Lam would’ve loved to feel them around his own throat or thighs.
Bending him over, splitting him open with hungry force.
Fucking him until he couldn’t move or breathe.
He yearned for that kind of violence. Someone who would meet him and revel in it with him. See him for who he was and give it back twice as good.
If that existed though, he had no way of finding it.
“At least your cock is decent,” Lam snarled as he moved faster. He was trying to convince himself this was more than what was.
Brent just wasn’t… enough.
He bent over the man again, watchful of another attack even though Brent seemed beyond it. His face was pinched, distracted by how Lam was riding him. His breath was coming in gulps, and his hips were starting to move in response.
He still looked afraid, but was trying to go along with it now.
“I expected more from the rest of you though,” Lam said, just to prod at him.
His free hand slid up to one of the wounds still bleeding and he dug his fingers in. It wasn’t playing fair, because Brent was being perfectly obedient, but maybe that pissed Lam off too.
Brent shouted, but didn’t try to unseat him. “S-stop,” he groaned.