Chapter 25 #3
“We-we–” Oscar swallows hard, the whites of his eyes visible around the entire iris. “We had some good times, didn’t we? We were close, you and I, weren’t we? I–you were special to me, Tommy–I’d never–I mean–Please Tommy, please, for old times’ sake, just…just let me go, please!”
“Old times’ sake, huh?” I murmur to myself.
I glance at Young-gi, wondering what he makes of all this.
He’s changed positions now, gripping the table behind him with both hands, like he’s physically holding himself back.
Like he wants to reach out and fucking get me, and the way he’s devouring me whole with his stare suddenly has my dick half hard.
Focus.
Right. Focus! “Oscar, we never had any good old days. Not once. Do you have any idea how many times I held a knife to your throat while you slept?”
“Wh-what?”
The memories come flooding back. Not that long ago, just a couple years, really. Certainly not long enough that I could forget.
“You’re scum, dude. And you showed me the worst side of you, because you were paying me.
” I glance at Young-gi, but his hungry look doesn’t change.
The reminder of my previous occupation never seems to phase him.
With his obvious approval, I feel more confident as I continue, bigger and more powerful.
“You didn’t rough me up too much, of course.
But I heard that you hurt a few other boys, guys who worked blocks next to mine.
You were meaner with them than me. Why is that, Oscar? ”
“No! No, I never hurt nobody–” he tries to protest, but I roll my eyes.
“Shut up. I literally know you have. Just stop. Could part of you tell that I’d cut your tiny, pathetic dick off if you tried to make me bleed like you did with them?
I should’ve killed you back then. I almost did so many times, but I was selfish; I was afraid of jail, Oscar.
I didn’t think I could get away with murder a fourth time. Seems like bad odds, to me.”
Oscar pales, all his blood leaving his cowardly face, and I laugh.
It’s not a mean or cruel laugh, it’s just one of genuine incredulity and amusement.
For some reason, my fucked up brain thinks this is funny.
He’s just so pathetic, it’s all so ridiculous, and the back of my mind is squealing like a teenage girl with a crush because Young-gi got Oscar for me.
I peek at him, make sure he’s still watching me, and get the dumbest masculine urge to puff up and show off for him. I’ve never been so stupid over anybody before, but he makes me this way and I can’t say I hate it.
He did this for me. For me. For ME. I love that.
Even though it’s insane and bloody and weird, and it just shows how psycho Young-gi is and how broken I am, I love that he did something for me, even something like this.
It speaks to me. To my deep and shameful desire to be wanted, protected, possessed.
And thinking about this is making my dick hard. With an uncomfortable cough, I straighten from my crouch, leaving Oscar on the floor. “Young-gi, it was…um, well, not nice of you, but certainly…something of you to grab him and, like, plan to murder or torture him for me or whatever–”
Oscar bleats with fear and starts trying to squirm away like a caterpillar, so I put my boot on his back to keep him in place.
“But I really don’t give a shit about him.
He’s small fish. He’s nothing to me. I mean, it’s the thought that counts, totally, and I love this.
I can’t tell you how much. But you don’t have to bother with trash like this. ”
“You want me to let him go?” Young-gi asks, raising a brow. It’s a measured question, cautious. It doesn’t seem like a test, more like he’s weighing how that would even be possible. The short answer is–it’s not. At this point, Oscar’s seen too much.
“Nah,” I reassure him. “You can’t let him go now, but you don’t need to cut him into little pieces or anything–he means nothing to me. He’s literally not worth the effort. Just send him somewhere that karma can sort him out. That’s more fun anyway. Alright?”
“If that’s what you want,” he says. He’s still a brick wall, but I think he might be a little reluctant to agree, but he does anyway because that’s what I want. And that just lights me up inside, makes me feel all pink and happy.
“Thanks, Daddy,” my mouth runs away before I can shut it off, and I snap it shut, but not before I say too much.
I freeze, he freezes. We both stare at each other. The word is heavy and spicy on my tongue. It tastes like everything I want and everything I’m terrified of. My first instinct is to deny, to reclaim it, to gloss over that or walk it back or bristle and get defensive. But I…
I don’t.
I let the word sit between us. Because…
Because maybe Young-gi has a thing for me after all. And maybe it’s okay for me to…let that happen.
He waits, giving me all the time in the world to snatch that word back. But when I don’t, he leans toward me and only his grip on the table seems to keep him in place. I’m already frozen, but now I feel turned to stone–I have the distinct feeling that I’m being hunted. And it’s exhilarating.
“I know a guy,” Young-gi offers, taking my Daddy slip-up in stride, “who’s always looking for more helping hands on a smuggling ship.
Deep waters, no contact with the outside world, and endless days of hard labor.
Or how about a nice picnic in the jungle, three days from anywhere?
I’ll even leave him a water bottle, if you want. ”
“Whatever you want,” I say, breathier than I mean to, my cock getting impossibly harder.
I fidget under his stare, too bashful to hold still, even despite the predatory gleam I see in him that warns me not to make any sudden moves.
“Either is fine. Boat sounds miserable, so let’s go with that one, if it means he lives longer. ”
“Boat it is,” he agrees, his tone more approving now. Then he tilts his head like a fucking hawk locking in on its target, and adds an experimental, “Baby.”
It’s a testing tone, with a question buried underneath. I feel a zing go through me and bite my lower lip.
And maybe he wanted more of a reaction from me, because he tries again.
“Little boy?”
Ugh, fuck, that one hits me good. It’s similar to the ‘young man’ he uses on me when he’s being stern and correcting me, but softer and smaller; I’ll be his little boy if he wants, shit, fuck me. It’s so sweet.
This is sweet, isn’t it? Us bonding over the fate of someone that he kidnapped for me? Seems sweet to me. And maybe he read my mind because his next attempt is–
“Sweet boy?”
Oh goddamn, let me suck your dick. I’d do anything at this point. As soon as we’re alone, I’m fucking getting on my knees and begging for it. The horny approval in my expression is all the confirmation he needs that he’s found the right name to call me.
It’s weird because I’m the total opposite of a sweet boy, but fuuuuc,k I like the way he says it to me.
“C-c’mon, Tommy,” Oscar interrupts this very pivotal moment in our relationship, like a bastard. “Tommy, just let me go man, I won’t say nothing!”
“Dude, shut up or I’ll change my mind and ask my bo–” I stutter, mortified, “--boss to bury you in a shallow grave, instead of sending you on a cruise. Got it?”
I was about to say boyfriend. I’m dead. Someone kill me. This is so not me. Boyfriend? Kill me!
Because seriously?! Boyfriend?!? Such a stupid, romanticized, unimportant title. I don’t need to be anyone’s boyfriend, and I don’t need one either. That’s stupid-people-shit.
But what if Young-gi wants to call me that? I suddenly wonder, my imagination taking me away. I mean, if Young-gi really wants to, then fine, he can call me that, if he wants. I guess I don’t mind, if it’s him, if it means he wants to claim me the way I want to claim him.
“Tommy.” He gets my attention, his voice an octave lower, rougher, sending shivers down my spine. “You’ve been so good today. I think I should show you how good.”
“Oh fuck,” I almost whimper, breathy and small.
“Fuck my life,” Oscar laments under my shoe, but I pay him no mind. Instead, I stare at Young-gi as he summons his men back into the room. I stumble blindly off to the side, letting them haul Oscar off the floor. I can’t take my eyes off Young-gi.
“Take him to Joseph,” he instructs Yosef. “A gift from me, no charge this time. Tell him I’m feeling generous.”
Yosef coughs to cover his shock, and the men awkwardly rebundle Oscar into his coffin despite his struggling, while Young-gi and I have a staring contest. Although it’s really not much of a contest, is it?
He fucking has me in his sights and I’m already panting for him.
Goddamn, why am I so horny for him right now?
Ugh, Daddy, fuck me, I mentally beg as the room clears out, leaving just us two.
“Tommy,” he purrs, the table groaning in relief as he finally lets it go and stalks toward me. “Do you have a reward in mind for your good, good behavior?”
He takes my chin in his grasp and my head already feels spacey and excited. “Y-yeah, yeah, please, Young-gi, please, oh fuck, please let me suck you off. I’ll make it good, I promise, I know I’m a guy but please, please, please, please I want it so fucking bad–”
“Shhhh,” he says softly, putting his thumb on my bottom lip, staring as he dips it just inside my mouth. I lave it with my tongue, hoping to entice him. My mouth is already watering. I’m rock hard in my pants in a way I haven’t been in a long fucking time.
“I’ve got you, sweet boy,” he whispers, his free hand going to his belt buckle. My knees go weak as he undoes it, and when the sound of his zipper echoes in the silence, I think I almost cum.
I drop to my knees and mouth his bulge through the denim before he can even part his undone zipper for me. Fuck, I’m so into this, into him. Into how fucking crazy he is about me.
And I’m about to prove how sweet I can be.