Chapter 36
Tommy
The Vandmorsons are keeping Brian in some fancy rich-person clinic. It’s nestled on a small mountain overlooking a lake, and we take a helicopter to get there. It’s my first time in a helicopter and it rattles my bones. I can’t wipe the manic smile off my face.
I grip the seatbelt strapping me to my chair and fiddle with the headset that makes the overwhelming noise bearable.
It also functions as a walkie-talkie so Young-gi and I can talk to each other if we want to.
He doesn’t speak, though, just watches me.
Sometimes he does work on his phone, but mostly he watches me vibrate in place.
Am I horny? I shift in my seat, squirming on my sore ass because Young-gi spanked me this morning. I asked for it, although not in words. Mostly, I was a brat because I wanted his hands on me.
God, I love his hands on me.
Yeah, now I’m horny.
He raises an elegant eyebrow at me and I almost groan because it’s not fair how sexy he is. I struggle against the seatbelt a bit, enjoying the way it keeps me in place, just like he does when he paddles my ass.
Young-gi’s gaze flicks down to my hands gripping the straps over my chest, the way my knuckles are white from adrenaline and arousal.
Some kind of scheme blooms in his eyes and my breath hitches. Heat rolls through me, anticipation joining the mix of nerves and horniness already stirring up my insides.
I love it when he tortures me, and the evil way he’s smirking, like he’s enjoying a particularly gruesome daydream, promises some delicious torment in the near future.
He takes out his phone and my stomach riots with butterflies because I just know he’s not working right now, he’s doing something sneaky and manipulative for me. I love that about him.
The helicopter tilts and a crackle of static comes into my headset, the voice of our pilot grainy and metallic. “Prepare for landing.”
We drop fast and I let out an unintentional hoot, a mix of a scream and a whoop of glee.
I don’t blink and I barely breathe as we rapidly approach a beautiful building surrounded by nature, with a heli-pad on the roof.
The helicopter hovers abruptly over the pad, and we touch down far more gently than I expected. I’m both relieved and disappointed.
I didn’t want to crash or anything, but like, I did kind of expect it to be more eventful.
Young-gi is already unbuckled, obviously used to helicopters and not dazed like me. Before I can process the fact that we’ve landed and the sensory overload of the blades is slowing down above our heads, he’s crouched in front of me and working on my straps.
I pull the headset off tentatively, now that the noise is dying down.
Young-gi unwraps me like a gift and I shudder.
My dick gets hard and then soft because I’m kind of still broken.
I start to get up, but he grips my legs and shoves them up, bending me almost in half in the seat, pinning me back into the chair.
“Shit–” I wheeze. “I’m not this flexible–”
“You like being held down,” Young-gi comments idly.
“That’s no secret,” I puff as I wriggle, only to realize how stuck and helpless I am.
My dick immediately gets hard again, but only half because I shouldn’t like this, should I?
I mean, I do, I know I do, and I’ve always been in the middle of a spanking when he holds me down, so maybe I just didn’t think about it too hard before, but is it okay for me to like this after what I’ve been through?
Young-gi lets my legs drop and pulls me in for a hard, distracting kiss. I’m panting when he pulls back, but he grips my chin in a firm hold, a stern warning. “Don’t think any lies, Tommy.”
“I–” I swallow. “I’m not.”
“Hm,” he seems unconvinced, but since I didn’t voice my doubts aloud, he has no confirmation of his suspicions.
How does he always seem to know when I’m getting lost in an anxiety spiral, anyway? Do I give myself away? Or is he just that good at reading me? Am I predictable?
Whatever the reason, I hope it never changes.
“Let’s go,” he hums, a soft and predatory gleam, warm and threatening. A strange mix that is uniquely him, uniquely ours. “We’ve got an idiot to deal with.”
“He’s mine,” I say breathlessly as he opens the helicopter doors and pulls me out.
He keeps my head low with a huge hand in my hair, even though the blades above us are spinning fairly slowly now.
I grunt in annoyance, and once we’re out from under the huge flying death machine, I yank myself away, sputtering and smacking at his hand.
I just love when he gives me chances to be a brat.
He always praises me for giving him chances to remind me of his care, to pass ‘tests’ as he puts it.
But sometimes he sets it up so smoothly.
Like roleplay. I’m not constantly melting down anymore, but I still need his reassurance, so he gives me opportunities to act out.
“Fuck off,” I snap, scowling at him, leaning into my role.
His brick-wall expression might fool anyone else, but me? I see the way one corner of his mouth deepens, I see the way his fingers flex at his sides, like he’s already thinking about grabbing me.
He doesn’t even say anything. He just stares at me.
“Fuck, I love you,” I say unthinkingly, because now I’m horny and emotional.
“And I’ll never let you forget it,” he promises darkly. Shit, he makes everything good between us sound like the best kind of threat. “Let’s get this over with. I have plans for you.”
We’re ushered through a rooftop entrance by clinic staff, and I curiously take in the casual opulence.
It looks nothing like the ER rooms I’ve occasionally visited in the past, or the pediatrician I went to once or twice as a kid, before I had bruises to hide.
It’s fancy and cushy and annoyingly pretty.
Now I’m scowling for real because fuck rich people.
Brian doesn’t deserve all this nice shit.
The clinic staff points us to reception and Young-gi puts his hand on my lower back as we approach. The warm weight of his touch grounds me, keeps me from throwing things because fuck all this shit.
The reception desk is huge and glossy and sparkling clean. But it’s not empty. An older couple wait there for us, in front of the desk, watching us walk toward them like we’re devils on earth. I take them in with a critical eye and find them lacking.
They both have a vaguely plastic look to them, like they’ve had just a little bit too much work done in an attempt to stay young.
But despite the work, I can tell they’re in their late fifties at least. The woman’s frame is sharp and hollow, and she wrings her delicate hands.
The husband is pale, he swallows hard, but the sight of me makes both of them turn red.
Their expressions contort with a combination of disgust, anger, and fear.
Ha. Fuck them.
“Mr and Mrs Vandmorson,” Young-gi greets them coldly. A glacial wind would be more welcoming than his voice. “So glad you could make it. We have so much to discuss.”
“Mr Sokolov,” Brian’s dad sputters, trying to look firm. “We certainly do! We haven’t gotten a single apology, nor any kind of reparations, for what happened to our son on your property. And for you to have the audacity to bring this violent thug here–!”
Young-gi leans down and kisses my temple, then pats my ass. “Go on and visit with your little friend, sweet boy. Take your time. I’ll be waiting out here when you’re done.”
I would be blushing from that little display if I wasn’t so gleefully, vindictively pleased by the apparent aneurysm it was causing for Brian’s parents. I turn my face to his, grab the back of his neck roughly and plant a kiss on his surprised lips.
“Sure thing, sugar daddy,” I wink. With a casual whistle and a spring in my step, I saunter past the Vandmorsons and down the hallway. Young-gi told me which room I needed to find before we even arrived.
“Wh-what is the–he can’t, he–” Brian’s mom grabbed her husband plaintively. Her voice was shrill and unpleasant and filled with even more disgust than her husband’s. “He can’t go back there and be near our son! He could attack him again! Nurse, don’t let that lowlife criminal near our boy!”
“Enough,” Young-gi’s growl stopped them both dead. Not a single staff member moved to stop me as I sailed away from the scene and toward my target. I heard Young-gi’s voice fading as I got farther away. “Sit.”
Shivers roll down my spine and I grin. With eager steps and bloodthirst on my mind, I find my target’s room and pause. A thrill zings through me and it takes real effort to force my shark-toothed smile away. I knock once and saunter through the door, my eyes immediately falling on my prey.
Brian is sleeping on a plush bed, covered in fine, soft sheets. His hands are in casts, and his jaw is wrapped. Young-gi told me I broke his jaw in two places and he’ll be eating through a straw for another few weeks.
It pleases the psycho in me to see him suffering, but I don’t like how comfortable his room is. I don’t like that he’s resting so peacefully, thinking he’s won because he outed Kira and ‘broke us up’.
He shouldn’t get to feel like he won, not for an instant.
I creep closer and lean over him.
“Hey, buddy,” I croon. “Time to wake up.”
Brian’s eyes blink open, bleary and cranky at first, but they focus on me quickly once he processes what he’s seeing.
His body jerks at the sight of me, but he can’t get up with his head being held still by some kind of apparatus attached to the headboard.
His breathing picks up, but he doesn’t speak–he can’t.
“Hey, man,” I say softly, friendlily. “Been a while. How’ve you been? This is a nice place, my guy.”
Brian makes an odd gurgling sound and his eyes go to the door. I hear a click and find a little remote in his hand. A nurse call button that he’s frantically pressing with his only good thumb.
I chuckle and pull it from his limp grip.