Chapter Twelve #2
Kit scoffs and gestures at me with an irritated flick of his hand. “Just… weird. Off. Like a normal person, not you.”
“Oh, so because I’m minding my own business,” I tap the desk sharply, “literally, you’re what? Gonna throw a tantrum like a toddler who hasn’t had a hug from daddy?”
He rounds the desk, eyes narrowed. “I wanted to talk.”
“You can do it from over there.” I point at one of the leather chairs opposite my desk.
Kit doesn’t listen. Instead, he walks straight up to me and sits right down on my lap. I still completely, every muscle locking up. This is very unusual behaviour for Kit.
I stand abruptly, shoving him off me, and growl, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“So that’s it then?” he asks, voice cracking slightly.
I stare at him.
“You show me the truth,” he continues, “which, by the way, I might have liked to be comforted about…”
“You were,” I cut in.
“Not by you!” he shouts.
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t do that shit.”
Kit crosses his arms, breathing hard. “I knew this day would come soon.”
I tilt my head, genuinely confused now.
“You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you?”
I laugh, loud, sharp, and genuinely amused. This kid is so far from the truth it’s almost funny. Before he can say another word, I grab him and pin him against the wall, my hand braced beside his head.
“So what if I am?” I ask, voice dangerous. “Huh?”
Kit searches my face, eyes wide but determined.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” I continue. “For the big bad monster to finally leave you alone?”
He swallows hard. For a second his face softens, the fight draining a little as my words sink in.
I lean in closer. “Well, you’ve got it. I’m done with you, Kit. You were just a weak, scared little orphan I took pity on and now…”
Kit cuts me off as his small hands move with surprising confidence, finding my belt and undoing the buckle, then popping the button of my trousers. I blink, brain momentarily short-circuiting. What the fuck is happening right now?
“You don’t seem to be stopping me,” he whispers.
I grab his wrist before his hand can slip inside my boxers. “Who the fuck said you could touch me like this?”
Kit blushes, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Anyone else would be on the floor right about now. Tell me why I should treat you any different.”
Kit wriggles his hand a little, biting his lip in that nervous, defiant way that makes heat flare low in my gut.
I growl and grab him by the throat, fingers wrapping around the slim column of his neck.
My other hand reluctantly, but not so reluctantly, loosens its grip on his wrist. Kit swallows hard against my palm, then cautiously dips his hand inside my boxers.
His small fingers wrap around my cock, and I have to close my eyes for a second, a low groan rumbling deep in my chest at the contact.
He strokes me slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “Still want me to leave?”
I rest my forehead against the wall above his head, the height difference making it easy. My breath comes heavier as his hand continues its tentative, maddening movement. Fuck. This kid is going to be the death of me.
Kit’s voice comes out shy and quiet, almost hesitant, even while his small hand is still wrapped around my cock, stroking me with that tentative, maddening rhythm. “I’m sorry…”
I groan at the friction, a little breathless, and look down at him. “For?”
He swallows, eyes flicking up to mine for a second before dropping again. “For… calling you a monster.”
I freeze. The words hit harder than they should. I clear my throat roughly and pull his hand out of my boxers, then quickly fasten my trousers and belt, putting myself back together.
Kit frowns, confusion flashing across his face. “What… what are you doing?”
I move back to my desk and drop into my chair, needing the distance. “You should leave, Christopher.”
“What just happened?” he asks, voice small.
I look up at him, jaw tight. “Kid, I am a monster. I’ve killed countless people.
I’ve enjoyed it. I’ve burnt down homes and businesses alike.
I’ve ruined families. I’ve bankrupted people.
I’ve got half the fucking city hooked on drugs, and you…
” I inhale sharply and gesture weakly at him.
“You’re young. You don’t wanna be involved in this kind of life. ”
Kit stares at me for a long, heavy minute, something stubborn flickering in his eyes. “But…”
“No buts,” I cut him off.
He doesn’t listen… he climbs right onto my desk, sitting on top of my paperwork, legs dangling on either side of me. He crosses his arms like he’s making a stand.
I inhale sharply and bite my tongue. I wouldn’t usually tolerate this kind of defiance from anyone. But for some reason I can’t fathom, I just… let him do it. I refuse to admit that part of me likes it.
“Let me talk,” he says softly.
“Fine,” I grunt. “Talk.”
Kit uncrosses his arms, cheeks already flushed pink, and shifts on the desk. He fidgets with the hem of my oversized button-down for a second, then lets out a small, nervous laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I know you’ve done bad things. Really bad things,” he starts, voice soft and stammering at first. His gaze flicks up to mine for half a second before dropping back to his lap. “But… everything you do is for your family, right? For the people who live here. For the ones who are loyal to you.”
He swallows hard, then continues, gaining a little more strength with every word. “They… they wouldn’t have a life without you. And the drugs…” Another tiny laugh, almost self-conscious. “Half the city would be hooked anyway. You don’t force them. You just… provide the good stuff, the clean stuff.”
His shoulders straighten a fraction. His voice grows steadier, more determined, as if he’s trying to convince both of us.
“And last night… after you showed me everything…” He finally lifts his eyes and holds my gaze properly this time, cheeks flushed but jaw set.
“I realised you only end the lives of people who are really bad. Or… or when it’s a small sacrifice for the greater good, like my parents. ”
By the end, there’s a quiet fire in his voice. He’s not just defending me anymore… he’s trying to make me believe it too. His small hands have stopped fidgeting. They rest on his thighs now; fingers curled like he’s holding onto this new truth with everything he has.
I just stare at him. I search his blushing face, trying to understand how the fuck this shy, broken kid just managed to spin every monstrous thing I’ve done into something that almost sounds… okay. Almost noble.
In the same week I had Armen cut a man’s ear off, murdered half a gang, blew up their garage, raided their home, tortured one of their members… and here Kit is, sitting on my desk, defending me like I’m some kind of necessary evil.
A slow grin pulls at my mouth; his words clearly having affected me more than I’ll ever care to admit. “So… you want me to babysit you while you go shopping, huh?”
Kit’s rolls his eyes, facing away, his cheeks flushing bright red. “Stop saying babysit,” he whispers, the word barely audible.
I lean forward in my chair and grip his thighs hard enough to make him gasp, fingers digging into the soft fabric of his jeans. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”
He slowly turns his head to stare at me, clearly debating how to react. I keep the grin on my face and wait, genuinely having no idea what he’ll do next. Everything he’s done today has been so far out of character it’s almost disorienting, but in the best possible way.
Then Kit smiles, small, shy, and undeniably bold. He leans down until his lips are right next to my ear, voice breathy and soft. “Sorry, Sir… I’ll be a good boy.”
Fuck. A low groan escapes me before I can stop it. Heat floods my body so fast it’s almost embarrassing.
“Let’s go,” I rasp, “or I’m going to fuck you right into this desk.”
Kit pulls back with a triumphant little smile, clearly pleased with himself. He slides off my desk and heads for the door first, hips swaying just enough to be deliberate. I watch him go, jaw tight, already regretting my own words.