Page 75 of Fallen Rook

“I…” He trailed off on a choke.

“Answer the damn question.”

“I don’t know!” He blinked. “I…”

“You?” I pushed, fingers sinking into smooth, tan flesh. “You what?”

“I thought about you the entire fucking time!” he groaned, defeated.

I caught his mouth with mine, kissing him again, feeding him the taste of himself. An unintelligible moan escaped him, and I prodded his already red and glistening hole with my fingers from behind. He was dripping more cum on my sofa, begging and thrashing for my cock. “P-please. Just fucking fuck me, dammit.”

I let him go. He fell to the couch, facing me, and I kissed the shit out of him, sucking his lower lip into my mouth, teasing, biting, removing his stupid muscle shirt and trailing his nipples with the tip of my tongue. I didn’t do it to please him; I didn’t even do it to please myself. I did it to quiet the noise inside my head from knowing he belonged to someone else. I kissed my way down his body until I got to his dick. It was already hard again, which I guessed wasn’t a surprise, considering he was barely out of fucking puberty.

“Should you get the lube?” he choked out, thrusting a hand into my hair and tugging desperately.

I heard him, but I couldn’t listen. I was stuck somewhere far away and dark.

Standing up, I grabbed his hair and dragged him from the couch, then tossed him to the floor. He landed on his back, gasping in shock. I was between his legs in a flash, tugging my pants and briefs down and spitting into his hole.

His eyes widened. “Tom, what the fuck are you doin—”

I smashed my palm against his mouth, shutting him up. He tried to push me off, but as soon as his back lifted off the floor, I scooped both his wrists with my spare hand and pinned them under his body weight, leaning forward to trap him beneath me. The surprise in his eyes was replaced with anger. I doubted he liked this demon version of me, but he did like how I spat into my fingers again, pushing them into his ass, lubricating the area. He moaned into my hand, spreading himself wider for me. I added a third finger, watching his cock leaking between us, before removing all of my fingers at once and popping them into my mouth.

I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t feeling. I was riding a black cloud to an abyss leading to my demise, taking him with me.

I removed my hand from his mouth and spat directly into his ass, but only to grab his throat while I guided my crown to his sweet, flushed hole. “Came by your place today,” I said conversationally, crowning him.

His eyes rolled inside their sockets, the rest of his body quivering. “Y-you did?”

“Yeah. Know what I saw?”

“What?”

I pushed one inch, slowly, slowly, denying both of us of the pleasure we were on the brink of experiencing. I leaned down and whispered into his face with a cruel smile, “I saw a fucking traitor.”

And I pressed all the way home in one thrust, taking him raw and deep without notice.

He arched, rolling his head back and letting out a cry that ripped my chest open. It contained so much pain. Not just physical, but the pain of coming to terms with what was happening.

Who was fucking him.

A man.

A fed.

The enemy.

“Take it,” I growled into his face, punishing him for my feelings, my confusion, my failure to keep myself in check. “All of it, Enzo,” I seethed, buried deep inside him and not moving a fraction, letting him get used to my size. “And fucking hate yourself when it’s all over, because when push came to shove—you let a pig fuck you.”

God, I hated myself.

I hated myself so fucking much for each word that ripped out of my mouth without permission.

“T-Tom,” he croaked, those soft honey eyes glistening with pain and shame.

“Hmm?” I murmured. If he’d ask me to stop, I would. I’d find the strength. Somewhere. Somehow. But he didn’t.

“Fuck. You,” he enunciated slowly, spat into my face, and let his head fall back, throwing himself into the eye of the erotic storm we were both caught in.