Bad Things (16 page)

While Carson was in the bathroom, Xavier went to the bar he’d installed between two beams and did fifty chin-ups to dispel some of the monstrous need tearing through him. Then twenty five hanging crunches. He didn’t want to be drooling and panting like a dog sniffing after a bitch in heat when he got his hands on his playmate.

When Carson emerged from the bathroom, his cock was hanging, but still flushed and heavy, the rest of his body pale, his steps small and stiff. So nervous, poor baby. Just about having his ass touched? Or did he think he was about to get fucked?

“
Lube.”

Carson walked toward him, slowly, shuffling slightly, and handed him the bottle.

“Go back to your post.”

Carson didn’t even waste the effort of a pleading look. He just did as he was told, his gaze remote, his mind five minutes in the future, Xavier figured, already going through a hundred possible torments, when they’d only have the time for a precious few.

“No, don’t sit. On your knees, facing the pole.”

There. Now he was begging again, big fear-filled eyes upturned, seeking. But finally he gave up and followed his orders. Xavier put the restraints back on him, then knelt down behind him, forcing his shins apart, nice and wide. Then pushed him slowly but relentlessly forward and down, until Carson’s forehead touched the mat. Every time Carson startled and grunted, Xavier’s cock got a little harder.

Fucking hell, what a view. Everything right there, perfectly displayed.

“
That’s an absolutely irresistible offer you’re making me, Carson. You know that?”

Not so much as a muffled grunt. Just the quick huff huff huff of his breaths.

“And this fucking ass of yours.”

Absolutely prime rump. Thick and round. He gave it a gentle, lingering caress. Drank in Carson’s startled gasp mangled by the gag and the shudder that ran down his back.

“I mean it. It’s fucking irresistible.”

He grasped Carson’s hips in both hands and sank down on the left cheek, biting and sucking, the feel of that firm flesh between his teeth and against his tongue, and of Carson’s squirming and whimpering whipping the ache in his cock to full-on agony. When he took his mouth from him, there was a raspberry colored mark.

Planting his hands on his cheeks, he squeezed, caressed, grasped. Fuck, he loved that. Two handfuls of muscular, warm flesh, yielding but resistant.

“
Are you sure you got yourself nice and clean?”

He waited. Finally he got a small nod. Another groan as he spread his cheeks. He hadn’t planned this, either, but he couldn’t resist dipping down, touching the tip of his tongue to the center of that tawny pucker, a bit inflamed from the possibly overly vigorous washing Carson had given it, then exploring the unique texture, circling his tongue around its circumference.

Carson didn’t just groan at having his asshole licked. He squealed, bucked, and jerked forward, suddenly desperately trying to get up off his knees. But Xavier dragged him back into position, wrenched his legs open again, using his own legs to pry Carson’s knees apart, slipping his arms between his splayed thighs and grasping his hips. Locked open, tethered to the post, Carson was helpless to do anything but grunt his useless protests as Xavier slid his tongue up the length of his crack, starting at the back of his balls, then settled in right at his asshole, probing, lapping, sucking.

After a while, Carson stopped his pointless writhing and complaining. He went still, and there was just the steady sound of his inhales alternating with his rasping exhales while Xavier ate his ass. Now that he’d given in and Xavier didn’t need to keep him wedged open with his shoulders, he had his hands free to grab and knead, to caress, to spread.

Holy fucking god, he wanted to fuck that hole. Hear the pitch and rise of Carson’s voice behind the gag. Drill through that tight-clenched aperture and pump him full of what felt like a fucking pint of come making his balls ache.

Mid-urge, a new, delicious sight drove a sudden, brutal thrill through Xavier. A glistening bead, clear as water, thick as egg white was descending slowly toward the floor on a gossamer thread slinking out from the slit of Carson’s turgid dick.

“Jesus. All that squirming and complaining, and look at you. You’re not just hard. You’re drooling.”

He came around in front of Carson and put him up on his haunches. Pushed his knees open again.

Panting, eyes full of confusion that overwhelmed both the arousal and dread there, Carson watched Xavier load two fingers up with lube, then duck his hand down and past his balls.

Flare of pleasure, spark of anxiety flowering like fireworks in the twilight as Xavier slid his fingertips between Carson’s cheeks and found his hole. Rubbing, teasing, making Carson squirm and pant, brow fretful and furrowed.

Fuck, that delicious moment of first penetration. A single fingertip opening. That delicate, powerful, sucking squeeze of the sphincter. The way Carson startled, his Adam’s apple jumping when he tried to swallow his terror. One slow push, and Xavier buried the entire length of his finger in the heat of Carson’s body. Pulled free. Gave him both fingers together.

A twitch of no, head jerking almost imperceptibly as he was forced open. As Xavier worked the two fingers up inside him. Fuck, Xavier’s need was eating him alive.

He wrapped his other hand around Carson’s throat. Not squeezing, just devouring that thrill. His life in his hands. His fingers up his ass.

Not enough. Not nearly. He wrangled the gag free, then wrapped his hand back around Carson’s throat. To keep him quiet, and because he liked the feel of his sinewy neck, the chafe of his stubble, the sensation of his Adam’s apple lurching under his palm with every panicked swallow. The feel of his own power, and Carson’s vulnerability.

Damn, lips red and wet and swollen from being stretched around the gag, forced open now by a long, desperate groan as Xavier drove his fingertips up against his prostate, and stroked. And, oh, the startled pleasure shimmering blue amid scattered facets of green and gray. Flaring with fear when Xavier leaned in, tasting Carson’s fretful breaths. Tasting his lips, driving out another helpless cry that vibrated against his hand.

Not rushing. Savoring. God, that strange feeding that just made him hungrier. Succulent flesh between his teeth. He sucked, gently, then ravenously. Panting as hard as Carson, now.

He barely had the strength, the will, but he pulled back. Fuck, yes. Worth it. Just to see the loss in Carson’s eyes. The hopeful anticipation.

One small kiss of his wet swollen lower lip.

Another look.
Pobre
. Wanting, and not wanting to want.

Another kiss, still soft. Just a tease. But lingering this time.

Air cool on his wet lips when they left his. Eyes locked on his. Both of them waiting.

“
You’re allowed to say one word. Say, ’no,’ and I won’t kiss you again.”

Trembling, startled silence.

He kissed, sucking that swollen lip between his, touching his tongue against the taut flesh, just for a second, then pulled back and looked at him again. Gave him one last chance. But Carson said nothing. Just looked at him, eyes searching his for something. Mercy?

So, he had permission. Not the kind that holds up in court, of course.

Because he wanted to savor this victory, savor Carson’s surrender, Xavier brought his mouth to his slowly, coaxed his lips open gently. Then tasted his tongue. Patient. A kiss in slow motion.

God. Yes. There.

Carson’s tongue answering the touch of his own. Carson’s lips responding to his. And Christ, how his was trembling, his whole body vibrating. Pulse surging violently, rapidly under Xavier’s fingertips.

And when he slid his two fingers down against the wet grasp of his hole and drove the pads firmly against his prostate again, Carson convulsed and grunted, almost as if he’d hurt him. But Xavier knew better. He did it again.

Feeding now, a savage, relentless kiss as he fucked Carson’s grasping hole, prodding his prostate on every thrust, feeling the surge of current wrack Carson’s quivering body each time until he was crying out on every breath. Xavier made himself pull out of that sustaining kiss so he could watch, see the loss of that kiss in Carson’s face, witness each explosion of terrible pleasure echo in his eyes. Watch his jaw clench, watch his brow knit, watch the contraction of his abdomen and thighs, watch the first majestic arc of ejaculate launch into the air, hear his cry, not muffled by the gag, not muffled by their kiss as Xavier hit home on Carson’s prostate again, as another stream of come spewed forth, battering his belly and chest. Carson squirming, writhing around on the fingers Xavier kept stuffed up his ass.

Jesus fucking Christ.
Puta Jesús Cristo
.

Driven, needful, Xavier bent and licked. Drank in Carson’s startled, mortified whimper with his spicy, turbid come, lapped up from his belly, from the smooth hill of his muscular pec, and finally licking his nipple, sucking for just a moment, a final indulgence. Such pleasure in Carson’s muffled groan, in the feel of his flesh hardening and swelling against his tongue, giving his ass a final twist and pump with his fingers before pulling them free just as he let go of his peaked nipple with a noisy slurp.

Xavier stuffed those two fingers in his own mouth, saw the eruption of shock in Carson’s eyes, then watched that explosion expand as Xavier remembered his earlier promise, pulled his fingers from between his lips, and pressed them to Carson’s. The hard resistance of tightly clenched teeth.

Xavier couldn’t repress a grin. “Unless you want me to give you something else to suck, you should accept this nice offer I’m making you.”

Repulsion twisting his expression, Carson relaxed his jaw, and Xavier pushed both fingers past his lips, touched the tip of Carson’s tongue with his fingertips, then pushed back until Carson convulsed, gagging. Xavier relented, and drew his fingers back an inch or two.

“
Slide your tongue between my fingers.”

He waited a couple seconds, then Carson did it.
Puta Dios
, his cock ached.

“
God, you make me want to fuck your mouth.”

Predictable flash of terror in Carson’s eyes. A powerful, almost irresistible aphrodisiac. Xavier pulled his fingers from Carson’s mouth.
Puta Cristo
, he wanted to kiss his gorgeous lips, obscenely wet and parted. Put his arms around him, feel the heat of him, feel his body trembling.

Fuck. He really didn’t want to do the next thing. But the thought of skipping it sent a warning twinge through his gut. Xavier fixed his expression, moved the chair over in front of Carson, and got the laptop off the shelf.

Obediently, Carson watched, his guarded stiffness doing precious little to mask his dread. But then his expression softened, because in this clip, the girl he’d seen numb and passive as she was gang-raped, the girl he’d seen weep and beg and scream as Max tortured her with a cigarette and forced her to service him in half a dozen ways, was like a normal teenaged girl, now, because those things hadn’t happened to her yet.

Sitting cross-legged on the hideous floral duvet of the queen-sized bed in that hovel of a motel room, she was hunched over a book. Every few seconds, she sounded out a simple phrase in her thick Slavic accent.

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

“
What’s your name?”

“
My name is Olga.”

Diligent, methodical. She practiced each phrase five times, then went through the whole series over and over.

Xavier took a couple slow, deep breaths. Vulnerability, once discovered, is easily exploited. So even though he wanted Carson to know he was on the side of Olga and the other women Max was exploiting, he couldn’t afford to let him see how much it hurt him to watch the video.

“
I don’t know how much you know about how these human traffickers operate. They’ve got guys in Ukrainia. In Russia. In Belarus and all these Eastern European countries, who spend all their time looking for kids to bring over. Mostly girls. But boys too. Kids who are on the street, starving, because their fathers or mothers are abusing them. Because they’ve been abandoned. Because they never had a family in the first place. Or they find a pretty girl from a poor family. Either way, it’s the same.

“
They tell them there are jobs here. Real jobs. Maybe modeling, or dancing. But usually they just promise them a normal job, something we’d think sounds shitty, but to them it sounds like the first rung on the ladder of the American dream. Which sounds stupid to us, because we know people are poor here, too. But to them, it’s this myth. If you can just get here, you’ll have a good life. A happy life. Then the traffickers buy them a plane ticket and get them a visa, and as soon as the kids get here, they take their passport and lock them up in a shitty hotel room.”

Xavier gestured toward the screen.

“They tell them that without their passport, if they go to the police, they’ll go to jail or get deported. And if that doesn’t scare the girl enough, the trafficker tells her his cousin in her home town will rape her baby sister and slit her mamma’s throat if she doesn’t do exactly what she’s told.”