And, just like the first time he stared at me, in that library days ago, the feeling of his gaze levels out after a while, going from nails on a chalkboard to something more tolerable, if no less intense. I try to control my breathing but I end up panting, my mouth dry and then not, my dick hard and then soft again, my head spinning and yet I don’t think I’ve ever been so dialed in and crystal clear in my entire life.
And I’m not… totally hating it.
I don’tlikeit. But I don’t hate it.
Not being able to look at him, knowing he’s hovering behind me and he can look at me all he wants but I can’t look at himbecause I’ve been bad and need to think about what I’ve done; shit, that does something to me. Something dark, something dirty. Something I maybe kinda like.
“Do you want me to tell you that you’re a good boy? Would you like that?”
Shit.I hiss out all the air in my lungs and curl forward like I just suffered a blow to the chest.
“What the fuck kind of question is that?” I snarl, heart pounding in my ears.
“One I expect you to answer.”Goddamn, he’s a natural. Yes, Daddy.
It’s infuriating how good he is at flipping all my switches without even trying. Fear, anger and desire prickle up the back of my neck like needles. So of course, I play it off, and I scoff. “Why are you asking me that? You start watching Daddy porn or something? Get into some kinks? I know I told you I had a Daddy friend I’d call up–did that make you curious?”
“You’re stalling. It’s a yes or no.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him of course not, stupid freak, fuck you. But he’s told me not to lie and I’m already standing in the fucking corner like a toddler, put in time out because I’ve been bad. I feel this pressure in my head to just… be honest.
“Y-yeah.”
“Good boy.” His absolute lack of hesitation, the way it isn’t said smugly or in a demeaning, sarcastic way, makes it feel almost alright. If he’d been using that to make fun of me, using it to make me feel small in abadway, I’d have probably run away and never come back. He’d have never seen me again. That’s how close I am to snapping. But he didn’t. So… I stay.
I shiver hard, but shake my head. “I’m–I’m not.”
“You told me the truth. That’s good.” He comes closer again, giving me a break from the pressure of his eyes to pressure mewith his body heat instead, looming right behind me. His fingers graze my knuckles and my breath catches as he traces the sticky, dried residue of blood left behind. Oscar’s blood. His fingers follow the flaky trails to the ring he picked out for me, tracing it, and then back up to my knuckles.
“And this was good, Tommy. You made some poor choices beforehand, but this? That violence? That was good. Good boy.”
I get so unbearably hot all over, so hyper-aware of my whole body, that it takes me a few seconds to even realize I’m rock hard in my pants, all the way up and more ready than I’ve been in a long time.
And it maybe wilts a little now that I’m thinking about it, but it doesn’t go away completely.
“You–you–” I shift on my feet, and he keeps touching my split knuckles, like he wants to remember the shape of them. “You can’t mean that. No one would mean that. I wanted to kill him.”
“I’m not just anyone, now am I?”
Ain’t that the truth? Young-gi is a dangerous fucker with a shady reputation. And even though that should make me doubt everything he says to me, instead it makes me feel strangely understood. Like I’ve finally met someone who could wrap their head around my fucked up priorities.
“Wha-what did I do bad?” I whisper.
“You tell me. I’ll let you know if you’re off base.”
Ugh. I hate that.But I don’t hate it that much. Makes my tummy squirrely and my nerves trip around, feels like a test and I’ve never liked those, but the opportunity to get it right is too tempting to pass up. I want to be right.
“I… I convinced Kira to lie to her security team.”
“Good,” he steps back. “I’m not leaving, just getting something from the desk. Continue.”
“I, um,” I swallow hard when cold air hits me after he’s gone, not liking that one bit. “I took the girls to a secondary location without telling you or anyone where we would be.”
I hear a drawer slide open, and some rummaging around. “Good.”
“I attacked someone.”
“No.”
