Page 35 of Ruin

Then he’s dropping down before me, his tall, lean body folding into an effortless crouch, his forearm still weeping where he cut himself, to smear me in him.

But the way he stares into my eyes now, dead emeralds, blown onyx in their centres, I fear it was all some sort of perverted dream.

The red light glows around him, casting his face in eerie shadow, illuminating him like a scarred devil.

He rests on his knees, thighs spread, toes bent where he leans forward, one hand opening his jeans, he frees his erect cock. And I look at it now, winding lines of black ink curling up his length, blood and cum dry on his flush flesh, contorting the ink beneath so I cannot see what the drawings are. His large hand slides down his slightly curved shaft, thumb and fingers circling, pulling back the foreskin, his flush head bright and red, a glistening bead of precum at his tip.

He leans in closer, sharing breath with me, my eyes flicking back up onto his. His other hand, the bloodiest one, the forearm he cut, it felt like it meant something, he glides his fingers down my cheek, along my jaw. His other hand moving up and down his cock, but I don’t look, keeping my eyes on his. His canine, a sharp point, digs into the side of his bottom lip as it curls into his mouth.

Nostrils flaring, he keeps his touch on my face light, almost a caress. Tears spring to my eyes, his other hand punishing his cock, the base of his hand smacks into his pelvis, over and over and over. It is a devious soundtrack, one I can do nothing but witness, the tightness to his eyes, pursing of his lips.

He is older than I, I can see that now, studying him up close, but still young, a lot younger than some of my previous owners and those they leant me out to, but it’s clear he has some years on me. He is handsome, in an unusual, and slightly demonic kind of way. His features so bright, white hair, green eyes, his naturally pale skin darkened with shadings of ink.

He grunts, his breathing heavy, as his hips thrust, his cock being squeezed tightly in his fist. He leans in closer, his breath in my ear, lips parted, pressing to the high arch of my cheek.

“Baby Bird,”he whispers on a rough grunt, and he comes in his hand, his other still gently cupping my cheek.

He brushes some semblance of a kiss to my cheek, and I feel blood bloom beneath the skin, a flush bright in my face.

He lifts up from his knees, his touch dissolving as though it were never there, but my hand rises, lifting at the same rate as my eyes. My fingertips touch the place where his lips were, and glancing up, I watch as his cum dribbles from his hand into a tall blue cup in his other. His eyes on mine, something glittering in his gaze, making sure I’m watching what he’s doing with it.

A crease forms between my brows, wondering, what, exactly it is he’s doing. I cannot drop his gaze, like my eyeballs are on strings, pulled taut onto his.

He’s the one to look away, lifting a bottle of milk, pouring it into the cup with his cum. Then he’s unscrewing a cap from a large white container, dipping his hand inside and banging something else into the blue cup.

I look away, eyes pinched, staring straight ahead, willing my legs to work so I could go back to my crate.

It’s that thought that has my heart thumping harder. If my legs did work, could get me back to the safety of my bars, would I go? Would I even want to escape this strange man with the brutal hands and pretty face?

“Open,” he commands, dropping down before me again, staring at me hard.

Trembling, I swallow, lips parting, tongue tensing, I open my mouth.

“Drink,” he orders, that rough, broken husk vibrating down my spine, his uncut arm lifting the bright blue acrylic cup to my lips.

My eyes drop, trying to see, but his other hand, the cut arm, his finger and thumb come to my face, pinching my chin, jerking my head back so my eyes are only on his. He leans in, licking over his top teeth, his breath on my mouth. His eyes dart down to my lips, breath panting through my nose.

“Feed, Baby Bird,” he whispers viciously, and then the large cup is at my mouth, thick cold liquid filling my mouth, my throat.

I try to swallow. The sweet creamy substance on my tongue, his cum inside of the mixture. But he’s forcing my head back, arching my neck painfully in the restriction of my shackle.

Pain bolts down my spine, jarring my body, my hands fly up, nails gouging at his chest as I choke on the thick, cold sludge. But he doesn’t let up, just keeps pouring and pouring. The pale mixture is spilling into my eyes, up the hollows of my cheeks. It is wet in my hair, steadily dripping into my ears, down the sides of my neck, beneath the thick metal cuff. I splutter, inhaling the milky substance, I can feel it as it slides down my throat, more into my windpipe.

My eyes are blinking rapidly, trying to clear it from my vision. Trying to see him. My brain feels like it’s on fire, swelling with pressure, my temples tight. And then the last breath of air trapped in my lungs, punches up the back of my throat, forcing a sudden spurt of it out through my nose.

That’s when he stops, releasing his hold on my face, hands slipping down his chest, over his rippling abdominal muscles, I fall forward into his lap. Cock still exposed through his open jeans, hard, once more, bounces against my cheek. I cough and sputter into the space between his thighs, hacking sweetness onto the concrete.

My hands come around his hips, hands clinging onto each other, fingers knotting at his back, the strain in my shoulders is intense, the way I am trying to wrap myself so thoroughly around him. My breath heaves, eyes squeezed shut, stinging with whatever it is that he fed to me.

His cum.

My cheeks heat again, even as my entire body trembles, lungs burning, I hold onto him like I will die if I release him. He doesn’t move, his sticky cock gluing itself to my wet cheek. He doesn’t shove me away, doesn’t touch me, doesn’t say anything.

And however wrongly, I crave it, his touch. Attention. The way I know he could be gentle, even when, I don’t think he really understands it.

I don’t really understand it.

I have never felt anything for anyone before.

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