Page 51 of Volatile

My hand is on his hard dick, but he wants to have a conversation. It was a joke at first, something I laughed off and managed to escape, now it’s torture having to find different excuses to avoid anything beyond surface level. Everything in my head is dark. Dark thoughts and impulses that won’t make sense to his sunny mind.

Soft lips press under my jaw before he fills my silence.

“I want to know you, not just your body. Tell me your favorite color, your biggest dream or fear, your favorite food, anything as long as it’s real.”

The gluttonous shithead would think of his stomach even when he’s being sweet. I’m not the only one hiding and defensiveness controls my tongue as I ask, “How often does your knee hurt?”

We all have off switches, topics that we’ll avoid and have the power to stop everything. Vitali’s is physical and he tenses as I gently wrap my fingers around his knee.

Massaging the inside of the joint with my thumb, I relax, knowing he’s not going to start playing twenty questions again. Answering them would only have more coming up and he’d end up hating me or getting too close. The answers aren’t something that I even have to search for.

I don’t have a favorite color, only ones that fit each situation.

My biggest dream is dying to escape, my biggest fear is dying knowing I’ll be alone.

I don’t have a favorite food because I’ve stuck to the same style of diet my mother drilled into my head when I was eleven – enough to survive but never enjoy.

Six words that will be on my headstone that will never be visited as the perfect descriptor of my life.

The auction starts and the first group are led out. Children trained to be killers ripe for any of the sick fucks to use; they’re given the best option out of the whole line up. They can kill instead of dying themselves. Vitali doesn’t shut up and I don’t stop him trying to force this shit out of his head.

“I’ve got a theory. Someone made you think you’re unlovable, they saw how fucking perfect you are and wanted to destroy you to make themselves feel better.”

His voice is low and gentle, trying to convince me of whatever his mind has concocted.

Becca is led out first in the next group and I pinch his side, making the puppy disappear. Vitali’s anger is comforting, it’s always in defense of people. There are no similarities between Kristi and Becca, it’s obvious they don’t share the same set of parents with being different races, but I always thought that siblings would have something to show the world they’re bonded. I can see it when she tries to headbutt the fucker dragging her in front of the room, and I can’t stop my smile.

Vitali doesn’t have the same reaction; his face is set in hard lines and his grip on me turns bruising. I shift my hips to get away from his hand and he blinks back into the room. He softly kisses my cheek in apology and flattens his hand on the outside of my thigh. This part of him is terrifying, he’s splitting his mind and disappearing right in front of me, and I lay my head on his shoulder, giving in to the game we play while he raises his hand on the bids.

“I’ve always wanted to try one of those burgers you get.”

His chest lowers my body as he lets out his gratitude. It’s not thanks for answering but keeping him here.

Each raise of his hand is timed with more honesty.

“Inessa used to be my best friend and I stopped talking to her when my dad died.” He softly strokes my thigh, and I can’t shut my mouth. “I miss him, he was the only person who called me Stasya, and it felt like it was his name for me. It’s why I made everyone call me Stasi after he died. But…”

It’s also why I hate Borya for stealing it.

“But?” he repeats.

“But I’ve never been to his grave because he would be ashamed of me and I’m not his daughter anymore.”

Vitali’s lips part as he tenses, and he speaks without moving them.

“I think we’re being watched.”

I try to turn my head, but he grabs my throat, keeping me in place. His features are harsher, and I’m roughly dragged off his thigh to kneel between his legs as he extends his voice.

“It’s not your job to think, suck my dick like the whore you are.”

The only softness exists in his thumb as he strokes a line under my ear. He lifts his hips up and doesn’t look at me as his jaw tenses.

“If you use your teeth, I’ll pull them out as your punishment.”

My nape heats and he was right that we were being watched. Something moves in the shadows surrounding the booth and I shakily undo his belt. He’s not fully hard as I take him out, it’s strange when I’m used to seeing his dick pointing at me all the time. It settles me that he’s not able to fully let go in this environment, proof that he’s not being ruined by it and Vitali is still his usual happy self underneath it.

I slowly move forward as he tightens his fingers around my neck. There’s no commentary and he doesn’t look at me. I can hear how hard he’s tensing his jaw, but I’m fucked up and watch him as I slowly wrap my lips around the tip of his dick. I move my tongue in a wave against his slit and he hardens. It goes to my head as I show that one inch my care. I win when he breaks composure and grabs the back of my head and pushes down until I’m choking around him, his dick is fully buried in my throat and my gags are muted into his groin.

---