rina (relentlessfire) wrote in m8n_slash,
rina
relentlessfire
m8n_slash

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Fic - Twisted [1/1]

You read right. A new fic. From moi. It's a return to good old one-
shots! And good old nasty MbN fic! :D So enjoy, you perverts! ;)

Title - Twisted [1/1]
Author - Rina
Rating - NC-17
Warning - Violent sex (rape).
Disclaimer - Characters herein are owned by persons other than me
and I write this for no monetary gain whatsoever.
A/N: The first few paragraphs of this may seem familiar...




//Your cruel device
your blood, like ice
One look could kill
My pain, your thrill...

I hear you calling and it's needles and pins
I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name
Don't wanna touch you but you're under my skin
I wanna taste you but your lips are venomous poison
You're poison, running through my veins
Poison
I don't wanna break these chains//

Lyrics taken from "Poison" - Performed by Alice Cooper. From the
album "Trash" (1989)


***



Justin Pendleton is sitting on the broken edge of the wooden floor
in the old lodge situated at The Bluff, contemplating the dark
ocean, the sun already sunken over the horizon. It is twilight. He's
dressed in colours of grey and brown, matching his sombre mood. As
he's sitting there, Richard Haywood, wearing a red leather jacket,
sneaks up behind him and presses a gun to the back of Justin's head.
Justin gasps and stiffens.

"Hey Justin," Richard greets him casually. He moves the gun and
Justin turns around to him, eyes wide, moonlight shining on the fine
bones of his face. The barrel of the weapon is now pointed at the
startled boy's temple.

"What do you want?" Justin asks, gazing up at Richard's stern
face.

Richard cocks the hammer, grimacing, and places the tip of the
revolver under Justin's chin, forcing the smaller boy to his feet.
As he does this, Richard states, "I wanna blow your brains out. And
I'm gonna make it look like a suicide." He makes Justin walk
backwards, never taking the weapon away, and puts his left hand
around the side of Justin's neck. As they both walk, Richard
predicts, "Everyone will believe it. Because if they were you,
they'd kill themselves too."

Justin calmly says, "Mmm... you won't get away with it. Your shoe
prints first of all, are a very unique pattern and they'd be traced
back to you in a matter of days."

Richard glances down at his feet, unsure, still pushing the other
boy in the reverse direction. His thumb is in front of Justin's left
ear, his fingers in the second male's brown hair. There is a
cigarette tucked behind Richard's own ear.

"The fibers on your shirt," Justin continues, "are all over me
now... and your hair too." He looks up at Richard's spiky blond
locks. "It's called transference."

Nostrils flared, Richard nods reluctantly, seeing Justin's point. He
appears to get pissed off at this information and scowls, roughly
shoving Justin towards the nearest wall with renewed vengeance,
slamming the pale boy's back to it.

"More importantly," Justin grits out as Richard is holding him
against the wall, "your fingerprints, on my neck," he
indicates, "where you touched me."

Richard squints and pulls back a little, then takes his hand off
Justin's neck while at the same time removing the gun, waving it
while arguing, "You can't get fingerprints off of skin."

Rubbing his neck, Justin insists, "Yeah you can. With a Magna-Brush
or a fingerprint cam... or an iodine gun and silver transfer
sheets."

The blond looks away in disgust, not happy with this news. As
Richard turns back to face his partner, Justin gazes
straightforwardly at him and decrees, "Believe me Richard, you don't
have the discipline to commit a murder and get away with it."

"Is that right?" Richard says rebelliously. "Well, let's see." He
steps back, raises his arm and aims the muzzle of the revolver right
between Justin's eyes.

BANG!

All at once Justin hears a loud crack, a whistle and the thudding
sound of an impact right beside his head. He jumps in shock, eyes
full of real fear.

Richard retrieves the cigarette from behind his ear and
jokes, "You're dead."

Justin turns to the wall behind him and sees the bullet hole there,
mere millimetres away from where his ear had been. In an astonished
voice, he remarks, "That's a real gun!"

"Yeah, it's a real gun. What did you think it was - a lighter?" the
other boy jeers. In a practised movement, Richard flips the
cigarette between his lips and pulls a silver Zippo out of his
jacket pocket, showing it to Justin. "This is a lighter." With a
flick of his thumb, he produces a flame, sets it to the tip of the
cigarette and takes a drag on it. By the way he handles the slender
white object between his fingers, it is clear it is not an ordinary
cigarette but a joint, filled with a mixture of tobacco and
marijuana.

"Want some?" Richard says, offering the joint to Justin, pungent
smoke curling between them both.

Justin shakes his head, his long hair hanging untidily around the
sides of his face. Drawing his brows together in disapproval, he
queries, "What the hell are you doing firing a real gun at me,
Richard?"

Richard shrugs and sucks on the joint. "I told you."

In frank disbelief, Justin asks, "You're going to kill me?"

"Not straight away," Richard says chidingly, as if that should
have been perfectly obvious to Justin. "Why do you think I missed?
It'd be over too fast and I wanna make this last."

"Make what last?"

"This. Death. Murder." Richard nonchalantly gestures towards
Justin with the gun. He eyes the other boy up and down and nods, as
if confirming something in his own calculating mind. "I've changed
my agenda, Justin. I'm not going to make it look like a suicide. I
want to do something better, something greater."

Justin tenses, a slight frown drawing his brows together, not quite
sure if Richard's joking or not. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't want to murder some random woman." Richard
points at Justin. "I want to murder YOU."

In a curious murmur, Justin questions, "What about the plan?"

"The plan is never gonna happen," Richard snaps. "You're never
gonna do it. All you want to do is talk about it. Besides, even if
we did follow through with the plan, I'd end up doing all the work.
You say that I don't have the discipline to commit a murder; what
about you? Do you have the discipline, Justin?"

"Yes," Justin persists. "I have the discipline; I'm just making
sure that everything's perfect before we-"

"Forget it," Richard butts in, taking another deep drag on the
joint. "Just forget it. I don't care about the plan anymore. I've
got a new plan and in this one, you die."

Playing along, Justin asks, "Why me?"

"Because it will be more enjoyable for me, stupid. Killing a
random woman would be nowhere near as much fun as killing you. You
know why?" Richard taps his own temple with a long
forefinger. "Because I know you, Justin. I know your mind. I know
your fears. Your weaknesses. One of your weaknesses is that you
thought I was your friend. You trusted me. But you shouldn't have."
The blond boy allows smoke to seep out of the side of his mouth and
smiles menacingly, all sharp white teeth and cold unblinking eyes,
like a shark.

"Because I'm going to betray you."

"Oh, really?" Justin asks, trying to ignore the icy tendril of
foreboding unfurling within his gut. If this is just a game it's
dragging on much longer than it should be. It should be over
already. They should be sitting by the fireplace drinking Absinthe
and getting pleasantly numb by now. Justin has already lit the fire
and the candles and has placed the glasses, water and sugar cubes on
the makeshift table, waiting for him to mix together with the
illegally-obtained wormwood and aniseed liquor, the drink favoured
by artists and poets of yesteryear.

"We've put a lot of time and effort into the plan, working out
every little detail," he reminds Richard. "You want to throw all
that hard work away on a reckless impulse to prove how much of a
badass you are?"

"Yeah, actually," Richard answers flippantly. "Anyway, I don't
want to hear some random woman begging for her life. I couldn't care
less about some nameless bitch. But you on the other hand...Someone
I know..." His glittering eyes sweep insinuatingly over Justin's
figure, from top to toe, lingering and invasive, making Justin feel
as though he's being molested and defiled. "I want to hear it from
you. I want to hear the begging come from that pretty, girly, fuck-
me mouth of yours."

Sudden alarm bells are ringing in Justin head but he doesn't let it
show, keeping his face neutral, pretending he doesn't notice the way
Richard is staring at his lips.

"I want to break you down, piece by piece, Justin," Richard
carries on with perverse excitement, tongue flickering around the
outside of his mouth, fast, like a snake tasting the air. "I want to
shatter that cool self-control of yours. I want to degrade you and
humiliate you. By the end of tonight, I'm going to make you beg."

"I don't beg," Justin flatly states, thinking that Richard is
going way too far this time. He doesn't mind acting out amusing
power play scenarios every now and then but the other boy is really
pushing the boundaries of the game and Justin is fast losing his
humour.

"I especially don't beg for you."

"You will tonight. You're gonna beg for mercy, for your death to
come sooner." Richard looks at him, deadly serious. "But before
that, you're gonna beg for my cock."

That chills the other boy to the bone, his face turning ashen.
Justin takes an involuntary step backwards, smacking into the wall
behind him, panic rising in him like bile.

"Ah, now you understand what I've got in store for you, don't
you? First, I'm gonna fuck you, then I'm gonna kill you," Richard
purrs obscenely. "Just like a real serial killer."

With a shaking hand, Justin moves the hair out of his face, blinking
rapidly. "You're...you're going to rape me?"

Shrugging, Richard answers, "Well, that's up to you, isn't it? You
can let me do it or I'll just make you do it."

A surge of rage flares in Justin's usually calm eyes. "Go to hell,
Richard."

"With what I'm about to do to you, I probably will," Richard
drawls, "but hey, I'll see you there, buddy."

"You won't get away with it," Justin says in a low, ominous voice.

Letting out a lungful of smoke, Richard rebounds, "Didn't you
already say that?"

"Well, you won't," Justin declares, feeling his confidence
growing. "Especially if you rape me. They will match the DNA in your
semen."

"What if I use a condom?"

"Your hair and clothes fibres will still be all over me. And if I
fight you, which I will," Justin emphasizes strongly, clenching his
fists, "I'll scratch you and get your skin under my fingernails. I
will get your blood on me. It's not possible for you to do what you
are planning to do without leaving some trace evidence behind on my
body."

"What if there is no body?" Richard lets the words reverberate
around the empty room.

Justin's heart skips a beat.

"You must think I'm an idiot," Richard says in annoyance,
flicking the butt of the joint at Justin's shirt. Justin jumps and
quickly brushes the burning embers away.

"I've already thought of all of this, Justin. You thought I
wasn't paying attention when you rambled on about forensics and all
that shit. But I was. You taught me well. And that's why I have a
barrel of hydrochloric acid sitting in the next room with your name
on it."

Justin swallows, glancing through the doorway of the closest room.
It's dark in there and he can't see much but he can just make out an
object sitting in the corner, something tallish and roundish,
something large enough to stuff a corpse into.

"Oh yes," Richard continues gleefully, like a diabolical movie
villain, "after I kill you, I'm gonna dissolve your body in acid. No
body, no evidence."

Brain frenetically working to find a way out of this, Justin
poses, "What about my car?"

Richard scoffs. "That's child's play to get rid of. I could take it
somewhere and set fire to it, after I've wiped all my fingerprints
off, that is - making it look like a theft. Or I could get certain
people I know to strip it and palm off the parts until there is
nothing left of it. Or I could simply drive the thing off the bluff
into the ocean." He waves his hand dismissively. "The car is
nothing."

"There will still be evidence here, in the lodge. There's no way
you can remove every infinitesimal speck of it," Justin
stresses. "Your DNA and mine. My hair, my eyelashes, my footprints,
the things I touched, the glasses I've drank out of..."

Richard sighs. "I thought you were smarter than this, Justin."

Figuring it out, Justin says slowly, "You're going to burn down the
lodge."

"Ten points for you." Richard smiles smugly. "See, I've got it
all planned out. Now all I have to do is kill you. But first, I'm
gonna take away your virginity. And don't bother saying you're not a
virgin `cause I know you are." He takes off his jacket, one arm at a
time, never letting go of the gun, swapping it from one hand to the
other, keeping it pointed at Justin's chest. Richard is wearing a
tight black t-shirt underneath and his lean muscles ripple as he
moves.

"You should be thanking me, J. Isn't this what you've always
wanted? To lose your cherry?" He chuckles as he drops the red
leather jacket to the floor with a soft thump and begins unbuckling
his belt. The metallic clinking sound of the buckle echoes around
the crumbling, abandoned building and Justin's breathing quickens
with unease.

"Poor shy Justin Pendleton. Can't even get a kiss, let alone a
fuck," Richard taunts. "If you had some goddamn sense in those
brains of yours, you'd see that Lisa is panting over you like the
whore she is." He whips his belt from his pants loops and tosses the
leather strip to the dusty, leaf-strewn floor, curling his lip. "You
could have her. She would open her legs for you in an instant, like
she did for me. But you are too busy reading all those goddamn books
to notice what's going on around you. You didn't see THIS coming,
did you, genius?"

He advances on Justin with the gun and the trapped boy looks wildly
around for an escape route, his pulse thundering in his ears. If he
could just make it to the door...

"Don't even think about it," Richard warns, raising the weapon
higher. "I'll shoot you before you get past me. Don't think I won't
do it."

From the ruthlessness in Richard's voice, Justin knows without doubt
that the other boy will do as he says. Pressing himself into the
wall as if he can disappear into it, Justin blurts
defensively, "Stay away from me!"

Richard rolls his eyes. "Oh, don't act like you don't want it. I've
seen you looking at me with those big, babydoll eyes of yours,
peeking at me from under your lashes like a horny schoolgirl. Don't
act innocent now. I know that despite your prim, prudish exterior,
you secretly want me."

Shaking his head from side to side, Justin stammers, "No...no, I
don't. I don't want-"

"Liar!" Richard barks, stepping up close and shoving the end of
the revolver against Justin's throat. At the feel of hard metal on
his skin, Justin sucks in a frightened breath, his hands against the
wall, the whites of his eyes showing as his panicked gaze fixes
directly on Richard's furious face.

"That is nothing but a fucking lie, Justin, and you know it."

Though he doesn't want to beg, Justin can't help gasping, "Don't
hurt me."

"Hurt you?" Richard laughs mockingly, smoke-tainted breath
buffeting Justin's face. He slides his free hand around the side of
Justin's neck, feeling the irregular pulse throbbing there. He leans
in close so that the tips of their noses are almost touching, his
eyes glowing like cobalt fire. "When I'm through with you,
Pendleton, pain will be the least of your worries. Because you'll be
dead."

"No," Justin breathes, anxiously trying to turn away from
Richard's penetrating stare. Richard jams his thumb under the
terrified boy's chin, pushing his head up.

"Yes," he growls, lowering his head and taking possession of
Justin's supple, rosy lips. Justin struggles and makes muffled
noises of objection but Richard won't stop, kissing him hard,
thrusting his tongue in, the taste of smoke and weed spreading in
Justin's mouth like a bitter tonic. Richard's tongue assaults
Justin's, mating with it, dominating it, owning it. When Richard
finally pulls back, Justin is gasping for breath, chest heaving,
tears of humiliation shining in his eyes. He feels like he's been
raped already.

"Aw, don't cry, baby," Richard smirks condescendingly. Justin
grits his teeth and blinks back the moisture, hating Richard with
every pore of his body.

Stepping back, Richard says authoritatively, "Take your jacket off."

"No," Justin says quietly, defiantly.

Richard waves the gun. "Don't argue with me." When Justin glares at
him, stubbornly refusing to obey, Richard swears, drops his arm and
pulls the trigger, the loud gunshot sound ricocheting off the walls.
Justin yelps and dances as a piece of hot metal lodges into the
wooden floor beside his shoe.

"The next one won't miss," Richard says grimly. "Now, take it
off."

Not wanting a bullet in the foot, Justin shucks his grey jacket off
and it hits the floor, sending up a small puff of dust, the
microscopic motes swirling in the air.

"And your shirt, too."

Justin hesitates. Richard starts lowering the gun towards his feet.

"Don't," Justin says quickly. "I'll do it," and Richard moves the
revolver back up. With trembling hands, Justin unbuttons his brown
silk shirt, aware that he is breaking out in a cold sheen of
perspiration, feeling it starting to trickle down his spine and the
centre of his chest. As the front of the shirt opens, Richard licks
his lips at the creamy skin underneath, so pale, so perfect,
gleaming in the combined moon and candle light. Dark pink nipples,
too feminine for a boy. Soft, flat stomach, tiny navel. Richard
wants to stick his tongue into that navel, to lick it while he's
pinching Justin's nipples, to make him cry out in pain or passion.
Or both.

Unable to meet Richard's disturbingly possessive gaze, Justin looks
at his shoes as he slips the shirt off his shoulders and down his
arms, letting it fall to the weathered floorboards. His own
heartbeat and the distant sound of the ocean pounding at the base of
the cliffs is all Justin can hear for a few moments, feeling
Richard's eyes on him, devouring him, boring into his flesh, eating
him up.

"Get on your knees."

Richard's softly commanding voice makes Justin glance up. He shakes
his head slightly, eyes wordlessly pleading with Richard not to make
him do this.

"You're going to suck me," Richard orders firmly, unfastening his
own pants button.

"I don't want to," Justin whispers, hugging himself with his bare
arms, covering his nipples up.

"Well, that's too bad because you're gonna do it anyway," Richard
tells him unsympathetically. He gestures with the gun. "Kneel down
or I will shoot you in the knee."

"Richard..."

"I mean it," the blond says threateningly, cocking the hammer of
the weapon with a sinister click, "so you may as well kneel down
while you still have two good knees."

Very reluctantly, Justin bends down in front of Richard's splayed
legs, his knees coming to rest against the dirty, unpolished
floorboards, the heels of his shoes digging into the back of his
buttocks, his trembling hands on his own thighs, feeling incredibly
vulnerable, especially with his shirt off. He's half naked and God,
does he feel it, both shivering and sweating at the same time, his
skin hot and cold with adrenaline and fear. Straight ahead of him at
eye level is the zipper of Richard's pants. Justin really doesn't
want to see what's swelling behind it, let alone put it in his mouth
but Richard has other ideas. The zipper comes undone with a whisk of
the dominant boy's hand, revealing the fabric of his underwear.

"There. I've made it easy for you," Richard says soothingly,
gazing down at Justin like a teacher at a student that needs to be
shown the way by someone more experienced. "All you have to do put
your hand in there and take it out."

Justin gulps and peers up at Richard, his eyes wide and afraid.

"I don't know why you're looking so scared. I know you want it,"
Richard says seductively, reaching out with his free hand and
stroking Justin's hair in probably the last gentle touch he will
offer. "You've always wanted it. You just need me to make you do it.
Now be a good boy and do as you're told."

"All right, Richard," Justin murmurs submissively, lowering his
lashes. "You win."

Pleased with this response, Richard lets his gun hand relax against
the side of his thigh as Justin docilely reaches up towards his
opened zipper, seemingly resigned to his fate. Richard smiles to
himself in expectance of feeling Justin's luscious lips around his
dick. What he doesn't expect is the handful of dirt Justin scoops up
from the floor and flings at his face. Blinded by the grit, Richard
hollers and swipes at his eyes, Justin using the diversion to
scrabble to his feet and sprint for the door, hoping to get in his
car before Richard gets his sight back. Anticipating where Justin is
going by the sound of his footfalls crunching up dead leaves on the
floor, Richard turns and blindly starts shooting in the direction of
the lodge entrance, still rubbing at his blurry, streaming eyes,
yelling, "You're gonna pay for that, Justin! Fuck!"

As a bullet whizzes past him precariously close, Justin skids to a
stop and changes track, running up the stairs that lead to the
second floor, hauling himself along with the banister. His vision
finally clearing, Richard blinks, looks up and spots Justin,
immediately giving chasing after him, taking the steps two at a time
in his sturdy, rubber-soled boots. Justin, wearing ordinary flat
school shoes, slips on a dried leaf and sprawls forward on the
staircase with a loud grunt of pain, knocking the breath out of
himself, grazing his knees and shins on the edges of the steps,
splinters pricking the palms of his hands, skin rasping off his
elbows. Grinning triumphantly as he reaches the fallen boy, Richard
grabs a foot and starts dragging Justin back down the stairs.

"No! Richard, let go," Justin cries out, kicking at the other
boy. "Stop it!"

Letting out a howl of insane laughter, Richard bundles Justin's long
hair in his fist and yanks the second teenager up. He yanks too hard
because Justin overbalances and tumbles down the stairs with a
series of thuds, limbs flailing, crashing to the ground like a bag
of potatoes.

"Ouch. That had to be painful." Richard winces. He peers at
Justin lying at the foot of the stairs, unmoving. He calls
out, "What's the matter, J? Did you break something?" Dizzy from the
fall, Justin scrambles forward on hands and knees, starting to crawl
away.

"Guess not," Richard mutters, jogging down the stairs after him.

Once on level ground again, Richard swoops down and clutches the
crawling boy around the waist and, aided by his slick, sweaty skin,
Justin squirms out of Richard's hold, Richard's nails leaving red
scratch marks in the white flesh above his hips. Richard growls and
tackles him again and Justin, panting with the effort, twists and
bucks, lashing out with feet and hands, managing to kick the gun
away and rip his fingernails down Richard's arm, causing the tanned
boy to hiss. Richard doesn't bother going after the gun. He doesn't
need it. He's taller and stronger than Justin and can subdue him
with brute force.

"Stop fighting me, Justin," Richard advises, using his greater
strength and power to keep hold of the struggling boy, lying on top
of him and gripping his wrists, pinning Justin's legs together with
his own. His erection presses into Justin's thigh. "The more you
fight, you more excited I get, and the more excited I get, the
harder I'm gonna fuck you and the harder I fuck you, the more it's
gonna hurt. Now, I don't particularly care whether I hurt you or not
but it's in your best interests if you just lie still and let me do
this."

"Never!" Dredging up the last of his courage, Justin spits in
Richard's face.

"Fine," Richard snarls, wiping his mouth. "Have it your way,
bitch."

He backhands Justin viciously across the face, the blow cracking
through the ruins of the lodge like a whip. Justin feels his lip
split, tastes blood in his mouth, coppery and bright. His vision a
kaleidoscope of orange, yellow and grey, he can only lie there
stunned while Richard tears his pants down and rolls him over onto
his stomach, shoving his legs apart. Richard spits into his hand and
rubs the saliva into Justin's cleft, not bothering with a condom. He
falls heavily on top of the dazed teenage boy, vice-like arms
holding him prisoner, his inflamed male sex organ slipping between
the globes of Justin's ass, urgently seeking his virgin entrance.
Feeling Richard's cock roughly forcing him open and impaling him
like a knife, Justin jars to life. He screams and frantically
struggles against Richard's unrelenting hold, but the dominant boy
growls and slams his hand onto the back of Justin's head, smashing
his face into the floorboards and grinding his cheek into the dirt.
Realising the futility of his situation, that he has already been
beaten and overpowered, Justin gives up, sobbing as Richard
remorselessly holds him down and uses his body, stabbing into him,
over and over.

"Yeah, that's it. Cry for me," Richard pants, brutally fucking
Justin into the floor, ramming the smaller boy, causing his whole
body to jerk with each savage thrust. "Beg me to stop, Justin. Beg
me."

Justin just sobs helplessly, his cheek pressed flat against the
floorboards, small stones digging into his bare chest, tasting dirt
and blood and tears in his mouth, wanting this to be over, wanting
to die. Consumed with blazing red-hot lust, Richard comes, swearing
and jerking his hips a few more times as his acidic seed spurts deep
inside Justin's belly. With a grunt of gratification Richard pulls
out, his dick slipping easily from the other male's violated
opening. Breathing fast, he collapses beside Justin who curls up
into the foetal position, hands covering his face, crying softly and
weakly. Justin won't try to escape now. Richard has broken him,
crushed him, worn him down, worn him out. But this is just the
beginning of the torture. The spiky-haired boy reclines on his back,
hands behind his head, gazing up at the large holes in the ceiling,
holes that go right through the second floor up to the roof of the
abandoned lodge, allowing chunks of the night sky to shine through.
He gazes at the stars and dreams of what he's going to do to Justin
next, all the exquisite torments he can inflict, all the sadistic
impulses he can unleash, out here where nobody can hear the other
boy scream. The fire crackles and Richard realises that Justin has
gone awfully quiet.

"Hey. You still alive there, Justin?"

When there is no answer, Richard rolls Justin's body over, turning
his face around. Silvery tear-tracks are etched through the grime on
the boy's cheeks and his eyes are closed. He's breathing but he's
very still, just lying there limply, unresisting. It's as though
he's given up, like a cornered creature playing dead. But Richard
hasn't murdered him yet.

"Justin, look at me," he demands. "You don't play dead until I
kill you, you got that?"

Wet lashes flutter. Justin slowly opens his eyes. They are dark and
haunted, fatigued and hopeless. He exhaustedly meets Richard's gaze,
a defeated husk of a boy, blood on his lip, cuts on his cheekbone,
dust and soot from the lodge floor smudged on his beautiful face,
hair in tangles, a brown leaf caught in the dirty blond strands.

"Then do it, Richard," he whispers, a fresh rivulet of saltwater
escaping from the corner of his eye and trickling down the side of
his bruised cheek. "Just kill me now. Please. I can't take anymore."

"Oh, you can and you will," Richard murmurs, running a finger
through the thick wetness on Justin's belly. He holds the finger up
to Justin's mouth. "Lick it."

Justin's bleeding lips part and he tentatively licks his own semen
off Richard's proffered finger, swallowing with a shudder. Richard
grins.

"Damn, Justin. That was so hot. I especially liked the part where
you started to cry. You make such a good little victim."

A slow smile turns up the corners of Justin's split, swollen lips,
the fake tears drying on his cheeks. "You liked the crying, huh, you
sick bastard? I suppose you liked throwing me down the stairs too."

"Sorry about that, baby. That was an accident." Richard
chuckles. "Great fall, though. I thought you really broke something."

"Lucky for you I didn't or you'd be driving me to the hospital
right about now," Justin says scoldingly.

"Sorry," Richard says again, kissing him lovingly on the
forehead. "I'll be more careful next time."

Feeling sore but very sexually satisfied, Justin slips his arm
around Richard's waist, sighing, "I fucking love this game, Rich. We
ought to play it more often."

"Agreed," Richard says happily. "I'm a lucky man to have found
someone just as evil and twisted as I am."


END
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