FIC: Mirror!Pinto Chapter 1b: How they got to know each other - You dance around my Dark Desires
Series Masterpost with all previous and following chapters and summaries for all parts.
FANMIX byangelrox040 is here.
Chapter 1b - How they got to know each other: You dance around my Dark Desires
(title taken from Kandles At Nine’s “Slave”)
Chris takes his prisoner to a motel and gets a room. The bored-looking “concierge” gives him the keys with a fake smile and goes back to her crossword puzzle. Only one other set of keys is missing from the board, seems like a quiet night. Perfect. After all, Winters only said to return the guy alive and unharmed, he didn’t say anything about debauched.
He gets Quinto out of the car and into the room. He chains his prisoner to the bed and admires the lithe stretch of the body, dark hair and clothing contrasting beautifully against the pristine white sheets. He thinks about removing Quinto’s clothes, but decides against it. Better save that fun for later.
Chris takes a long hot shower, then wraps a towel around his hips and sits in front of his laptop. After eyeing his watch he resolves he has enough time before the sedative wears off to do a little research. Quinto intrigues him, and he wants to find out more about him and his deal with Stephen Winters.
Chris is so immersed in his research he doesn’t notice right away when his prisoner wakes. He fails to hear the quiet moan and the rattling of the handcuffs, but when Quinto starts to yank at his chains angrily, struggling to free himself, he startles and turns around. Quinto sits against the headboard, glaring at him. His face is flushed in anger, his dark eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed tight. Chris smirks at the view and gives his prey a wink.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
Quinto huffs and yanks on his handcuffs again. “I bet you’re really proud of yourself, huh, Pretty Boy?”
Chris grins. His prey certainly is a fierce one. Quinto twists his body, rattles the handcuffs, not-so-covertly looking for a weak spot in the metal headboard. He won’t have any luck with that, Chris checked it earlier. Still, watching his prey struggle in his bonds is a delightful view.
“Oh, I am. You may have surprised me earlier, but now that I have you… I’m very proud.” Chris lets his legs splay open underneath the short towel he’s wearing and shows his prey exactly how “proud” he is. Quinto glares at him with a muttered curse, angry and furious, but Chris doesn’t miss the way his prey’s eyes roam his body, travel over Chris’ nipples, his happy trail and his hard dick, nor does he miss the bulge in Quinto’s leather pants. Chris grins again and shifts slightly. This will be fun.
Quinto yanks his eyes away and focuses back on his bindings. Now he’s trying to pull his hands through the cuffs, and Chris can’t have that. His prey shouldn’t hurt himself, Chris will gladly do that for him. He stands up and moves towards the bed. Quinto stiffens and glares. Chris reaches out him, ready, and when Quinto kicks out at him, Chris grabs the leg and yanks hard. Quinto is pulled across the bed, bangs his head on the headboard, and is flat on his back with Chris on top of him before he knows it. Chris settles comfortably on his prisoner’s thighs and watches him shake his dizzy head and blink. Dark eyes focus on Chris’ face, Quinto lets out a furious yell and renews his struggles.
“Let me go, you fucker!”
Chris laughs and presses both hands on Quinto’s shoulders, holds him firm against the bed and pushes his hard dick against the other’s. He bends down, avoids sharp teeth, and whispers into his prey’s ear: “You know, Zachary, if you struggled this way for Winters, it’s no wonder he wants you back.”
Quinto freezes for a moment before he howls in rage and fights even harder, struggles like a wildcat. Chris sits back and enjoys the ride. He feels taught muscles shift under his hands, a hard dick pressing against his own, and watches Quinto toss his head and listens to his feral yelling. It’s delicious. After a while, his prey seems to lose energy, the struggles get weaker, and Chris moves closer again. He drapes himself over Quinto’s body, holds him down with his weight only, and presses one big hand over Quinto’s mouth. His prey tries to bite him, and Chris puts the other hand over Quinto’s nose. He watches, smiling, as his eyes widen, as the dark head moves beneath his palms.
“Stop fighting, Zachary, you know you can’t escape. You’re at my mercy, I decide what’ll happen to you.”
Quinto’s thrashing gets weaker, his head moves slower now, his mouth is moving wetly under Chris’ hand, but his pupils are blown wide and his dick twitches against Chris’ own.
“See, I have a contract. Stephen Winters engaged me to deliver you to him and promised a shit-load of money. And I intend to collect that money. There’s nothing you can do against it, Zachary. But maybe, just maybe, you can do something to make our little trip more… enjoyable for yourself?”
Chris takes his hands off Quinto’s face and watches as the other coughs and gasps for breath. Dark eyes screw shut as tears leak from their corners, and Chris uses a finger to collect the droplets and lick them off thoughtfully. His prey is very intriguing, indeed. Quinto’s chest is heaving and he opens his eyes again to glare at Chris. His beautiful lips, bruised by Chris’s hands, twist into a sneer.
“Dream on, Pretty Boy! I’ll never spread my legs for a pathetic little bitch like you! And if you try to take me back to Winters, I will kill you!”
Chris throws his head back and laughs. His prey certainly has spirit. Quinto starts to struggle again, but with all the exertion of his earlier fighting he soon has to stop, breathing hard. Chris drapes himself across Quinto’s chest, carefully staying out of biting range and regards him with amusement.
“Tell me, what did you do to Winters? I mean, apart from siccing the cops on him and then disappearing before his trial. I read about that. He was found not guilty, in case you didn’t know.”
Quinto freezes. “What I did to him? What I did to him? Try asking the other way round, asshole!”
Chris frowns and sits back again. Quinto is still breathing heavily and has his head turned away. What the fuck? “What are you talking about?”
Quinto whips his head around and glares at him. “What am I talking about?! How about that he held me captive for six months!”
“What? Winters held…”
“Yes, you ignorant fuck!” Quinto’s upper body strains towards Chris, and he scrambles back a bit before catches himself. The other’s rage in almost tangible, fury pouring off him in dark waves, and Chris watches, entranced.
“He bought me, see? Bought me in an auction, and took me home. He chained me to his bed, held me there for 187 days, fucked me whenever he liked it, used me and tortured me, made me his fucktoy, his slave, his tight little hole he could use as he pleased, and you ask what I did to him? I’ll tell you what I did! I smashed him over the head with a candlestick, got the fuck out, and told the police everything about him. About me, about his other little fucktoys, about his off-shore accounts, about all the people he had killed… that’s what I did to him!”
Quinto rattles his chains angrily, turns his head away and tries to calm his breathing. Chris is frozen and staring, shocked by this revelation. Sure, Stephen Winters seemed like a class A jerk, but this? Chris gets off the bed and searches for his trousers. Quinto doesn’t move, but when Chris returns and settles back on top of him, he struggles again.
“Get off me, you fucker, you had your fun! What are you -“
“Shhh”, Chris murmurs and covers Quinto’s mouth with his right hand again while dialing his cell with the left one. The other tries to bite him and Chris shoves his head against the headboard to keep him silent. Quinto subsides and glares some more while Chris waits for the other person to pick up his phone.
“Winters? It’s me. Yeah, I got him.” Chris listens to the other talk while he holds Quinto down and bangs his head against the headboard again to stop him from struggling. Quinto gasps under Chris’ hand and shakes his head, dizzy. Chris lets go of him and stands up.
“I said I got him. I have him right here, all tied up and pretty.” Chris picks up the key and opens one of Quinto’s handcuffs. He watches as the other scrambles to free his hands and smirks at him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow. Then you’ll get what you want, Winters, exactly what you deserve.” He hangs up and throws the phone across the room with a muttered “Fucker”. Quinto is still sitting on the bed, eyeing him cautiously. Chris fingers his gun and watches the other, lets his gaze roam over the flushed face, the abused lips and the marks around his wrists. Quinto’s eyes move from Chris face to the door, back to the gun and to the door again. Chris smiles at him.
“You could try to run, Zachary, if you want. Or you could stay, and find out what I’m planning to do with you. With you, to you, and to Winters. Especially to Winters. See, I really don’t like it when my clients lie to me…”
Zach looks confused now. Chris’ grin widens and he trails his fingers along the gun’s barrel. “I guess you can imagine what I want to do to you.” Chris gives a fake bashful smile and looks down at his dick. The towel has fallen off at some point and his arousal is clearly visible. Chris cocks his head at Zach and shivers when the other licks his lips.
“But I bet you can’t imagine what I want to do to that fucker Winters…”
Zach lifts an eyebrow at this and watches as Chris puts his gun down and picks up his favorite knife. Chris looks at him while he lifts it up to his mouth, runs his tongue along the edge, moves the blade this way and that, letting the moisture catch the light. Zach draws a sharp breath. Chris smirks and saunters closer, trails the knife across his lips and watches Zach watch him.
The other’s legs splay open and Chris steps between them. “Do you want to hear, hm, Zach? Hear what I want to do to him? What I’m planning?” Zach looks up at him, licks his lips again, Chris shivers at the sight. In his head images of what he wants to do to Winters, what he wants to do to Zach and the picture of Zach himself sitting in front of him blur together in a bloody circle, his dick is so hard it hurts. Chris runs the knife along Zach’s eyebrows, down his nose, trails it over those red, red lips and rests it gently against the fluttering pulse on Zach’s neck. The other swallows, heavily, Adam’s apple bobbing, throat moving until a tiny ruby droplet appears where the wickedly sharp blade has cut the delicate skin. Zach’s eyes are wide, pupils blown. He clutches the sheet and presses a bit closer. More blood wells up, runs along the glinting metal and down towards where Chris’ fingers grasp the handle. He smiles and rubs his free hand across Zach’s lips.
“Do you want to know? Or do you want to leave now, go on your merry way and miss all the fun?”
Zach swallows again, licks at Chris’ fingers and looks at him. “Tell me. Tell me what you want to do to him. Describe it to me, every little detail. Tell me.”
Chris throws the knife down onto the mattress, shoves Zach backwards and climbs on top of him. Zach smiles darkly, wraps long limbs around him and presses close. Chris bites at his neck, his ears, his throat, rubs his groin against the other’s and grins wickedly at the moans he provokes. He licks the blood from Zach’s throat rips his clothes off, yanks Zach’s hands above his head and uses the shreds of his shirt to tie them to the headboard. Zach pulls at them and moans. He could break free if he wanted, but he only wraps his fingers around the cloth and shudders. He thrusts his pelvis against Chris and groans in frustration when Chris moves out of range.
Chris rolls him on his side, presses close behind him, makes Zach suck on his fingers while he whispers in his ear how surprised Winters will be when they get to him. He sucks a hickey over the still visible needle mark on Zach’s neck and wonders aloud if he should use the same sedative on Winters that he used to catch Zach. He talks about tying Winters up, chaining him to the same bed he held Zach in for so long and trails wet fingers along Zach’s crack. He tells how he’ll use his fists on Winters, fists and a blade and maybe a blow torch while he shoves two fingers in and stretches Zach roughly. Chris talks about letting Zach watch, making him sit in a chair and watch while he makes Winters pay. Zach whimpers and presses back against him, rough voice telling him to continue, and Chris obliges, fucks him hard with his fingers, talks about cutting and slicing, about mutilation and blood. Both their eyes are fixed on the knife where it glistens on the mattress next to Zach’s head, Chris bites the other’s neck, bites down hard, Zach arches his back and moans.
Chris yanks his fingers out, rolls Zach over onto his front, pulls his hips up and shoves his cock into that sweet, tight hole. Zach throws his head back and screams, channel clamping around Chris like a vice, Chris holds his shoulders down with one hand and puts the other on his hip for leverage. He sets a punishing pace, fucks Zach hard and fast, and Zach shoves back with equal fervor. His walls are clenching around Chris’ cock mercilessly, the way soon eased by precome and blood. Chris shoves in deeper and Zach wails. He grips the other tighter, pounds into him, talks about Winters’ lifeless eyes, about his cooling corpse, and Zach comes without Chris even touching his dick. Chris fucks him through it, keeps going, fucks into that hot body, jerks him across the bed with every powerful thrust, molds himself across Zach’s back, sinks his teeth into the hickey he left earlier, tastes the sweet iron tang of Zach’s blood, and comes.
Afterwards they lie sated, sharing lazy kisses while Chris rubs the violent bruises on Zach’s wrists. They take a shower together and Zach sucks him off beneath the water, looks at him with his dark eyes beneath wet lashes. Chris holds him against the tiles and rims him clean, sucks his own come and Zach’s blood out of his abused hole, and Zach clutches the wall and shudders and comes, gasps echoing loudly in the small room. They dress themselves, Zach borrows a shirt from Chris since his own is ruined, and Chris presses a possessive hand against the fabric clinging tightly to the other’s muscles. They return the key to the surprised night clerk who eyes them with distaste, and Zach puts one hand into Chris’ back pocket and grins at her. They walk to the car, Chris grinning smugly at Zach’s obvious limp. Chris opens Zach’s door for him and gets a mocking smile and a sassy little curtsey in return.
Chris starts the engine and, tires screeching, they speed from the parking lot. He looks over at Zach. The other gazes back at him with his head cocked.
“What’s your name, by the way?”
“Chris.”
“Hi Chris, I’m Zach. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Hi Zach. The pleasure was all mine.”
Chris grins at him and Zach smiles back, shows his white, sharp teeth. They drive along the street, to the highway, back to L.A. where Winters is waiting for them. Chris feels Zach’s warm thigh twitch under his fingers, imagines Winter’s face when he sees them, and smiles.
Chapter 1c is here.
FANMIX byangelrox040 is here.
Chapter 1b - How they got to know each other: You dance around my Dark Desires
(title taken from Kandles At Nine’s “Slave”)
Chris takes his prisoner to a motel and gets a room. The bored-looking “concierge” gives him the keys with a fake smile and goes back to her crossword puzzle. Only one other set of keys is missing from the board, seems like a quiet night. Perfect. After all, Winters only said to return the guy alive and unharmed, he didn’t say anything about debauched.
He gets Quinto out of the car and into the room. He chains his prisoner to the bed and admires the lithe stretch of the body, dark hair and clothing contrasting beautifully against the pristine white sheets. He thinks about removing Quinto’s clothes, but decides against it. Better save that fun for later.
Chris takes a long hot shower, then wraps a towel around his hips and sits in front of his laptop. After eyeing his watch he resolves he has enough time before the sedative wears off to do a little research. Quinto intrigues him, and he wants to find out more about him and his deal with Stephen Winters.
Chris is so immersed in his research he doesn’t notice right away when his prisoner wakes. He fails to hear the quiet moan and the rattling of the handcuffs, but when Quinto starts to yank at his chains angrily, struggling to free himself, he startles and turns around. Quinto sits against the headboard, glaring at him. His face is flushed in anger, his dark eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed tight. Chris smirks at the view and gives his prey a wink.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”
Quinto huffs and yanks on his handcuffs again. “I bet you’re really proud of yourself, huh, Pretty Boy?”
Chris grins. His prey certainly is a fierce one. Quinto twists his body, rattles the handcuffs, not-so-covertly looking for a weak spot in the metal headboard. He won’t have any luck with that, Chris checked it earlier. Still, watching his prey struggle in his bonds is a delightful view.
“Oh, I am. You may have surprised me earlier, but now that I have you… I’m very proud.” Chris lets his legs splay open underneath the short towel he’s wearing and shows his prey exactly how “proud” he is. Quinto glares at him with a muttered curse, angry and furious, but Chris doesn’t miss the way his prey’s eyes roam his body, travel over Chris’ nipples, his happy trail and his hard dick, nor does he miss the bulge in Quinto’s leather pants. Chris grins again and shifts slightly. This will be fun.
Quinto yanks his eyes away and focuses back on his bindings. Now he’s trying to pull his hands through the cuffs, and Chris can’t have that. His prey shouldn’t hurt himself, Chris will gladly do that for him. He stands up and moves towards the bed. Quinto stiffens and glares. Chris reaches out him, ready, and when Quinto kicks out at him, Chris grabs the leg and yanks hard. Quinto is pulled across the bed, bangs his head on the headboard, and is flat on his back with Chris on top of him before he knows it. Chris settles comfortably on his prisoner’s thighs and watches him shake his dizzy head and blink. Dark eyes focus on Chris’ face, Quinto lets out a furious yell and renews his struggles.
“Let me go, you fucker!”
Chris laughs and presses both hands on Quinto’s shoulders, holds him firm against the bed and pushes his hard dick against the other’s. He bends down, avoids sharp teeth, and whispers into his prey’s ear: “You know, Zachary, if you struggled this way for Winters, it’s no wonder he wants you back.”
Quinto freezes for a moment before he howls in rage and fights even harder, struggles like a wildcat. Chris sits back and enjoys the ride. He feels taught muscles shift under his hands, a hard dick pressing against his own, and watches Quinto toss his head and listens to his feral yelling. It’s delicious. After a while, his prey seems to lose energy, the struggles get weaker, and Chris moves closer again. He drapes himself over Quinto’s body, holds him down with his weight only, and presses one big hand over Quinto’s mouth. His prey tries to bite him, and Chris puts the other hand over Quinto’s nose. He watches, smiling, as his eyes widen, as the dark head moves beneath his palms.
“Stop fighting, Zachary, you know you can’t escape. You’re at my mercy, I decide what’ll happen to you.”
Quinto’s thrashing gets weaker, his head moves slower now, his mouth is moving wetly under Chris’ hand, but his pupils are blown wide and his dick twitches against Chris’ own.
“See, I have a contract. Stephen Winters engaged me to deliver you to him and promised a shit-load of money. And I intend to collect that money. There’s nothing you can do against it, Zachary. But maybe, just maybe, you can do something to make our little trip more… enjoyable for yourself?”
Chris takes his hands off Quinto’s face and watches as the other coughs and gasps for breath. Dark eyes screw shut as tears leak from their corners, and Chris uses a finger to collect the droplets and lick them off thoughtfully. His prey is very intriguing, indeed. Quinto’s chest is heaving and he opens his eyes again to glare at Chris. His beautiful lips, bruised by Chris’s hands, twist into a sneer.
“Dream on, Pretty Boy! I’ll never spread my legs for a pathetic little bitch like you! And if you try to take me back to Winters, I will kill you!”
Chris throws his head back and laughs. His prey certainly has spirit. Quinto starts to struggle again, but with all the exertion of his earlier fighting he soon has to stop, breathing hard. Chris drapes himself across Quinto’s chest, carefully staying out of biting range and regards him with amusement.
“Tell me, what did you do to Winters? I mean, apart from siccing the cops on him and then disappearing before his trial. I read about that. He was found not guilty, in case you didn’t know.”
Quinto freezes. “What I did to him? What I did to him? Try asking the other way round, asshole!”
Chris frowns and sits back again. Quinto is still breathing heavily and has his head turned away. What the fuck? “What are you talking about?”
Quinto whips his head around and glares at him. “What am I talking about?! How about that he held me captive for six months!”
“What? Winters held…”
“Yes, you ignorant fuck!” Quinto’s upper body strains towards Chris, and he scrambles back a bit before catches himself. The other’s rage in almost tangible, fury pouring off him in dark waves, and Chris watches, entranced.
“He bought me, see? Bought me in an auction, and took me home. He chained me to his bed, held me there for 187 days, fucked me whenever he liked it, used me and tortured me, made me his fucktoy, his slave, his tight little hole he could use as he pleased, and you ask what I did to him? I’ll tell you what I did! I smashed him over the head with a candlestick, got the fuck out, and told the police everything about him. About me, about his other little fucktoys, about his off-shore accounts, about all the people he had killed… that’s what I did to him!”
Quinto rattles his chains angrily, turns his head away and tries to calm his breathing. Chris is frozen and staring, shocked by this revelation. Sure, Stephen Winters seemed like a class A jerk, but this? Chris gets off the bed and searches for his trousers. Quinto doesn’t move, but when Chris returns and settles back on top of him, he struggles again.
“Get off me, you fucker, you had your fun! What are you -“
“Shhh”, Chris murmurs and covers Quinto’s mouth with his right hand again while dialing his cell with the left one. The other tries to bite him and Chris shoves his head against the headboard to keep him silent. Quinto subsides and glares some more while Chris waits for the other person to pick up his phone.
“Winters? It’s me. Yeah, I got him.” Chris listens to the other talk while he holds Quinto down and bangs his head against the headboard again to stop him from struggling. Quinto gasps under Chris’ hand and shakes his head, dizzy. Chris lets go of him and stands up.
“I said I got him. I have him right here, all tied up and pretty.” Chris picks up the key and opens one of Quinto’s handcuffs. He watches as the other scrambles to free his hands and smirks at him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow. Then you’ll get what you want, Winters, exactly what you deserve.” He hangs up and throws the phone across the room with a muttered “Fucker”. Quinto is still sitting on the bed, eyeing him cautiously. Chris fingers his gun and watches the other, lets his gaze roam over the flushed face, the abused lips and the marks around his wrists. Quinto’s eyes move from Chris face to the door, back to the gun and to the door again. Chris smiles at him.
“You could try to run, Zachary, if you want. Or you could stay, and find out what I’m planning to do with you. With you, to you, and to Winters. Especially to Winters. See, I really don’t like it when my clients lie to me…”
Zach looks confused now. Chris’ grin widens and he trails his fingers along the gun’s barrel. “I guess you can imagine what I want to do to you.” Chris gives a fake bashful smile and looks down at his dick. The towel has fallen off at some point and his arousal is clearly visible. Chris cocks his head at Zach and shivers when the other licks his lips.
“But I bet you can’t imagine what I want to do to that fucker Winters…”
Zach lifts an eyebrow at this and watches as Chris puts his gun down and picks up his favorite knife. Chris looks at him while he lifts it up to his mouth, runs his tongue along the edge, moves the blade this way and that, letting the moisture catch the light. Zach draws a sharp breath. Chris smirks and saunters closer, trails the knife across his lips and watches Zach watch him.
The other’s legs splay open and Chris steps between them. “Do you want to hear, hm, Zach? Hear what I want to do to him? What I’m planning?” Zach looks up at him, licks his lips again, Chris shivers at the sight. In his head images of what he wants to do to Winters, what he wants to do to Zach and the picture of Zach himself sitting in front of him blur together in a bloody circle, his dick is so hard it hurts. Chris runs the knife along Zach’s eyebrows, down his nose, trails it over those red, red lips and rests it gently against the fluttering pulse on Zach’s neck. The other swallows, heavily, Adam’s apple bobbing, throat moving until a tiny ruby droplet appears where the wickedly sharp blade has cut the delicate skin. Zach’s eyes are wide, pupils blown. He clutches the sheet and presses a bit closer. More blood wells up, runs along the glinting metal and down towards where Chris’ fingers grasp the handle. He smiles and rubs his free hand across Zach’s lips.
“Do you want to know? Or do you want to leave now, go on your merry way and miss all the fun?”
Zach swallows again, licks at Chris’ fingers and looks at him. “Tell me. Tell me what you want to do to him. Describe it to me, every little detail. Tell me.”
Chris throws the knife down onto the mattress, shoves Zach backwards and climbs on top of him. Zach smiles darkly, wraps long limbs around him and presses close. Chris bites at his neck, his ears, his throat, rubs his groin against the other’s and grins wickedly at the moans he provokes. He licks the blood from Zach’s throat rips his clothes off, yanks Zach’s hands above his head and uses the shreds of his shirt to tie them to the headboard. Zach pulls at them and moans. He could break free if he wanted, but he only wraps his fingers around the cloth and shudders. He thrusts his pelvis against Chris and groans in frustration when Chris moves out of range.
Chris rolls him on his side, presses close behind him, makes Zach suck on his fingers while he whispers in his ear how surprised Winters will be when they get to him. He sucks a hickey over the still visible needle mark on Zach’s neck and wonders aloud if he should use the same sedative on Winters that he used to catch Zach. He talks about tying Winters up, chaining him to the same bed he held Zach in for so long and trails wet fingers along Zach’s crack. He tells how he’ll use his fists on Winters, fists and a blade and maybe a blow torch while he shoves two fingers in and stretches Zach roughly. Chris talks about letting Zach watch, making him sit in a chair and watch while he makes Winters pay. Zach whimpers and presses back against him, rough voice telling him to continue, and Chris obliges, fucks him hard with his fingers, talks about cutting and slicing, about mutilation and blood. Both their eyes are fixed on the knife where it glistens on the mattress next to Zach’s head, Chris bites the other’s neck, bites down hard, Zach arches his back and moans.
Chris yanks his fingers out, rolls Zach over onto his front, pulls his hips up and shoves his cock into that sweet, tight hole. Zach throws his head back and screams, channel clamping around Chris like a vice, Chris holds his shoulders down with one hand and puts the other on his hip for leverage. He sets a punishing pace, fucks Zach hard and fast, and Zach shoves back with equal fervor. His walls are clenching around Chris’ cock mercilessly, the way soon eased by precome and blood. Chris shoves in deeper and Zach wails. He grips the other tighter, pounds into him, talks about Winters’ lifeless eyes, about his cooling corpse, and Zach comes without Chris even touching his dick. Chris fucks him through it, keeps going, fucks into that hot body, jerks him across the bed with every powerful thrust, molds himself across Zach’s back, sinks his teeth into the hickey he left earlier, tastes the sweet iron tang of Zach’s blood, and comes.
Afterwards they lie sated, sharing lazy kisses while Chris rubs the violent bruises on Zach’s wrists. They take a shower together and Zach sucks him off beneath the water, looks at him with his dark eyes beneath wet lashes. Chris holds him against the tiles and rims him clean, sucks his own come and Zach’s blood out of his abused hole, and Zach clutches the wall and shudders and comes, gasps echoing loudly in the small room. They dress themselves, Zach borrows a shirt from Chris since his own is ruined, and Chris presses a possessive hand against the fabric clinging tightly to the other’s muscles. They return the key to the surprised night clerk who eyes them with distaste, and Zach puts one hand into Chris’ back pocket and grins at her. They walk to the car, Chris grinning smugly at Zach’s obvious limp. Chris opens Zach’s door for him and gets a mocking smile and a sassy little curtsey in return.
Chris starts the engine and, tires screeching, they speed from the parking lot. He looks over at Zach. The other gazes back at him with his head cocked.
“What’s your name, by the way?”
“Chris.”
“Hi Chris, I’m Zach. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Hi Zach. The pleasure was all mine.”
Chris grins at him and Zach smiles back, shows his white, sharp teeth. They drive along the street, to the highway, back to L.A. where Winters is waiting for them. Chris feels Zach’s warm thigh twitch under his fingers, imagines Winter’s face when he sees them, and smiles.
Chapter 1c is here.