Warning: Rape, non-con. Please don't read and say I'm immoral if you don't like it.
Hey, I'm not so innocent after all…
He wanted him. He wanted him hard, long, and deep inside of him. Deep, deep, and deep. So deep that he knew they would become one. He wanted to take him. Take him until he pleaded for him to stop. Until he heard screams and moans. He wanted him—so, so bad that he couldn't control himself anymore—that he could almost cum right then and there just watching him from the corner of his eyes. But he controlled—he controlled himself. Because he knew that he would finally be able to take him tonight.
Is his birthday.
He was invited. The whole class was invited. He laughed at the whole irony. Oh, the boy would regret having invited him to his 18th birthday party.
He chewed on his gum and walked inside, all fancy, pretty lights, bright moods, everybody's cheering, well fed, and happy. And he walked in and saw the birthday boy, mingling in with the rest of the crowds. And he watched him from the far corner as usual. Standing there like a statue, unmoving, eyes glued on the birthday boy, even when he drank the glass of wine ever so slowly. His eyes were as if incapable of blinking—he couldn't take his eyes off and he wanted more of the boy. He wanted to see more.
If only he could do more than just staring and looking at him—if only…
Oh, that wasn't impossible. It would be soon…
He wanted to take him then and there—but there were too many people and there would be too many struggles. He wanted to cum then and there, but then he would be kicked out of the party. There was a lot that he wanted, but it was really only one thing.
The birthday party was perfect and it entertained people.
But he wasn't well served.
Because, he wasn't given the thing—person he wanted.
He wished it was his birthday party.
And he walked out. The party was over and he was able to suppress his hard on for the long full two hours of torture. He kept watching the boy closely. That innocent smiling face, that bright blue eyes that shone like no tomorrow, those perfectly colored golden hairs, that ears, that nose, lips… he wanted to ravage them—like a savage.
And he was the only one left there.
And he stared at the boy.
And the boy stared back at him—only with a smile.
And he asked him why he was always so quiet and always staring at him.
And he didn't answer because he couldn't tear his eyes away from those pair of lips. And there, he grabbed the boy's wrist and pulled him close.
The boy struggled and released a muffled scream.
He used his hand to cover the boy's mouth and he dragged him even close to his body and he grinded his hips against the boy's, moaning out his name softly. "Roxas." He said.
And the boy shuddered in fear—which he thought was pleasure. Because he wanted to pleasure the boy. If the boy shuddered with pleasure—then that must meant that Roxas wanted him. Yes, they wanted each other. But it didn't matter. Wanted it or not, he wanted him. He will take him. Because the boy made him…
He knocked the boy out, feeling that the struggle had grown too troublesome. And he carried the boy easily over his shoulder. He suppressed his hard on, trying not to come, trying hard not to touch himself. Because he wanted the boy to touch him, to feel him, to do everything to him—to please him. He was sure that the boy would do it. Because the boy also wanted him.
Because the boy was also infatuated with him.
He swallowed, growling impatiently as he made his way to his home. Nobody chased after him—because that was how the society worked. Nobody cared. One or two people watched and gave him a stare, but nobody dared lay a single finger on him. The boy's parents were out of town for business and his love was left alone in the big house to coordinate the birthday party. What a perfect change for him to do whatever he wanted to the boy.
He threw the boy onto his bed and he took out the duck tape that he had prepared in his drawer. He stripped the boy off his clothes, stripping it off, one by one. Piece by piece. And he smirked, watching the boy's flawless skin, he could hardly contain himself. He rubbed his length against his bed and hissed. And he wasn't able to contain himself anymore. With the duck tape, he taped together Roxas' two thin wrists and ankles. His length was throbbing and aching and he kept rubbing at himself.
He watched the naked boy. He got a full hard on.
He watched the boy's length. And he leaned down, shaky, licking the boy's earlobe, down to the boy's jaw and he sucked on Roxas' adam's apple and he bit down on it, hard.
The boy jolted up with a yelp.
And he began undressing himself, pulling off his shirt and throwing it away in the room carelessly. Then, he unbuckled and unzipped his pants, sliding it off. He hissed at the cold wind that blew gently against his throbbing hard on and he slipped his boxers and pants down, kicking them away.
He ran his fingers into the boy's golden hair. So smooth, so silky… so… arousing. He trembled, shaking in want and anticipation and he grabbed a fistful of the boy's hair and threw him down on the floor.
The boy shook, screaming and crying, struggling and trying to run away.
But he wouldn't have any of that. No no no. The boy wanted him. The boy just wanted him rough and tough.
Because they were…
Then, he sat down on his bed, while still grabbing the boy's hair. He spread his legs apart and pulled the boy's head closed to his throbbing length.
The boy pursed his lips, refusing to do what he wanted.
He growled and roared. "Suck, if you know what's best for you!"
And the boy did, out of fear and horror.
He felt the pleasure course through every single inch of his flesh and veins. He could feel the pumping of his heart and his blood. Non-stop. And he groaned as he felt those pair of soft lips enwrapping him. Those pink tongue licking his length. He threw his head back in pleasure and he shoved the boy's head closer to his length until he could feel the boy's nose breathing against his scrotum—his balls.
He gasped and kept pushing the boy's head in. He didn't care if the boy was choking. He didn't care at all. He just wanted pleasure. And the boy was pleasuring him—out of love.
The boy cried and kept sucking and trying not to be suffocated.
At last, he felt the immense pleasure welled up and he came. And he ordered the boy to swallows his cum and the boy did it… happily.
He smirked, eyes glazed his lust and he threw the boy on the floor and he smirked some more. The darkness in the room made him felt strong and dominant and he sat down on the boy's thigh. He cupped the boy's bum. He could feel his arousal building again. He kneaded the boy's bums hard and long, lovingly. And he rubbed his length against the boy's thigh.
He knew that the boy didn't need any preparation. He knew, because the boy was already prepared for him. He must be because they loved each other.
The boy cried and shivered, cowering, writhing, and struggling underneath him. The boy screamed.
And he loved the screamed, it sent jolts of pleasure down his throbbing length. He bit down on the boy's neck, drawing blood. And with a long trail of saliva mixed with blood, he pulled away and he shoved himself into the boy's tight cheeks.
The boy screamed even louder.
He kept going deeper and deeper—deeper. Until he was fully sheathed inside. Inside.
He pushed against the boy's back.
And then, without waiting, he pulled out and pushed himself in. Out and in, in and out… without an end. He panted and groaned. And he could hear the boy's moan of love.
The boy cried in pain and disgust—loathe.
He could feel the boy's tight cheeks, the heat, the pleasure—the intense euphoria. And he moaned and sweated.
He couldn't get enough of the boy. He could feel the hot trail of blood coming from Roxas' cheeks—because of his intrusion. It was lovely, delicious. Such hotness—such humidity.
And he kept taking the blond long and hard—just as he had wished—as he had so long desired.
The boy was about ready to pass out.
And he came. He came, long and hard inside the boy.
He only wished he could impregnate the boy. Made him bear his child. He would do it again and again.
Because he loved him.
Because he was obsessed.
He was infatuated over the blond.
Over the tight, hot feeling.
And his brain raced.
And he heard the boy's pant.
"Axel…" the boy called out of hatred.
He heard the boy's moan and he was hard again…
He would do it, again and again.
Even until the boy was motionless.
Because he was