Status: complete
Kitten
Chapter Seven
Brendon was sitting in the living room, waiting up for Ryan like he did every night, when the older boy got home.
“Hello, Kitten,” Brendon said in a flat voice. “How was the show?”
“It was fine,” Ryan replied in the same flat voice.
“And after the show?” Brendon asked. “How was that?”
Ryan didn’t say anything and moved to go into their bedroom.
“Oh, no, no, Kitten,” Brendon called out. “You’re not going anywhere. You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ryan said in a tight voice.
“Come here!” Brendon barked and Ryan meekly walked over to his side. “Sit down.”
Eyes wide with fear, Ryan gingerly sat down the couch, unable to suppress the gasp of pain that slipped through his lips when his tender body connected with the surface.
“That’s what I thought,” Brendon said, lip curled into a sneer. “And how was it?”
“Brendon,” Ryan whispered, looking up at the other boy. “You’ve … been drinking … haven’t you?”
“Mind your own damn business!” Brendon snapped, standing up and walking over to stand behind Ryan. “Tell. Me. How. It. Was.”
Ryan bit his lip and tried not to cry. “Hot passionate sex in the dressing room!” he spat, telling Brendon exactly what he wanted to here.
“I bet I can do better.”
And then his hands were on Ryan’s already sore shoulders, roughing hauling him into the bedroom.
Brendon had Ryan facedown on the bed in a matter of seconds and the skinny boy was screaming in a matter of minutes.
“No! S-stop! Brendon! Ah!”
“Say my name again, Kitten,” the younger boy breathed, leaning down to bite Ryan’s ear. “Say it, you slut.”
“B-Brendon,” Ryan whispered, choking on the tears. “Please.”
“Oh? You want more?” Brendon asked in voice that showed he was high off more than alcohol—he was high off the power he held over the older boy.
“N-no. Stop, please.”
Nails digging into the raw spots on Ryan’s shoulders, Brendon’s voice was ragged as he spat out words that didn’t mean anything, words that tore Ryan apart, words that he wouldn’t remember in the morning.
“Hello, Kitten,” Brendon said in a flat voice. “How was the show?”
“It was fine,” Ryan replied in the same flat voice.
“And after the show?” Brendon asked. “How was that?”
Ryan didn’t say anything and moved to go into their bedroom.
“Oh, no, no, Kitten,” Brendon called out. “You’re not going anywhere. You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ryan said in a tight voice.
“Come here!” Brendon barked and Ryan meekly walked over to his side. “Sit down.”
Eyes wide with fear, Ryan gingerly sat down the couch, unable to suppress the gasp of pain that slipped through his lips when his tender body connected with the surface.
“That’s what I thought,” Brendon said, lip curled into a sneer. “And how was it?”
“Brendon,” Ryan whispered, looking up at the other boy. “You’ve … been drinking … haven’t you?”
“Mind your own damn business!” Brendon snapped, standing up and walking over to stand behind Ryan. “Tell. Me. How. It. Was.”
Ryan bit his lip and tried not to cry. “Hot passionate sex in the dressing room!” he spat, telling Brendon exactly what he wanted to here.
“I bet I can do better.”
And then his hands were on Ryan’s already sore shoulders, roughing hauling him into the bedroom.
Brendon had Ryan facedown on the bed in a matter of seconds and the skinny boy was screaming in a matter of minutes.
“No! S-stop! Brendon! Ah!”
“Say my name again, Kitten,” the younger boy breathed, leaning down to bite Ryan’s ear. “Say it, you slut.”
“B-Brendon,” Ryan whispered, choking on the tears. “Please.”
“Oh? You want more?” Brendon asked in voice that showed he was high off more than alcohol—he was high off the power he held over the older boy.
“N-no. Stop, please.”
Nails digging into the raw spots on Ryan’s shoulders, Brendon’s voice was ragged as he spat out words that didn’t mean anything, words that tore Ryan apart, words that he wouldn’t remember in the morning.
♠ ♠ ♠
I am so mean.