Page 117 of Brainwashed

I run my thumb along my lower lip and stand up. “This time I want Moo Shu pork. Ooo and lo mein!”

Dr. Love says nothing. He’s just staring up at me from the couch, having resumed his rigid stance. He looks angry again, but there’s still a post-coital daze surrounding him that makes it much less scary.

His eyes fall and he blinks. I look down to see what he’s gawking at and realize that my erection is tenting the front of my jumpsuit pants.

I step closer to the couch. “You wanna try?”

In the blink of an eye, he shoots up and grabs me by the throat. “Listen up, Felix. Just because you won the bet, it doesn’t mean there’s anything happening here. You just happen to be a superior cocksucker. Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” I squeak and his grip around my throat tightens as he walks me backward, pushing me until my ass hits his desk.

“Enough,” he hisses, mere inches from my face. “Yourmouth was on my dick, Felix. Not the other way around. I’m not interested in playing these games with you.”

I whine at the feeling of his hard body trapping my erection between us. His face drops and then morphs into even more appall and rage.

He reaches between us and grabs my dick through my pants, so hard I yelp out loud. “You’ll be taking care of this on your own, you little psycho. Do you understand?”

I nod quickly, though I’m unable to stop myself from writhing into his hand.

“You’re so sick,” he seethes. But it doesn’t sound like there’s only hatred in his tone.

There’s also lust and a confusing allure.

“You like it.” I urge myself up, pushing my throat and my dick against his hands.

He squeezes harder on both, and my eyes roll back in my head.

“Are you going to come, sick boy?” he provokes, gripping my cock like a vice. He’s not jerking it or anything, but he’s holding it and it feels fantastic.

“Only if you want me to,” I purr.

He shoves me hard against the desk, grinding into me for a moment. I think I might just come from this. I’m keyed up and ready to explode in his hand.

But then he releases my dick and my throat simultaneously. He steps back, straightens himself up and wanders over to the table, picking up his phone to stop the recording.

I’m just shivering there like an idiot as he glances up at me, completely stone-faced, and says, “Our time is up.”

“Doctor?”

I’m staring, my eyes fixed on the wall in front of me. It’s a light sort of gray, with a crack running down the middle. Concrete, I presume.

The primary material here.

“Dr. Love…?”

My mind is sitting blank. I’ve shut it down, and now things are quiet in my head. I need it to be this way. I’ve been forcing myself not to think since yesterday…

I have to say, the spacing out feels good. The quiet, the calm. No more tumultuous thoughts.

No morequestions.

But then fingers snap in front of my face, and I startle. “Dr. Love. Are you ready?”

My eyes find the bespectacled Dr. Johansson, who’s staring at me with some mild concern. When I glance left, I find Dr. Templeton looking impatient. And by his side, Abel Figueroa, who’s clearly just excited to be here.

Fucking weirdo.

I clear my throat, reacquainting myself with reality. We’re supposed to be going to do something… And I don’t think I can manage it right now. “You all go on. I’ll just… observe.”