Page 5 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)
Crawling lower on all fours, Kuon huddled between Yugo’s legs. Nimble fingers hooked into the captive’s pants and peeled them down to mid-thighs. His tongue lapped over Yugo’s pubis, then carefully traced the length of his cock until reaching the foreskin with the tip.
“You wanted to be in my mouth?” With little hesitation, the reddened lips parted, and wet heat engulfed Yugo’s crown.
The back of his head fell onto the pillow as liquid pleasure coursed through his veins, softening his body.
Watching Kuon’s lips stretch around his girth felt so damn right.
The drop of saliva beading at the corner of the torturous mouth beckoned, promising salvation from the maddening thirst. His vision tunneled in on it, fueling the desire to lick it off.
“Kuon,” Yugo croaked as teeth caught his foreskin and gave it a light tug. The painful sensation made him hiss. “Come up and kiss me.”
“No.”
“You proved your point. Release me.”
“Why? Are you scared of me?” Kuon murmured in a sickly-sweet voice, but his jaw bulged with pressure. He moved closer, hovering over Yugo on all fours. “Don’t be; I won’t do anything you haven’t done to me.”
Yugo’s head cooled to an icy clarity. He squinted, scanning Kuon’s face, but failed to understand his emotions. They were too… contradictory. Arousal and bitterness. Anger and hesitation. And something else, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.
He scowled as the handcuffs pinched his skin from the inadvertent pull on the chain.
He didn’t believe Kuon harbored any revenge plan.
It would be too stupid, and the former detective was too terrible a liar to pull off such an act.
Still, Yugo heard the truth ringing in Kuon’s voice, betraying a bitter grudge.
He was angry and therefore capable of recklessness.
The game had ceased to be amusing.
“Uncuff me. Let’s talk.”
Kuon’s chin twitched, signaling slight refusal.
“I don’t want to talk. You always seem to forget that I’m also a man with the same desires and needs.
I should remind you of it.” In the threat-laced words, he heard echoes of his own tone.
Kuon’s hand traveled along Yugo’s cock, fondled his balls.
When his fingers ventured lower, Yugo tensed, teeth grinding so hard that his jaw hurt.
It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to stay still.
“Hit me, and I’ll whip you. In my experience, it’s extremely painful and humiliating. ”
Disappointment tore through Yugo, shattering the fragile illusion of mutual understanding.
He didn’t know this version of Kuon. The realization annoyed.
Kuon annoyed. The desire to hurt the former detective had never been so overwhelming.
Yet, he forced himself to remain calm as he filtered through Kuon’s words, dissecting his expressions.
To buy himself more time to think, he said, “This is revenge after all?”
Kuon’s lips thinned in a stubborn expression Yugo had seen so many times, but the persistent fingers kept pressing against his taint. With a subtle shift, Kuon brushed his cock against Yugo’s thigh. “Have you ever bottomed, or will I be your first?”
Yugo’s nails sank into his palms, and what should have been a growl came out in a low, blood-curdling whisper, “Last warning, Kuon. I don’t want to hurt you. Stop.”
“Why, don’t you like it? Don’t you want to give yourself to me?
Wouldn’t it be fair? After all, you were my first.” Kuon’s lips quivered.
A stubborn mask cracked and crumbled from his face.
As if realizing he was losing his composure, Kuon drew back.
His fingers withdrew, the eye shields moved, and the tape holding them together creased at the bridge of his nose.
He sat back on his heels and rubbed the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
Yugo knew that expression too well. Confused and lost, Kuon was trapped by his own actions.
“Enough,” he said softly. “We both know you won’t do it.”
“You sure? As you can see,” Kuon gestured to his rock-hard cock, “I can continue.”
“Touching someone you like and getting aroused by it isn’t the same as raping.”
Kuon’s head jerked to the side as if he’d been hit.
“Don’t you know everything about it?” Kuon hissed with hatred.
His bottom lip bleached under the hard press of his teeth, then glittered with raw crimson.
“You’re right, I’m not like you. I wouldn’t want to humiliate you.
Not because I can’t, but because I know how painful and degrading a rape is.
How it destroys the spirit and character.
I don’t want to do it, not to you, not to anyone.
But Yugo… if you brought me here to fuck as you please, get yourself a whore.
If not, get rid of the chains because the next time you force me, I’ll find a way to finish what I’ve started. ”
Yugo stared at him unblinkingly. He disregarded the threat, finding it an absurd bluff, but something in the twist of that bloody mouth made him try to lift up. “Kuon…”
The former detective slipped off the bed and staggered away. His outstretched hand drew circles in the air as he progressed toward the bathroom.
Yugo’s whole being longed to go after Kuon. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he caught him—strangle him or kiss him—but the growing distance between them infuriated him.
“Wait… Where are you going?” Yugo croaked, yanking at the chains to draw attention back to himself. “Unchain me.”
“Shower,” came the curt reply before the bathroom door slammed shut.
“Fuck,” Yugo cursed, leaning back on the pillows.
Smoldering with the need to follow Kuon into the bathroom, he yanked at the chain holding him to the bed, then looked up to catch the carabiner.
The damn thing kept slipping from his impatient fingers and disappearing into the anchor hole.
Soon, his hands went numb from the uncomfortable position, and he banged his head against the pillow in frustration.
The first shockwave knocked the breath from Kuon’s lungs and quenched his fiery thirst as jets of icy water bit into his shoulders. They stung, washing away embarrassing and intrusive fantasies.
The broad, heaving chest… inky black hair tossed around the pale silk sheets… salty droplets of perspiration glittering on olive skin… eyes forged from the overcast sky, swirling with insatiable darkness… thin lips parted to chase the air… his name breathed out in a low baritone.
A muffled roar rolled through the bathroom, dissolving in the hissing water.
If he could, Kuon would shove his head into a bucket of ice to clear his mind.
He growled again, wanting to stick his head under the relentless streams of water to slow his thoughts until numbness reigned.
However, washing his head was forbidden, so he clenched his teeth harder and increased the water pressure on his shoulders.
Yugo twisted as much as the chain allowed.
His wrists felt tender from tugging at the bonds, but a soft hissing noise drifting from behind the closed door went on and on.
The lazy river of time slowed down, making him think like an hour had passed.
He’d never been good at waiting, and now a tiny muscle under his eye twitched.
When he neared boiling point, ready to call for Greg, the noise died.
The bathroom door flung open, and Kuon shuffled out, probing his way with his foot.
Yugo flexed his abdomen and used the strength of his upper body to lift himself up and look at his lover, his shoulders screaming from the sharp, unnatural stretch.
Kuon’s teeth chattered, and his skin prickled as water droplets hung from the tiny hairs bristling all over his body.
The red, raised scars had turned deep purple, stark against the ghostly pale torso.
His thick cock hung low between his legs, surrounded by a triangle of dark hair, balls tucked close to his body.
Did he need a cold shower to calm down? Or a wank? Should I be flattered or disturbed? The thought displeased him, because whatever Kuon had done, Yugo was excluded.
That felt unfair to Yugo. While Kuon looked refreshed, he smoldered alive. He swallowed hard against his dry throat as the drops of water on that splendid body promised salvation. They begged him to lick them off.
“Uncuff me,” Yugo rasped, voice edged with dryness in his throat.
Not paying the captive any attention, Kuon made his way to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down, facing the window.
A little sunlight snuck into the room through the half-drawn curtains.
It got caught in the crystal drops of the chandelier and cast colorful, refracted spots on Kuon’s front while his back was washed in the yellow light of the sconces.
“What are you doing?” Yugo frowned, watching the sturdy fingers with bluish nails fumble over the tablecloth and grab a plate.
Without bothering to use a fork, Kuon picked up a piece of lamb and shoved it into his mouth.
Thick globs of gelatinized meat juices skated down his wrists as he grabbed a larger piece and sank his white teeth into it.
Brown gravy splattered across the white tablecloth as Kuon tore at the food with his fingers and teeth like an animal. From time to time, his fingertips disappeared into his mouth as he licked them clean.
Fascinated, Yugo watched his captor without blinking. The last sparks of rage died as the personification of his dream—naked, strong, and honest in his desires—sat before him.
Sure of the absence of surveillance, Kuon relaxed, ceased to mind his manners, and ate with a wolfish appetite.
“Eating. I’m hungry,” came a mumble after Yugo had lost all hope of an answer. Kuon wiped the grease from his lips with the back of his hand, then sank his teeth into another piece and tore meat off the bone.
“Uncuff me.” Yugo lowered his voice. “Come on.”
The sharp bulge of Kuon’s throat jerked. A moment later, he shook his head and said, mouth full, “Not now.”
“When?”
“When you calm down.” He dropped a bare bone onto the plate before picking up another piece of meat.
“I am calm.” Yugo scowled. The longer he watched Kuon eat, the more ravenous he became. “What are you scared of?”
“Well… You? ” Kuon huffed as if the answer was obvious. He opened his mouth and licked off a trickle of meat juice running down his left wrist. “I can’t take such a risk. You’ll have to wait.”
A bolt of desire struck Yugo, blinding him for a beat. He wanted to be the one to lick Kuon like that and be licked with such attention in return. “Then feed me. I’m starving.”
Kuon’s back snapped straight, chin lifting.
He pondered for a moment before his hands reached for the table but shrank back.
He froze, hesitating, or perhaps afraid to stain the already ruined tablecloth.
His head moved from side to side before he cringed and wiped his hands on his bare hips, leaving long, greasy trails glistening in the mixed artificial and natural light.
After finding the silver meat dish, he returned to the bed.