Control (Short Story)
I wrote this last night and I am quite proud of it. I'm totally prepared to be judged too considering...but it isn't like I wrote this to jerk off to so I dunno. Let me know what you think.
And here is your warning: Non-graphic sex is ahead. So there.
“Blake…” the name leaves the pale boy’s lips in pleasure.
The name in question is currently dominating the boy’s body. Not in a gentle manner either. No, the thief was never gentle but Kiran never complains. The rough way they have sex brings the boy pleasure. This style is different from the gentle caresses of his last lover. This was sex.
With his partner before the thief it was making love. Each man having a chance to please the other. Top or bottom. Those things didn’t matter when they had made love. It was about being a union and completing the other person. They were two halves creating a whole.
With the thief it is different. Kiran is always the bottom and soft words are never spoken before the most primal human act. A rough grab of the hand, a rough push on to the bed, rough kissing and a rough removal of garments. It is Blake’s way of maintaining control over the boy. Any pain that is caused is never intentional. It is the style of a person who has had his loved ones torn away from him and Kiran never objected, sharing the same pain as the thief.
Except, that unlike Blake, Kiran still has people. His father and acquaintances that he can still find comfort in while the man on top of him has nothing. He had to learn to live without support and had to fill the void of helplessness he had while he watched his family slaughtered before his very eyes. The answer came in the form of control. And Kiran is his to control.
“Blake.” Kiran moans again as lips are planted in a sensitive area.
The thief never responds to the cries of pleasure like Kiran’s former lover had done. No, that would relinquish control and the body lying under him was the last thing he has control over. This is his outlet for all he has lost and he will not let the only thing left to fill the void created at childhood slip from his grasp.
Kiran has only seen the man that he used to fear yet cling to in an attempt of stability, not be in control once. Everything that was tangible had suddenly ceased to exist. An event that hadn’t happened since the thief was five.
Kiran had gently lead him to his room and began to undress not sure why. Perhaps it was because he too knew of the feeling of emptiness and how it could, and had, destroyed souls so there he stood naked in front of the man he claimed to hate even more than the driver who had stolen his family. He had whispered words that Blake needed to hear, I belong to you, before being pushed down on the bed and allowing himself to once again be completely dominated. Something he had promised he would never allow happen again when he thought the thief to be dead but their relationship defied promises and their roles had been set since day one.
They never speak of the issues between them. They let the tension build up between them. Kiran angry that he had been a pawn and Blake angry that his pawn had perhaps leaded him to his own failure. They would go along their lives in silence, exchanging words but never really speaking, the frustration growing stronger each day until one of them, usually Blake since Kiran had more patience, broke and made their way to Kiran’s bedroom. Never Blake’s. No, to have sex inside that room would open too many doors. A sign of weakness and the thief was anything but weak.
“Blake!” The name is shouted this time though anyone listening in won’t be able to clearly understand the word as it is distorted with pleasure.
They finish and the thief rolls off the boy, pulling him close to his chest in the process. There are bruises where he has kissed too hard but Kiran doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he looks up at the man and tries to catch eyes that are looking in to the distance. They finally drop and meet the gaze of the smiling boy in his arms. Blake gives a rare and gentle kiss to the top of his light’s forehead before letting go and standing.
“You belong to me.” He says before leaving the room and Kiran doesn’t respond.
He isn’t supposed to. Besides the one time, Blake doesn’t need to nor want to hear affirmation that, yes, the boy was his. He doesn’t need permission to control what he possesses and Kiran has accepted that fact once again he is agreeing to be a pawn for his partner's frustration.
Soon the tension will build again and they will be back in the bedroom performing the same steps neither one strong enough to break away from their ritualistic dance of silence and sex and hoping that it won’t lead them to destruction.
And here is your warning: Non-graphic sex is ahead. So there.
“Blake…” the name leaves the pale boy’s lips in pleasure.
The name in question is currently dominating the boy’s body. Not in a gentle manner either. No, the thief was never gentle but Kiran never complains. The rough way they have sex brings the boy pleasure. This style is different from the gentle caresses of his last lover. This was sex.
With his partner before the thief it was making love. Each man having a chance to please the other. Top or bottom. Those things didn’t matter when they had made love. It was about being a union and completing the other person. They were two halves creating a whole.
With the thief it is different. Kiran is always the bottom and soft words are never spoken before the most primal human act. A rough grab of the hand, a rough push on to the bed, rough kissing and a rough removal of garments. It is Blake’s way of maintaining control over the boy. Any pain that is caused is never intentional. It is the style of a person who has had his loved ones torn away from him and Kiran never objected, sharing the same pain as the thief.
Except, that unlike Blake, Kiran still has people. His father and acquaintances that he can still find comfort in while the man on top of him has nothing. He had to learn to live without support and had to fill the void of helplessness he had while he watched his family slaughtered before his very eyes. The answer came in the form of control. And Kiran is his to control.
“Blake.” Kiran moans again as lips are planted in a sensitive area.
The thief never responds to the cries of pleasure like Kiran’s former lover had done. No, that would relinquish control and the body lying under him was the last thing he has control over. This is his outlet for all he has lost and he will not let the only thing left to fill the void created at childhood slip from his grasp.
Kiran has only seen the man that he used to fear yet cling to in an attempt of stability, not be in control once. Everything that was tangible had suddenly ceased to exist. An event that hadn’t happened since the thief was five.
Kiran had gently lead him to his room and began to undress not sure why. Perhaps it was because he too knew of the feeling of emptiness and how it could, and had, destroyed souls so there he stood naked in front of the man he claimed to hate even more than the driver who had stolen his family. He had whispered words that Blake needed to hear, I belong to you, before being pushed down on the bed and allowing himself to once again be completely dominated. Something he had promised he would never allow happen again when he thought the thief to be dead but their relationship defied promises and their roles had been set since day one.
They never speak of the issues between them. They let the tension build up between them. Kiran angry that he had been a pawn and Blake angry that his pawn had perhaps leaded him to his own failure. They would go along their lives in silence, exchanging words but never really speaking, the frustration growing stronger each day until one of them, usually Blake since Kiran had more patience, broke and made their way to Kiran’s bedroom. Never Blake’s. No, to have sex inside that room would open too many doors. A sign of weakness and the thief was anything but weak.
“Blake!” The name is shouted this time though anyone listening in won’t be able to clearly understand the word as it is distorted with pleasure.
They finish and the thief rolls off the boy, pulling him close to his chest in the process. There are bruises where he has kissed too hard but Kiran doesn’t seem to mind. Instead he looks up at the man and tries to catch eyes that are looking in to the distance. They finally drop and meet the gaze of the smiling boy in his arms. Blake gives a rare and gentle kiss to the top of his light’s forehead before letting go and standing.
“You belong to me.” He says before leaving the room and Kiran doesn’t respond.
He isn’t supposed to. Besides the one time, Blake doesn’t need to nor want to hear affirmation that, yes, the boy was his. He doesn’t need permission to control what he possesses and Kiran has accepted that fact once again he is agreeing to be a pawn for his partner's frustration.
Soon the tension will build again and they will be back in the bedroom performing the same steps neither one strong enough to break away from their ritualistic dance of silence and sex and hoping that it won’t lead them to destruction.