Chapter 12 -- Pizza boy
Content warning: Mentioned abusive behavior
He looked taken aback. I just stood there, letting him decide.
"Sir?"
"It was a simple question, boy." I had to smirk; this little guy was cute with his nervousness.
He looked at the hall behind him, then back at me. As he traveled with his eyes, checking me out, I straightened my back and broadened my shoulders. I am proud of my appearance, and the marks on my wrists and neck may be off-putting, but it at least gives him some idea of what he would be in for.
He frowned and then spurted as if he hyped himself up: "Damn it! You know what? Yeah, I would love to come in."
"Good," I stepped aside and showed him in with my hand.
He walked by me and handed me my pizza.
"Here."
"Right. Here, keep the change." I had prepared the bills already and gave him only a few dollars as a tip. If I knew how this would turn out, I would give him more, but then he could get the wrong idea. So maybe it's better to keep this separate from "tipping."
"Would you like some?"
"Sir?" he blinked and looked a bit flustered now.
I had to chuckle. "I meant pizza, boy."
"Right, no thanks. I eat them all the time. I am good."
I put the box on the counter and opened it, took out a slice, and watched him as I ate. It was not that I was attracted to him, but something this weekend did to me was that it stirred many questions in my head.
Could I be free like that in sex with guys in general? This boy didn't look that frail. Sure, he was probably young and not built like Thomas, but I didn't think he was weak. A hole is a hole? I never thought about it like that, even I heard that expression, but now... I just chewed and thought about it.
It's been years since I let myself be aggressive. It was over a decade, and I had forgotten how good it felt to let go. When I had sex with women, I could never hurt them. I would feel like a monster, but that dormant greed for the pain I experienced when we were in barfights with guys lay there still, pushed down with my conscience and morality until Thomas woke it up in the most satisfying way. Could that be what sex with men is like? Do we all have deep aggression inside that begs us to be set free?
I could see the way he was looking at me. Call me close-minded, but I distinguish IMMENSELY between sexes. I was never the man thinking that both sexes are the same and are to be treated the same way. I agree that each woman can be, and sometimes is, smarter than some men. I agree they deserve the same rights as men as well as job and leadership opportunities. I am "feminist" in this regard, sure. We are in the twenty-first century, and I agree with a lot of progressive thinking. But I don't believe men and women deal with emotions the same way, and physical attributes such as strength and endurance are greatly influenced by sex. I had many discussions in length about this with men and women, and I even survived one with Dora's wife, which was intense as fuck, but still, it didn't change my mind.
Now I saw this guy in front of me and thought. Could guys withstand the way I had sex with Thomas? I never thought of bringing aggression into sex. Never! With the way I see women, I could never go past some point, but with Thomas... I couldn't believe I could have sex and fight simultaneously. I never felt this free...
He still stood there, traveling with his eyes on my body.
"Take off that cap, boy."
He pulled it down slowly and put it in his pocket. He had nice features. Nothing too noticeable, nothing memorable, to be honest. Cute, young face.
"Jacket."
He looked at me again. It was starting to bore me a little.
"I think it's hot enough here. Do you need it?"
"No," he opened the zip slowly and took it off his shoulders. He had a nice body. I watched him and knew that even if I would fuck him now, I wouldn't recognize him on the street if I met him again.
"Can I ask what happened to you, sir?"
I looked at my wrist and smiled. "I tried something new."
"How was it?"
I smirked and pierced him with my look. "Would you like to find out, boy?"
"I don't know. Looks intimidating."
"In what way, boy?" I smirked.
"Can I?" he pointed at my arm.
"Sure." I watched him come closer, taking my hand and examining my wrist.
I took his hand and pulled him closer. He looked into my eyes and at my lips. I kept chewing. Did he want a kiss? Do I want to kiss him? Not really. No.
"What is your name, sir?"
I swallowed, wondering if I should tell him my real name, but I couldn't be bothered anyway.
"Matt."
He probably noticed I hadn't asked him his name, and I was not going to. So, he just watched me for a few seconds. There was some weird tension within him. It confused me a little. Then without any warning, he kissed me. Not a shy peck as I would expect from him but a full-on assault on my lips. Okay. I can work with that.
I replied with the same aggression, but with him being half my size, figuratively speaking, I was destroying his lips, and soon I smacked him on that counter without any thought. He cried out in pain, but I just went to his neck and soon heard him moaning. I reached under his shirt and squeezed his nipple, hearing his hissing.
I guided his hand into my crotch. He took the hint and fondled my dick. I pressed with a second hand on his shoulder and pushed him down to his knees. Now, this looked better. I just watched him, waiting. He grabbed the hem of my pants, and I could feel his hands shaking slightly. I grabbed the sides of his head.
"Suck it, boy."
He took the head in his mouth, and I felt him licking it and darting his tongue into my slit. It was nice, but not interesting enough, to be honest.
"Open up, boy. I am going to fuck that mouth."
He did, and I rammed it in. Then, he started coughing and gagging, pushing me away.
"You will be fine, boy." I went slower this time but without any remorse. Soon I could feel his throat squeezing around my cock.
I waited for how I would feel about it, but no fear for his life came, no hyperventilation or anxiety. Just the thought that he can take it. I knew this feeling was growing in me--the raging need for release. With the gang, we had this expression back then when we knew we would fight some group of men. We always chose those bigger, rougher, and we lived off that thrill of conquering them. Each of us beating out of them our own traumas, taking their punches in a frenzy, never afraid of pain. Adrenaline poisoning our veins, that's what we used to call it. It was exactly like that now.
I was oblivious to what more was happening now to that boy under me. This was different than with Thomas...
I felt him pushing hard against my pelvis and bashing my leg with his fist. I pulled out, and he fell on the floor, coughing and crying.
"You okay, boy?"
"No! Get away from me!"
"What's going on?" I growled.
He looked at me as if I was mad. I felt the rush, but something in his eyes stopped me. He was afraid of me. But now, after all those years I spent working on suppressing this side of me, it didn't feel good. I was too aware now. I was scared of what have I done. I felt myself returning from that whirl in my head and felt anxiety growing. I stopped and took a deep breath.
What's in front of me? I thought. Small afraid boy!
Who's behind me? Guys and everyone that loves me! Wake up, damn it!
I calmed down and looked at him again. My anxiety subsided slowly. I kneeled to him and took his face into my palms. He started shaking, and tears fell down his cheeks. There was undisputable fear in his eyes. What is going on? Was I that rough? I didn't realize it at all. Yet he looked genuinely scared.
"Please let me go."
I sat on the floor, pulled my pants up, took a fucking deep breath, and raised my hands.
