Impress Me Not: The Writer

Chapter 6

Author's Note: !!!SEXUAL CONTENT WARNING!!! Thrown off yet? Think it's way too early? Good! This chapter has some mild heavy themes, nothing too specific, but I felt like I should put this warning in here anyway. This is the whole reason why I've been super excited to get this story out to you all, and I hope you all enjoy. If you don't want to have anything to do with the sexual stuff, just skip past the Italicized print. The rest is safe, I promise.

Make sure to vote and comment if you want more of this story! Tell me what you thought of this part!

-Saturn

"You do realize that you aren't leaving until I let you," he told him. His mouth was right next to his ear, voice low enough to vibrate his whole being. "You're under my command now. I'm your master for the night."

He didn't know what he had gotten himself into. One second, he was walking around the city, trying to find something worthwhile in his life, and the next he was tied up and bound with a man much larger than himself on top of him.

He never asked for this, but he stood no match for the handsome man that held him in place so tightly. Everything about him smelt like danger, yet he did not squirm or attempt to fight him off. If he did that, he would get punished.

"You know, it's interesting," his nose grazed just below his ear, hot breath creating goosebumps on his neck. "You're such easy prey. It's almost like you want this."

Another ringing of the bell to the coffee shop, and Damien was this close to losing it. He was just getting on a roll with this story too. And he'll be damned if he let all these distractions stop him from getting this chapter out. It had haunted his dreams for far too long.

And, by too long, he meant that he had one dream about it the night before, barely slept three hours, and decided to get it out at the coffee shop so that he could get caffeine as well as his amazing thoughts out.

Hey, writers had done much worse to pump out a book. And he would use that excuse every time his family tried to bug the crap out of him about getting more sleep or taking care of himself.

"What would you like?" the worker asked. It was his favorite coffee shop, as usual. He had actually stayed up all night until now at the tiny shop. He was probably going to be leaving soon though, once the morning rush started coming in. But, if he did that, then he might not ever get this chapter out. He had already written like four in a row, and he was contempt with keeping that record going the whole rest of the day.

Or until he got too hungry to continue.

He couldn't talk. His voice would not work. All he could do was attempt to control his breathing as he wondered what the man was doing now that he was away. The warmth of the muscular body close to him was noticeable. It felt like a freezer without him near. It only made his thoughts more muddled. His mind was a mush of emotions, unsure of what to feel from this man that had scared him to bits.

His face was half buried in the soft mattress that he was forced to lay on. But he didn't move. He didn't dare. That dangerous man was still near, he knew it. He could hear the faintest breathes in the corner of the room. And the squeaking of something opening. Not a door. It would be louder if it was a door. He had done nothing but listen his whole life to the sounds of the city. This squeak sounded more like on of a closet. It was so faint; he could barely catch it. And it only made his heart beat faster.

"Alright, Yitzak," the empty lobby filled with noise again. "Go ahead and head home early. You deserve it."

"You're such a good boy," the low voice came again as something lightly caressed his bare back. It felt like leather, but he couldn't figure out what it could be. His senses too heightened on hearing that voice again. "It's almost a shame that I had to find you. I would have rather liked someone who was naughty," he felt those lips by his ear again. "It much more fun whipping them into shape."