Shaken, Not Stirred

~ 3 ~

Ohm

I stare at him, at the face that's suddenly clear without those ridiculous round glasses. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. Damn it, he's actually... cute. No, more than cute. Gorgeous.

I blink, snapping myself back into the present. Focus, Ohm. Don't lose control. This is the guy who just blackmailed me, for god's sake! I clear my throat, pushing aside the weird fluttering in my chest.

"Turn over," I command, my voice harsher than I intend. He blinks up at me with those wide, almost fearful eyes, like a rabbit cornered by a fox.

"Y-yes, sir..." he murmurs, his voice small, almost trembling. He moves slowly, hesitantly, as if he's afraid of what's coming.

Good, I think, my lips curling into a smirk. That's more like it. Maybe he's starting to realize what he's gotten himself into.

I unbuckle my belt, letting the metal clink echo in the small, dingy room. I catch a glimpse of him biting his lower lip, his body tensing slightly. "You asked for this, remember?" I whisper, leaning in close enough for him to feel my breath on his skin.

He gives a small nod, barely looking at me. "I-I know... but, please... be gentle," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

Gentle? Does he really think I'm here to play nice?

I grab his hips firmly, feeling him flinch under my touch. I expect him to pull back, to show more fear, but he stays still, almost like he's bracing himself. I can see his hands gripping the sheets tightly, knuckles white.

"You're scared?" I ask, my tone teasing, mocking.

He nods quickly, keeping his head down. "Yes, Mr. Ohm... I'm scared," he admits, his voice shaky.

I almost feel a pang of... something. Guilt? Sympathy? No. I shake it off. This is what he asked for. He needs to understand there are consequences for his actions. I tighten my grip and lean closer. "You should be," I murmur, my voice low and rough.

I push into him, hard, and I hear a soft gasp escape his lips, followed by a whimper. He tries to stay still, to keep his body from reacting too much, but I can feel him trembling beneath me. His breath comes out in short, uneven bursts, like he's trying to hold back any sound.

"Does it hurt?" I ask, my voice still cold.

He nods, squeezing his eyes shut. "Y-yes... a little," he whispers, his tone so timid, so unsure.

Good. Let him feel it.

I thrust into him again, harder, not giving him time to adjust, wanting to see him break. But he just lets out another soft whimper, his body tensing but still. He's holding back, trying to stay composed. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers dig into the sheets, but he doesn't fight me, doesn't push back.

"Beg," I command, pushing deeper. "Beg me to stop."

He hesitates, his breath hitching. "P-please... stop," he says softly, but I can hear the hesitation, the way the words don't quite ring true.

I lean closer, my lips brushing against his ear. "Say it like you mean it," I hiss.

"Please... stop..." he whispers again, his voice more uncertain this time, almost like he's unsure if he wants me to or not.

I thrust again, harder, and he lets out a louder gasp. I can feel him trying to keep up the act, to pretend he's afraid, but there's something else in his eyes... something that looks almost like... desire.