Erotomania (Killing Stalking fanfic)*DISCONTINUED*

Chapter 15

If Bum hated when Sangwoo was home, he hated his absence even more. Not because he actually wanted him around, but at least when Sangwoo was there, Bum could freely move about the house without worrying about the inevitable jerk of a rope. Well, not the kitchen. He wasn't allowed into the kitchen by himself even when Sangwoo was home.

"I'll know," Sangwoo said, "if you were there."

How? Bum didn't know, and he wasn't given a chance. Before Sangwoo left every day, he would tie one of Bum's ankles to the bedpost, the cord long enough so he could reach the bathroom, but no farther. And then, Sangwoo would leave Bum alone. It was painfully boring, seeing the same room, the same hallway, for hours at a time. Being drugged was preferable to this; at least the time would seem like it passed by quicker. Instead, he was left alone with his thoughts. What did Myung and Hye do, when they realized that Bum went missing. Were they worried? He thought about the many shelves of books that stood within the store, the smell of paper and coffee. Other times he'd think about the walks he'd take on warmer days, back when he'd felt just a little more free. Sometimes, when the weight of his situation became too much, he'd imagine what it would be like to just fall into a deep, eternal sleep, to feel nothing anymore. And then, he'd sob into the sheets, lay there motionless until Sangwoo came home and showered him with unwanted affection.

"I love you," he'd say, after untying Bum from the bed.

In the evening, Sangwoo would be practically glued to Bum's side. Bum wondered, internally, didn't Sangwoo have homework? Friends? A life? From what he remembered, Sangwoo seemed to have all of those things. Yet, he was here, kneading Bum's shoulders as he made a pathetic attempt to swallow his food.

"You stopped eating."

Sangwoo's voice caressed his ears.

"What're you thinking about, hm?"

The hands on his shoulders ceased their movement.

"N-nothing," Bum stuttered, eyes trained on his skirt-clad legs. "It's not important."

"Oh?"

Sangwoo sunk to his knees, moving so that he was eye level with Bum's waist.

"I'm sure that whatever it was, it was important."

Bum's face reddened when Sangwoo felt his thighs under his skirt, his dark eyes playful.

"You know, I've been so hungry for your cock lately. I bet you'd taste so good, I'd suck you off every day. Become your cock warmer."

Bum shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Sangwoo had a way of making words sound extra dirty. The fact that they were directed at Bum made it worse; he hated all the attention. Bum thought, for probably the hundredth time that week, what he'd done to receive that attention in the first place.

He always dreaded these moments the most, when Sangwoo would become extra affectionate. Bum would rather not be touched at all, and especially not by a serial killer. Yet, Sangwoo's hand trailed closer and closer to his crotch. Images of his uncle came to mind, as well as the night he attempted escape. Bum didn't want Sangwoo to touch him at all, but he'd take the massage over this, if it meant that he wouldn't get any sex. Either way, it wouldn't be in his best interests to upset Sangwoo again, so Bum sat, as still as a statue. If Sangwoo noticed his slight change in demeanor, he didn't show it. Instead, he lifted Bum's skirt and began to stroke him through his panties.

"God, you've made me into such a fag, and I don't even care."

His strokes became faster, yet, Bum remained unaroused. Bum thought that that would be the end of it, and he'd be safe for another day, but Sangwoo remained persistent, even going as far as to gently nip the insides of Bum's scrawny thighs, his protruding hip bones.