NCT Ten | Mafia

Escape again...

Ten's P.O.V

"Eat it," I tell her. I'm ruining her. That's what I'm doing with her.

Her life was charmed—a pretty little rich girl at her 22 party next well soon. Then she got a glimpse of me. Now she's facing death or whatever the fuck I want to do to her. Which is a lot.

She's this pure thing in my control, and I'm bloody and horny, and I want to devour her. I want to press my face to those pushed-up tits above the edge of that dress and fuck her hard and fast.

Skin smooth and pretty like an egg.

But here's the thing about an egg: when you break it, you get everything you want, but then it's not smooth or perfect anymore. It's just this dead thing.

This is something I know a fuck of a lot about, let's just say.

And yeah, you can put yourself back together, but you're never right afterward, not really. You're cracked and misshapen and definitely not smooth and nice like this girl.

There should be some smooth and nice things left in this world.

"I'm not—" Her voice cracks. "—hungry."

I know she's thinking about what I said, about her dying hungry. Maybe she'd rather go that way, all focused on it. People like to think they'd be prepared for death. They don't want to be caught off guard. Me, I've always been the opposite. There's no honor in death, no clean way to go. It's always messy. Always painful.

Catch me by fucking surprise. Fight me.

I think it at her, as if she can hear. As if she'll suddenly learn how to use my gun, to take it from me. But she can't. She's completely defenseless.

"Did I ask what you want to do?" I say, nice and soft. "Open the wrapper and eat."

I only get to see the flash of her eyes, the light of anger, before she looks down. She puts the burger in her lap—I imagine it warming the tops of her thighs. She unfolds the paper slow—a small act of defiance.

It gets me hard, the way she's fighting with the only weapons she has. The way her small hands fold around the messy burger and pick it up.

The way her mouth opens wide.

Layla's P.O.V

The burger tastes amazing, juicy and salty on my tongue. God, how long has it been since I had a burger? It feels like forever, those two strawberries a distant dream.

I don't want him to see how good this is for me, how desperate I am. I want to swallow the entire burger, that's how much I want this. Except then he'd know. I can feel him watching me, weighing me. I can feel his gaze on my skin like a brand, hot and possessive.

We're going through woods now. Some kind of backwoods road.

I need to get away, form a plan, push back for once, but I don't know how. Do I try to fight him? Or do I somehow smash through my window? Dive out of a moving vehicle and run? In a full-length gown?

The headlights catch a wooden sign for a hiking area up ahead. The sign is cut ragged on the edges to look rustic. Disney rustic. We're in the state park, I realize. "I was here once," I say. "With my Girl Scout troop."

"Don't." His rumbly tone makes my chest tighten. Even his voice is overwhelming, taking over everything.

"Don't what?"

"Try to humanize yourself. It doesn't work on people like me."

I want to tell him I wasn't doing that—I wasn't doing anything at all, just saying a thing that came into my mind—but he probably won't believe me, and I don't want to get him angry. I've seen him angry. I mouth the word okay and take another bite, hating myself for wanting the burger more than anything else in that moment. Gluttony, my mom would call it.