Only Meant for You (Part 15)
Starting to get more coherent now! This is directly after chapter 8, which has been posted to AO3 here.
Tamsy throws Zanka roughly to the ground, and Zanka looks around in horror to see they’re in some kind of abandoned dungeon. Rudo is lying to his left, passed out and stretched out on the ground, chained with his wrists taut above him and his ankles below him.
Zanka is bewildered and horrified, his ears bleeding, eyes and throat still burning from the tear gas. Still struggling to comprehend the fact that Tamsy just flew them through the air. His mouth feels like cotton, stuffed up in thick painful rope. Tamsy shoves his still tied arms down and chains his wrists together. Zanka strains and struggles against them, his wrists squeezed painfully tight. He can barely breathe through his nose, struggling to control his heaving muffled sobs. His ankles are chained now, whole body stretched out like he’s nothing.
Tamsy rises and sits harshly on Zanka’s stomach, crushing the breath out of his lungs. He releases the rope on Zanka’s mouth, causing him to gasp. He grabs a tight hold of Zanka’s chin and raises his other hand, filled with a fistful of chocolates.
The realization of what he’s going to do to him has Zanka’s heart surging with panic. He yells out on instinct, no plan in mind, just white-hot adrenaline and whatever thoughts he can desperately grasp on to. “Tamsy, wait, wait!”
Tamsy stares down at him, his gaze cold, colder than Zanka has ever seen it. Zanka’s heart shrinks with fear. “Who are you?” he rasps. “I don’t get it—why are you doing this?”
His voice breaks, heartache cracking through the terror. “I thought you were my friend!”
Tamsy smiles at him, his eyes devoid of emotion. “I was never your friend,” he says softly.
He shoves the fistful of chocolates into Zanka’s mouth, then smothers his palm tightly over his face, forcing him to swallow. Zanka tries to resist, tries to spit it out, but Tamsy digs his nails in and shoves his face down so hard against the ground that Zanka cries out in agony.
Warm chocolate bursts sickeningly down his throat, forceful, overbearing. He dips his fingers down his throat and smears it on his face, laughing to himself as Zanka cries. Tamsy’s hand snakes down with a sudden urgency, and without warning, he grabs him in his hand and squeezes painfully tight.
“No!” Zanka pleads, struggling and failing to turn his hips away. “Please don’t, don’t touch me, please, stop it!”
Tamsy dips his hand down and squeezes his naked flesh. It’s happening too rapidly—he’s not ready, he’s not ready—and a horrible realization crashes through, a horrible icy dread, that he’s not in control at all, not in control of anything, anything.
“You’ll feel so good so soon, it’ll be all you can think about.”
His hand squeezes, grabs, rubs, feels all over him, every part of him, starts to stroke him incessantly. A sick rush of blood pumps through his body, hot and melting, flooding his gut with want. His breathing becomes heavy, arousal pounding like a flame as Tamsy strokes him over and over.
Nothing makes sense—Tamsy was right—the effects kick in like the bang of a drum, explosive, heart racing, and Tamsy bends down and takes him in his mouth—
“No! Stop it!” Zanka screams, so close to the edge, filled up with terror and dread, desperation, humiliation. His mouth is hot and wet, tongue swirling, sick and tight, and Zanka sees red. His hips arch up, cringing, he can’t fathom this, he can’t process how fast this is happening. “Get off of me! Stop it!”
He’s going to—no, no, no—not him, not this, please, he begs his body, but it won’t listen, he can’t help it—it’s happening, it’s happening—
Blinding pleasure, blinding agony. Zanka chokes back a strangled sob as Tamsy swallows it down, then rises, laughing.
“You’re such a teenager,” he sneers, wiping his mouth. “So much easier than Rudo. But I’m sure those chocolates helped, hm? I wonder how he’ll like them.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Zanka sobs. “Don’t touch him!”
“Don’t be selfish,” Tamsy spits. “Rudo is the reason I’m here.” He reaches up and rubs a finger across his face. “You’re my consolation prize. I only brought you here to help me in my plans for Rudo. Do you understand?”
Zanka can’t stop sobbing. Tamsy looks at him with disdain. He rises, sits on his chest again, then grabs a tight hold of his face. “Zanka, darling, look at me.” Tamsy squeezes his jaw.
His eyes are soft, voice melting, a light smile beneath his tinted cheeks. His white eyes shine with content, the same shine that Zanka saw that evening in the golden sunset.
“Zanka,” he says warmly. “I’m going to rape you, torture you, and then I’m going to kill you.”
