CHAPTER 15

"Why would I do that when I have you to fuck?"

He swallowed and ETHAN MIKASON could tell, because those dead eyes sparked. He knew they only did that if he was toying with him.

When he had him at his mercy.

"You obviously need to be fucked, too, or you wouldn't be here."

"I don't need to be fucked and never will allow it to happen."

"Never is a stretch." "An absolute."

"There is no such thing as absolute, WENTZ. You're in law. You should know that."

"You teach law. You should know better than to defy it so blatantly."

"But that's the thing about learning law—it's easier to work the loopholes and defy it. But you already know that."

There was an underlying meaning to his words he couldn't quite grasp. His eyes bored harder into him, attempting to slice through the veil of his soul and enter an area not meant for the public.

A part even he abandoned entering.

It created a buzz on his skin, and he hated it. He hated the touch of his fucking hand on him. It was supposed to feel disgusting, not induce this low buzz that trickled down his spine.

"Don't touch me," he said in a clear voice, as clear as he could manage. "I don't like men."

"I'm not into men either." ETHAN MIKASON rotated his head to the side. "But something about this pretty face makes me want to decorate it with my cum."

He clenched his teeth because now he was remembering his cock pulsing in his mouth as he looked down on him.

The image of him coming down his throat made him murderous.

Yet he flinched whenever his skin touched him, gliding over the warm flesh like an ancient potent curse. His back was sweating, and his hoodie stuck to it.

Heat brewed beneath his skin, a low simmer that permeated his chest and made it hard to breathe. His skin started to prickle, the heat intensifying with each ticking second, and every available cavity was invaded by something he couldn't control.

Fuck.

He hated not being in control. Hated it.

Detested it.

He needed to leave.

Now.

"Not into men?" He smiled, attempting a new tactic. "You're so gay, you've had a crush on me since you set eyes on me, Professor. Not to mention you were so jealous of the whole SOFIA LUCAS thing. You'd do better with him than me. I can make it worth your while if you let me go."

He wouldn't. If anything, he'd only use the SOFIA LUCAS angle to hurt him more, but he'd make him believe that just so he'd cooperate.

"Oh, you will assist." ETHAN MIKASON shoved him on the bed and then he was on top of him, his hard thighs on either side of his waist, and he straddled his legs, pinning him on the bed.

"Not like that." He pushed at his chest.

"Then how?" "With SOFIA LUCAS, idiot."

"Why would I do that when I have you right under my control, wriggling helpless like a useless fucking worm?"

He bunched up his fist and punched him. Maybe it was the drug that was stripping away his inhibitions, or maybe he'd just wanted to punch him for a while now.

Because he laughed and barked and said in his most condescending tone, "You sicken me in a way I've never been sickened before. The idea of you touching me makes my flesh fucking crawl."

Something danced in ETHAN MIKASON's eyes before it disappeared. "Guess I need to find out just how much I sicken you, then."

ETHAN MIKASON reached into his drawer and black ropes emerged. He was wondering why the hell he had ropes in his freaking nightstand, but it all vanished when he jerked both his wrists up and secured them to the metal headboard.

The motion was so quick and fluid, he couldn't stop it no matter how much he wriggled. When he was done, he could barely move his hands. He'd tied them so tightly, the rope dug into his skin. And now, ETHAN MIKASON was sitting on his thighs, his weight refusing to allow him to move as he pulled up his hoodie. He shivered as his knuckles brushed against his abs.

"Let's get these out of the way." ETHAN MIKASON drew a knife from his drawer of nightmares, and clutched it near his belly, holding it over the flesh.

Another of his intimidation tactics—it didn't take, and he wasn't scared.

He was anxious, though, because he could feel the drug ingested through his bloodstream.

The drugs he bought to humiliate him could now be the death of him, and again, he had no way out.

The desperation was new, and he experienced it only with this motherfucker. For that, he wanted to stab his eyes and suck them the fuck out of their sockets.

His knife play stopped as ETHAN MIKASON started to cut his hoodie down the middle straight. Casually. Taking his damn sweet time. "See, this is what I like about you, WENTZ. You're not easily ruffled, and you have an impressive door-slam technique. You can patiently wait until the discomfort is over and you also don't rush plotting revenge. It's why you only broke into my house after observing me properly. But that repulsive rapist habit of yours can't go unpunished."

"You're the fucking rapist?— "

The words stuck in his throat as ETHAN MIKASON put the knife flat on his lips.

Shut up. I told you to, didn't I? You sound is a turn-off." ETHAN MIKASON grated his knuckles over his throat, then down his chest, and he clenched up. "You're also the one who keeps going back to all these rapey drugs. I'm just playing along with your little sick fetish by handing over the control you love so much. Doesn't feel so good when you're the one getting played, does it?

He put a snap to his harsh, deep voice, yet he wasn't able to look him in the eye directly. Not when his skin blazed. Everywhere he touched burned, a sick feeling rushing to his groin.

Fuck. No.

Not again.

Absolutely not.

ETHAN MIKASON ran the pad of his finger along his nipple and he jerked, a shock settling at the pit of his stomach.

"Getting sensitive?" ETHAN MIKASON rubbed his finger back and forth over his nipple again, and to his dismay, it puckered, hardening. His finger sent another shiver down his spine and all the way to his balls.

And he hated that he liked it.

That his touch, something he despised to his very marrow, was inducing a sensation he'd never felt before.

A groan was ripped from him, but it was muffled beneath the knife.

"No skin crawling yet. If anything, you like this a bit too much. Hmm. You're just a natural slut." There was a teasing tone to his voice as ETHAN MIKASON pinched his nipple between his thumb and index finger until it burned.

But that pain did something unexpected.

Like when he ground his dick beneath his shoe.

Shit. Just as he was hoping he wouldn't notice, ETHAN MIKASON removed the blade from his mouth and brought it down to his jeans and the tent there. "You do love this. What a seasoned whore."

"Fuck you."

"Is that your way of asking for my help?"

"Don't touch me," he said, but his voice was hoarse and it came out a moan, because ETHAN MIKASON was still playing with his nipples, alternating, pinching, and rubbing.

His head reeled as he almost leaked into his boxers.

What the fuck?—

Your mouth and body sing a different song, little monster." ETHAN MIKASON cut through the waistband of his jeans, placed the knife on the nightstand, and lowered his pants and boxers enough to release his stiffening dick. It pulsed and throbbed in his hand—like a freaking hormonal freak. With the drugs, he shouldn't be experiencing this intense of a visceral reaction to another man's touch.

And not just some guy, but his professor who obviously got a kick out of overpowering and dominating him.

ETHAN MIKASON grasped him at the base and they both watched, he in horror, ETHAN MIKASON with interest, as it stiffened in his hand. "Mmm. You have a nice cock. Big, too. Not that I'm a cock connoisseur by any stretch of the imagination, but this is beautiful."

His breath hitched, his head reeling as all his blood rushed to his groin.

"Let me go. Now," he growled, not at all meaning it.

No, he did.

He didn't?

ETHAN MIKASON pulled on his cock from base to tip, drawing circles around the head with his thumb. Sticky precum slicked the sensitive flesh, down his length, on his hand.

Everywhere.

"Fuck." A moan echoed in the air and he realized it was his.

"You're weeping already. Want to come for me, baby?"

"I'm not your fucking baby—" He grunted as ETHAN MIKASON pinched his nipple at the same time as he squeezed his cock. It hurt and he liked it.

Why the fuck did he like it?

No one had ever touched him this way before, and he would never give anyone this type of power over him. But this motherfucker just snatched it away, regardless of what he thought.

And he liked it?

Someone needed to electroshock him.

"Mmm. You're getting so hard, baby." ETHAN MIKASON smiled after stressing the word. "You're making a goddamn mess."

He was. His precum was all over the place and he hated it. He hated that he was the one keeping this side of him going. He was not even supposed to get hard when he did not want to, let alone be…like this.

"You know why you're making a mess?"

"S-shut up."

"You like how I touch you. When I hurt you."

ETHAN MIKASON bent down and bit his nipple, and he grunted when his teeth sank into the flesh so deeply, he figured he'd draw blood. But then his tongue flicked out, leaving a tacky trail on the abused flesh as a low chuckle escaped him.

"You do like it." ETHAN MIKASON nipped at the sensitive tip again, his eyes growing darker when he groaned. He made a humming noise, the vibration sending shocks of electricity through his nipple. "I have a fucking masochist on my hands. Interesting."

"It's the fucking drugs." He growled.

"I don't think the drugs can make you like something you don't." ETHAN MIKASON pulled him again, this time more forcefully.

His hand clenched around his length, and he shuddered. Uncontrollably.

His actions were calculated but rough. Painful, even. ETHAN MIKASON coordinated twisting the crown of his cock with biting and pulling his nipple between his teeth.

It was driving him insane.

Pulling at strings he didn't know he had.