Page 13 of The Highwaymen

“Please,” he gasped, hands fisting in the ratty sheets. “Please fuck me. I need it. I need your cock splitting me open.”

With one brutal thrust, I buried myself balls deep in his tight heat. Jamie screamed, his back arching as I stretched and filled him. I started pounding into him mercilessly, the obscene slap of skin on skin mingling with his broken sobs.

Tears streamed down Jamie's face as I pistoned in and out of his abused hole with brutal, punishing thrusts. Each snap of my hips forced a broken cry from his raw throat.

“That's it, take it,” I snarled, digging my fingers into his slim hips.

Jamie only whimpered in response, reduced to a shaking, sobbing mess as I used his body for my pleasure. I could feel his tight muscles spasming around my cock, his body torn between pain and arousal.

Reaching underneath him, I wrapped my fingers around his weeping cock, squeezing almost cruelly. Jamie let out a choked moan, his hips bucking into my fist instinctively even as he tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensations.

“No, please...” he gasped out between hitching sobs. “It's too much, I can't...”

“You can and you will,” I growled, stroking him in time with my relentless thrusts. “You're going to come on my cock like the pain slut you are. And then maybe, if you beg real pretty, I'll let you live.”

I punctuated my words with a particularly vicious snap of my hips, grinding into his abused prostate. Jamie howled, his entire body seizing up as his orgasm hit him. Tears streamed down Jamie's face as he came hard, cock pulsing in my merciless grip. His body spasmed and clenched around me, milking my cock as I thrust into him through his intense climax.

I snarled, slamming into him one final time. My own release hit me hard, and I exploded deep inside him with a guttural groan. Jamie whimpered as I flooded his insides, marking him as mine.

I collapsed on top of him, pinning his shaking body to the sweat-soaked sheets. We lay there for a long moment, panting harshly as the aftershocks rolled through us. When I finally pulled out of his abused hole, Jamie let out a pained whine at the sudden emptiness, but I silenced him with a rough kiss. I plundered his mouth, claiming him thoroughly, before pulling back to admire my handiwork.

He looked utterly debauched, face streaked with tears and blood, lips swollen and bruised. Crimson handprints marred the pale skin of his ass and thighs. Rivulets of my release trickled down his trembling legs. He was a broken, beautiful mess, and he was all mine.

I rolled off Jamie's shaking form and stretched out beside him, one hand possessively splayed across his lower back. He flinched at my touch but didn't dare pull away. Smart boy.

“You did so good, baby,” I purred, trailing my fingers up his spine to tangle in his sweat-damp hair. “Took everything I gave you like a perfect little pain slut. I knew you would.”

Jamie let out a shuddering sob, his face still pressed into the musty pillows. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and wrenched his head back, forcing him to look at me with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“Thank me for fucking you,” I commanded, my voice low and dangerous. “Thank me for letting you live.”

“Th-thank you,” Jamie choked out, his split lips trembling. “Thank you for fucking me, for sparing my life. I'm so grateful, I'll do anything...”

His voice broke on a sob and I released my grip, letting his head thump back down. I smirked, satisfied with his total submission.

I sat up and reached for my discarded jeans, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket. I lit one and took a long drag, savoring the acrid burn of smoke in my lungs.

Jamie lay unmoving beside me, his narrow chest rising and falling rapidly with hitching breaths.

I looked down at Jamie's body form, taking in every lurid detail of his ravaged body with a sense of deep satisfaction. The angry red welts from my belt striped his pale skin, already darkening into what would become spectacular bruises. Smears of blood and spit painted his face, mingling with the drying trails of his tears. His swollen lips were split and bleeding, curved into a pout that looked equal parts pained and pleasured.

Between his legs, his tender hole was an absolute ruin, puffy and raw and leaking my seed. I couldn't resist reaching down to swipe my fingers through the mess, pushing the slick spend back inside him and making him whimper. He'd be deliciously sore tomorrow, unable to sit without wincing and remembering how thoroughly he'd been used.

Jamie's lashes fluttered, fresh tears clinging to them like morning dew as he blinked up at me blearily. There was something in hisexpression that gave me pause - a rawness that went beyond the physical. A flicker of genuine hurt in those glassy eyes.

I frowned, a tendril of worry piercing through my post-orgasmic haze. I'd played rough before, but never quite this intensely. At least, not with anyone I didn’t intend to kill. I'd gotten swept up in the scene, in the rush of power and Jamie's perfect responses. But perhaps I'd pushed him too far, been too brutal even for a pain slut like him.

I reached out tentatively, brushing sweat-damp strands of hair away from Jamie's face with awkward gentleness. “Hey, kid,” I said softly, trying to catch his gaze. “You okay? You know that was just pretend, right? I’m not actually going to hurt you.”

Jamie's eyes snapped up to meet mine, a spark of defiance chasing away the vulnerability I'd glimpsed. He jerked away from my touch, lips twisting into a scowl.

“I'm fine,” he bit out, pushing himself up on trembling arms. A pained grunt escaped him at the movement and he swayed slightly, but he stubbornly steadied himself. “Don't fucking baby me, Stu.”

I held up my hands in a placating gesture, taken aback by the sudden venom in his tone. “Easy, I was just checking in.”

Jamie scoffed, gingerly swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing on unsteady feet. The dim light played over his skin, highlighting every mark and bruise I'd left on his pale skin. He was a canvas of colorful violence, a walking testament to the brutality he'd endured at my hands.

And yet, even now, he held himself with a sort of defiant grace. Chin tilted up, shoulders squared despite the visible tremors wracking his slender frame. “I don't need you fawning over me like I'm a battered housewife,” Jamie spat. “I’m not one of your simpering victims.”

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