Page 6 of Deranged
Either Henry took his no as a denial or chose to ignore it because he kept going. “You pour all of yourself into other people and don’t keep any happiness for yourself. Everyone loves being around you, even as you hide how much you don’t love yourself.”
“Please don’t.”
Henry picked up some sort of salve and went to work, treating Field’s cuts. He watched his hands and refused to let Field beg him with his eyes.
“I know you don’t care if these get infected, but I do. You need someone to do for you what you do for everyone else.”
Field locked his back teeth. He wouldn’t plead anymore. Field could shut down his mind. He could close his eyes and ears to this torture.
Henry kissed his chest and moved lower. Field couldn’t shut out the lips on his body. They moved even lower. A pant escaped Field without his permission. No one touched him. Not like this. Field never allowed it. When Henry had bound him, Field had expected to get fucked. He had been braced for pain. Not this. Field didn’t know how to handle this. Henry’s sweet attention left him helpless.
Henry kissed his stomach. His lips lingered. Then he shifted positions, and Field was on his side. Henry was behind him, putting medicine on the wounds on his back. Even as he worked, Henry kept kissing his shoulder and nape.
“So beautiful.” Henry’s hand slid over his hip—like he savored the shape of Field’s body. He kissed Field’s spine. “So worthy.”
Field squeezed his eyes closed. His throat swelled. It got harder to breathe. He felt Henry roll away. Field didn’t move. He didn’t want Henry to look at him. Field had never played this horrible game. The sound of a zipper sliding down filled his ears. He was so in tune with everything Henry did that he didn’t miss a thing. At the crinkle of a condom, relief poured through him. Henry would fuck him now. He could lose himself in the agony. All Field heard was his breathing then. The relief was palpable. He didn’t need to hyper focus. The mental torture was over.
The bed dipped. Field’s arms crossed as he found himself with his face buried against the mattress. He nearly sighed in relief. Soon. The pain would start.
The bed dipped. Henry’s lips skimmed the small of his back. Field could take that as long as he got the rest. Henry urged him to move to his knees. Field’s smile returned. Fuck yeah. He was ready. Henry kissed his ass cheek. Another pant escaped him. He was so close to forgetting himself. But then Henry sweetly kissed his other ass cheek. His teeth skimmed his skin, but it was in a gentle way that caused goosebumps to rise on his skin.
“You’re worthy of worship.”
Tears sprang to Field’s eyes. He didn’t get a chance to call himself under control. Henry licked his crack. Another pant burst from him even as his eyes began to leak. His tongue found Field’s asshole and swirled.
“So sexy.”
Field couldn’t breathe. The praise and the pleasure had him fucked up.
Henry tongued his asshole. Wet fingers joined his tongue. Field couldn’t focus. There was no pain to give him a grounding point. Henry had him torn between crying and riding his fingers. When an orgasm built, Field focused on the sensation with all his being. This was good. He could blow and clear his mind. In fact, the sooner he blew, the faster Henry could move on to hurting him. Except that was not what happened, and Field’s mind went into overload. Henry fingered him, rubbing that internal button that drove him wild. He didn’t want this. Field only wanted to hurt. He didn’t deserve pleasure. Henry had him crying real tears, and it wasn’t in a good way. It wasn’t bad either. His brainwas all over the place. He didn’t deserve this. Those words kept chanting in his head. Field couldn’t accept this gift. Presents came with strings. They wouldn’t be even. Henry would have Field trapped in his debt. Then he could make Field do things. Maybe they would be terrible things he couldn’t take back or live with. There were already too many sins he couldn’t handle on his nonexistent soul. He didn’t want to be a slave.
In a flash, Field was on his back again. He blinked as the light suddenly blinded him. His sore eyes were still blurred with tears, but he refused to make a sound. He wouldn’t beg for mercy. Field had survived the worst mental torture. He would survive this. Field focused on the ceiling and tried to go somewhere else. If he didn’t come, then he didn’t owe Henry a thing.
“Look at me.”
Field sniffed. He hated that he cried, but he wouldn’t beg.
“Look at me, Field.”
Something about Henry’s tone had Field’s gaze moving to his face. Henry looked human. His hair was a mess, and his features were softer than usual. Field’s mind settled.
Henry stroked his stomach, but his gaze never wavered from holding Field’s stare. “That’s it. Stay right here with me. You’re not allowed to think about anything except me.”
It was an order. While the demand hadn’t been made in anger, it was still a command. Field could breathe. Henry was in control.
“Just listen to me. All you’re allowed to think about is us. Let’s start at the beginning.” He stroked Field’s cock as he spoke. “When I dragged you into that room and shoved you to your knees, you didn’t deserve that.”
Wait. Henry was right. Field had already given him an orgasm with nothing in return. As long as Henry came again tonight, Field still wasn’t in his debt.
“You didn’t deserve my anger. It had nothing to do with you.”
“I know. You love Mickey.”
Henry froze. For a moment, Field wondered if the pain would come now. “Please stop trying to make this hurt.”
Field flinched. His throat swelled again. Henry needed to stop seeing him so clearly. Field doubted Henry had ever said “please” to anyone in his life, and Field hated the way that made him feel. He felt special. Field couldn’t go there. That was the only piece of him left to destroy. He had never been important. If anyone made him feel like that now and then took it away, he would be completely over the edge. Field already barely clung to life.
“You’re right, though. That night, I thought I lost the only man I ever loved, and I punished you for it because I knew I could. The truth is, I do love Mickey, but not like I thought. When you’re like me, it’s hard to tell the difference. Love is such a foreign thing. It’s all muddled. I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t act onmy feelings if I felt so strongly. It was easy to blame Mickey. In my head, I painted him as straight and out of my reach.”
