Page 8 of His Favorite Color is Blood
When he was slowly coming to his senses, he could still feel Grim’s breath on his wet skin, the weight of his nose and lips against the underside of his cock, and he looked down into those darkened, lustful eyes.
“You even taste great,” whispered Grim, slowly climbing up Misha’s body to catch his mouth in a semen-flavored kiss. The whole experience was so different from what other men wanted from him in the past that Misha gave in without much thought, too tired out to even consider fighting. As if the orgasm had sucked out all of his adrenaline, now the exhaustion of this night came back with a vengeance.
But Grim wasn’t done yet. He spat into his hand and curled his fingers around that immense dick, which was so dark and thick that it looked like it was about to burst. Grim pulled on Misha’s lip with his teeth, furiously jerking off between them.
Anger rose up in Misha’s throat when his first reaction was feeling guilty over not reciprocating the blowjob. Over not turning around and offering his ass with a smile. He wouldnotfeel guilty. He looked down, being the voyeur for once and enjoying the view of that fist and cock in action, even if he was the masturbatory fodder.
Grim’s other hand was still on the stump, but it was so hot to watch him slowly lose control next to Misha that he couldn’t even think about it anymore. Grimkissed him again, his breathing ragged and hot, but only moment’s later, Misha felt liquid heat on his bare skin. Grim groaned so deeply it sent a shiver down Misha’s spine as he watched his new captor come.
The thick cockhead, however frightening before, was a thing of beauty now that it was dripping with cum. But soon the orgasm was over, and the pretty picture was mangled in thoughts filled with anxiety. How long could Misha provide orgasms until Grim got bored with him? How long could he be Andrey, Grim’s porn wet dream? But most of all—did he even want to? Wasn’t being out of the compound the chance for escape that he’d been waiting for? No double doors, electronic codes, stairs, guards, gates, and cameras. He could go to the police and ask them to contact the Russian embassy. Tell them that he’d been kidnapped.
No. That wouldn’t work. The moment he’d end up in a file, Zero would send his men for him. He’d torture Misha for weeks and put it all on the dark web so that anyone who would even consider messing with him would think twice. What Misha needed to do was to find a way to go off the grid, and Grim was the only thing in the way of Misha’s freedom.
Misha would take that chance no matter how pretty Grim’s cock was or how good his mouth felt when he sucked Misha off. At the end of the day, Grim was a murderer who didn’t think much of stealing Misha away for himself and cared more for the life of cattle than people.
Misha would be no one’s exotic toy ever again.
Chapter 4
Misha
The sex left Mishautterly confused. He couldn’t deny it’d been enjoyable. Grim was an amazing kisser, and even as they lay side by side in the dark room, Misha could still feel the burn of his captor’s lips and teeth on his skin. The blowjob had been out of this world. It had actually gotten him off and hadn’t been just for the pleasure of his partner. As dubious as Misha was, he couldn’t deny that Grim had been trying to make him feel good, and he hadn’t even demanded anything in return yet. Grim had jerked off that amazing cock while sucking on Misha’s lips as if they were the sweetest ice cream.
Still, Misha hadn’t wanted any of it, and neither the orgasm nor all the caresses he received could make that right. Shame crept up his chest as he lay next to Grim’s warm, very naked body. It settled on his ribcage like a demon intent on choking the life out of Misha once he fell asleep.
But as dreams refused to come, Misha tried not to think about the big cock touching his thigh. He felt uneasy. The hotel room was much bigger than his tiny place in Gary’s apartment, but all the empty space made him oddly anxious. It made him wonder how he could ever cope with freedom again. Still, if being free meant not experiencing the fears he had lived with for the last few years, he would do anything to untangle himself from the new set of greedy clutches that held him close.
Once Misha was sure Grim was asleep, he reached under the pillow and squeezed his hand over the cool metal of the fork. It felt so alien in his grasp, a weapon that he’d brought here with a homicidal intent. All he needed to do was to stab Grim the right way. He would be free then, even if homeless and penniless.Grim’s relaxed breaths against Misha’s shoulder were suffocating him like a plastic bag tied around his head and made his skin break out in gooseflesh.
He squeezed the fork in his sweaty palm, afraid that the drumming in his chest was loud enough to wake Grim up, and who knew what this man would do then? With a ray of artificial light coming in from between the blinds, Misha watched the veins on Grim’s neck, trying to work out which one to target. His vision was becoming a blur from the panic over what he was about to do. Even if Misha didn’t manage to kill Grim, taking care of the wound would be Grim’s priority, and so he wouldn’t chase Misha right away.
He raised himself on his arm and took a deep, shaky breath, tracing the air with the fork to work out the trajectory he needed for the assault. He was not a slave. He was Mikhail Andreyev, and hewouldhave a life after this, even if no normal man were to want him in his bed.
Misha put all his strength into the swift stab, but the fork never reached its target. Grim’s thick forearm blocked Misha’s, and in a surreal moment, their eyes met. Misha let out a scream as his mind went into overdrive.
He’d been discovered.
He could either fight now or take his punishment silently, but he’d already promised himself not to submit again. He pulled himself up and stabbed at Grim again, but the moment his right wrist was locked in a tight hold, he knew resistance was futile.
Grim pulled on Misha’s hand, forcing him to roll on his stomach and then climbed on top of him, pulling both his arms back. “What was that?” he hissed against the sensitive skin of Misha’s scalp.
Misha could feel the sweat already beading on his neck, and he hit his forehead against the pillow, hardly able to breathe. Even though he knew it was pointless, he still struggled against Grim’s force. This was exactly what Misha had expected. Grim had tried to make himself look nice to coerce him into a sexual relationship, but now that he’d failed, he’d just force himself on Misha, rape him, or worse. Though considering the size of Grim’s cock, being fucked with it would be punishment enough.
“Don’t! I’ll be good! I’m sorry!” Misha whined even though pleading was the last thing he wanted to do. Shame crept up his throat like bile. The only thing he was sorry for was that he hadn’t been fast enough. Feeling Grim’s firm body on top of him was only a sour reminder of how weak and useless he was. Evenif he somehow managed to struggle out of the deathly grip, with no legs Misha wouldn’t be able to flee.
Grim’s hand tightened on his wrist. “Drop that thing,” he growled.
Misha let go of the fork, and it rolled down the side of the bed, falling to the floor with a loud clatter of finality. “Please don’t do this, we can work something out, I’m sure.” Misha’s breath turned into wheezing, and he hated himself for the words coming out of his mouth. What could he possibly “work out” with Grim? That he’d be his private unpaid whore? Maybe it would really be better if he just died already? “Fuck you! Fuck you,” he groaned, struggling against the body that might as well have been made out of concrete.
“What is wrong with you?” asked Grim in a low, rumbly voice before releasing Misha and rolling off the bed. It left Misha confused and with muscles that yearned to struggle even though there was nothing to budge against anymore.
The light went on, and Misha instantly sat up. He grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and clenched the base in his hands, even though it would most probably be a weapon as pathetic as the fork had been. Grim frowned, but Misha didn’t waste time and threw the lamp at him. It flew only a few inches before the cable that must have been connected to the socket brought it down with a pathetic creak.
Big and glorious in his unashamed nakedness as he walked up to the footboard of the bed and crossed his arms on his massive chest, Grim stared at Misha. “What the fuck is this?”
Misha crawled away as far as he could without leaving the bed. “I-I’m a person!” The last thing he needed was a fucking stammer, but it was like the bratty cousin that never failed to tell the whole world how afraid you were.
Grim laughed and spread his arms. “Oh, you’re a person? What about me? Am I not apersonthat you decided to off me in my sleep?”—He started pacing back and forth, like an exasperated lion—“I saved you from that fucked-up place, and that’s how you choose to repay me?”
