Chapter Six


I grab for him at the exact same time he lunges out of his seat. Then, like the headless chicken I am, driven crazy by the steadily growing ache between my thighs, instead of grabbing the stupid gun and forcing him to stop like a normal person would I chase after him like a demented mad man.

Fuck he's fast, but I've got the lighter build. I catch up to him and slam into his back, wrapping my arms around his chest from behind as we both topple down.

For my size I'm surprisingly strong and I cling to his back, locking my arms in an iron grip so that he can't break free. He's kneeling and I'm so am I, both panting hard. He begins to struggle, panicking and breathing heavily with fear, but I'm not about to let go.

As much as it hurts me to see him in a state like this, it excites me as well.

Sex for me has always been about the power rush you can get from it - at least when it's with a man - and Francis' futile struggling is making it clear to me who's in charge here, something which turns me on.

After wanting him for so long, having him here, pressed up and vulnerable to my cock: its driving me crazy.

Clenching the bucking, struggling man tightly in my arms I feel myself harden to a painful degree. I press myself into the small of his back so that he can feel it, and in retaliation he tries smashing my nose in with the back of his head.

I was anticipating that, and avoid it.

I hold him until he is drained out and can no longer move from the effort of trying to free himself from me. Eventually, exhausted, he collapses back on his heels, panting, and leans back into me unintentionally. I kiss the top of his head and sit back down with him. I'm happy now that he seems to have given up.

He whimpers, an oddly fearful sound coming from a man of his age and size, and I know that he feels defeated. He's scared of what's going to happen to him.

I press my face into his neck, kissing it gently.

"Ssh," I murmur, "Ssh." He jerks slightly at my touch, but he doesn't move away, and I carry on kissing and sucking at his neck, gently looking after him.

It feels good.


He's holding me and kissing my neck like I'm something precious he's trying to comfort. I don't think even he realises how much I seem to mean to him.

I mean – if he had wanted me that much, wouldn't he have just fucked me and been done with it? He wouldn't have gone to the effort of setting up the whole meal and candlelit table if he didn't care. And what about that whole get-to-know-you charade?

He didn't exactly chain me up that much either, did he?

I don't know. He's just too fucking confusing and I can't focus enough right now to concentrate on my thoughts because his lips are doing weird things to my neck, his teeth nipping and biting at my flesh, sucking it.

His chest feels hard and good against my back. Something else hard is pressing into my lower backside but I don't want to think about that.

I let out a low whimper as he bites particularly hard at my neck, but he quickly licks his tongue over it, coating it with saliva, as if that will make it better. Fucking embarrassing, the noises I'm making.

When I try to move out of his grip again my body seems weak and floppy; its hard to get it working, and completely against my will, my head lolls back and rests on his shoulder. Charles pulls me more firmly to his chest, and I shiver.

What the hell is wrong with me?


A/N: As you can see from the last chapter and this chapter, even though I'm combining POVs they will still remain short.