"Dammit!" Jessman swore. Unable to take the teasing mouth anymore, he did something he wouldn't have dared even a few hours before: he kicked the gunwhore in the ass. Not hard, but the blond's tongue stopped moving, the cobalt gaze regarding him from behind the outrageously adorned veil of his braids.
The gaze, the expression both served to freeze the researcher in place, his dick all but forgotten under the icy lash of the man's evident displeasure.
"I.... "The sweat already dampening Jessman's upper lip and forehead became even more pronounced, perspiration forming between his shoulder blades and under his arms as the knowledge of what he'd just done--not so much the kick itself, as the implication behind it--impinged on the common sense he hadn't possessed at the time he'd struck the zoner.
The stillness of Bells' features, the slightly tighter grip on his erection told Jessman he'd committed a grievous error. He'd broken one of the unspoken rules between them without knowing he'd done so. Or rather, without any thought over what kicking the blond might mean in their little games.
The fear he thought to no longer experience with Bells returned full force, a blush of embarrassment coloring his face for an instant before he went pale with terror. Unlike his last encounter involving this man, and the fear he had so easily incited, Jessman's cock stayed quite hard this time.
Maybe he was starting to enjoy that too, the fear this man could evoke. More spice, like the touch of the Sweet Sisters. A touch he found himself craving almost as much as he craved the gunwhore kneeling between his spread legs.
David swallowed painfully, mouth dry as dust, eyes wide with the panic gripping him. "I..."
A hand shot up to touch his mouth, the movement a blur in his vision. Fingers pressed over his lips kept him from saying anything else. Prevented any apology, any attempt at an explanation.
All David could do was sit there, his cock twitching from the anticipation of a punishment as yet unknown. The stiffness of his prick faded slightly and his heart began to hammer under the lash of adrenalin as he waited to see what Bells would do about his breach of the gunwhore's secret rules.
It was like waiting for death, that not knowing.
What if he leaves? What if he never comes back? Oh, God, please don't let him walk out over this. Please. Please!
Never seeing the gunwhore again was the worst punishment Jessman could imagine. Desperation filled David, the thought of losing this boy-man more than he could bear. He started to speak despite the fingers over his lips, but they pressed down, their touch giving him a taste of pain as his tender flesh was ground into his teeth in warning.
"Every action has a consequence," Bells informed the dark-haired man, his words spoken quietly, a bare whisper of sound; the touch of velvet across skin. Soft, silken, and David shuddered at the sound. "If you kick me, if you hurt me in ways I'm not expecting, you might get more than you bargained for, David."
It was a warning, delivered in a deceptively gentle tone that was at contrast to the fingers on his mouth. They weren't gentle, the warning made clear with the taste of pain, the flavor of blood in his mouth as the edge of a tooth cut the inside of his upper lip.
But the hard stare of the too-bright eyes in the vidstar-handsome face told him more, gave him what he needed know about the rule he'd just discovered.
Hurt me, risk getting hurt in return.
The fingers slid away from his mouth to caress his cheek. "Don't forget what I am, David. Never forget that I'm from the LC. I'm good, but I have my limits and I don't want to hurt you by mistake."
)
