Stockholm Syndrome? - Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Felix's POV
My body was filling with regret with every step I took. I hadn't meant to hurt the boy and now he had a swelling jaw and a split lip. I didn't want him to suffer more than he needed. Even my method of getting rid of him was going to be quick and painless. Had been, I corrected.
I wasn't sure I wanted to kill him anymore. I wasn't sure of anything. All I knew was that the whole thing was crumbling. The boy had said words I didn't want to hear, words that had affected me greatly.
When I punched him, I was angry. Anger quickly turned to regret when I watched the damage I had done. His lip was split. It wasn't the worst split lip I'd seen, but it just screwed with the whole image of him.
The boy was good-looking. He was one of those boys with charm in his eyes and heaven in his smile. Of course that smile concealed a tongue like a whip that dared spit snarky comments, which admittedly made him sexier. He was a likable guy and not one to get into fights. A split lip ruined that image.
I'd also reduced him to silence, I noticed. We'd talked a lot the first three days. It always ended with him shouting at me, but I'd enjoyed his company. We'd talked about things I hadn't dared to talk about with other people. I had acquaintances in the art world. All our conversations were superficial if not superfluous.
The boy tried not to respond, but eventually he did. It was as nice seeing him struggle to control himself as it was when we engaged in conversation. We didn't talk the last few days. He was sulking. It bothered me not hearing him talk but it wasn't as alarming as his silence after the punch. Then I could see that he was deliberately staying quiet. Now he was afraid to say anything.
"I'm sorry", I whispered as we emerged on the ground floor.
He looked around like he couldn't quite believe his eyes. He actually stopped walking. I didn't want to tug him but he was still bleeding. I tugged him slightly and he started walking. I lead him to the master bathroom.
I could tell he was dying to comment about the house.
"If you don't close your mouth, a fly will lay eggs in there", I whispered.
"I can't exactly close my mouth without feeling like I'm pricking myself with needles", he said. There was a slight roll of eyes, a hint of annoyance. Annoyance that time was appreciated. At least he was reacting.
We got to the bathroom.
"Sit" I said pointing to the marble countertop.
He did as I said quietly. I closed the bathroom door and locked it. Looking into the cabinets, I located a first aid kit and retrieved it. I went back to the boy, standing between his legs. I raised his chin and bent his head to the side so I could see the cut properly.
"You don't need stitches", I said.
He didn't say anything. I supposed I deserved the silence. His witty remarks were definitely missed, his insults too.
I opened the faucet just close to him to wash my hands and dried them. Reaching into the first aid kit, I obtained a bandage which I used to apply pressure on the cut. He winced but didn't move away. When he was no longer bleeding, I cleaned the cut with wet cotton wool. He seemed okay until I dabbed some antiseptic in and around the cut.
He moved back slightly and his furrowed brow told me he was about to say something, probably a cuss word.
"No, don't talk", I ordered. I tried keeping a serious face, but ended up chuckling slightly at his failing restraint.
"That stung!" he said.
"Yeah well, don't complain to me. I didn't make this thing. If it was up to me I'd make something that didn't subject you to pain while trying to prevent future pain", I said.
He rolled his eyes. "If it was up to you you'd make sure it killed people".
I couldn't help but smile. His fear seemed to have dissipated a little. His shoulders were no longer tense. His face was more relaxed too. There were no frown lines or fear in his eyes. Instead they were brighter with the light in the room. The basement light had obscured just how beautiful his eyes looked. Steely grey, they looked like polished metal. The cornea was clear; the iris underneath it visible with a glint that even his now narrowed eyelids couldn't hide. The specks of black at the edges of his iris encroached and blended with the grey as they moved closer to the pupil. He was...
He was looking straight into my eyes. I grinned slightly, trying to derail the situation from being awkward.
I placed my hand on his chin, cupping it. It was probably not the best thing to do to dispel awkwardness, but I wanted to see his cut. I didn't of course expect it to be closed but I wanted to make sure I had cleaned it properly.
"Rather futile if you are going to kill me, don't you think?" he said as his eyes fluttered. He looked up at me.
"I should get you back to the basement", I said slowly.
My hand was still on his chin and I could tell he was getting tired of looking up at me. The light was probably irritating his eyes to.
"Can I...can I shower? I haven't in days. I might die from my own body odor before you kill me", he said.
I chuckled. "You have 15 minutes".
I showed him the shower, not that he needed a tour guide. I left him in the bathroom and locked the door, sitting on my bed. After giving the boy a split lip, I was reluctant to deny him anything. A shower wouldn't kill, I reasoned with myself. The only weapon he'd obtain in there was my electric razor. Needless to say, it wasn't much of a weapon and disarming him wouldn't be hard.
15 minutes later I walked into the bathroom. The boy was fully clothed and sitting on the countertop where I'd left him. For a second I thought he hadn't showered. The light steam in the room and the fragrance of my shower gel told me otherwise. He had probably dumped all my shower gel on himself. The whole room smelled like what Axe Black described as a combination of bergamot and frozen pear notes.
The boy was looking at the soles of his feet or his toes, I couldn't tell.
"Corn?" I asked as I walked in.
"...Thankfully no. I've been wearing boots for too long. My feet are just achy", he replied.
"How was the shower?"
"The best I could hope for in the circumstances", he said.
"Smells like you used all my shower gel", I remarked.
"I may have used a little too much. You can't blame me. I hadn't showered for almost 7 days", he said.
I nodded. I didn't want to get into the whole 'you kidnapped me thing'. I was a bit tired from everything that had already taken place.
I went over to him and cupped his chin in my hand, raising his cut lip to the light.
"It looks clean", I said. I was certain I was doing a second inspection, something that wasn't warranted.
There was silence after my words. I should have removed my hand and led him to the basement, but I didn't. Once again we had gotten back to stare at each other. This time it was longer. It wasn't a fierce western gunfight scene kind of stare. His eyes were soft. His face was...pretty and fresh. He looked desirable at that moment. I was feeling things I shouldn't have been feeling.
Desire coursed through me, ripping at all logic in its path. My lips inched slowly towards the boy. He didn't move away. Even when our lips were seconds from touching he didn't move. I expected some snarky remark but I got none of that. What pulled me to him was stronger than whatever sense I had. It was as if we were opposite ions. Through no will of mine I was drawn to his being.
Our lips touched. At first they moved slowly, as slow as tortoises with no incentive to get to. I stayed away from the cut on his lip, cupping his face with both my hands. His hand snaked its way onto my waist, taking me by surprise a bit. My lips left his only slightly. I was about to come to my senses when he placed his lips on mine.
My hands slowly moved from cradling his head down to his neck. Our kiss was feathery light, giving a little and withholding a lot more. It was the perfect tease and I could almost picture him grinning. Of course he was probably grinning, he knew me in ways I didn't even know myself. He got the dormant reactions and now he had unearthed powerful desire.
It wasn't like my encounters with ladies of the night –in my case men of the night. It was pure desire, untainted by lust or thoughtless wanton behavior. It wasn't just his eyes and lips that beckoned me to him. It was the way our different worlds connected, the way I wanted to hear him talk and maybe the way his lips on mine reminded me of rainy days when I played in the street, with light raindrops caressing my skin. I'd been happy.
Our kisses grew passionate and his hand on my waist became tighter. I pulled out of the kiss, slowly enough that I could still feel our connection lingering in the air.
My head disappeared under his head in his neck. I kissed with vigor, something I couldn't do with his bust lip. His soft and untouched neck provided more freedom. I tilted his head slightly and planted kiss after kiss, some lingering just long enough as the desire mounted.
I'd long abandoned the concept of sweet spots when the boy gave a quiet moan and grabbed a fist of hair. It was satisfying. When you slept with hookers it was more about them pleasuring you than you pleasuring them. I didn't bother about sweet spots, but it seemed I had found the boy's. I kissed and flicked my tongue, hearing quiet moans escape his lips. It wasn't the exaggerated kinds I was used to. His were sweet, subtle and melodious to my ears. I was accustomed to getting pleasure but giving it was exhilarating.
I didn't feel myself moving more and more towards him. He wrapped his legs around me, pushing himself forward so we could be even close. My lips returned to his. There was just something about caressing them that sent my senses on a wild night out. My hearing acuity wasn't as strong. My alertness all but disappeared. Inhibitions flew out of the window as I enjoyed the taste of his mouth.
Our bodies were touching through our clothes, and I felt somewhat restrained, almost caged by the flimsy cotton t-shirt I was wearing. I broke the kiss for seconds to take off my t-shirt. My muscles were taught and aching for the boy's hand and their unsaid promise of ecstasy.
I unbuttoned his shirt slowly. I did it one at a time, gazing into his polished steel eyes. I didn't want to rush. Every cell in my body screamed at me to go quickly, open him up not just to my eyes, but to my smell and touch senses. I didn't. I worked slowly. I was trying to give the boy a chance to stop me, a fighting chance if you may.
I unbuttoned the last button and looked up into his eyes. To describe what they displayed so you would get the picture would be an injustice, because I don't think any description would be sufficient. You would have to have been there to understand why I did the next thing I did.
It didn't take long to get the shirt off him. I buried my head in his neck and moved my hands to his bum to cup each buttcheek.
I was certain I had seen a mixture of desire and a small plea in his eyes, but our bodies do not always want what our minds are prepared to give. I had to be sure.
"Do you..." I said and he nodded before I could even finish. His cheeks flushed and the pink tinge made him appear younger than he was.
He placed his hands around my neck and I lifted him off the countertop. As I almost-blindly walked to the bedroom, I thought of how that scenario would have turned out if he was really my half-brother. Would I have found him just as attractive, desirable?
I set him on the large bed, for a few seconds just stood and admired his porcelain skin. There was no sign of a blemish anywhere, not that I did a thorough check. I had urgent matters to attend to, such as kissing him until his moans filled the room.
I wasn't quite a patient man, but I learned patience with him. I worked on giving him pleasure, kissing him just as he liked, where he liked. His moans became erotic and louder. Jeans flew around the room and landed places I didn't bother to look.
My hair became something of a go-to place when his body shuddered with pleasure, something to hold onto to attempt just a little bit of control. He pulled too strong every time I moved in him, and the mixture of pain and pleasure was intoxicating. Sometime later his hands relaxed and slowly fell off. His eyes closed and the eyelids fluttered. His actions told me a lot more than the little bits of white stuff on my abdomen.
My explosion was nothing short of mind-blowing. For once I wanted to just lie down next to the boy and feel the after-effects waning. Little explosions were still going off some place or another. In a word I never thought I would use, I was spent.
I moved my body to lie next to the boy, draping a sheet over us. I wasn't sure about putting an arm over him even though I wanted to. I didn't debate with myself for long before the action in question was done for me.
I smiled, switching off the lamp that was illuminating the room. My body was relaxed in a way I didn't even know. My mind wasn't trying to rationalize things. I let peace wash over me without protests, and soon I was fast asleep.