The basement smelled like sweat, rust, and old cum. Dim bulb swinging overhead threw long shadows across the concrete. Kai was already shirtless, wrists zip-tied to the exposed pipe above his head, toes barely scraping the floor. His ribs showed every time he sucked in a shaky breath.
Jace circled him slow, heavy boots scraping grit. Black leather gloves creaked when he flexed his fingers.
“You still think you can talk back to me, fag?” Voice low, almost bored.
Kai spat blood onto the floor. “Fuck you.”
Jace’s backhand cracked across Kai’s cheek so hard his head snapped sideways and a bright ribbon of red sprayed from his lip. The sound echoed off the walls like a gunshot.
“Wrong answer.”
Another slap—opposite side—split the other corner of Kai’s mouth. He tasted copper and salt. His cock, traitor that it was, twitched against the front of his ripped jeans.
Jace grabbed him by the throat, leather fingers squeezing just enough to make Kai’s vision speckle. “Look at you. Hard already. Fucking pathetic.”
He shoved two thick fingers into Kai’s bloody mouth, forcing them deep till Kai gagged. “Suck. Like the whore you are.”
Kai’s eyes watered but he closed his lips and sucked, tongue sliding over the rough seams of the glove. Jace pumped the fingers in and out a few times, then yanked them free with a wet pop and smeared the spit across Kai’s bruised cheek.
“Turn around.”
Kai didn’t move fast enough. Jace’s fist slammed into his stomach—once, twice—hard enough that air exploded out of him and his knees buckled. The zip-ties bit into his wrists as his full weight jerked downward.
“Turn. The. Fuck. Around.”
Gasping, Kai shuffled, scraping his boots, until his back faced Jace. The cold pipe pressed against his chest. He heard the clink of a belt buckle, then the sinister hiss of leather sliding free.
First lash landed across his shoulder blades like fire. Kai barked out a curse. Second one overlapped the first—white-hot stripe. Third caught the small of his back and he jerked so violently the pipe rattled.
“Count, bitch.”
“One… fuck—two—three—”
Jace didn’t wait for the next number. The belt snapped low, right across Kai’s ass through the denim. The seam of the jeans dug into skin like wire. Kai’s hips snapped forward involuntarily, cock grinding against his own zipper.
Jace stepped in close, chest to Kai’s back, erection pressing heavy and hot through his jeans. He reached around, popped the button, yanked the zipper down rough enough to catch skin. Kai hissed.
“Look at this leaky little cunt,” Jace growled against his ear, wrapping a gloved hand around Kai’s cock and giving one brutal stroke. Precum smeared across the leather. “You love getting beat like a dog, don’t you?”
Kai’s answer was half moan, half sob. “Yeah—fuck—hit me again.”
Jace laughed once, dark and short. Then he shoved Kai’s jeans and briefs down to his thighs in one violent yank. Cool air hit exposed skin right before the belt landed again—bare this time. The crack was louder, meaner. A red welt bloomed instantly across both cheeks.
Kai shouted, body bowing. Jace dropped the belt and palmed the fresh mark hard, grinding his callused thumb into the center until Kai was shaking and swearing.
Then came the sound Kai both hated and craved: the cap of the lube bottle snapping open.
No warning. Two slick fingers forced inside at once, no gentleness, no patience. Kai’s hole clenched, tried to push them out—Jace just shoved deeper, curling, scissoring rough. When Kai whimpered, Jace bit down on the meat of his shoulder hard enough to break skin.
“Gonna fuck you raw till you cry,” Jace muttered, already lining up. “Then I’m gonna fuck you again while you’re still crying.”
The head of his cock breached on the next thrust—brutal, no pause. Kai’s shout cracked into a sob as Jace sank to the hilt in one vicious stroke. The stretch burned, the welts on his ass screamed every time Jace’s hips slammed against them.
Jace didn’t build rhythm. He fucked like he was trying to break something inside Kai—short, punishing strokes that slapped skin on skin and drove the air out of Kai’s lungs. One gloved hand wrapped around Kai’s throat again; the other found his cock and jerked in time with the brutal thrusts.
“Say it,” Jace snarled. “Say what you are.”
Kai’s voice was wrecked, slurred with spit and blood. “I’m—fuck—I’m your fag—your hole—your bitch—”
Jace slammed in one last time, grinding deep, and unloaded with a guttural groan. Heat flooded Kai’s insides. The second Jace pulled out, cum dripped down Kai’s thighs, mixing with lube and sweat.
Jace stepped back, breathing hard. He grabbed Kai by the hair, yanked his head back.
“Still hard. Slut.”
He punched Kai once in the kidney—not hard enough to drop him, just hard enough to make him fold and gasp. Then he reached around and finished him with four rough, mean strokes.
Kai came with a broken shout, painting the dirty concrete and Jace’s glove. His legs gave out completely; the zip-ties were the only thing keeping him upright.
Jace wiped his cum-slick glove across Kai’s bloody lips.
“Good boy.”
He left him hanging there, dripping, bruised, and still twitching.
Door slammed shut upstairs.
Kai smiled through split lips, tasting copper and salt and shame.
He’d be back tomorrow.
Begging for worse.
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