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Jean’s head felt heavy. His brain was foggy and he could’ve sworn he was spinning until he realized his cheek was smushed against the floor. A bit of drool pooled around his skin. He groaned, slow blinks of realization as he looked around the room. Dark grey walls stood tall, the room expansive and cold. A warehouse. It had to be. But why was he there? He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing.
He glanced down and saw he was still wearing clothes but his arms were pulled behind his back. It took only a moment of moving his hands to recognize that rope bound his wrists tightly together. So he’d been kidnapped? It was such a ridiculous circumstance he almost started laughing.
Up until this moment he had lived a completely uneventful life. He started to wonder if he was dreaming. Surely this was some sort of alcohol-infused stupor, a mind trick that transformed his cozy apartment into the nightmare fantasy he was laid in now. He must be on his own floor, face first right in front of his couch in his living room.
Then there was a scream. A horrifying, bone-chilling shout that made his insides twist and contort. Every instinct in his body told him that was the sound of someone suffering; The sound of murder .
Panic began to rush through him, which finally awakened his body enough to move. He turned over so he was on his back and lifted himself upward, his abs contracting to pull his body forward. The lights around him were dim but in the darkness, he began to see the shape of someone, their silhouette growing larger.
’Hey! Can you help me out here?’
Calling out had been his first mistake.
‘Shit. You’re up?’
The silhouette’s voice was sharp. Jean squinted to try and make out who was speaking to him.
‘Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but I need to go now, alright.’
’This isn’t good.’ The man stepped closer, close enough that the light finally reflected off his features. He was young, with an upturned nose and crimson-colored hair, but all Jean could focus on was the look in his eyes. It was like his pupils couldn’t contain the ferocity that resided in him. The whites of his eyes seemed to glow in the dark.
‘Did you hear me?’
’Get out?’ The man finally addressed him and Jean’s breath hitched in his throat. ‘It took me a hell of a long time to get you in here, I’m not just gonna let you go.’
‘What?’ Jean’s voice cracked.
His captor laughed. It was oddly joyful, nearly innocent sounding. His head tilted downward and for a moment all Jean could focus on was how fluffy his hair was, the way that it bounced with the motion, how the curls gathered toward the center.
’Sorry, it’s not funny,’ he said, words interrupted by his poorly stifled laughter. ’I just didn’t expect you to not know what’s happening.’
Jean inhaled sharply through his nose before slowly shaking his head from side to side.
’I’m going to kill you.’ His words were cold but he spoke them so nonchalantly that Jean barely registered what he said. ‘I mean, I wasn’t going to just yet. You weren’t supposed to wake up-’
’I’m sorry, um, is this a joke or something?‘
‘You’re kinda slow.’
‘Pardon?’
’Look.’ His captor put his hands on his hips. That’s when Jean was able to notice the holster that sat on his right side. ‘I brought you here to put you in a death trap and watch you die.’
Jean blinked. He stared at the man for a few seconds, waiting for him to laugh or say psych or for a fucking prank show host to come running out because there was no way he meant what he just said.
’Ah, you’re finally understanding,’ the man said. He kicked Jean so that he was laid on his stomach once more and squatted down next to him. He revealed a syringe he had been holding. The glint of the needle connected with Jean’s irises and panic nearly punched him in the face. If he didn’t find a way out he was going to die, that fact was becoming glaringly obvious.
He looked at the guy and for some reason, the first thing he noticed was how his eyelashes, red like his hair, fluttered while he worked on unwrapping the needle. His lips held that sort of natural pout that always managed to drive Jean crazy. Crazy, that’s surely what he had become because why was he checking out his soon-to-be murderer? Then again, it wasn’t fair that he’d be the victim of someone who was so wildly his type. The man tapped the needle, as a few drops spurt out of it, and he knew that he was running out of time.
‘You’re gonna have to go back to sleep until I’m ready.’
‘Wait,’ Jean said, his tone urgent. ‘Can I ask you something first?’
The man rolled his eyes and stared at him, seemingly to listen. When their eyes connected Jean felt an odd sensation, one that traveled down toward the creasing in his pants. He had pretty eyes too, animated with life and a beautiful shade of brown that was difficult to look away from. He swallowed hard.
‘What’s your name?’
’Why would you-’
’Just answer the damn question.’ Jean snipped out. The man appeared taken aback, no doubt because none of his victims had ever talked back to him before. Jean wasn’t sure why he wasn’t taking this more seriously, maybe it was because he barely had anything to lose anymore. Life had left him feeling so undeniably unsatisfied he had been struggling to find the point. He had enough sense to recognize that the point should have little to do with this murderous, maniacal maniac but some other part of him wasn’t getting that message.
‘It’s Floch,’ he said.
Jean let his head rest on the floor, his hair falling on his jawline. ‘That’s a nice name.’
Floch’s eyes darted away, quickly, nervously, and he returned to the syringe in his hand. Jean cleared his throat.
‘Don’t you wanna know mine?’
Floch didn’t look at him this time, instead, he began to bring the needle toward Jean’s arm.
‘It’s Jean,’ he said coolly. ‘Jean Kirstein. And believe it or not, I’ve never been kidnapped before.’
’I never would’ve guessed.’
‘I guess I imagined it, the possibility of it anyway,’ he could feel the cold metal hovering just above his flesh. ‘Though I never anticipated being kidnapped by somebody so hot before.’
That’s when he saw it. The jolt through the other’s body. The movement of his chest. The way his pupils narrowed. His jaw tightened and his bangs fell forward, masking his eyes but not the obvious impact Jean’s words had on him. If he was going to have to fuck his way out of being killed he was grateful to have such a good-looking killer.
‘Hey Floch,’ the feeling of the other’s name in his mouth felt intimate, more than he anticipated. Heat rushed through the back of his neck, but he kept his gaze connected to the man’s face, trying to regain eye contact. ‘Since you’re going to kill me, I feel like I have no reason to hold back.’
Floch’s lips parted and he sucked in a sharp inhale through his nose. A confused ‘hmm’ left him, the sound quiet and hesitant.
‘You should kiss me.’
‘What?’
‘Oh my bad,’ the corner of Jean’s lips rose. ‘Pretty please?’
Floch’s Adam’s apple bounced up and down. His breathing quickened and it felt like time stood still for so long. Jean’s hands, still bound behind his back, wiggled with anticipation. His approach was fast, much faster than he had expected. His lips were soft and pressed against his with a force that meant he wanted this. He craned his neck upward to try and position himself better as their lips barely aligned. The redhead kissed him hungrily, not deterred by the way he frequently missed his lips and kissed at his chin instead.
Jean could barely process what was going on. He was completely vulnerable, barely able to move, and trapped in an unknown place. The fact was so unbelievably frightening but something about it also left him feeling even more fascinated by the psycho killer knelt in front of him.
Floch’s hands tangled in Jean’s hair and he tugged at the strands tightly. Nghh . The sound left Jean without his intention, projecting his pleasure from the back of his throat. Floch noticed, his eyes flashing wide when he heard.
‘You’re kind of a freak, huh?’ Floch pulled away his mouth to speak, though retained their closeness.
Jean’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not gonna take that from a guy with a murder warehouse.’
Floch opened his mouth to speak again but Jean leaned forward to close the gap between them. He couldn’t have him talking, it gave him too much time to remember what he was trying to do. And Jean was only kissing him to get out of being killed... it was all just a tactic, nothing more than that.
The redhead responded with even more excitement than before and it wasn’t long before Jean felt the warm wetness of his tongue. He dragged it across his bottom lip which Jean reacted with a humming release of pleasure. He opened his mouth instinctually, letting the killer invade. Their tongues mashed into each other. He’d never felt so instantly turned on by a kiss before. It was like they knew exactly what the other liked. Floch was rough. Yet he kissed him like he wanted to make him feel good.
Their teeth clanged together unexpectedly. Jean grunted in irritation but then quickly noticed that Floch was making no effort to hide his teeth, in fact, their presence only became more obvious. It took him another second and then... he’s smiling?
‘Hey what’s with the grinning-’
‘You want to kiss me.’
Jean swallowed. He stared at the other’s face, whose eyes were gleaming now. He looked at Jean with excitement and his tone was practically giddy. That was when he felt the pressure in his pants and how good the ground was feeling pushing into him. The longing ache between his thighs was traveling fast up to his head.
He barely even knew who Floch was. Only a moment before this he was planning on murdering him. Hell, as far as he knew he was going to do it once they finished this sorry attempt at escape. But it was like this rush of emotion hit Jean all at once. How could it be that he wasn’t just sexually excited but feeling a crush on the maniac in front of him. He felt like he was going insane. Which was just the perfect way to end this bizarre experience.
He should’ve known he’d end up having his midlife crisis at 25.
‘Keep going,’ Jean said, more aggressively. ‘I need you.’
The shift in his demeanor didn’t go unnoticed and Floch did as he was asked. Jean thought about the gun in his holster. The syringe thrown on the ground. Behind them, there were the echoes of another man screaming, the shrill of death that sent chills through his body which mixed with the growing heat in an overstimulation of sensation.
He should be afraid. Floch shouldn’t be listening. And now, he needed to get off badly .
He shifted his hips up and down, nearly humping the ground like a teenager exploding with hormones. He bit down on Floch’s lip, hard. He wanted him to know he was mad at him. Mad that he’d been kidnapped. Mad that he was going to kill him. Mad that he made him feel like an absolute lunatic for falling so hard.
Floch yelped and caressed Jean’s face with his hands. Without asking him to, he pushed Jean’s body so he was on his back. The release of pressure on his cock made him groan. His hands, stuck on the ground beneath him, squirmed in their binds. He wanted desperately to touch himself. To touch Floch.
‘Floch,’ Jean said his name slowly. The redhead moved to kiss at the skin below his jaw, nipping and licking at the sensitive skin. The constant assault made Jean’s toes curl in his shoes and it felt like his cock was pulsing in his pants.
‘I’ve got another question.’
‘Hmm?’ Floch hummed but continued kissing. His lips grabbed ahold of his skin and he sucked, tugging on his skin so hard he left marks.
‘I think you shouldn’t kill me.’
‘That’s not a question.’ Floch spoke into the skin behind his ear.
‘Well, I can’t ask my question until I know you won’t kill me.’
‘You don’t get to decide if I kill you or-’
‘Say my name.’ Jean interrupted. Floch pulled away so that he could look him in the eyes. ‘Go on, say it.’
‘Jean.’ Floch breathed out.
Jean let himself moan. Loudly. He wiggled his hips to show the other what his words had done to him. Floch did just as he expected and looked at his boner. His eyes were wide and his lip was red with blood. He stared longingly at Jean’s desire for him. Slowly he looked back at him and Jean nodded.
He pounced on him instantly. Just the sensation of his ass on his clothed cock made him moan again. Jean struggled to control his breathing and his head began to grow dizzy as Floch started to unzip him. He tugged on his pants, pulling them down till they reached the curve of his ass. Without hesitation he stuck his hand in Jean’s underwear and pulled his erection out. Being released felt overwhelmingly good. The redhead’s excitement revealed in high-pitched moans. Jean , he sighed out dreamily. He pawed at his cock like he was too nervous to touch it. Jean felt the desperation to be able to touch him back and watched with a heavy gaze as Floch’s cold palms held him.
‘Feels so fucking good,’ he breathed out.
‘What’s your question?’
‘I wanna do this again,’ Jean said, his voice raspy. ‘With my hands untied.’
Floch bit his lip and the corners of his mouth rose. He spit into his palm and began to pump Jean deliberately. He looked in awe at the stiffness of his boner, his thumb rubbing across his veins protruding from his shaft. The obscene sounds made his cock grow harder.
‘Jean,’ Floch said with a laugh, ‘you’re not good at asking questions.’
Jean came with a low, guttural moan. His head fell back on the ground and he could feel his orgasm course through his whole body. He breathed in deeply a few times and began to feel an all-encompassing sense of calm. His eyelids were heavy and as he glanced up toward Floch, he saw the same glint of metal from before.
Then it went dark.
He awoke in the night, face down on the sidewalk in front of his house, but his hands weren’t bound this time. He felt delirious and began to lift his body off the pavement. He blinked a few times and stared at his hand, which had ink sketched onto it. A moment of recognition and then he felt a smile pull at his lips.
The answer to your question is yes.