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"What the fuck Nikita", Artyom burst into the dark room, the door slamming against the wall. He scanned the mess for a second before spotting him slumped in the computer chair, head resting on his knee, surrounded by piles of dirty clothes and trash.
“Why the hell didn’t you come to school today? I had to hang out with those dumb retards, you know I can’t tolerate them without you.” Artyom threw himself onto Nikita’s bed, the cheap, worn sheets rough against his palm.
Nikita‘s gaze didn’t shift away from his computer screen, the glow reflecting off his tired face. "Yeah… sorry."
"You aren’t even sick.", Artyom spat, rolling his eyes as he pulled out his phone. "Or are you?", he asked, considering Nikita‘s passive attitude towards him, which was in fact unusual for the brunette who had made his mother cancel vacations because he was unable to bear a week away from Artyom.
Nikita didn’t answer. His eyes remained glued to the screen, fingers occasionally moving on the mouse.
Artyom felt a sharp twist of irritation and something uncomfortably close to shame at being ignored. His authority wasn’t supposed to be dismissed like this. He pushed himself off the bed and moved behind Nikita, leaning over his shoulder to see the screen.
“What are you even doing?” he asked annoyed.
“Just… working on a new track. Been messing with it since yesterday.” The screen showed a messy music production program.
Artyom snorted, reaching over Nikita’s shoulder to turn the volume up a bit. His face now closer to the side of Nikita‘s head, he could smell his unwashed hair. Nikita never smelled good; the general definition of good. To Artyom the smell of cigarettes and old clothes always symbolised comfort.
"What the fuck is this emo diary shit?", he laughed, his breath tickling Nikita‘s ear. "Are you gonna cry into the fucking microphone too?"
Nikita rolled his eyes in response.
That pissed Artyom off. A lot.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He shoved Nikita’s shoulder hard, spinning the chair around so they were face to face. “Acting like some fucking weirdo the whole day.”
Nikita stayed quiet for a second, then finally looked up at him. “Look, Artyom… I’m not a fag. I don’t care if you’re one, but I’m not one.”, He said with a low voice, reminiscing about the occurrence last weekend.
Artyom stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. “Seriously? Is that why you didn’t come to school today? You pussied out because you didn’t wanna see me?”
Before Nikita could respond, Artyom’s hand shot out. He clamped it violently over Nikita’s mouth, fingers digging into his cheeks as he shoved him backward. The chair tipped. Nikita hit the bed hard, Artyom towering over him instantly, knee pressing down on his chest to pin him.
Nikita’s eyes widened in panic, muffled sounds escaping against Artyom’s palm. Artyom’s other hand grabbed his jaw roughly, pressing hard enough to bruise the pale skin.
“You think you can just decide that?” Artyom hissed, leaning in so close their noses almost touched. “After sucking my fingers covered in your own vomit like a good little bitch? After leaning into my neck and telling me you’d let me fuck you? I am the fag?”
Nikita tried to shake his head, breathing fast through his nose, but Artyom’s grip only tightened.
“Shut the fuck up,” Artyom shouted.
He observed the panic in Nikita‘s eyes, wide in fear, with his chest rising and falling rapidly. He felt both of Nikita‘s hands weakly push against his torso in a desperate attempt to get him off of him.
Nikita truly was pathetic, Artyom thought. He was clearly physically inferior, which led them to situations in which Artyom would abuse his power over him physically often, but it was never quite like this now.
Artyom would rarely hit Nikita because Nikita himself angered him, he would rather use him as a blow-off valve and then blame it on Nikita‘s behaviour later. Nikita was barely in the position to get him angry anyway unless he fucked things up which he did frequently, but even then Artyom preferred psychological abuse rather than physical.
And when he did beat Nikita up, it never quite looked like this. Artyom wouldn’t tower over him, pinning him down by the jaw on his bed as his legs straddled the younger boy. The position looked rather erotic than their usual beating sessions, where Artyom would prioritise using his legs to hurt & kick him.
Physically inferior from years of malnourishment and neglect, Nikita never fought back with everything he had. He always took it. Always submitted. Even now, when Artyom had him pinned like this
Artyom also particularly always enjoyed seeing Nikita in pain, wether it was humiliation or straight up abuse, just like now.
Artyom‘s leg shifted to between Nikita‘s legs, roughly pressing against his crotch as he dug his fingernails deeper into his soft cheeks, leaving little marks. Nikita‘s eyes started tearing up.
"Huh, Kitja?" Artyom taunted, finally lifting his hand from Nikita’s mouth only to wrap it around his throat instead, fingers pressing into the warm, vulnerable skin. “Who’s the fag now?”
Nikita‘s lips trembled. "I was drunk Tyoma, we can—", his cries were cut off by a hard slap across his face. Artyom watched with satisfaction as the pale skin of his cheek slowly turned red.
"Yeah you were drunk, weren‘t you? Maybe I should get you drunk again and call those gypsies to rape you?", Artyom laughed dryly.
Nikita moved his hand up from Artyom‘s torso to the hem of his shirt, causing Artyom to catch his wrist and slam it down against the mattress, pinning it there.
"If you turn into a fag every time you drink, i‘m sure you‘ll love them wrecking your fucking asshole.", Artyom grinded his knee harder against Nikita‘s crotch.
"Tyome please— I‘m sorry.", Nikita pleaded, his voice low with fear as he fought against the tears which were about to escape his eyes. He felt humiliated.
Artyom didn’t think. He just wanted to hurt Nikita more; to hear more of his cries, his begging, his whimpers, to see more of his tear stained face and bloodshot eyes.
Artyom‘s hands moved down to the hem of his jeans, unbuckling them in a rush.
"What the fuck are you doing?", Nikita steadied himself quickly to sit straight, clear worry recognisable in his voice now.
Artyom roughly pushed him down to his bed again, gaining a soft whimper from Nikita. He hastily pushed down his pants, leaving Nikita shocked and only with his white boxers covering his soft penis. Small stains of pee were visible on them, right below the small bulge between his legs.
"Artyom-", he started, eyes wide in shock and disbelief, but was quickly interrupted by Artyom roughly gripping his cock and feeling it down.
Nikita groaned loudly. He was unable to process the situation unfolding in front of him.
"Mhmm you‘re just a small as you were before.", Artyom abruptly pulled down his underwear, exposing his sensitive dick to the cool air.
Nikita broke out of it, rushing to cover his private parts as he pushed artyom away with his leg, his foot pressing harshly against Artyom‘s stomach.
This pissed Artyom off again. A lot.
Artyom liked Nikita most fully under his authority; helpless and submissive. Yet he couldn’t deny that him fighting back was a new experience which excited him.
Artyom grabbed Nikita‘s leg, pushing it to the side as he quickly positioned his legs on each side of Nikita‘s, pinning his wrists down to the mattress again as he squeezed them hard. Their faces were inches apart, he felt Nikita‘s warm breath against his mouth, the uncomfortable smell infiltrating his nostrils.
"What Kitja, are you embarrassed of your small dick?", he asked, a pitiful look on his face as his one hand slid down Nikita‘s body again.
Artyom was fully abusing his position of power. Nikita felt utterly exposed and helpless.
He palmed Nikita‘s dick again, feeling it twitch beneath his touch.
"I remember when we were kids, I glanced over when you were peeing and just thought ‚ow, why is his thingy so much smaller than mine‘", Artyom smirked, he palmed Nikita‘s dick again, feeling it twitch beneath his touch as he could barely hold in his whimpers.
"Artyom, get off of me", Nikita said, irritation visible in his voice.
"You don’t have to be ashamed of me.", Artyom moved his hand back to Nikita‘s face, caressing his hot cheek with his thumb. "Has a girl ever seen you like this?"
Nikita shook his head shyly, almost unable to hold eye contact to Artyom at such a close proximity as he pressed his legs against each other in a desperate attempt to hide himself a little bit.
Artyom smirked, letting out a soft hum of satisfaction.
Artyom’s hand slid lower, fingers trailing deliberately past Nikita’s soft, twitching cock until his fingertips brushed the sensitive, puckered skin of his entrance. Nikita‘s skin beneath his boxer‘s was even paler than the rest of his body, faint blue veins visible on the boy‘s narrow hips. The surface of his ass was soft and warm under Artyom‘s touch, the skin in his crack slightly bumpy.
The moment Artyom made contact, Nikita’s cheeks clenched, his whole body giving a sharp, involuntary twitch beneath him. His hips jerked upward for a split second before pressing back down into the mattress.
"Look Tyoma, I don’t want to do this. I don’t care if you-"
What cut Nikita off was a sharp pain in his nose. Artyom’s fist slammed into his face with force. His head snapped back against the bed, he was now unclearly looking directly at the hand Artyom was using to pin his wrist down as the pain spread through his face. A muffled cry escaped his lips as his hand flew up instinctively toward his face. Artyom immediately grabbed his jaw, yanking his head back to face him.
A trail of thick, red blood trickled down his right nostril, running down over his lip. Nikita’s wide hazel eyes darted around in panic before locking onto Artyom’s. His chest heaved rapidly, Nikita was about to cry.
It may have been the first time Artyom noticed how beautiful Nikita truly was.
The pigment of his eyes was truly vibrant when they looked at Artyom in such a terrified manner. The red smearing his face made up such a striking contrast to the sickly pale of his skin. And his acne ridden face didn’t seem to bother him now.
He truly loved every part of Nikita. That was what made him want to rip him apart, consume him and violate him to the point he becomes undesirable to anyone else.
"Kitja, you talk to much for your own good.", Artyom murmured, leaning down. His tongue dragged slowly up the trail of blood from Nikita’s nose, savoring the metallic taste. His tongue softly teased at Nikita‘s lip.
Nikita parted his lips, a weak whimper vibrating in his throat. Artyom brought his fingers to Nikita’s mouth. The boy hesitated only a second before obediently parting his lips, letting Artyom push two fingers inside. His warm, wet tongue moved hesitantly around them, sucking with reluctant motions. Artyom noticed he was shyer than the weekend before.
His mouth was warm and soft just like the last time Artyom‘s fingers were throat deep in Nikita. He hesitantly sucked on them, looking down, unable to bear Artyom‘s heavy gaze.
"I really like how your mouth feels, Nikita", Artyom said, thumb stroking Nikita‘s cheek, smearing the poorly licked off blood across his flushed skin. "You should put it to better use."
Nikita remained quiet as he pulled his fingers out and brought them to his entrance again, circling the tight ring of muscle with slick fingers before slowly pushing his index finger inside.
Nikita’s entire body tensed. A sharp whimper tore from his throat as his back arched off the bed at the intrusion. His legs jerked and tried to close, thighs trembling as he turned his head sharply to the side, exposing the pale, vulnerable line of his neck.
Nikita felt helpless. Penetrated, degraded and humiliated as Artyom fucked his finger deeper in his ass.
Artyom curled his finger slowly inside his tight heat, feeling the walls clench and flutter around the intrusion. Nikita’s hips jerked involuntarily, a sharp gasp escaping him as his thighs trembled and tried to close again. He kept turning his head from side to side on the pillow, eyes squeezed shut. Every small thrust of Artyom’s finger drew another broken whimper from his throat, his whole body twitching and squirming beneath the weight pinning him down.
“Stop fighting it, Kitja,” Artyom murmured, adding a second finger, pushing them deeper with a slow, scissoring motion.
Nikita’s back arched hard off the bed, a strangled sound caught between a sob and a moan escaped his lips as his hole clenched desperately around Artyom’s stretch. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes at the uncomfortable, degrading feeling, trailing down into his hair.
After a few more moments of teasing, Artyom pulled his fingers out. Nikita’s hole twitched visibly at the sudden emptiness, his whole body shuddering with relief.
Nikita sincerely hoped this was over; he hoped Artyom was happy getting his way of humiliating him and would leave him alone for now. But to Artyom‘s throbbing cock, it was far from over.
Artyom suddenly yanked Nikita‘s shirt up roughly, forcing his arms overhead and tossing the shirt aside. Nikita’s pale, narrow torso was exposed completely.
Artyom briefly let himself admire his smooth skin stretched over visible ribs and collarbones, his chest rising and falling rapidly with shallow breaths. He traced his fingertips slowly down Nikita’s sternum, then along the prominent ridges of his ribs. His touch lingered on the collarbones, pressing lightly into the hollows there as he sent shivers down Nikita‘s spine.
“Look at you,” Artyom said quietly, now following the outline of Nikita‘s shoulder with his fingertips. "So fucking skinny and weak. It’s obvious why you can’t fight back."
His eyes remained fixed on Nikita‘s body. He dug his fingers slightly into his ribs, watching the boy flinch and squirm. “No wonder you just lie there and take it.”
Artyom slowly pulled away, positioning himself between Nikita‘s legs before pulling down his pants and underwear to free his own cock. Nikita‘s eyes widened in fear.
Artyom’s penis was thick, hard and flushed dark at the tip with a slight upward curve and prominent veins running along the shaft. A bead of precum glistened at the slit as he gave himself a few slow strokes.
“Artyom— no, please, don’t—” Nikita’s voice cracked as he tried to twist away, his legs kicking weakly, heels digging into the mattress in a desperate attempt to push himself up the bed. His hands pushed feebly at Artyom’s chest and shoulders.
Artyom found Nikita‘s small, pale pink cock bobbling at the desperate movement adorable.
Artyom grabbed his narrow hips firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold him in place. He leaned in again, his hot breath tickling Nikita’s neck.
"Tell me now Nikita, who‘s the bigger fag? The one who fucks or the one who is fucked?", he murmured, the sound slightly muffled into Nikita‘s skin.
He pressed the thick head of his cock against the slick, twitching ring of muscle, rubbing it teasingly as Nikita softly pleaded for him to stop.
Artyom expected an answer. What he got instead was incoherent begging he didn’t want to hear. He bit down hard into the soft, sensitive flesh of Nikita‘s shoulder, almost drawing blood as Nikita yelped out in pain. He didn’t dare push Artyom away again.
"T-the one who is fucked.", Nikita replied with a shaky voice.
Artyom pulled at Nikita‘s hair, yanking his head back to admire the mark he left on him. The outline of his teeth looked perfect on Nikita‘s skin. It was a clear symbol of what their relationship essentially was; consumption. Now satisfied, he softly caressed the bruise with his thumb.
"And what are you?", he made Nikita face him again before slightly pushing his cock against the entrance, not yet entering him.
Their faces were inches apart; the tips of their noses barely touching as Artyom could feel every shaky breath of Nikita‘s on his lips.
Nikita hesitated. He looked into Artyom‘s big, green eyes. He knew how scary those could be, yet he never expected to feel it on his own like this. He regretted everything he’d said the weekend before. Whether it was the truth no longer mattered.
"The one who is fucked.", Nikita repeated, quieter this time. Artyom could swear he felt the faint movement of his lips on his own.
"Good boy", Artyom pushed in.
Nikita let out a sharp, pained cry as the head breached him. His body went completely rigid. His hands flew to Artyom’s wrists, gripping them tightly as his hole clenched painfully around the intrusion. “It hurts— Tyoma, stop, please—”
"Shhh, I‘ll fuck you good, Kitja."
Burying himself deep into Nikita’s warm, tight heat felt indescribable. The walls clenched and rubbed against every sensitive inch of his cock. Artyom didn’t know if he was imagining it because it was Nikita, but this felt better than anything he’d ever done with a girl.
A couple of tears involuntarily trailed down Nikita‘s cheek as Artyom watched his frail body rock with the force of each thrust. Nikita didn’t stop whimpering in pain. Artyom brought his hands up, wrapping his arms around Nikita’s head and burying the younger boy’s face against his neck to muffle the sounds.
Nikita’s arms closed around him almost desperately, fingers tugging at the fabric of Artyom’s shirt. He needed to feel skin, to have Artyom bare against him, to be crushed under his weight. Artyom answered the silent plea, letting Nikita pull the shirt up and over his head. It was tossed aside without care.
Artyom’s arms tightened around Nikita’s head, pulling him in completely. Their chests pressed flush together, he could feel every rapid heartbeat through the thin barrier of skin, every shallow rise and fall of Nikita’s ribs. Nikita’s arms locked around Artyom’s back, fingers digging into the muscles there, trying to cancel out the pain he felt.
His face stayed buried in the crook of Artyom’s neck, whimpering and moaning as Artyom fucked him deeply, hitting his prostate every now and then. Nikita connected his lips to his neck, leaving small, shy kisses on the sensitive skin, gaining a quiet groan out of Artyom.
Artyom tangled one hand in Nikita’s greasy hair, holding him close while the other arm stayed wrapped tightly around his upper back. Nikita’s legs locked loosely around Artyom’s waist
Nikita’s fingernails clawed down Artyom’s back, leaving long red scratches as he tried to distract himself from the deep, aching stretch. Artyom slid one hand between their bodies and wrapped his fingers around Nikita’s now fully hard cock. It was small enough that he could enclose it completely in his fist. He stroked it slowly, thumb spreading the precum that had gathered at the tip. Nikita’s hips jerked at the sudden attention, a louder, more broken moan spilling out of him.
Artyom pulled away from the hug. He sat up straighter, hands gripping Nikita’s narrow hips and buckling them upward so he could drive in at a deeper angle. The new position forced Nikita’s upper body flat against the mattress.
Artyom looked at Nikita‘s tear stained face, his eyes bloodshot red from crying. A little more blood trailed down his nose from before, smearing across his parted lips and cheek. It was at the sight that Artyom noticed how Nikita stopped fighting back, stopped begging; he fully submitted.
Nikita quickly grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved it over his face, trying to hide when he noticed Artyom‘s gaze. Artyom immediately pulled the pillow away and tossed it aside.
“Let me see you,” he said. He kept thrusting steadily, one hand still stroking Nikita’s cock while the other braced beside his head.
Nikita’s teary eyes flickered up to his again. Artyom slowed his hips just a little, studying the way Nikita’s face twisted and body squirmed with every deeper thrust. Artyom was close to his orgasm, Nikita could tell by the his the thrusts growing faster, shorter and more desperate.
“Please… pull out,” Nikita begged, desperately grabbing Artyom‘s wrists. “Please, Tyoma, don’t— not inside—”
It wasn‘t that Artyom didn’t already violate Nikita, claim him, degrade him, but the last thing Nikita wanted was to be stained.
Artyom didn’t answer, instead he leaned down and connected his lips to Nikita‘s. His right hand roughly held Nikita‘s jaw as he pushed his tongue against Nikita‘s thin lips. Nikita returned the kiss after a moment, hesitantly letting Artyom‘s tongue enter his mouth as he inexperiencedly worked his tongue against his.
The kiss, teeth catching Nikita’s lower lip almost made Nikita forget the position he was in before he was forcefully taken back by feeling Artyom‘s hot pulse spread inside of him.
A broken, helpless sound escaped his throat as Artyom’s cock throbbed deep inside, filling him. Artyom stayed buried to the hilt for several long seconds, breathing heavily against Nikita’s neck while the last of his orgasm faded. Artyom felt in heaven.
He slowly pulled out as Nikita remained motionless. Artyom’s sperm, now also smeared on Nikita‘s inner thighs. leaked out of his hole and stained the bed sheets.
He looked at the wrecked boy, his frail body completely still, just his chest quickly rising and falling with his shallow breaths. Nikita didn’t look at Artyom, his gaze was fixed to the ceiling.
Artyom almost felt pitiful.
"You know, Kitja", he sat back on the bed, taking Nikita‘s dick into his hand again. "You look better like this, when you‘re not wearing those ugly, old, worn out clothes."
He stroked Nikita‘s dick, his thumb gently rubbing over the sensitive tip. Nikita didn’t move, but small whimpers escaped his mouth again.
"Like that purgen hoodie", Artyom looked at Nikita who didn’t return the gaze. "You don’t even like purgen and it doesn’t fit you anymore."
Artyom kept stroking Nikita‘s dick. "Kitja I don’t wanna be mean with you but you don’t even try to hide it. Everyone thinks you’re a freak already and now they know you‘re poor too, you’re just making yourself vulnerable."
Nikita’s dick twitched under his touch. "I mean the fact that you’re a faggot makes everything worse. I won‘t tell anyone since you’re my friend but if they find out-"
Artyom was too caught up in his monologue that cum shooting out of Nikita‘s dick surprised him. Nikita moaned quietly as Artyom angled his dick upwards so he would stain his own chest and face.
Cum painted his pale skin in messy stripes; across his collarbones, his ribs, the hollow of his throat, even a thin line that had reached the corner of his mouth.
Artyom took in the pretty sight of the boy he ruined before pressing two fingers back into the soft, oversensitive heat of his hole just to watch more of his own release push out around them. Nikita stayed open and pliant.
Every bit of resistance has been completely fucked out of him.
He removed his fingers before wiping off remaining come on the sheets and collecting his tossed off shirt again.
"Come to school tomorrow, don’t leave me hanging", Artyom closed the door behind him.