NIJISANJI- Spicy Stories

Oliver Evans- Enigma

Tw- Degradation
Yes, I know he isn't part of En, but he's considered so.

Oliver's fingers caress your chin, turning your face from side to side, eyeing your tear stained cheeks and puffered eyes.

"Why are you crying?" He asks.

"Because, it.... It hurts." You whimper.

Your throat was swollen because of the wind that softly blew apart the curtains of the windows that reached the floor. Your vacation home was a gift to Oliver- which he didn't accept entirely because who could ever- but now the place is open for a little more than vacations.
The wind was chilly.
You shiver.

"It hurts?" Oliver asks, smirking.

"It hur-,"

A cold slap went across your cheek and you grit your teeth, skin blistering with goosebumps and shivering as the wind tossed at the long velvet curtains.
You glared at him and quickly earned another slap.

"Don't talk to me like I'm not better than you." He says.

"You aren't." You spit back.

His hand eagerly grasped around your throat, fingers digging into the sides, eyes bleeding down into yours and face inching closer.
Your hands flew to his grasp, a breeze of fear and arousal blowing through you like the wind in the curtains.

"You are worthless." Oliver says.

You inhaled a sharp painful breath, arousal blossoming in your core and thighs clenching together.
Your nails dig into Oliver's arm, eyes locking into his and lips parted gently to the squeeze of his hand around your neck.

"Disgusting," He says. "This gets you off?"

Of course, he'd never say anything like that to you outside of role-playing, but this place has an effect on him every time he enters it.
His eyes bore into yours and you wince, the squeeze of his grasp a little too threatening now.

"I am. I am better than you." He reassures.

He pushes your body to the side and you gasp, stuttering out a cough as he pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket.
He looks over his nose to watch you struggle, and then delivers a swift kick to your abdomen.
You clobber out another breathless wheeze.

"You're filthy. Remind me to never lay my hands on your skin again."

To insult you even further, he wipes his hands against the handkerchief before discarding it to the floor.
You inch forward, reaching your hand out carefully to Oliver, who kicked it away harshly and stepped on it.
He pressed it to the floor, and you wince when he twists his foot.

"You're so cruel." You say, pulling your hand from under his foot and clutching it in you other one.

He doesn't respond, only moving away to press his foot into the handkerchief. He twists it, perhaps hoping to rid of your touch from the bottom of his shoe.
While he has no result, his still twists into it and finally kicks it away.

"You hate me." You say.

"No, I don't." He says. "I despise you."

You slowly sit up below him, looking up at him as he leaves you to yourself, wandering to the billowing curtains and starting to pull at his shirt buttons.

"You've been doing well so far," He said. "How about I teach you how to be thankful?"

You don't say anything, your eyes are speaking. They're studying him, trailing his back as he drops article after article of clothing to the floor.
He leaves on his boxers, leaning forward to push the windows closed slightly. The wind still drifts through the cracks, softly jostling the curtains.
He holds his tie in his hand, turning to you and creeping back over to you judgementally.