Twenty Over Thirty || manxman

XIX - Black & Blue

The second Kurt felt a warm breath on the back of his neck, his fears kicked into overdrive and he threw an elbow behind him. The sharp bone of his arm slammed into the top of Mick's chest, and the first things that raced through Kurt's mind, were about how much he didn't want to become a victim of his past ever again. His heart began to pound when he turned to throw a punch, but Mick was fast enough to slam his fist down from the target of his face.

The older man let out a grizzly laugh and seized Kurt's wrist. With his own body weight, he shoved Kurt down upon the bed, pinning him there as the younger boy attempted to thrash. "Get off!" he screamed, twisting his body any which way he could, "Fuck you, Mick. Fuck you! Get off, get out of here! Ahh!"

Needing to stop the shouting, Mick released Kurt's wrists and closed his hands around the younger boy's neck. The younger man tried to buck up off the bed, use his legs, the turn of his hips to throw Mick off, but as the squeeze of hands around his throat turned his face red and cut the supply of air off, Kurt knew stopping his resistance was the only way to get Mick to loosen his grip. So, he stopped.

When the violent thrash came to a standstill, Mick kept his hands around Kurt's throat and leaned down. "I'm surprised you chose to fight me, honestly," the older man smiled. "But you know what happens when you fight, don't you? Are you begging for me to make you bleed? Is that it?"

"Fuck you," Kurt said in his low accent, "I'd rather die than belong to you again." Seeing as Mick was focused on listening to him and watching his lips, Kurt abruptly pushed the man with all his might. He managed to surprise Mick and made the man stumble back off the bed. "You fucking wanker!" Kurt screamed, and he grabbed the lamp from the nightstand, pulling it from its plug in the wall and raised it. "Get any closer and I swear to god! Just get the fuck out, Mick, go back to London by yourself. I don't want you!"

"You don't want me?" Mick laughed to himself, "You make it sound like that's a problem for me. I was raping you for an entire fucking year, you think I have any concerns with you not liking me? I'd still slide my cock down your open throat, and tear your arse apart from the inside out."

"You're fucking disgusting!" Kurt chucked the lamp, but Mick dodged it and shattered against the bedroom closet door.

With Kurt's weapon gone now, Mick charged for Kurt, and before he could jump over the bed to get away, the top of his hair was snatched and he was pulled back. Kurt was thrown to the floor of the bedroom, sending a reverberation through the floor. "The neighbors will hear!" Kurt argued, wincing from the particles of hair torn from his scalp. "Just go away. Someone will call the police!"

"Not now," Mick heaved Kurt up from the floor and thrust him up against the wall, causing mirrors and framed pictures to tremble. "While I waited for you, I saw your downstairs neighbors head out. They probably won't be back for a while. Which, of course, leaves me time to convince you to come back to London with me." Holding Kurt back upon the wall with the push of his own body, Mick kept his face at a distance, and his left forearm pressed against the young man's neck. "For every 'no' you give me, just know this situation will only get worse for you. I'm telling you, Kurt, it's best if you just listen."

"Dimitri will fuckin' kill you when he gets here," Kurt said. He knew the man he loved wasn't going to be home until tomorrow, but he figured it was worth mentioning. Mick didn't know when Dimitri was coming home, so hopefully it would be enough to scare him away. However, Kurt doubted such would happen.

Feeling his previous confidence begin to fade rapidly,  Kurt suddenly couldn't control his tears from welling, and they commenced streaming down his face yet again. "Mick," he cried, "Please, just go away. You had me for a year. I can't take it anymore."