Fortsetzung (Zweiter Teil)

xx. 

The sound was deafening and the tile exploded right beside Evan, showering his head with pieces and dust of concrete, of which nothing cut him, thankfully.

"To tell you that it's loaded and I won't hesitate to pull the trigger even when it's in." Danveur said in an apathetic tone.

He leaned his body forward and reached the gun to Evan's mouth. "Suck it," He paused as his glinting emerald eyes narrowed into slits, giving him the look of a dark devil in disguise of a striking angel. "Suck it as if it was mine."

Evan released a pained whine, cheeks warm and beet red, but cautiously stuck his tongue out, swirling the gun's mouth and tasting the sour metal tang; he wanted to gag. Danveur jabbed the gun resulting for it to clank against his teeth.

"I said suck it, you little idiot!"

And suck he did, hollowing his cheeks, pretending it was something else other than a dangeroulsy loaded gun, other than the Lieutenant's dick. He sucked it as if it was an instrument from a doctor's office and he was required to do that for medical purposes. The barrel tastes like what barrel in a mouth should taste, metal laced with frantic fear. His dick had all together wilted just from the moment Danveur fired the gun and he doesn't take pleasure from anything anymore.

Not that he had taken any pleasure from the start.

"Coat it nice and wet," Danveur instructed, and by the end of that word was a low growl. The index finger was back again, prodding insanely slow just outside that he sure he'd go nuts if this continued any longer. His neck and shoulder are starting to strain from the discomfited position he's currently in.

The gun was pushed further until it hit the insides of his cheeks and now his face was pale and his whole body was obviously ricketing in apprehension that Danveur might accidentally pull the trigger. Anything but that, please, he thought as he did his best to resume his job in a better version to make it seem like he was an obedient, good, boy. Licking and sucking well, beautifully, just please don't fire.

"Look how much of a slut you are." The officer commented and in between the sentences was a moan, his eyes trained on Evan's lewd face and trailed down in between his butt cheeks, and he moaned again unabashedly as if he could feel everything he's doing to him. As if it was his own arsehole being toyed with and his own mouth being filled with a loaded gun. But Evan thought maybe it was because he likes doing these devious mortifying actions that the Lieutenant's spewing bawdy and illegally melodious noises.

Was Daniel imagining the gun as his own phallic? Or was those because Evan definitely look like an immoral soiled slut?

The gun was abruptly removed and it left his mouth with a loud, sloppy, pop, saliva dripping from it in strings. He knew where it was going and before he could shout a frenetic no, the warm, disgustingly moist tip was already rubbing at his entrance.

"Relax, or else it won't push in." Danveur uttered in a quiet whisper. "And if it won't, I'll shoot your spine and you'd wish I had shot you in the head instead."

Relax was an absurd, outrageously stupid word and if they were both joking at this, if Danveur would suddenly pull away and scream 'Fooled you!', he would laugh. He would laugh until he'd develop lean muscles in his stomach, until he would ran out of breath, until Danveur would beat him into a pulp. But that would never happen and so instead, he tried to will himself to loosen a bit and relax.

The first nudge sent him back to a pit of pure terror, and then it was gradually pushed three fourths in (uncomfortable) then halfway (please, no), until he could feel the borderline for the trigger hit his skin outside (dear God!). Evan had drew a breath in pain and disbelief that his whole body was being torn apart by a gun. His rectum was burning in indescribable pain and he felt too full, too stretched (the gun felt too enormous).

His teeth clenched together but soon parted when he let out a feverish hysterical scream of no after no when the object began to move. He wasn't ready. "Please, stop! Stop, it hurts!"

His screams were either ignored or have been taken as the opposite because Danveur continued to withdraw and push the gun inside him in a steady rhythm. The pain that had stricken him into a blurry world of unimaginable was doubled, painful as his own spit started to dry from the friction. "H-hurts!" He blurted incoherently. "Hurts, ah! T-too much-"

Danveur paused, looked down in slight irritation and realized what he needed to do. With a loud sigh, he bent over a bit and gathered enough saliva in his mouth before spitting right at the puckering pink hole. He resumed nonchalantly and the pain that Evan felt soon subsided and was replaced by a deep, upsetting pleasure that awoken his sexual instincts (it was the spit, probably that made things a tad bit easy).

The gun was moving but it wasn't just moving forwards and backwards, it was moving everywhere, poking at his insides, angling here and there until it hit a certain spot that made Evan scream in a wrong dissipated ecstasy. His own spit was already dribbling down his chin, his cock stirring back to life with each push to that deliciously nauseating area causing him to pant (no, no, no) repeatedly.

The movements suddenly picked up speed and Evan realised he was now releasing these stupid, undignified moans in a much higher embarrassing pitch. The gun was still furiously pumping him thoroughly, sliding in and out in loud vulgar squelches when out of the blue, there was a series of knocks on the bathroom door, followed by a concerned, "Sir! Are you alright? We heard a gunshot!"

Evan bit his lower lip to prevent himself from mewling and threw a horrified back glance to Danveur, who only raised his eyebrow in return, face glistening with thin sheet of sweat and eyes half-lidded and playful. He replied, "Yes, yes I am." But he continued to thrust the gun into that exact same spot, but now agonizingly slow and excruciatingly amazing. "Just had teach to teach someone a good lesson. Don't you agree, pet?"

One pull at the belt at his neck and a jab that made his whole body jerk. "Y-yes, ah, sir!" He hated how his voice faltered, unlike Danveur who sounded normal and composed.

"Oh, okay, sir." The man at the other end of the door sounded somewhat unsatisfied but the noise of his boots thudding away and the main door shutting close told them he left and that Evan was free to voice out his cries.

The gun hitched in and now, all Evan could focus onto was the feeling and glorious sensations again. His hips started slamming back repeatedly against the barrel, uncaring whether it would suddenly fire or not, only wanting the hot friction his anus had latched on. He was now whining, tears falling onto his arms drop by drop. He hate himself for being like this, he hate himself more than hating the one doing this hideous stuff to him.

He felt an uncomfortable knot somewhere deep in his stomach, a strong, tingling pain, and before he knew it, he was ejaculating everywhere, crying out an unintelligible word and huffing loudly and repeatedly. The gun stayed suspended there for a few seconds as his muscles clamped against it, not wanting to let go (but also not wanting it to suddenly fire). He was just relishing the moment until the pleasure slowly subsided and was eventually taken away and replaced by a dull ache.

"See, that wasn't so bad." Danveur remarked in a low and sensual voice. The gun was removed and Evan slumped forwards, exhausted and conflicted, shuddering in disgust of himself actually enjoying and hating it at the same time.

He wants to curl up and sleep forever.