by CB Conwy
Mischa kept up the beating until Tom was whimpering continuously, his ass a bright red. Then Mischa unceremoniously grabbed him and put him on the floor in front of Mischa. Tom looked hurt and confused until he saw Mischa unzipping. Then the sub mewled and dug in, his movements frantic until he had Mischa's cock in his mouth.
It was a very undignified whimper that escaped Mischa, but fuck, Tom felt good around his cock. It felt like forever since he had had Tom like this, and Mischa tried to make it last, to enjoy Tom's warm, wet mouth and the boy's tongue and fingers on Mischa's balls and... And Mischa had to give it up, thrusting into Tom's mouth, giving Tom everything Mischa had, pumping his seed deep down his boy's throat. Tom managed to swallow almost all of it. A little did escape, though, running down Tom's chin and making him look so depraved. Mischa weakly moaned again and spurted the last of his come into Tom's mouth.
Tom gently cleaned him until his dick got too sensitive and Mischa pushed Tom back. Then Mischa sat back in the chair, still breathing heavily, and admired his boy on the floor in front of him. Now that Tom had gotten Mischa off, the boy's own needs were making him squirm and pant. Mischa took mercy on him.
"Up here, boy. On my lap." Tom scrambled up before Mischa had even finished the sentence, straddling Mischa's thighs. Mischa took a firm grip with both hands on Tom's hot cheeks, making him gasp and writhe. The boy's hands were flailing, trying to find purchase on Mischa's body.
"Sit still, boy!" Tom managed to obey, gripping Mischa's shoulders and panting while Mischa kneaded the sore flesh.
"Good. Now, get yourself off."
Tom's hands were on his dick and balls instantly. "Thank you, sir! Oh, fuck, so good..." Tom whimpered as Mischa squeezed his sore buttocks, the boy letting his head fall forward to rest on Mischa's shoulder.
"Please, sir, can I? I need to come. Please!" Mischa smiled; he hadn't even told Tom to ask for permission.
"Come for me." Tom screamed as he was finally allowed his release, pumping his come out over his stomach and Mischa's shirt until he collapsed, limp and sated. Mischa carefully held Tom, caressing him while the boy came down from his high.
Mischa's shirt was a mess, his trousers were still open, and he had a suspicion that as punishments went, this wasn't exactly one. He also knew that he didn't give a damn about it.
Chapter 10
Tom knew that he was being silly. Goofy, even. But he couldn't help smiling stupidly most of the time. Even his advisor had remarked on it when they had met earlier that day. Well, on that and on the fact that Tom's thesis was coming along well. Very well, in fact. He had only been working full time on it for a few months -- since he had moved in with Mischa -- but he was almost half way there. He still had that pesky theory chapter to write, but it was still quite an achievement. And it had everything to do with living with Mischa.
Tom liked it. He liked it a lot. Their balance was so fucking perfect; they worked and talked and had fun, and then they had the other thing, too, where Mischa suddenly got all growly and Dom-y. It was hot and exciting and just very, very nice.
It was good for Tom's productivity, too. He had always worked hard, but now he felt just a little competitive with Mischa. He couldn't exactly compete when it came to income, but he was determined to get results, too. And it was a pretty good incentive to get a lot of work done during the day so they could take the evening off to go to the movies or into the playroom or just talk.
The sex was still fantastic, but it was the "other than sex" part of their relationship that really blew Tom's mind. They had started dating. It was probably strange that they had only started doing it after Tom moved in, but then nothing much was normal about them. Or at least Tom had thought so before he moved in. Now they were going out and shopping and talking and all in all being almost picket fence normal. Well, except for the things they did in the playroom, of course.
They did have their arguments, but Tom had to admit that they were pretty lousy at those. Either Tom started laughing when Mischa got all huffy from not getting his will, or Mischa ruined a perfectly good fight by kissing Tom until neither of them remembered what they were fighting over. Seeing Tom all agitated seemed to make him horny.
The memory made Tom smile again while he absentmindedly let his hands run over a very big dick. A giggle brought him back to reality. Right, sex shop.
The giggling came from a tiny brunette who was looking at edible panties on the other side of the display.
"Nice feeling?" she asked cheekily.
"Nice memories." Tom smiled and turned to find the plugs, pretending not to see her blush. It felt amazing to be on the other side of one of those for a change.
Tom spotted the plugs in the next aisle and went over there. God, there were about a hundred to choose from. He guessed it went with the size of the store -- it was more like a supermarket than one of those seedy little shops he had imagined before he had decided to let embarrassment be embarrassment and go here to find the perfect toy.
The plug was a gift for Mischa. Who of course was meant to use it on Tom, so he guessed it was a pretty selfish gift. But he wanted to play more with plugs, and bringing one home to Mischa was a hint his lover couldn't ignore. Plus, it made Tom feel all kinky to not only go into a sex shop for the first time ever, but actually buy something.
Oh. Yellow. It was such an odd color for a sex toy that Tom couldn't help picking it up. It was made of hard plastic with three soft curves. And it was rather large. It was going to be impossible to ignore when it was inside him. Maybe he could wear it while he worked; then he would be all hot and bothered when they went into the playroom. It would probably not be a very productive day, but the thought was so hot.
"Are you a fucking fag or something?" He looked up to see the sneer on the face of the guy standing further down the aisle. Tom raised an eyebrow. Very articulate man. Then he showed the guy the plug.
"I'm a man buying a plug -- what do you think?" Tom picked up a box with the yellow plug and went to pay, ignoring the angry outburst he heard behind him. He guessed he should have told the man a couple of things, but really, he had no time for bigots right now. He was going to meet Mischa in twenty minutes, and then he was determined to get fucked. Sometimes you had to sacrifice your principles to get laid. Tom laughed at the thought, causing the little brunette to blush again when he passed her. He winked. Poor thing; she was going to wonder about what he was thinking about for the rest of the day now.
He paid for the plug and went outside. A look at his watch told him that he had spent more time than he had thought in the sex shop. Well, he guessed Mischa would forgive him when he told the man why. Tom smiled at the thought, but nonetheless, he took the back way to where Mischa was going to pick him up. The weather was getting milder, and it was almost warm in the alley behind the café.
Tom heard running steps behind him when he was half way through the alley and turned to look. Before he could see anything, the pain exploded into the side of his head, making his knees give out. Somebody kicked him in the back, and he fell on the ground, trying to protect himself from the kicks and punches that kept raining down over him. It was no use, though, and the last thing he felt was a kick to his head. Then he passed out.
***
"Tom." The word sounded so inadequate in the white room. Tom barely stirred, and the sight of the boy made Mischa stop dead in his tracks.
Tom was lying on his side in the hospital bed, and the left side of his face was so swollen that one eye was completely shut. They had stitched up a long gash in his head, and the hair was shaved off in an ugly trail around the stitches. And Mischa knew there was more; the boy had broken ribs and bruised kidneys and a broken cheekbone and bruises all over his body.
"He's waking up a little. You can go sit by his bed." The nurse sounded kind; she had told Mischa what had happened to Tom and that he was going to be okay. He didn't look okay at the moment.
Mischa forced himself to move and sat down in the chair next to Tom's bed.
He lifted his hand to stroke his lover's cheek, but halted the movement half way there, letting his hand hover uncertainly in the air.
"Just watch the cut and his cheek. Otherwise you can touch him." She made herself busy with something in the other end of the room, giving them a little bit of privacy.
Mischa carefully touched Tom's forehead, gently stroking his hair away. Tom stirred, whimpering under his breath.
"...urts." Mischa's throat constricted, but he kept up the gentle caress.
"I know, baby. Just relax."
Tom tried to turn his head into Mischa's hand and groaned.
"Hurts. Make it stop?" Fuck. Even now, Tom put his trust in Mischa. And Mischa couldn't do anything to comfort him. Mischa looked helplessly at the nurse who came over.
"We'll get him some pain meds, but I'd like him to wake up properly first so I can have a look at him." Part of Mischa wanted to shout and demand that they give his boy something for the pain right now, but he knew she was right.
"You hear that, Tom? They want you to wake up. Can you wake up for me?"
Tom sighed and stirred a little. Then his movements got frantic, his hand reaching out and his breathing quickening.
"Can't see! Mischa, can't see." There was panic in Tom's voice.
Mischa put his hands around Tom's head and lifted it, so careful not to touch the injured areas. He pushed down the pillow, freeing Tom's good eye from it.
"Yes, you can. Open your eye." Tom did, and Mischa's heart sank when he saw the pain and confusion in there.
"Am I... What's wrong with my eye? Why can't I see?" Tom sounded really scared.
The nurse stepped closer. "You have a black eye, and it's so swollen that it's closed up. It'll be fine in a few days." Mischa was grateful that she started with a small thing; the list of Tom's injuries had scared the shit out of Mischa when he had heard it.
Tom calmed down a little, looking more aware. "I... Is this a hospital?" He closed his eye again and moaned. "Fuck, I hurt."
"Yeah, baby, you were attacked and beat up. I couldn't understand why you didn't show up until they called me." It had been a horrible phone call. Mischa turned toward the nurse. "Can you give him something for the pain?"
The nurse efficiently pointed a light into Tom's eye, making him moan again. Mischa wanted to tear her apart.
"I don't see why not. I'll get the doctor to have a look at him first, though." She left the room.
Mischa leaned close and gently kissed Tom, carefully avoiding the cut in his lip. Tom sighed and relaxed, reaching out for him. Mischa took the hand without the IV in it and kept on stroking his forehead, willing Tom's pain to go away.
"I want to go home." Tom sounded so lost.
Mischa squeezed his hand. "I want to be home with you, too. I'll take you with me as soon as the doctor lets you go, okay?" Tom gave an almost imperceptible nod and closed his eyes.
They were interrupted by the nurse returning with a doctor. Mischa gave him room to work, but kept close.
The doctor was very efficient, repeating the nurse's examination of Tom's eye and asking him questions about his name, the date, the weekday. Tom stayed very still, but he was able to answer most of the questions.
"Do you remember the attack?" Tom looked confused and shook his head. That made him moan again.
"Yes, you have a concussion; you'll probably want to lie still for a while. What is the last thing you remember?"
Tom looked embarrassed. "I was shopping -- something for Mischa. I can't remember anything after that."
The doctor didn't seem worried. "It's quite common after a concussion. In most cases, your memory of those hours will come back sooner or later. You might feel confused and have difficulties concentrating for a while. Just take it easy and you'll have really good odds of making a full recovery. We'd like to keep you overnight to keep an eye on your brain and your kidneys, but it's only a precaution."
"Can't I just go home?" Tom sounded exhausted.
"It would be better if you stayed. We'll move you to a private room upstairs where you can rest -- then you can go home in the morning."
Mischa took Tom's hand again. "You should stay, baby. It's only until tomorrow, and then I'll take you home."
"Okay." Mischa had a feeling that Tom only gave in because he was in too much pain to do anything else. It made Mischa wish that he would fight them instead.
***
It had been a long night. Tom's room was nice and quiet, but he had started freaking out when they moved him into his bed and he found out that there was a catheter in his prick. Mischa had had to hold him, talking him down to keep him from ripping it out. Tom's panic made his blood pressure go up and the headache worsen, and it was only a solid dose of painkiller and Mischa staying close that calmed him down.
Then they tried to make Mischa leave during the night -- hospital policy. Mischa had turned toward the nurse.
"I don't want to cause trouble, but I am staying. You can either call security to get me out and take the risk of what that will do to Tom's condition, or you can let me stay and get a nice big donation in the morning. You need a new CT scanner, don't you?" Normally, Mischa avoided acting like an arrogant, rich prick, but it had its uses; he had spent the night in Tom's room.
In the beginning, he had been sitting in the chair next to Tom's bed. The nurses came in every hour to point a light in Tom's eye, though, and it upset him to be woken up. After the third time, Mischa had simply removed his jacket and shoes and climbed into bed with Tom. That had finally made Tom calmer, and the boy even got some sleep between the check-ups.
Mischa didn't, and he felt a bit the worse for wear the next morning. But Tom looked better. Or rather, he looked horrible, but he could keep up longer conversations and was able to understand everything going on around him. He still seemed very fragile, though, and Mischa had to hold his head and talk to him while they removed the catheter to keep him from panicking. At least now Mischa knew something they were never going to experiment with in the playroom.
The police had been there, questioning Tom and taking pictures of the boy's injuries. Mischa had stopped them in the hallway, demanding to know what they had found out. He had been prepared to fight to make the officers take the case seriously, but he was surprised with the answer he got.
"The case is basically solved. We have two suspects who got caught on surveillance camera, both when one of them met your partner and during the actual assault. The café and the bar on the other side have had problems with burglary, and they had put up cameras in the alley. We also have a witness testifying that the suspects threatened the victim in the..." the officer looked down at his papers and looked a little embarrassed, "…in the adult book store."
"Adult book store?" Mischa couldn't believe what he heard. The police officer looked even more embarrassed.
"Your partner made a purchase in the shop, and one of the suspects saw him there. We have both of them in custody."
Mischa shook the officer's hand and thanked him. It was almost anticlimactic; Mischa had been ready to fight for Tom, and now it seemed that there was nothing he could do. He shook it off; it could never be a bad thing that the perpetrators were caught already. He went back into Tom's room.
The doctor was there, and he had good news for Tom.
"You're ready to go home. You have to take it easy for a while because of the concussion. But if you do that, I see no reason why you shouldn't make a full recovery." Tom looked as relieved as Mischa felt.
The doctor had a ton of information for Mischa, mostly to keep Tom from overexerting himself. "He may have some emotional trauma also, and it might be a good idea for him to see a therapist when he has recovered sufficiently from the concussion." Mischa nodded; he was going to do everything he could to make Tom better.
***
Tom was glad that he was home. Really. He just hadn't thought that it would be that much work to get here.
Just getting out of bed in the hospital had proved diff
icult. His ribs were so sore, and the pain shooting through his back made him gasp and fall back down when he tried to get up. Mischa was there immediately.
"Relax, baby. Let me help you." Mischa carefully helped Tom sit up. It hurt, and Tom was dizzy, but he wanted to go home enough that he managed to get into the pants and the jacket Mischa held out for him. The orderly wanted to help him into the wheelchair, but Tom flinched when the man touched him.
"It's okay, I'll help him." Relieved, Tom let Mischa help him up. He couldn't have anybody else touching him right now.
Tom had had to look down when he was taken through the hospital, the impressions and noises so overwhelming that he was sweating by the time they got to the entrance. Mischa had brought the car around, and Tom managed to walk the few steps before he gratefully sank into the seat and closed his eyes. He could feel Mischa fasten his seat belt, and then his lover gently kissed Tom's cheek, telling him that everything was okay. Tom didn't think it was, but right now he needed to believe it, so he lay back and fell asleep.