No harm

.. Alexander abruptly entered the young man. Anton's body was pierced by a sharp pain, the young man screamed, scratching the floor. The writer pushed so hard that Anton, who was put on his knees, fell on his chest. His hair was immediately squeezed by a rough hand and pulled back, which caused the young man to bend backwards with a painful groan. The second hand rested on the guy's sunken stomach, pressing the body harder against the active man. - Sasha!.. Anton clutched at the hand clutching his hair in an attempt to free himself. — Stop it now! What are you doing?! — Shut up!— The man clung to his shoulder with his teeth, knocking out a painful whine from Anton. A warm liquid flowed over the skin, which Alexander immediately licked off. Anthony shuddered at the sprinkling. Hot tears of resentment splashed from the young man's eyes, flowed down his cheeks. The guy bit his lip. Letting the writer into the house a couple of hours ago, Anton could not have imagined that it could turn out like this. He closed his eyes. — Antosh! My boy, — ik, — can I come to you? — Alexander, who was as cheerful as ever, smelled of beer a mile away this evening. — Yes, you've already come in! Anton chuckled. Indeed, drunk Sasha fell into the guy's apartment and did not kiss the floor only because Anton held him by the shoulders. The man was escorted deep into the house, seated on a sofa. — Anton?.. — The man lay down on his shoulder, looking at every small shadow on the young man's face with a look clouded by alcohol. There was a blush on his cheeks. The guy turned to him, raising one eyebrow. .. Who do you love? Anton exhaled, studying the ceiling with his eyes. — Nobody... Kind of... I don't know. After these words, the Polar somehow dimmed, without uttering a single word more. Anton, it seems, did not notice this. The young man was brought out of his stupor by pain in his shoulder. The angry writer got tired of the lack of reaction to anything, and he let go of his hair, allowing his limp body to fall to the floor. Anton hissed. The knees were wildly sore, and apparently the blogger would later find sores on them. Something warm was trickling down her thighs. Disgusting. Alexander bit into Anton's buttocks to the point of pain, forcing him to squint and whine from every push, and only snapped at all requests to stop and angry shouts. — Get your dirty hands off me!.. — The young man was not allowed to finish. Taking Ulyanov by the chin, Polar turned his body towards him so sharply that the spine cracked, hello, scoliosis, and then roughly kissed the sluggishly resisting guy. In the end, he did not do anything, crouched on the floor and was silent. "Damn it, if even one living or undead soul finds out about this humiliation, I will definitely sink through the ground with shame...- the blogger thought, waiting for the end of this shame. Finally, Alexander finished, immediately after pushing away the exhausted body of the young man. Anton heard the rustle of fabric, retreating footsteps. The door slammed. Completely broken, Anton lay on the floor, not trying to get up, feeling unbearable pain with every cell of his body. — Antosh?? — The guy felt a light touch, heard a worried gentle voice. Anton opened his eyes a little. Sasha's face was hanging over him. — You had a nightmare. He wiped the tears from the guy's face. The barely noticeably trembling young man looked at the man with a half-crazed look for several seconds. — I love you. Now it was time for Polar to freeze, looking at the guy. — What did you say?.. — Deaf? — The young man threw off the veil of stupor when it finally dawned on him that it was just a dream, and this, the real Alexander, would not cause him any harm. — But... I am... How can you love me? .. — I don't know. Anton gently pressed the stunned writer to himself. He knew for sure that he wouldn't hurt him.