No Feelings

Over the next few days, what had happened that night repeated itself, soon becoming a regular evening ritual. Each day followed the same pattern, most of his time spent sitting idly in his office under the watchful eye of a guard. They had given Butler a small stack of books—presumably to keep him from going insane with boredom—but he found reading impossible. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get past a single sentence. His mind was too full of heavy thoughts, each one worse than the last. What was happening in the district? How were Richard and the others? And how was... Rose feeling? It had been a long time since he’d last seen Richard. He knew Richard still showed up at the garrison from time to time, but Gabriel no longer allowed him to attend those meetings. In a way, that was for the best—being around Richard meant constantly having to restrain himself and keep his mouth shut, which was incredibly difficult. And yet… he longed to see someone other than the guards with their impassive faces, who watched him incessantly, or that hateful devil who had stolen his life away. Sometimes, Butler would catch himself unable to recall the face of someone he’d once known well. Or worse, he’d start forgetting events from his own life—people he’d met, moments he’d lived. His memories were becoming hazy, as if they were nothing more than a dream or had never belonged to him at all. And that was truly terrifying. He was being pulled deeper and deeper into this endless cycle of hell, losing himself bit by bit. His habits, tastes, and interests no longer mattered—everything was being decided for him, without his consent. Still, every now and then, he’d remember the time he spent at that club with the catchy name—and the girl who had so often filled his thoughts. Their recent meetings had been strictly business, which he didn’t particularly enjoy, but there was nothing he could do about it. The Madame of the Primavera family was always so busy she barely had time to breathe. He had to admit, he missed the old days—before the family—when he could go to that club whenever he pleased, enjoy all it had to offer, and see her. She would smile warmly, so beautiful and innocent, and... And all of that was in the distant past, gone forever. He would probably never see her again. Even if this nightmare ended someday and they both survived, he simply couldn’t look her in the eye after everything that had happened. He’d fallen so low that he disgusted himself. But in the end… he had no choice, did he? What a vile sense of helplessness. Butler would lose himself in these thoughts until the clock struck a rather late hour of the evening. The guard would kindly remind him that his workday was over—as if I’ve actually been working—and suggest he return to his room. The mere thought of that room sent a wave of nausea through him. The feeling intensified when he entered and saw the fresh bed sheets on the enormous bed and the tidy side table where earlier that day there had been glasses and an empty wine bottle. Butler had never cleaned up after himself, and of course, Gabriel didn't either. So someone else must have been tasked with tidying up after whatever went on in there—which meant that someone might have figured out exactly what they did in that room. It was possible that all the guards around him knew. These thoughts flashed through Butler’s mind and should have made him uncomfortable, anxious, ashamed, whatever—but in reality, he felt nothing but indifference. How much lower could he fall? Despite all the cleaning, he could still catch the faint scent of that wine. Butler opened the window to air out the room, but as soon as the fresh air hit him, he threw the window open wider and looked out. The longing for freedom struck him with renewed force, but there was no way he could climb down from this height. He'd probably just break his neck. Not a bad option, really. He jumped when he heard a voice right behind him. “You're going to catch a cold, Phil.” Turning around, he saw Gabriel smiling. Butler doubted that anyone could make a smile look more sinister. “How do you walk so quietly?” he mumbled, closing the window. Gabriel just laughed. Then they settled into armchairs by the table. Clean glasses were taken from the cupboard, and Gabriel always brought the bottle. Not a single evening passed without that wine. Of course, Gabriel drank most of it, yet somehow he always managed to appear lucid and speak coherently. Butler regretted the latter—listening to the same complaints over and over again was torture in itself. But, of course, it was far better than what usually followed, so he tried to maintain a more or less interested look, buying himself as much time as possible. Sometimes Gabriel would drink too much during their conversations and become quite intoxicated. If that happened, he would eventually cut himself off and simply leave, wishing Butler a good night. And on those nights, Butler did indeed find relative peace. But this time, after finishing his litany of complaints, Gabriel suddenly started talking about Richard, whom he had met earlier that day. Clearly, he was eager to boast about how cleverly he was manipulating the consigliere—it was obvious from the nasty words he chose and his smug tone. Butler was starting to think he couldn't take it anymore, but the mention of Richard gradually led his thoughts back to Rose, and he drifted away from Gabriel's words, lost in his own mind. He wondered how she was doing and what she was doing in that faraway place where she had been hidden from potential assassins. What did she think of everything that was happening? How much did she even know? Who was with her? Surely that guy who adored her so much, Wayne, was still there with her. He hoped that Wayne and whoever else was with Rose were taking good care of her. She was definitely feeling worse than ever, and it wasn't just because of her health problems. Or rather, it wasn't that at all. The memories brought a dull ache to his chest. Apparently, he couldn't hide it from himself anymore—and even Gabriel had once correctly observed it. Butler would never tell Rose this, but the feelings he had for her were actually… “What are you thinking about, Phil?” The sound of his name jolted Butler out of his thoughts, and he flinched under Gabriel's sharp, penetrating gaze. Looking away, he let out a nervous chuckle. “Nothing. Just zoned out for a second. Can you remind me where we were?” Forcing himself to meet Gabriel’s eyes again, he immediately regretted it. Gabriel stared at him with such intensity that Butler knew he was being seen through and through. “You’re lying,” Gabriel declared. Butler lowered his eyes, sighing in resignation. He already sensed he was going to get it worse than usual for this. As if to confirm his thoughts, Gabriel’s lips stretched into a nasty grin. “I could punish you for that, you know.” “Oh, really?” Butler couldn’t help but scoff. “Isn’t that what you do all the time?” Gabriel’s smile only widened. “Believe me, if I really wanted to punish you, you’d feel much worse.” Butler shuddered at that statement. A memory suddenly flashed through his mind—the moment he truly believed he was going to die at Gabriel’s hands. Gabriel had even admitted then that he’d barely held himself back. So… he wasn’t joking or exaggerating now. Butler involuntarily touched his neck. The scratches were almost healed, but they still reminded him of the sharp pain he’d felt then—almost the same as what he was feeling now. Gabriel noticed the gesture and laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll forgive you this time. And I won’t even ask what you were imagining. But…” He stood up and slowly approached Butler’s chair. “You must be bored of listening to me, so…” Leaning in close to his ear, he whispered, “Don’t you think it’s time we moved on to something more interesting?” Butler swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat. Meanwhile, Gabriel was already undoing the buttons of his jacket, his hot breath fanning Butler’s neck. Butler covered his hand with his own, and Gabriel looked at him in surprise. “N-no,” Butler stammered. “I’ll do it myself.” Gabriel smirked and stepped back, allowing Butler to stand and walk to the bed. There, he turned his back to Gabriel and began to undress slowly. His hands trembled, his heart pounded—the sensations were exactly the same as when it had all begun. Apparently, he would never get used to this. Behind him, he heard the rustle of clothes as Gabriel quickly shed his own. By the time those sounds ceased, he had only just begun unbuttoning his shirt. Gabriel approached and wrapped his arms around him from behind, deftly freeing the remaining buttons from their loops. “Too slow, Phil,” he whispered, nibbling lightly on his ear. At the same time, his hands glided over Butler's exposed torso, making him inhale sharply and bite his lip. It didn't last long—soon, his shirt was tossed aside, and he was pushed face-down onto the bed. Hovering over him, Gabriel left noticeable bites along his back, stroked his lower back, and immediately moved his hands down to strip away the remaining clothing. Moments later, cold, lubricated fingers penetrated him with a sudden movement, drawing a pained groan into the pillow as the thrusts followed. At least this time, he didn’t have to look Gabriel in the face—the other man couldn’t see his emotions. It was still painful and shameful, but like this, he could endure it. “Phil,” Gabriel whispered through muffled moans, kissing Butler’s back. “Phil…” Butler couldn’t recall ever being so chilled by someone else’s arousal before, and the realization made his face burn. The fingers withdrew, and he clenched his teeth, bracing for the excruciating pain—but instead, Gabriel pressed against him, whispering, “I want to see your face. Turn around.” Butler reluctantly obeyed, shutting his eyes at once. A scream tore from his throat as pain shot through his entire body when Gabriel entered him. The next few seconds blurred in his mind as he struggled to regain his senses, trying to adjust to the overwhelming sensations. Gabriel suddenly stopped, and even without opening his eyes, Butler could feel his intense gaze on him. “Why are you closing your eyes?” Butler didn’t answer, only clenched his jaw tighter. Gabriel’s hand trailed almost gently along his chin, his lips brushing lightly against Butler’s closed eyelids. “Look at me, Phil,” he said softly. It didn't sound like an order at all—rather... a request. Butler yielded, opening his eyes to meet Gabriel’s gaze. A wide, (self-)satisfied smile instantly spread across the latter’s face. “And don't take your eyes off me anymore.” He started moving again, each thrust sending fresh waves of pain through Butler—tears streamed from his wide-open eyes. He tried to close them, but Gabriel yanked his hair at the nape of his neck and, his lips almost brushing Butler’s, commanded in a low, forceful tone, “Look at me. Look. Don’t take your eyes off me. Don’t forget for a second who’s here with you.” Butler frowned, staring into those strained, bloodshot eyes. He wanted to retort, but only another cry tore from his open mouth. This torture—being unable to hide from another's gaze—was utterly unbearable and seemed endless. But at last, Gabriel broke eye contact, leaning down to his neck and trailing wet kisses over his upper body, each one interspersed with sharp, stinging bites. Butler exhaled and let his eyes fall shut, relaxing ever so slightly. Listening to Gabriel’s moans and incoherent whispers—laced with vulgar remarks unbecoming of him—he became painfully aware that the movements inside him were beginning to cause something other than pain. A few thrusts later, his back arched involuntarily, and he barely managed to stifle a moan. Pleasure crept in, unwanted and undeniable, and with it came shame, searing hot, spreading across his cheeks. And when Gabriel pressed into him one last time, shuddering violently, Butler was ready to howl from the overwhelming sensations. But instead, he just bit down hard on his lower lip. “You,” Gabriel breathed, pulling back slightly to survey Butler from head to toe. “You... haha, it can’t be…” Now, his reaction was noticed, and just when Butler thought it couldn’t get worse, his body arched again, forcing him to gasp for air. Gabriel cupped a hand around Butler's member, lightly stroking the head with his thumb, and Butler involuntarily thrust into his touch, moaning softly. “Want to continue?” Gabriel whispered in his ear. “Just say the word.” “You think I’m going to ask for that?” Butler managed to retort, even in such a state. He sincerely believed he never would, but the next moment, Gabriel ran his tongue inside his ear—again and again—while squeezing his hand a little harder. And so it went, until Butler let out a moan, loud and too raw, one he had desperately tried to suppress. Yet despite the shame, despite the hatred, the physical sensations overwhelmed him, stripping away the last of his resistance. “Please,” he whispered weakly, closing his eyes, wetness clinging to his lashes. Gabriel didn't hesitate for a second. Moving his hand quickly, he kissed Butler's neck as louder and louder moans spilled from his lips. When it was over, his own ragged moan nearly deafened him, and for a few moments, he felt utterly detached from reality—until a sharp bite on his collarbone jolted him back. “You have such a sweet voice when you’re feeling good,” Gabriel murmured, his lips still lingering against Butler’s skin. “Why didn’t I notice that before?” He chuckled briefly before pulling away to study Butler’s face. “I’ll have to fix that.” “Don’t bother,” Butler muttered, burying his face in the pillow—prompting another amused chuckle from Gabriel. As the other man dressed, Butler watched his back, recalling the time he had warned him that one day, he might get confused about his own feelings.But Gabriel had been right. That hardly seemed possible. If anything, it was Butler who was at risk of falling into that trap. “I hate you,” he said, as if trying to convince himself. Gabriel turned and looked at him for a few seconds. Then, leaning in, he whispered into his ear in a smooth tone, “And I ‘love’ you, Phil.” Butler grimaced, as if in pain. In truth, that word, spoken in that tone, really turned something inside out. When Gabriel left, he felt empty—but that was nothing new. It happened every time. It seemed like he should have gotten used to being used and then cast aside when no longer wanted—but it still hurt, tormenting him, perhaps even more than the constant physical pain. He reminded himself why he was enduring all of this and wiped the tears from his face. Right. It was better if all the worst fell on him. At least Ange would be okay. I wonder how she’s doing. Then Butler's thoughts unexpectedly drifted back to what had happened before Gabriel decided to end the conversation. He tried to recall Rose's face, but instead, his mind replayed those inflamed dark eyes that had looked straight into his soul. Butler growled irritably through his teeth, muttering all sorts of curses at Gabriel. He regretted that they wouldn’t work anyway. They didn’t even bring relief. In his situation, all he could do was desperately hope he’d hold out long enough—and not lose his mind. Butler had often pondered ways to improve his current situation, even just a little. If only he could stop Gabriel from coming over every night... or rather, that wasn’t quite it. Butler wouldn’t mind talking to him, listening to his sickest thoughts—but not sleeping with him. He couldn’t outright refuse; the potential consequences scared him too much. So, he needed to push him away another way. Approaching the mirror, Butler examined himself from head to toe. He’d never considered himself handsome, and now he thought he looked absolutely awful—slumped shoulders, dull eyes, a mouth with perpetually downturned corners. He genuinely couldn’t understand what anyone might find attractive about his appearance, and it baffled him. ‘What can I do to look even worse?’ Finally, he came up with an idea, and it was incredibly simple—stop maintaining his appearance. For a few days, he didn’t shave or wash his hair, and he only showered every other day, and even then, not thoroughly. On the fourth night, he noticed the effects of his efforts and rejoiced inwardly but made sure not to show it, trying to act naturally. As usual, he kept up the conversation with Gabriel as best he could. Gabriel looked at him disapprovingly, clearly beginning to suspect something, but apparently not daring to say anything about it. When they had finished almost the entire bottle of wine, Gabriel announced that he was tired from the day and was going to bed. Butler struggled to keep his lips from turning up and only nodded silently, but as soon as Gabriel turned to the door, his mouth stretched into a wide grin. ‘It turns out, it was that simple. I should have thought of this sooner.’ However, his joy was short-lived. After a couple more visits like this, Gabriel couldn't take it anymore and finally spoke up. “Are you doing this on purpose?” “Doing what?” Butler blinked in feigned confusion. “Not maintaining your appearance,” the other man breathed out irritably. It was clear from his expression that he had seen through Butler's lie in an instant. ‘Oh yeah, I forgot who I was talking to. A master of pretense like him must easily see when someone is trying to deceive him.’ “I’m not maintaining my appearance because I don’t see the point,” Butler said, deciding not to give up so easily. “I’m either sitting here or in my office, and the only ones who see me are your guards… and you when you come over. But you’re not a woman, so there’s no need to try to look good for you.” He gave a sarcastic smile, watching as a mix of astonishment and unspoken indignation flashed across Gabriel's face. However, Gabriel quickly regained his composure. “Go take a shower right now and wash properly,” he said calmly. “And don't forget to shave; that stubble doesn't suit you.” Butler grimaced. “Can I refuse?” “I’m afraid not.” Now Gabriel was smirking smugly with that nasty little smile of his, and it instantly infuriated Butler. “Listen, why can't I do things my own way, even in something as personal as this?” His voice rose involuntarily, his heart pounding in his chest. “You're always telling me what to do and what not to do, you keep me locked up, and now this too... I don't interfere with you doing whatever you want, but my hygiene is my own business. I'm not going to shower, is that clear? I don't want to.” This time, Gabriel didn't lose his composure, and his expression remained unchanged as he calmly replied, “Vented your emotions, didn’t you? That's good. And now, be a good boy and do as I said. Since you clearly don't understand, let me make it clear: if you don't do it, I'll take that as a refusal... got it?” He smirked, fully aware he wouldn’t be disobeyed. Butler could only glare at him and grind his teeth in frustration. Rising, he walked to the closet, grabbed the necessary shower supplies, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. In the shower, he deliberately took as long as possible—at the very least, to make Gabriel wait, and at best, to force him to leave. But he had no such luck. When he returned, dressed in a clean shirt and pants, Gabriel was still in the bedroom. He stood by the window, gazing into the distance, and didn’t immediately notice Butler come in. Then he turned, and a satisfied smile curved his lips. “Well, now you look much better.” Butler snorted in contempt and turned away, putting his things back in the closet. He was about to head for the table, where a bottle of wine still sat untouched, but Gabriel beckoned him over with a flick of his hand. “Come here.” Reluctantly, Butler obeyed, stopping about a foot away. Gabriel grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer. “Closer. What are you afraid of?” Butler immediately looked away, chills running down his spine as Gabriel’s breath ghosted over his cheek. He hated it when the man toyed with him like this, but it never lasted long. He just had to endure it—the other man would do everything he needed and leave. That’s what he told himself, trying to steady the frantic pounding of his heart. Despite himself, his breath hitched as fingers traced his freshly shaven face, gliding from his cheek to his chin, lingering near the corner of his lips. Gabriel's fingers tugged slightly at his lower lip. Butler didn’t look, but he could feel the weight of Gabriel’s gaze, studying his every reaction. Gabriel's lips gently pressed against his cheek. “You're so charming,” he whispered, brushing his tongue against the skin, and Butler shuddered with a sensation that wasn’t quite disgust. “I've never met anyone like you.” He continued to kiss Butler’s face like this, switching between his lips and tongue, holding him so tightly that Butler could feel the hardness of the other’s groin against his thigh. It embarrassed him even more, but there was nowhere to run. He couldn't even turn away. “I like you,” a hot whisper reached his ear, “if only you knew how much. I've always liked you, since our first meeting. Even before... I loved just looking at you. You never noticed, but I was going crazy, you understand? But now you're mine. Only mine and no one else's.” Gabriel groaned softly, biting Butler's earlobe and rubbing against him with his groin while squeezing his buttocks tightly. Meanwhile, Butler was horrified to realize that instead of repulsion, he felt something that made his body tremble and his lower abdomen feel heavy, and he didn't even want to think about what it was called. He understood that he couldn't hide it from Gabriel and merely clenched his teeth, hoping not to betray himself in any other way. “You like it when I do this, don't you?” Gabriel panted, running his tongue repeatedly inside Butler's ear. “Come on, tell me. Let me hear your voice.” Butler said nothing but couldn't suppress the trembling in his embrace. Gabriel clearly noticed because soon, his quiet laughter rang out. “I can see you like it. My stubborn, sensitive boy. Do you even realize that your defiance only turns me on more?” “Gab...riel,” Butler stammered, barely managing to say his name. The other man pulled back slightly, pressing his fingers against Butler's lips. “Gab,” he corrected, smiling. “You can call me that, Phil.” Then, removing his fingers, he kissed Butler on the lips. Gabriel had never done this before, so Butler didn’t have time to pull away, and after that—when Gabriel grasped the back of his head—he no longer had the opportunity. Keeping his mouth closed, Butler endured the kiss for a few seconds and, to his regret, didn’t feel even a hint of disgust. “How sweet,” Gabriel breathed, leaving his lips and moving to his neck. “You have no idea what a pleasure it is to caress you.” With every next phrase, Butler felt his face burn hotter. The game had gone on for too long—it was time to end it. “Shut up,” he snapped as sharply as he could, “and just do what you came here for. Then spare me your company.” For a moment, Gabriel stilled, and silence fell over the room. Butler wondered if he had been too harsh, if he had angered him—and if he would now pay for it in bed for the rest of the evening. He tensed slightly in anticipation, but then Gabriel laughed again. “Well, if you want to get straight to the point,” he murmured, biting Butler’s earlobe, “let's get to it.” Quickly stripping him, Gabriel pushed Butler onto the bed. Butler turned away, unwilling to watch him undress or see the way his lustful eyes devoured his body. As soon as Gabriel joined him on the bed, he reached for the nightstand. This time, he clearly had no intention of being gentle—without proper preparation, he entered Butler, sending a sharper pain through him than usual. Butler cried out, immediately sealing his mouth shut to stifle the sound, but it was no use. No matter how hard he tried, pained moans still broke through his clenched teeth, and the longer it went on, the harder it became to endure. It felt endless. At some point, no longer caring how it looked, Butler—tears in his eyes—begged Gabriel to finish sooner. Gabriel paused for a moment, leaning close to his face. “I almost feel sorry for you,” he whispered near Butler's ear, his tone laced with mockery. “You suffer so much, poor thing. But then again, didn't you ask for this just a few minutes ago? Tenderness didn't suit your taste, and roughness isn't to your liking either. You're difficult to please.” Butler spat out the worst curses he knew at Gabriel, but the other man immediately bit his lower lip. “Don't talk like that, or I'll bite your dirty little tongue off.” Unable to say anything else, Butler could only let out a pitiful whimper. Gabriel pressed his cheek against Butler's hair, in no hurry to resume his movements. “By the way, you're only making things worse for yourself,” he murmured, his lips grazing Butler’s temple before trailing to his ear. “It's all because you're so stubborn and unyielding. You endure it in silence, but you could have just told me how you like it better. After all, you enjoyed it recently, didn't you? Just say the word, and I'll try to fulfill your request.” “How do I like it better?” Butler let out a weak sneer. “The best thing for me would be if you left me alone and never touched me again, but I doubt you'll do that.” Gabriel laughed. “It seems we won't agree on this.” He began to move again, faster and more abruptly, gradually becoming so lost in his own pleasure that he hardly seemed to notice Butler’s sobs. All Butler could do was drown in his own tears, forced to listen to his own cries and the vulgar compliments slipping from the other’s lips. He wished he couldn’t hear those filthy words, but spoken in a whisper, they somehow felt louder than his screams, embedding themselves deep in his mind, where they would linger long after this was over. It was disgusting. Humiliating. It shattered what little dignity he had left. He felt worse than the cheapest prostitute, ready to give herself to the first man she met, and he despised himself for it. By the time his physical torment finally ended and Gabriel released him from his grasp, he wanted only one thing—to die right then and there. To fall asleep and never wake up again, sinking into an eternal slumber. “Now stop, don't cry.” Gabriel’s voice was softer now, as if he were genuinely trying to comfort him, though a hint of irritation lingered beneath it. “Was it really that bad? You have to admit, this time I really tried to please you, but you still refuse to accept me.” Butler didn't answer. He lay facing away, pulling the blanket over himself until only the tops of his bare shoulders were visible, his quiet sobs the only sound in the room. Gabriel dressed in silence, but even after he finished—Butler recognized the familiar click of his fasteners—he didn’t leave right away. “Your stubbornness won’t lead you anywhere good,” he suddenly said, placing a hand on Butler’s shoulder over the blanket. Butler immediately shoved it off. “There you go again. In some ways, I like this trait of yours, of course, but... sometimes, I wish you were different. I want you to like me, at least a little. Because...” He let out a long sigh, trailing off, and despite himself, Butler grew curious. Sniffling loudly, he swallowed his tears and hoarsely asked, “Why?” Glancing sideways at Gabriel, he caught the flicker of surprise in his expression, as if he hadn’t expected a response. Then, a faint smile touched his thin lips. “I would find that more pleasant. And it would be easier for you.” “Are you unsatisfied with something?” Butler snorted, glancing at the wall again. “You have the nerve to say that.” After a few seconds of silence, he added, “Maybe I'll surprise you, but what you're doing... is unlikely to please anyone. Unless they're a damn masochist.” “Yes, I haven't been able to satisfy you in bed yet,” Gabriel replied, his tone suggesting regret, “but I'm talking about something else. When I kissed you before... did you dislike that too?” Butler's face instantly flushed, and he tried to hide it by burying his face in the pillow. “You don't want to talk about it, do you?” Gabriel said, apparently interpreting his reaction in his own way. “I probably can't change your attitude toward me.” He got up and left the room. Butler turned around, staring at the closed door. “What did you expect, you bastard?” he muttered to himself. “How do you treat me? You use me like...” He fell silent, lost in thought, and then his memory helpfully reproduced what he had recently heard. I like you. I've always liked you, since our first meeting. You never noticed. “Haha.” Butler smiled, wiping away his tears as he gradually calmed down. “Unbelievable. Now it's clear why he always wanted to spend time with me. He said he enjoyed talking to me, but... turns out that wasn't the only thing he enjoyed.” And that's why he wants me to like him. He can't do anything about his feelings and wants me to feel the same way. But he won't achieve that. “I don't like him,” Butler repeated to himself, trying to push away the feelings he had experienced in Gabriel’s arms when he whispered sweet words in his ear. “No, I hate him. I can't stand him. He makes me sick.” The pain in his body served as a reminder of his hatred, and in the end, he fell asleep with those thoughts, feeling a strange sense of calm. Of course, everything he endured in this place was painful, yet he told himself it wasn’t so bad—not yet.It would be far worse if he allowed himself to become fascinated by this devil, to fall into a trap andget confused about his feelings.As long as that remained impossible, he could endure everything else. If only he had enough strength—both moral and physical. However, as time passed, it became painfully clear that he was catastrophically lacking in strength. Whether it was revenge for Butler’s previous defiance or simply Gabriel’s perverse desire, Gabriel now used the body of hispossessionevery single night, turning Butler’s life into an endless torment. Even the officers constantly guarding him began to notice the change in his condition. They asked no questions and said nothing, but some regarded him with a hint of sympathy, while others smirked, barely bothering to conceal it. The latter angered Butler the most. Of course, he would have liked to wipe the smirks off their insolent faces with a sharp remark, but he was too ashamed. He could no longer see himself as he once had, and all that remained was to silently endure the shame, gnawing at him from within. One day, Butler considered himself incredibly lucky. That’s what he thought when, rummaging through a cabinet in the far corner of his office—shuffling through folders and loose papers in a half-hearted attempt to occupy himself—he stumbled upon a bottle of whiskey that had somehow survived in one of the drawers. Silently, without drawing the attention of the bored guard, Butler slipped it into his jacket. After rustling through the papers a bit longer to maintain appearances, he returned to his place at the writing desk. Now he knew exactly how he would spend the evening in the bedroom assigned to him—when no one would be watching. The thought even lifted his spirits, and from that moment on, he awaited the end of the day calmly, rather than with his usual nervous anticipation. Outwardly, he remained as grim as ever so the guard wouldn’t suspect anything, but inside, he rejoiced at this fleeting opportunity. In this unbearable life, he desperately needed even a brief moment of escape. That evening, in his room, Butler settled into an armchair at the small table, having first pulled two glasses from the cupboard. Over and over, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and drank—not for the taste, but with a single goal in mind: to get drunk as quickly as possible. The liquid burned down his throat with ease, and he didn’t stop until he had emptied more than half the bottle. Then he leaned back in his chair and waited for the effect. It didn’t come right away. But when it finally did, a satisfied smile spread across his face. “Perfect,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. His head was spinning, and when he briefly opened his eyes, the outlines of objects blurred and swam before him. He shut them again and smiled. A pleasant lightness spread through his body, and for no reason at all, his mood lifted. He wanted to talk nonsense, laugh, and joke—even with Gabriel. It didn’t matter with whom. He caught himself thinking that he actually wanted Gabriel to come. He'll come, of course, he'll come. He always comes. Then Butler shuddered and snapped his eyes open, staring at the bottle on the table. He should hide it, he decided—then maybe he’d get to drink like this again. With effort, he got up, grabbed the bottle with an unsteady hand, and carried it to the bed, shoving it into the dusty space beneath. Then he collapsed onto the mattress, his legs too weak to hold him any longer, the dizziness growing stronger. He was starting to dislike the feeling. At that moment, the door creaked open. Butler lifted his head, spotted Gabriel, and broke into a wide grin. “Hey. I've been waiting for you,” he said cheerfully. Gabriel’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “You’ve been waiting?” he repeated, glancing at the clock. “Are you trying to say I'm late?” Indeed, he had arrived a little later than usual, and it seemed he thought Butler was hinting at it. Butler shook his head. “No,” he replied, his grin still in place. “I’m just saying I’ve been waiting for you.” Gabriel coughed and, without a word, walked to the table, setting a bottle of wine down on it. “Well then, come here,” he grumbled without looking up. “You wouldn't mind talking to me a bit, would you?” “I'm all for it.” Butler tried to stand but immediately sank back down, clutching his head. “Ugh, damn it. I'm feeling... not so good, heh-heh.” He forced out a chuckle, trying to sound natural, but even he could tell it came out poorly. Meanwhile, Gabriel’s eyes flicked from him to the glass he had just drunk from. Picking it up, he held it close to his face, examining it with suspicion. “You…” His expression twisted sharply, and for a second, Butler felt a flicker of fear—he hadn’t seen that kind of rage in a long time. Slamming the glass onto the table, Gabriel strode over, grabbing Butler’s shoulder and shaking him roughly. “Answer me. Where did you get the alcohol?” “What alcohol are you talking about?” Butler played dumb, but predictably, it didn’t work. Gabriel’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “The one you reek of,” he sneered. “Where did you get it? Hand over the bottle. Now.” “It’s gone,” Butler muttered, looking away. “I drank it all and threw the bottle away.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly. “You do realize how easy that is to check, don’t you? Keep that in mind—if they find any liquor in this room, it’ll be worse for you. So it’s in your best interest to hand it over now.” Butler smiled bitterly. “I already feel like shit. I don’t think it could get any worse. Go ahead, do whatever you want. I’m not afraid.” After those words, a pause hung between them. Gabriel studied him for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Here’s the thing,” he drawled. “You got drunk so it wouldn’t hurt—or so it wouldn’t feel as disgusting, right? Well, was it worth it? How do you feel?” “Great,” Butler shot back. “Shame I didn’t drink enough, though. I wish I could’ve passed out before you… did what you like to do so much.” He was going to say it outright, but his tongue refused to form the word he had intended for it. Gabriel looked at him mockingly. “I wouldn’t do anything in that case, believe me. I don’t have such specific tastes.” “Ha, well, isn’t that something,” Butler replied with a sneer, casting Gabriel a brief glance. “So I guess I thought poorly of you? Well then... all the more reason to regret not drinking more.” Even as he said it, he admitted to himself that he couldn't have done it. Even now, he was feeling worse every minute; it was becoming increasingly difficult to think clearly or even move his tongue. Nausea was gradually creeping up his throat. “Alright, let's wrap this up,” Gabriel sighed. “Tell me where the rest of the alcohol is, and I'll leave you be.” “What do you mean?” Butler stared at him in disbelief. “You're leaving already? You just got here.” “And why would I stay?” Gabriel replied, eyeing him with a weary expression. “I can't even have a normal conversation with you right now. Dealing with a drunk person isn’t exactly appealing.” Butler scoffed, a smug grin creeping onto his face. Gabriel immediately added, “But you won't get away with this again. They’ll be watching you even more closely from now on. And... should I repeat myself, or are you finally going to do as I said?” He extended his hand expectantly, but Butler only cast it a sideways glance. “Go to hell,” he muttered, pressing a hand to his mouth. The nausea was growing relentless. “What?” Gabriel tightened his grip on Butler’s shoulder, giving him another shake. “I said, hand it over. Are you trying to make me angry? You should know better than to push me this far.” “Don’t… shake me,” Butler mumbled weakly—then realized he couldn’t take it anymore. Clamping his hand over his mouth, he bolted from the room. Gabriel watched him go. “What are you doing to yourself, you fool?” he said quietly. Standing over the sink, Butler rinsed his mouth thoroughly, then splashed cold water on his face. He felt a little better, but the lingering nausea refused to fade. Just in case, he waited a few minutes before slowly shuffling out of the restroom. And there, near the entrance, he was surprised to find Gabriel with a weary expression on his face. “You… what are you doing here?” was all Butler managed to ask, astonished. “Waiting for you,” the other man exhaled, sounding both irritated and concerned. “Are you feeling better now?” Butler stared at him, speechless. The idea that Gabriel had actually waited for him—looking almost uneasy—seemed absurd. And then, as if to complete the surreal moment, Gabriel suddenly smiled. “What’s wrong with you? Lost your tongue?” When he said that, Butler finally snapped out of it and smiled back, glancing away. “Yeah, I’m feeling better. But not completely. I’m still nauseous.” Gabriel stepped closer, took him by the arm, and started leading him toward the bedroom. “Then let’s go.” “Hey, wait,” Butler tried to pull free, but Gabriel’s grip was firm. “I can walk on my own, you know.” “Be quiet, alright?” Without another word, Gabriel kept walking, and Butler eventually gave in, letting himself be led. Still caught up in how strange it all felt, he trailed a step behind, smiling to himself where Gabriel couldn’t see. Does he feel guilty and is trying to make up for it now? That’s funny. It’s the first time I’ve seen him act human. When they returned to the room, the wine and glasses were gone, replaced by a single glass filled with a murky, whitish liquid. It looked unappealing, and Butler grimaced. “What’s that?” “Something you need to drink.” Gabriel guided him straight to the table. “Come on, now.” Hesitantly, Butler picked up the glass, eyeing its contents with suspicion. “Won’t it make me throw up?” Gabriel smiled. “It shouldn’t. It’s a pretty good remedy for situations like this. You should feel better.” Butler shot him a quick glance and, seeing no sign of deception in his expression, decided to trust him. Forcing down most of the liquid—which, to his surprise, was tasteless—he set the glass back down. “I can’t drink any more,” he said. Gabriel nodded. “Alright. Go on, you need to lie down.” He gave Butler a gentle push toward the bed, then waited as he undressed before gathering his clothes and placing them in the closet. Lying in bed, Butler watched him with a faint smile. When Gabriel caught his gaze, he smirked. “What are you looking at me like that for?” Butler quickly looked away, but the smile lingered. The unpleasant effects of the alcohol were gradually fading, replaced by a creeping drowsiness. His eyes had already closed when he felt the mattress dip—Gabriel had sat down beside him. “What was it? Tell me,” he asked softly. “And where did you get the bottle? I doubt anyone would give it to you.” “Of course not. You can't expect anything from them,” Butler grimaced. “They won’t even let me breathe, always watching me.” After a pause, he finally answered, “Whiskey. The bottle was in the cabinet with the papers, in that office where I sit.” “And what did you do with the rest?” “Look under the bed,” Butler mumbled indistinctly, already on the verge of sleep. He heard a rustle, then a dull thud, followed by Gabriel’s voice. “How awful. You drank all of that by yourself? Are you out of your mind?” “Says the guy who downs a bottle of wine every night,” Butler snorted, opening his eyes slightly to glance at Gabriel mockingly. “You're the real drunkard, and you're giving me lectures.” “There’s a difference between wine and whiskey, you’ll agree,” Gabriel smiled, then lightly touched Butler’s hand before getting up from the bed. “Alright, get some rest. Good night.” He left, taking the bottle with the remaining whiskey. Butler quietly called after him, “Thanks, Gab.” If you acted like this more often, maybe I would like you more. A strange thought crept into his mind, as peculiar as Gabriel’s behavior, and he tried to rid himself of it as quickly as possible. Fortunately, he was too tired to think about it for long, and soon he fell fast asleep. The next evening, as usual, Gabriel came to Butler, not forgetting to bring his favorite wine. Throughout their conversation, he didn't mention the previous night’s incident even once, and Butler preferred not to bring it up either. At some point, Gabriel fell silent, his gaze drifting over Butler from head to toe—wordlessly making it clear what he wanted. Butler couldn't find the words to distract him and looked away, shivering under the intensity of his stare. “Yesterday our meeting didn't go very well,” Gabriel said smoothly. “So I hope you're ready to compensate me for that today?” Gritting his teeth, Butler stood up from the armchair and walked over to the bed, starting to take off his clothes. Behind him, Gabriel laughed. “You're becoming very understanding.” He also got up and headed toward the bed. Meanwhile, Butler sat on the bedspread, his shirt already hanging over the footboard, slowly unzipping his pants. He felt extremely uncomfortable under the other’s intense gaze. Gabriel undressed much faster—now, only his pants remained. “Hurry up,” he urged with a mocking grin. “Unless you want me to help you. And try not to look so miserable—you’d think you were being led to the execution.” “For me, it's basically the same.” Butler’s lips twitched into a smirk for a second before his expression tensed again, his body following suit. Gabriel said nothing, only smirking in response. He watched every slow movement Butler made, and the moment Butler slid off his pants and underwear, Gabriel pressed down on his shoulders, forcing him to lie back. Then, without hesitation, he leaned over him. Butler instantly turned his face toward the nightstand, his pulse racing. Gabriel ran his nose along his cheek, laughing softly. The sound sent a shiver down Butler’s spine. “Don't turn away. Look at me. I want to see the expression in your beautiful eyes.” “Is this what you want to see?” Butler turned to Gabriel, his gaze filled with irritation and hostility. The other man smiled in that disgusting way of his, completely unfazed. “No. What I want,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, pressing his lips against Butler's ear, “is to watch your face when I possess your body. I want to see every emotion flicker through your eyes. And... I'll make sure you remember it too.” As he spoke, he ran his hand slowly down Butler’s torso, pausing at his groin and giving a light squeeze. Butler drew in a sharp breath through clenched teeth. “Don't,” he pleaded, forcing a note of submission into his voice, hoping not to anger him. “Do what you want, but... the usual way.” Gabriel froze, clearly caught off guard. “Why?” He leaned in, searching Butler’s face, but the other man quickly averted his eyes. “You have nothing to fear. On the contrary, I want you to feel good.” Butler couldn’t bring himself to respond. How could he possibly explain that this was exactly what he feared? That the soothing voice, the way it slipped under his skin, the uncharacteristically gentle kisses on his neck—these were the things that terrified him most. His body betrayed him, relaxing under the touch, warmth spreading where it shouldn’t. His hand twitched, reaching out involuntarily, but he caught himself just in time, forcing himself to stay still, to make no sound. As a rule, Gabriel didn’t spend much time on caresses—whether out of impatience or simple lack of interest—but Butler had no complaints about that. Even the sharp, lingering pain afterward was preferable to the alternative: allowing himself to feel pleasure at the hands of this monster. Besides, the very act itself was humiliating enough. The last thing he wanted was to perceive what was between them as anything resembling a relationship. Thankfully, Gabriel had never behaved in a way that suggested otherwise. But now, for some reason, he had decided to act differently, his intentions clear—he wanted an honest reaction from Butler. The latter, of course, intended to hold out until the end. The only question was... which of them would break first? “Why are you so cold?” Gabriel asked, pressing kisses to Butler’s face. “Don’t you like what I'm doing? Then... how about this?” The bastard had long since learned Butler’s weak spots—he knew exactly how he reacted to touches near his ear. With practiced ease, Gabriel rolled the lobe between his fingers while stroking the sensitive skin just behind it. Then, his lips brushed against the inner curve, followed by a slow stroke of his tongue. He repeated the motion again and again, his voice a relentless whisper: “Come on, don’t hold back. I know you love this. I can feel you trembling.” And he was right. Butler couldn’t stop the shudder that wracked his body. His self-control was unraveling, and the moment he realized it was about to snap, he seized Gabriel by the shoulders. The sudden movement startled the other man so much that he instantly pulled away. “Gabriel.” Butler steadied himself and met the other man’s gaze head-on. Gabriel’s initial surprise barely lasted a second before a satisfied smile curled his lips. “I told you, you can call me Gab.” Butler ignored the remark. “Gabriel,” he repeated, his tone firm. “Be rougher with me.” The smile faltered as Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly. “Why are you asking for this?” His voice turned skeptical. “You don’t like roughness.” Butler winced and turned away. “I don’t,” he admitted, his reluctance plain. “But I’d rather deal with that than your lovey-dovey tenderness.” A short, amused laugh escaped Gabriel’s lips, but then silence settled between them—one that boded nothing good for Butler. “I see. You’re afraid you’ll enjoy being with me, aren’t you?” Butler had no response to that. He only sighed, irritated. Gabriel leaned in, fingers ghosting over Butler’s cheek. “Why worry so much, Phil? It’s just sex. Does it really matter who gives you pleasure? Don’t overthink it. Just relax.” Butler wanted to take that advice. If he could approach the situation that way, everything would be much simpler—but unfortunately, he couldn't. It struck him as strange. In the past, he had often treated intimacy exactly as Gabriel had just described—casual, meaningless. So why was this different? Maybe because this relationship was anything but normal. He had never been with a man before, never in this position, and certainly never with someone who repulsed him so completely. The real shame was that his revulsion didn’t extend to his body. It made Butler begin to doubt his own sanity. When Gabriel wasn’t hurting him, his touch was… pleasant. His voice sent shivers down Butler’s spine, and even his scent was strangely intoxicating. Even now, pinned beneath him, feeling those hands gripping his body and lips brushing over his most sensitive spots, Butler had to bite down hard to keep from making a sound. His teeth clenched until they ached. It was driving him insane. And it was completely, utterly wrong. “Mmm, I like you so much.” Gabriel rubbed against him, and Butler felt heat rush to his cheeks as the other man's aroused flesh pressed against his thigh. Worse than that, perhaps, was the realization that, in this moment, his own reactions were laid bare—an open book for Gabriel to read. “My boy, my Phil,” Gabriel murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So lovely. I want you so much. If only I could hear your voice.” He bit Butler’s earlobe, and a long, unwilling sigh slipped past Butler’s lips. “Why are you so stubborn?” Gabriel asked, his lips never leaving Butler’s skin. His voice was low, teasing, insidious, and the way it curled around the words sent a shudder through Butler’s body. “What’s the point of holding back when I can see that you’re enjoying yourself? Let go. Let yourself feel it fully. Believe me—you won’t regret it.” And Butler did believe him. That was exactly why he couldn’t allow it. Chuckling, Gabriel added, “Alright, if it’s so unbearable because it’s me, then close your eyes. Imagine someone else in my place, someone you actually want.” He paused, then his voice suddenly turned sharp, laced with malice. “Oh, only—,” a smirk curled at his lips, “I doubt you could imagine her like this.” Butler’s breath hitched. He turned his head sharply, staring into Gabriel’s shameless eyes. “Whatever you think you know,” he snorted, forcing indifference into his tone as he turned away again. But inside, everything was boiling. How did he know? When had he noticed? “Truth is, I don’t understand you at all.” Gabriel laughed, leaning close to his neck. “I don’t know what you feel. And I won’t pretend I can replace her. But Icancomfort you in your loneliness. Your dream is out of reach, so you’ll have to settle for what’s right in front of you.” “What are you talking about, shut up already,” Butler hissed, shivering as Gabriel’s teeth grazed his neck. He arched involuntarily under the palms sliding down his lower back. “I don’t need your comfort.” “Oh yeah?” Gabriel drawled, his smirk widening as he paused just for a second. “Your body says otherwise.” It was hard to argue with that. With each passing minute, an unbearably pleasant languor enveloped Butler, and no matter how hard he tried to stifle his moans, his body still responded to the caresses. It was impossible to hide from the other man's gaze, and there was nowhere to escape the shame that overwhelmed him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he closed them, turning his head as far as he could to bury his face in the pillow. “Maybe you're... afraid of falling in love with me?” Butler immediately wanted to deny the suggestion, and the thought agitated him so much that his heart pounded wildly in his chest. “Dream on,” he shot back. “How could anyone love you?” Gabriel pulled away, and Butler dared to turn to him, meeting his fixed gaze. A smile played on his thin lips, but a vague shadow crossed his mocking expression. “Well, in that case,” he replied calmly, “you have nothing to worry about, do you?” Butler just sighed and closed his eyes again, noticing beforehand that Gabriel reached for the nightstand. A little while later, he felt the cold touch of slippery fingers, and as always, his muscles tensed. “Relax,” Gabriel whispered in his ear. “Everything will be fine if you listen to me.” “What difference does it make,” Butler muttered indifferently. “Just do it already... mhm...” He barely managed to suppress a moan, but he couldn't hide the reaction itself. Gabriel continued to caress his groin with one hand, while the fingers of the other gently pressed on the clenched muscles between his buttocks, and soon one of them penetrated inside without any difficulty. “See, it's much easier.” Gabriel's quiet voice resembled the rustling of leaves in a light wind; it calmed and put him at ease around this man. Horrified, Butler realized that he was succumbing to its hypnotic influence. “It doesn't hurt at all, does it?” Following the first finger, a second one joined it, but neither then nor when these fingers began to move inside him did Butler feel any pain. Moreover, before long, he realized he was beginning to enjoy these actions and tried to stop it before things went too far. “It won't do any good anyway,” he said, pursing his lips and trying with all his might to look displeased. “Please, let's hurry this up...” His speech was interrupted by a telltale moan, which he still couldn't hold back. Gabriel's laughter rang out above his ear. “I see you're not going to tell me the truth. Then... I'll be watching your reaction very carefully.” “Please,” Butler breathed heavily, “don't, Gab. That's enough...” “What did you call me?” Realizing his mistake, Butler bit his lip. “Come on, ask me again and call me that. If you do it well, maybe I'll listen to you.” But Butler had already had enough of the torment, and he wasn't going to give Gabriel any more pleasure by obeying him. After waiting a bit, Gabriel sighed, his fingers leaving Butler's body. “Alright, it's time to really finish this. I can't take it anymore myself.” Without looking at the man leaning over him, Butler took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. Gabriel entered him with unexpected ease, in one smooth, full-length stroke, and Butler involuntarily opened his mouth in a silent moan. It didn't feel the same as usual—the nagging pain below was muted this time by a surprisingly pleasant sensation he found himself wanting to experience again. Gabriel leaned down and whispered, “How are you, Phil?” “Fine,” Butler gritted out, desperately trying to hide his true state. “How long are you going to take? Just get on with it...” “Alright.” Gabriel's voice was low and oddly alluring—when that thought crossed Butler's mind, he decided he must be going crazy. “Tell me what you feel.” He began to move slowly, carefully—something he'd never done before—each thrust hitting something deep inside Butler, sending shivers through his body and a sweet ache into his lower abdomen. Gritting his teeth, Butler tried to control his reactions, to appear indifferent and not start thrusting his hips up to meet the movements. Gabriel paused and, touching Butler's cheek, asked, “What do you feel?” Butler only clenched his teeth harder and closed his eyes, feeling moisture welling up in the corners again. The other’s lips pressed lightly against the tense corner of his mouth, then his cheek, and then one closed eyelid after another. “Tell me,” Gabriel whispered excitedly. “Does it hurt? Or does it feel good? Tell me.” He kissed Butler softly, unobtrusively, on the lips. “Tell me what you feel, Phil.” “Why do you care?” Butler managed to say, turning away toward the nightstand. “You've never cared before. Why ask now?” He was ready to burst into tears at any second, but he held on with all his might. Gabriel's attempts to please him and his interest in his state did nothing to soothe him; they only caused him more emotional pain. He had a guess as to why this was happening, and Gabriel's answer immediately confirmed his suspicion. “Why?” Gabriel mused. “Hmm... I want to see a different side of you. I want to make you moan under me, I want to hear you call out my name. Oh, you have no idea,” he breathed into Butler's ear, running his tongue along it, “how turned on I get just thinking about it.” As expected, Gabriel was doing this purely for his own gratification; his partner's feelings and comfort were the last thing on his mind. Butler chuckled bitterly. “Have I told you I hate you?” In that question, he poured all his resentment and contempt for this man. Gabriel paused for a moment, as if momentarily taken aback, but then replied in his usual mocking tone, “You have—many times. But it doesn't matter. You're going to do as I say today anyway.” The next moment, he thrust his hips sharply, entering at the same angle, and Butler's body arched in the other man's restraining hands. Without pausing for a second, Gabriel quickened his thrusts, causing the pleasure that was gradually filling every cell and spreading through Butler’s veins to increase relentlessly. Eventually, Butler realized—too late—that he was moaning far too loudly and openly, completely unable to control it. His mind went blank; he couldn't think about anything except reaching orgasm as soon as possible, and before he knew it, he was unconsciously moving to meet Gabriel's thrusts. The other man was ecstatic at the sight. “Oh, my God, Phil, it's so sweet,” he panted, his hot breath against Butler's ear, his nimble tongue tracing along it. “You're incredibly sexy—I've never had anyone like you...” He said something else, but Butler tried to block out his speech—full of dubious compliments that, despite himself, only intensified his unbearable arousal. Gabriel suddenly slowed down, then stopped altogether, eliciting a disgruntled moan from Butler through clenched teeth. “Say my name,” he whispered, covering Butler’s flushed cheek with soft kisses. “Please, Phil, say my name… come on...” His tone was pleading—almost imploring—a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. Butler knew perfectly well that Gabriel was simply trying to get what he wanted, and yet, for some reason, he still felt an inexplicable urge to comply. But pride wouldn’t allow it.Then again—could he even still speak of pride after moaning so shamelessly under this man? Soon, he lost control again as Gabriel thrust into him once more—agonizingly slow, hitting the same sensitive spot—then repeated the action a couple more times, breathing the same request right into his ear. “Say it, Phil. Please, say it...” “Gab…” Giving in, Butler moaned his name, and Gabriel smiled contentedly, leaning toward his lips. “My good boy.” And then, he kissed Butler, his tongue boldly invading his parted lips. Butler let out a muffled groan and struggled, but there was no escape—Gabriel’s weight pinned him to the bed, his wrists trapped in a vice-like grip. All he could do was endure however the other man wanted, and the sheer powerlessness nearly made him howl. Gabriel’s tongue explored his mouth, licking every available corner, while Butler remained motionless, passively waiting for the torture to end. He tried not to think about how much he was enjoying it. “Ah, Phil…” Gabriel finally pulled away from his lips, only to resume his movements at a relentless pace. “It's so good with you… mmm, you turn me on so much…” Butler was losing his mind from the overwhelming sensations. The rhythmic thrusts, the hot breath near his ear, the other man's moans mingling with his own—it was all slowly pushing him toward the edge. Gabriel buried his face in his neck, kissing and nibbling at the tender skin without stopping. His movements slowed again, just as they had in the beginning—but now, it was clear he was deliberately drawing out the pleasure. At some point, Butler trembled, involuntarily squeezing the taut flesh inside him, and Gabriel could no longer hold back. Moaning loudly, he pressed deeper into the body arching beneath him. “Phil…” His name, breathed out in a sigh, sounded extremely sexy; the tremor shaking Gabriel's body was transmitted to him as well. Butler almost whimpered—he was on the edge, but he'd rather die than ask Gabriel to help him in any way. The other man took a moment to catch his breath and, pulling back, surveyed Butler from head to toe. Then his hand reached for Butler's hard cock and confidently grasped it. Butler gasped loudly, then his lips were once again wracked with unrestrained moans as the other’s hand stroked his sensitive member, speeding up and slowing down, tracing its length from base to head. His entire body shuddered in a pre-orgasmic spasm as he felt a tongue gliding along his ear, slow and insistent, and it instantly brought him to the edge. Coming to his senses, he heard a voice, full of smug satisfaction, “I told you you'd like it. Now you can't deny it.” Then it hit Butler—what had just happened. He felt ashamed, more ashamed than ever before. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he turned away, feeling the wet tracks already streaming down his cheeks. “What do you say, Phil?” Gabriel continued to taunt. “Was I good this time?” Butler wanted to retort, but there was nothing to say. He had, in fact, enjoyed it, and he couldn't hide it. Besides, if he tried to speak, he would inevitably burst into tears. Nonetheless, Gabriel noticed his state. Rising slightly, he looked at Butler's face, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “What's wrong with you?” he asked, puzzled and seemingly regretful. “Did it hurt?” He reached out to touch Butler's cheek, but Butler slapped his hand away. “Please,” Butler said through gritted teeth, “if you have a shred of decency, just leave.” Gabriel watched him silently for a while, then smirked. “Of course I'll leave. Don't worry.” He sat up in bed and reached for his clothes. Butler didn't move, remaining in the same position, his gaze fixed on nothing, trying desperately not to break down while this man was still here. Silent tears rolled down his face as he whispered: “I hate you, I hate you so much...” Gabriel's shoulders twitched slightly, and his hands paused mid-buttoning his shirt. “You'll always hate me, no matter what I do, won't you?” Though his voice was still mocking, there was a hint of hurt in it, and Butler grimaced. You think you've done something good? “You hate me too,” he said weakly, forcing down the sobs threatening to escape. “So why do you do this to me?” “I”—Gabriel turned and looked at him with an unreadable expression—“don't hate you.” “Oh yeah? So what is it then, love me?” Butler laughed—a harsh, croaking laugh that grated painfully in his own throat. Then he spoke in a muffled voice, again barely holding back tears: “You hate me. You hate me more than anyone else. That's why you keep tormenting me; you get pleasure from it. But I don't understand why you would…” He buried his face in the pillow, muffling the sob that escaped his lips. After a pause, Gabriel said with indifference, “You can think whatever you like, but as I said, I don't hate you. All I'm doing is watching you, making sure you don't do anything foolish, and spending time with you because... I need to. In your mind, it's torment, but I've never thought of it that way.” He got up from the bed, and Butler met his gaze—a top-down, patronizing look, like a winner might look at a loser, or rather... an owner at a thing completely at his disposal. For some reason, Butler found himself laughing. “Hahahahahahahahaha!” He couldn't stop laughing hysterically, while Gabriel frowned in confusion. But before he could ask a question, Butler suddenly fell silent. “Gab,” he said, deliberately emphasizing the name with open hostility, “be so kind as to leave me alone at last.” A malicious glint flared in Gabriel's eyes. He turned and stormed out, his heels clicking sharply against the floor. ‘Did I offend him?’ Butler thought, a vengeful smirk tugging at his lips. ‘Good riddance.’ Left alone, he curled up in bed, pulling the covers almost to his chin, and let the tears flow. Feeling like a used object was still just as disgusting, but this time, something else tormented him. He didn’t want to think about it any more than he had to and instead forced himself to focus on something else—on how he used to have fun in Primavera, on the charming girls who worked there. On Rose, her eyes, her smile… Nothing worked. The images dissipated instantly, and guilt stabbed at his heart like a sharp knife, over and over. Stella, one of the club’s main beauties, had long been dead. Rose had barely escaped death, and he knew nothing of her fate. All his best recent memories had been erased, and recalling anything more distant seemed impossible now. How had he lived before moving to this damn country? Was there anything good in his life back then? Had he ever had a girl he truly loved? “Maybe you're... afraid of falling in love with me?” “Hahaha…” Butler let out a quiet laugh through his tears. As strange and impossible as it seemed, he realized—yes, he was terrified of that. Everything Gabriel had done to him had twisted his understanding of love. The person you share a bed with, who hugs and kisses you like that, should be your beloved—or at least someone you like. But they couldn’t possibly be someone you hated, someone who probably hated you even more. It was throwing all his feelings into chaos, and Butler no longer understood what was happening to him. He hated—he absolutely hated—Gabriel with all his heart. But then why, even now, was he thinking about those hands that had held him so tightly, those lips that had caressed him and whispered words of unrestrained passion in his ear? Why did he still feel a pleasant sensation in his lower abdomen from those memories? Why did he feel this way about this man at all? And why couldn’t he remember ever feeling this way about anyone else? “It doesn't change anything,” he muttered to himself. “I hate him, I hate him... Damn him. May he die the most horrible death. May he return to the hell he came from.” Butler wiped away his tears and forced a smile. Wishing death upon Gabriel and imagining his suffering was undeniably pleasant, but it didn't really offer much comfort. Nevertheless, he felt the need to release the negative emotions that had built up inside him; otherwise, they would overwhelm and destroy him. And he still needed to hold on. Because... he had to. No one could care for his sister the way he could. Only he could keep this devil under control and prevent him from harming her. For her sake, he would do whatever it took. No matter how... painful. No matter how much he hated himself afterward. He had to endure it all for his innocent sister. Even if it means other innocent people suffering. And even if I... ultimately lose myself.