POSSESSION || MATURE CONENT 🔞 || FINNEY BLAKE X THE GRABBER

Prize

Eye contact was never really something Finney enjoyed. He found it rather unnecessary part of a discussion. He knew how to speak well, he knew the same language as the other people he spoke to, what purpose did eye contact serve to him? None at all.

Well, none until now, at least. Eye contact served the purpose of protection and knowing what the other person was doing. Maintaining locked gazes with this other person served the purpose of keeping track of their whereabouts, actions, and how near or far they were from him; because the person he was making eye contact with was officially his kidnapper. That fact alone shook him to his core.

Finney had woken up mere seconds ago, with a cloth wrapped around his mouth and the tightness of a zip tie binding his wrists in front of himself. Restrained, he was, inside of a room foreign to him, in the presence of a person who had snatched him from his very own home. The boy was terrified if he was honest.

The captor had Finney's father's flashlight held in his hand, illuminating his devil mask, and causing Finney heart to metaphorically drop. It was the same man that had been staring at him those few days ago, the same man who he'd helped grab his groceries.

At last, the unnamed boy took his eyes off Finney, shifting in the chair he'd perched himself in. His stare adjusted to look down at the light luminating the room from the flashlight before talking to himself

"'Finney the fag'," he said in a high-pitched tone. " 'Gaywad finn,' 'Freaky finney,' 'I wonder if Vance Hopper ass fucks the fairy'," his tone dropped at the last few words, growing annoyed at the words. When the stranger's eyes landed back on Finney disoriented and confused figure, he smiled bitterly.

"Did you know this is what people think of you? They all hate you." The flashlight was aimed so Finney could see his surroundings in the dark room,.He hesitantly nodded his head.

"How sad, little Finney is an outcast among his perts," the older of the two articulated, feigning a melancholy expression. "These conversations they're so lovely, I think. Naïve, stupid, empty.

Questions would have been swirling around in a jumbled mess inside his mind if it weren't for the heed he was paying toward the man he still couldn't remember the name of. Finney didn't want to ask questions, though, he'd been taught better than to ask questions. He didn't know anything about what was happening or why he was here right now, and that was to the extent of his knowledge. He needed to accept the fact he was clueless.

The man clicked his flashlight off, tucking it away into his jean pocket, going back to staring at the helpless boy.

"I know you. I clearly didn't mean the things i said. You're here with me because I wanted you and so I took you. Those people don't understand you. They're all losers to me, I'm the winner," he declared, keeping his eyes glued to the kidnappee.

There was something Finney found predatory about that gaze, something killer behind those light irises. Something about the way the other slid off the chair and crouched down to Finneys eye level resembled a tiger lowering itself before it lunged at its prey and devoured it completely. The younger teen liked none of it.

"Considering you are the prize; I believe I won."

The man shuffled closer so he was kneeling in front of Finney, leaning in toward the boy's face and leaving not enough room between them both. Finney could feel his head hit a wall behind him, his back straightening against it to keep as far away from the kidnapper as possible. His spine moved along the wall until it hit a corner, hardly reaching the goal of distance when he found the dip to be adjacent to him.

"The game was quite fun, I won't lie. Though I am a bit underwhelmed now that the chase for you is over, I still won, so I'm not utterly disappointed. It feels natural having you around already."