Boy Meets Beast

✧ 7 ✧

Trigger Warning: the scene in this chapter might disturb some readers.

"Nothing my mum's recipes can't fix."

Charlie insisted that Ilya drinks the green goo, bringing the cup closer to the boy's lips. The thick liquid had spots of grease floating on its surface. Chunks of herbs—or so it seemed—mixed with brown particles were visible through the glass.

Ilya shook his head furiously and said, "No, thank you. I'm good."

With a threatening low voice, Charlie demanded, "Drink. It."

Ilya continued to back away until there was no more space on the couch to back into. When the cup almost touched his lips, he shoved it away and yelled.

"Get that thing away from me!"

Charlie got a hold of the boy's arm and sighed. He didn't even budge when Ilya tried to pull his arm back. Then he did something scream-worthy; he got off the coffee table and sat on Ilya's lap, immobilizing his legs. Then, with his knees, he pressed the boy's arms, making them unable to reach his face if he wanted to push the cup away like before.

"What are you doing? You can't treat me like this!"

Ilya screamed at Charlie and helplessly attempted to push him off, but it was no use. Ilya's body was weak, and his limbs could barely move. He was tangled on that couch, and couldn't do anything besides turn his face left and right.

"Stop moving, son," Charlie scolded.

"No! And I'm not your damn son!"

"Why can't you see that I'm trying to help you?"

Ilya violently shook his head. His movements became vicious when he glimpsed the disgusting drink one last time before closing his eyes. He tried to free his arms so he could remove Charlie or that drink away from his face, but Charlie was too damn strong; his weight alone was almost crushing the boy's thighs beneath him.

Suddenly, Ilya couldn't move his head anymore. He felt a painful grip on his chin. Charlie had just grabbed his face, forcing him to stay still.

Now Ilya couldn't move any part of him. All he could do was watch in horror as Charlie brought the cup to his mouth. Ilya quickly shut his mouth tight. His eyes opened wide as he suppressed a scream when he saw a floating severed leg of that cockroach on the surface of the drink.

Still, Charlie demanded with an angry tone, "Open your mouth, you stubborn lad!"

Charlie tilted Ilya's head backward until it rested on the couch's back pillows. Then he brought the cup near his face with one hand, while the other crawled to his lips.

Ilya's face twisted in disgust—A grown man was mounting him and force-feeding him like a sick animal. The thought alone made Ilya's stomach churn.

Charlie's rough fingers slithered across Ilya's mouth.

"Open wide."

Ilya protested with a whimper. His heart was pounding hard against his ribcage. A stinging sensation burned the inside of his closed-shut eyes.

Charlie's patience ran out when Ilya refused to cooperate this time. He shoved one of his sausage fingers between the boy's lips until he felt his teeth.

"Open it or I'll open it for you!"

A heartbreaking whine left Ilya's throat, and tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes. The boy was miserable, but that didn't stop Charlie from giving him the cure to his drug-withdrawal symptoms.

Charlie slid two fingers between the boy's set of teeth and painfully started parting them.

Ilya muffled his sobs as he tried to close his mouth, but his sobs kept getting louder. His mouth was opening against his will. Ilya gave up and cried but more fingers filled his mouth, blocking his voice. He wanted to bite them off, but Charlie's skin was as thick as bricks.

Ilya's lips bled from the harsh treatment, but Charlie smiled proudly for winning this battle.

Ilya's mouth was open wide. Now all Charlie had to do was force the drink down the boy's throat.

It wasn't that easy.

The boy choked on the liquid when it poured into his mouth. He coughed and gurgled, trying to breathe. Some of the drink managed to go in the right direction to his stomach, while some of it leaked from his mouth to his shirt.

"There ye go." Charlie poured the rest of the drink into Ilya's mouth, ignoring his suffering. "Easy does it."

Ilya gurgled and tried to spit the gross drink out, but he couldn't move his mouth with four large fingers opening it wide. He coughed and unwillingly gulped some of it down.

"It's for yer own good."

That crazy son of a bitch! 😳

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