A Home for Burnt Boys (*Currently writing*)

Chapter Nine - Red Marks and Red Lace

I feel an unfamiliar weight in my lap and a sweet smell engulfs me. I open my eyes. A large pair of emerald green one's stare back in thought. Awe lingers on his smooth face.

"Your eyes are grey," Oakley squeals in excitement. His petite hands push the sides of my face up so that he can get a better look. I groan with embarrassment, "They are like rain clouds."

I grab his hands softly, "Stop it. What are you doing on top of me?" He shrugs nonchalantly. I scan my surroundings quickly. The car is parked in a dark carpark packed with other vehicles.

"They've gone." He informs.

I furrow my brows slightly, "Why would they leave us in the car?"

"Well we were going to wake you up. But Daddy-Dani said that he wasn't going to buy me anymore teddies. Which isn't fair because I have been a good kitten, and I started whining and he said I was going to get myself in trouble if I didn't get out the car. Rafen called me a brat. Which I'm not! So I said I'm not getting out of the car and they aren't getting kisses anymore." I smile softly at his lack of filter. "Do you want their kisses instead Ally?" His voice dropping an octave.

A strangled noise leaves my throat, "I don't think we should..." I struggle slightly. He leans in slowly, and I turn my head to the side before he can place his lips against mine. He takes this chance to attack my earlobe. I mewl as shivers run down my spine.

This doesn't feel right though.

I tangle my hand in his silky hair and tug harshly. His startled squeak turns into a prolonged moan. "Is this what you wanted?" My voice drops an octave and I surprise myself with my dominance.

"Yes..." I pull his head further back and nip at the skin on his neck. His pale skin allows me to leave marks. I pull his head to the side and latch my teeth onto his neck. A vague feeling of anxiety and doubt fills me as I realise I had never done this before, but Oakley's desperate whimper knocks me out of my trance. "Please."

I begin to suck his skin roughly and he tilts his head to the side. His hands grasp my jean covered thighs tightly and he pushes his pelvis into mine.

We let out desperate moans. I continue my previous actions; my free hand slithers up his oversized jumper and grasp his hip tightly. He begins to grind seductively, our clothed cocks pine for each other, each time they touch a familiar spark of pleasure runs down my back all the way to my fingertips.

My hands drop down to his cheeks, I grasp the tight skin firmly. A lacey fabric tickles my hand. I pull back from his neck in confusion.

A deep red tint lingers on his face and he turns his head to the window, so that he doesn't have to look at me.

I lift my pelvis up so that I can pull his jumper off his small frame, I ignore the flash of pleasure I get when his body touches mine, and I also ignore the red marks that are scattered on his chest, mostly scratches.

My eyes are first drawn to his perky nipples, I long to devour them. But they trace down his body to the frilly panties that cage his cock tightly. My mind wonders for a moment, "Can I ask you something?" His eyes finally return to me and he nods but furrows his brows, "Do you want to be a girl? Or do you just like wearing girls' clothes?" I attempt to make the question non-judgemental.

"Hmm, Magnus says that clothes were gendered by society so that the bourgeoisie could make more money. And that gendered clothes are just another way that 'The Man' keeps us down." I look at him strangely, "I don't want to be female, but I do like it when Viktor says that I'm a good girl. And I also like it when he says I'm a good boy, too."

I stay quiet for a moment and think. My hands trace up and down his thighs to sooth him and he visibly relaxes. "I wouldn't have thought Magnus was such a Marxist," Oakley twists his head cutely, "It doesn't matter. Shall we carry on kitten?"