After the incident with number seven, Cain had grown more interested in younger partners. He had to admit, his family had a point in that regard; they were an interesting specimen. So after he’d finished his elevator twelve, Cain had developed a new project.
Leaving number four sprawled out next to the dumpster, Cain admired his handiwork while he re-dressed, considered how artistic the boy was laid out like that, asleep. Children tended to tire so much more readily. Part of their appeal.
Fixing his tie, Cain strode out into the park, where nobody was any the wiser. It wouldn’t be long before someone either went behind the bathrooms and found number four or he woke up and wandered out in the nude. Cain walked out of the park, caught a bus back to his hotel. There, he took a leisurely shower before coming out, thinking that it would be nice to have seafood for dinner tonight.
There was a boy in his room, pointing a gun at Cain. “Hi there. Don’t worry about getting dressed. Let’s put the towel down too, actually.”
Cain did as he was told, carefully dropping his towel to the floor. “Now,” he said. “There’s no need for us to be unreasonable, young man. If you’d like money, my wallet is right there on the dresser.”
“I don’t want money,” said the boy. He smiled. He was quite pretty, a cute undercut of kinky hair framing his face. “On the bed.”
Cain did as he was bid. He wasn’t going to put up a fight with a gun pointed at him. It was a crime that a child could have access to such a dangerous weapon, he thought. Weren’t children allowed to be children anymore?
The boy adeptly handcuffed him to the bed before putting the gun down, taking off his own clothes and straddling Cain. He was a remarkably pretty boy, if a little older than Cain’s current project required. Cain had very little time to appreciate this as the boy straddled his face. “Watched you with my friend in the park,” he said casually, forcing Cain to rim him. He turned around so he was facing down Cain’s body, and began touching him all over, exploring Cain’s body. “Looked like you were having fun. I hope you can still have some fun.”
Cain was more than up for fun, which his captor could clearly see, and indeed began to touch shortly thereafter, leaning down to take Cain into his mouth while Cain rimmed him. He sucked Cain with clear expertise, not daunted by Cain’s size at all. Cain had just cum several times inside number four, but that had been an hour ago and he could feel his balls churning already, preparing to flood his captor’s mouth with cum. He tongued the boy as he went, making sure he was nice and wet and open, just in case he got out of these handcuffs.
The boy got off him suddenly, crawling between Cain’s legs and smiling. “I think you’re almost ready, but I don’t want this to be a short night.”
And he dove between Cain’s legs, his tongue violating Cain’s own hole with just as much expertise as he’d shown on Cain’s cock. They really were teaching children interesting things in school these days. So much so that, after only ten or fifteen minutes, Cain felt himself start to cum, painting his chest with a strained sound.
“There we go,” the boy said, slowly climbing back up, hand on Cain’s cock, heedless of Cain’s sensitivity. He smirked, swinging his leg over Cain, and positioning himself over Cain’s cock. “Hope you don’t tire out easily,” he said, popping Cain’s cockhead into his hole. “Because my schedule is clear all night.”
He wasn’t exaggerating as children were wont to do. He rode Cain hard, merciless, until his cum mixed with Cain’s on Cain’s chest. Then he rode him even harder, licking up their cum from his chest, gripping Cain’s arms hard while Cain thrust upwards into him as best he could in this position.
How many hours passed Cain didn’t know. After some time the boy uncuffed him and they kissed, passion filling the hot hotel room as Cain flipped them over and began to pound the boy for all his cock was worth, never running out of energy. It was a magical night, and a long one.
And when Cain woke up the next morning to the hotel housekeepers knocking on his door, he was alone and his bedside clock read noon. There was no sign the boy had ever been in his room except the cum all over his body and the bed.
And one other. Cain stood up, catching sight of himself in the mirror. In red permanent marker, a number one was etched on his stomach.
He smiled to himself and went to shower again, wondering if he’d run into his fellow artist again.