Prison Island
36. – Missing Scene, Karl’s POV (Teaser)

-begin

His head was a nest for dark thoughts. Francesco had sensed something, but it wasn’t like Karl could tell him. Any deal struck with his dad, it was his, and he couldn’t get involved anyone else without expecting swift and wicked retribution.

Cesco and the others, they had no idea how easy they got it. How many times already had Karl dealt with some fuckers circling around their camp? Not always directly, but laying traps was effective, and he had seen the trails of blood and even more. Each time he had stood above those sights, the consequences of his actions, he knew it was wrong but still the right thing because it meant that they were alive and well.

Mouse knew more about that, and it had surprised him that the redhead hadn’t run his mouth. Francesco was clearly oblivious, and who else would Mouse tell? Karl wasn’t sure how much he knew, but Mouse was no fool. His hunter instincts had kept him alive all this time, and he must have seen the traps gone off, maybe even watched Karl replacing them. Who knew? Maybe he had stood above a corpse or two, as well, thinking the same thing.

After they had both fucked Cesco in the ass, there had been that talk about he and Mouse being alike. That was how Francesco’s mind was working; he saw two boys around the same age and him and thought he knew them. But he didn’t know anything, not that Karl wanted to pull that veil of ignorance from his eyes.

Yet the worst was yet to come, and only Karl knew it. There was so little time left until they would leave the island, and there was no way in hell they would be left alone. His dad had been clear about it.

“A fucking rite of passage,” he said under his breath. Were all fathers such fucking douchebags? He sometimes wondered. His dad believed in the Spartan way to the extreme. When he had learned in school about Ancient Greece, Karl had wondered whether his own father wouldn’t have considered throwing him off some cliff in case he had been born with a shorter leg or a deformity of some sort. God knew he had the resources to pull it off and make it look like an accident only so that he didn’t have to live the shame of having a handicapped son.

But Karl was whole, no leg shorter than the other or anything like that. And he had grown strong and listened to his dad like he was a fucking god. That until he hadn’t; looking back, doing all that shit had been stupid. But it had landed him here, and he had met Francesco.

Karl felt his cock and gave it a squeeze through the jeans. What would his dad think of Francesco? He’d label him a fucking faggot the moment he saw him, for sure. Anyone who didn’t have thick muscles and didn’t look like a brute was a pussy, a faggot, a sissy, in his dad’s book.

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 Prison Island 36 (Teaser)

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Francesco didn’t want to argue. When that moment came, he’d see what he could do. Now, he flicked his fingers over Karl’s ear playfully. “Sure. But if you leave me for some chick with tits as big as melons, I’m going to hurt you.”

Karl moved quickly and trapped him under his body. There were shadows in the blue eyes these days, more numerous and darker than usual. Francesco wished Karl would just confide in him. Why was he worried? Did he expect an attack from other people on the island, now that they were on their last leg and close to getting home?

“I wouldn’t trade all the tits in the world for your nips.” To make it clearer, Karl pushed his t-shirt up and began licking his nipples.

Francesco moaned and pressed his hands down on the back of Karl’s neck to keep him there. This fucker had turned his entire body into an erogenous zone, and there was no patch of skin when he touched him with hands, lips, or cock, that didn’t make him shiver and want to spread his legs wide to take it.

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 Prison Island 35 (Teaser)

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“My balls are fucking dry,” Francesco complained. “I don’t think I’m even jizzing real cum at this point. And I came already too many times when you and Mouse fucked me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Karl whispered. “You need my whole fist in your ass, baby.”

Francesco shivered. Karl was licking his neck slowly. “Your fist?” He gulped, not sure if in fear or something else. “No, Karl, it’s too much already, please.”

“You won’t get loose,” Karl promised. “You’re clearly made to take it. That’s why you’re such a good whore, and I can’t get enough of you. Your boy pussy could make the world go nuts. I need to keep you to myself, or else, who knows what might happen?”

“Not everyone’s so obsessed with sex as you, fucker,” Francesco keened softly as the fingers in his ass continued to work him relentlessly.

“I’m only obsessed with sex with you,” Karl said promptly. “Come on,” he encouraged gently, “just a little more.”

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 Prison Island 34 (Teaser)

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“Is it because he fucks you? I can fuck you,” Mouse said.

“Stop it,” Francesco said through his teeth. “Karl --”

“Fuck Karl.” Mouse pulled him close and kissed him hard on the lips.

Francesco wanted to fight. He truly wanted, but the soonest Mouse’s sweet lips were on his, and his tongue was in his mouth, all the memories came rushing back. The memories of those now harsh arms holding him, wrapped around him, holding him like their owner didn’t want to let go ever.

He keened into the kiss, his longing and love rushing through him like a tide. Mouse pushed him down and they were all over each other. A hand was soon in Francesco’s hair, grabbing at the sweaty strands and pulling not with anger, but with desire.

“Mouse, we cannot,” he whispered just as his hands were busy undressing the other and touching the smooth tanned skin everywhere.

Mouse was deaf to his half-hearted pleas. “I’m going to fuck you, Kekko, and you’ll forget about that asshole.”

“No, no,” Francesco protested meekly. He shuddered as Mouse nibbled his neck, making his body soft and pliant, save for one part.

The redhead wrapped his hand around Francesco’s hard and leaking cock. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby. I’ll fuck you so good.”

Francesco jolted as a shadow fell over them. His eyes grew wide. “Karl, no!”

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 Prison Island 33 (Teaser)

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Francesco kept his eyes closed. As much as he had promised to himself that he would endure anything Karl would throw at him, getting fucked like that, with everyone else watching, was making him feel acutely aware of how things looked like. A part of him enjoyed it, in a twisted, fucked up, way. He felt his cock slapping against his abdomen as Karl was riding him hard. No one was talking, and just their grunts and moans could be heard.

But he knew that everyone else was watching, drawn to that scene in front of their eyes like a fucking car crash. And it wasn’t yet the worst. Evening was falling, and Mouse wasn’t yet back. What if he didn’t return? Francesco curled his fingers, gathering soot and dust under his fingernails. They were by the fire, and no one, absolutely no one was talking.

But they were watching. How did he look, forced on all fours, that belt still around his neck, Karl holding it by its end, riding him?

“Why are you all staring like this?” Karl asked in a gruff voice. “When Cesco was fucking Mouse for all of you to see, you only cared about jerking off to them.”

How the hell could Karl talk while still pounding into him like that? The fucker jerked the belt and made him arch his back in an effort to avoid the discomfort caused by that move.

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 Prison Island 32 (Teaser)

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He remained silent as Karl unbuckled his belt, waiting for whatever the asshole wanted to order him to do next. His eyes grew wide with unhidden fear when he noticed Karl removing his belt. Was he going as far as to beat him?

Part of him wanted to bolt, run as far away as possible. But the hardened part of him refused to let him move. That was the deal he had signed, and there was no turning back.

He jolted when Karl caressed his face with the belt. With growing dread, he looked up.

“A gift, for you.” Karl crouched by his side and wrapped the belt around his neck. He fiddled some with it, as he needed to make another hole so that he could fasten it tightly.

Francesco didn’t dare to breathe. Karl adjusted the belt, making sure it wasn’t cutting out his air. He let the longer end dangle down on Francesco’s chest and pressed one hand over it to make it stop moving. His hand was warm and calloused. It made him tremble. What was the point of that twisted gentleness?

“It fits you,” Karl concluded and stood.

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