Changeling Pt. 1 - Teil 7

Central District lay in dead silence when Kelaste pulled into the Parking Garage beneath the building he was living in. The street lighting shone in artificial white at perfectly clean streets, the only sound the distant humming of the highway.
His captor rode shotgun, gun at the ready, watching Kelaste's profile and simply ignoring the view outside most of the time. When they pulled into an empty parking spot, he held out his free hand, and Kelaste dropped the car keys into his palm without saying a word. He would not escape this, at least not alive. The realisation had been seeping into his mind for the whole drive, paralysing his thoughts, his will to find a way out of the mess he'd stumbled into. What use would it do anyways? A few hours back he'd thought about dying out of boredom, die to flee the cage his complicated life had built around him, and now he was afraid of getting shot?

Slowly he climbed out of the car and watched Mohawk walk around the car with bare hands. Where had the gun gone? Again he laid his arm around Kelaste's waist, pulled him close, and started walking for the elevator, as if he knew where they'd be going. His calculating, steelblue eyes took in every detail of their surroundings, scanning for security cameras, exit routes, audience, as he ushered Kelaste into the elevator, and followed him in.
Head held low Kelaste waited for the doors to close, then pushed the button labelled "20", and pressed his finger against the scan pad. Desperately he tried to ignore the glooming presence of his "guest", but again, Mohawk seemed to have other things in mind than being ignored.
The elevator started to move, and Mohawk looked up at its ceiling, again searching for security cameras. Then his gaze found Kelaste, and some kind of dark humour sparkled in his pale blue eyes, bringing them to life.
„Any live-in sweeties I should know about? I'd hate to shoot anyone just because you forgot to mention them.“ His voice sounded artificial in the confined space of the elevator, its usual rough purr hollow and without echo. He moved against Kelaste's back, again cradling him in his arms to press himself against his ass and put his lips against his neck, like a giant craken entwining boneless tentacles around its bait. Kelaste felt small and very, very helpless against the strength of his arms and the sweet seduction his body promised, always keeping in mind that this guy was armed and would presumably shoot him after robbing him. But then again, there was a thread of loneliness in the way Mohawk kept him near, touching him whenever possible, that made Kelaste see a spark of hope for survival. Maybe his missing self defense made Mohawk get closer to him naturally, but there was also a chance that his captor just felt the same attraction that he himself fought against.

„No, I'm alone. Noone will come looking for me. Noone will miss me. Noone will intervene.“ Kelaste whispered, trying hard not to react to the warm, soft lips what rubbed against his sensitive neck. He hadn't tried to move away, he hadn't even tensed, but instead leaned into the embrace that would mean death for him later on, and he could feel Mohawk get irritated about his passive, almost friendly demeanor. Irritated, as he grabbed his hair at the back of his head to pull it sideways and get better access to his neck, and very excited, as he pressed his hard-on against Kelaste's ass to let him feel his own erection.
"Good.." he purred quietly against the side of his neck, and pushed him through the opening elevator doors, again leaving him with a sudden craving for human touch.