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“You made up a story about Lan?” He lifts a shoulder. “How else would I have gotten you here? On my lap, I mean.”
“Jer!” Nikolai jumps to my side and wraps an arm around my shoulders as if we’re mates. “Meet eighty-nine. Pretty sure he’s the only one who made it here and, therefore, can be a member of the Heathens.”
“Look! I have a gun!” Dad laughed his head off. Mom looked like she was going to either throw up or burst into flames. Good times.
I pouted as I muttered, “But my weenie really likes the air.”
HELP?
After he laughed his ass off—five out of five sense of humor on that man, love him—he
Not sure you’re supposed to chew on it, but I couldn’t be bothered and gave him vodka to help…uh…with digestion and shit.
LMAO
For the first time in my nineteen years of life, I couldn’t get off. Not when they offered their mouths, holes, and everything in between. In fact, I wasn’t even motivated to release Kolya from his least favorite confinement—my pants.
A reluctant, uptight preppy boy was gliding his firm ass all over him. “Oh no.” I glare down at my pants. “Fuck no, you fucking fuck.”
He twitches again as if saying, “Fuck yeah.”
“The fuck are you? A masochist? He said he was straight. Told you to keep your nonsense away from ...
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“You need to get yourself fucking checked, dude. Preferably by an exorcist so they can get those demons out and shit.”
“Fuck you right the fuck off, motherfucker,” I mutter. I don’t fuck with straight guys. At all. Many of them have fragile egos and macho manly energy that pisses me off and propels me to sudden, impulsive violence. I prefer queers who are comfortable in their own sexuality, like myself, thank you very much.
real bruh
The only time I hover near a heterosexual man is if he’s a lost bi-curious lamb who wants to experiment. In that case, I make it my mission to take him to heaven. Like an angel did to some prophet—don’t ask me what his name is; I can’t even remember mine half the time. Brandon King does not belong on any of my lists of interest.
Jesus fuck. That guy could use a chill pill. Or a few. In fact, someone should shove the entire bottle down his throat and make him choke on it. Fuck him and his back off and stop touching me. I’m straight. Like fuck he is.
He nearly bounced on my cock and he sat there so prettily while I was nursing an erection of epic proportions for a whole five minutes. Not that I was counting or anything.
Or maybe I was. To prove his theory. Straight, my ass. Or his, to be more specific—pun totally intended.
THATS EXACTLY WHAT I SAID
He’s hot. And it’s different on him than his show-off, in-your-face brother. Brandon has a quieter presence and carries himself in a total golden-boy fashion. Slick brown hair, groomed face, tall and slim frame, but muscled. Yup, don’t let those preppy clothes fool you. Asshole has abs. All six of them. I counted them yesterday since I had nothing else to do with my hands. I would’ve preferred to let my hand go down a more fun path, but I doubt grouchy Brandon would’ve been thrilled.
from his high horse. Imagine my fucking surprise when he walked right in like a lost lamb. A straight lost lamb.
“Fuck you, you fucking fuck. You need help.” “You need help, Niko.” My cousin Killian brushes past me on the way inside, accompanied by his brother, Gareth, and my best friend, Jeremy.
lmao😭
He pushes his dark hair away from his face and narrows his eyes. “Niko, please tell me you weren’t talking to invisible people just now.” “Of course not. I was having a very frustrating conversation with my dick.” “That’s even worse.” Gareth shoves my shoulder and chuckles.
Gareth slams his hand on mine, a terrified expression covering his features. “Don’t show us your dick, Niko. Seriously, why do you feel the need to get naked whenever someone mentions your dick? We’re cousins, for fuck’s sake.” “Well, your brother keeps running his mouth about ED and I want to prove that I don’t have it.” “We believe you,” Jeremy grunts with obvious displeasure. “Keep that thing in your pants. No one in this room wants to see it.” “I don’t believe you.” Kill lifts a shoulder as he toys with the remote. “Kill!” Gareth growls. “Stop encouraging his crazy or he’ll be walking
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“Yeah, Niko. Don’t tell me you’re having a sexuality crisis after you’ve been bi for over four years?”
“Nope.” I push back. “He’s straighter than straight.” “Thanks?” Jer mutters. “That wasn’t a compliment.”
periods
He drops his pen on his notebook and exhales loudly. “What are you talking about?” “You’ve always fucked women, but have you done that because you feel you have to due to peer pressure and what’s defined by society as normal or because you want to?” “What is this about?” He stands up. “What did you hear?” “What should I have heard?” His face falls for a fraction of a second and I step into his space. “So? What? Tell me. Tell me! What should I have heard?” He pushes me away. “Stop doing that shit.” “Not until you answer my question.” He runs a hand over his face. “I love women. Happy?” “What
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need their book rn
On a scale of straighter-than-straight Jer to fluid-as-lube Kill to confused-as-shit Gareth, I wonder where Brandon King falls. Not that I’m tempted to find out. That would be crazy.
He’s being a dick. Literally.
clockwork. Sure enough, the small gate on the side creaks open and he steps outside, stretching under the hint of sun. He’s dressed in loose shorts and a fitted green T-shirt that clings to his muscles like a second skin. Fucking hot. Now, if he weren’t so groomed with his shaven face, styled hair, and general sophisticated appearance, he’d be even hotter. I love my men filthy, unkempt, and rugged around the edges. Women are soft and pliant and should be worshipped. Men are to be used.
Sure enough, he retrieves his phone from his armband—of course the prick has an armband. Goes so well with his pristine clean image—and snaps a picture of the sky, then his fingers tap on the screen. I grab my phone—from my shorts pocket like a normal human being—and check the story. It’s an aesthetic picture containing part of the gate and the looming sun. #NewDay That’s literally the only hashtag he uses on these posts, as if he’s planning to kill his audience with the repetitive caption.
Though beautiful isn’t quite the right word. He’s not pretty like a girl or beautiful like a colorful flower on the side of the road. He’s handsome.
I catch up to him in no time, keeping a few yards between us. His back muscles ripple beneath his shirt and his hamstrings extend and repress, causing his shorts to ride up his thighs with every step. Hypnotic.
My gaze keeps flitting to the round globes of his ass, though, all peachy and shit. If he’s straighter than straight, it’s such a shame to leave that ass empty.
Now, I know I’m supposed to be on a stalkerish mission, but it’s impossible to stay away from his spellbinding pull. Fuck it. I pluck one of his AirPods out and whisper into his ear, “Long time no see. Miss me?”
I’d crumble and crash into a million irreparable pieces. Without my punctual set of actions, I’m nothing. So every day, I wake up at five. No exception—not during holidays, not after a night of drinking or partying or doing whatever is expected from a uni student. Five. Always. Every single day.
Alternative rock keeps playing from my sole earbud, the loud beat pounding in my ear, but I can’t hear anything over the constant static thumping in my skull.
his music taste already >>
Nikolai isn’t only a hurdle. He’s a fucking wall that I can’t seem to shove out of the way.
He strokes my AirPod between his fingers—definitely disinfecting that later. “Is it just me or are you looking at me like you really missed me?”
barely manage to stop my upper lip from lifting in a snarl as I snatch my AirPod. “I don’t even know who you are. Run along, boy.” There. I threw his insult back at him. Not that I was thinking about that retort, or something similarly obnoxious, hours after the initiation.
“It’s me, Nikolai. We met the other day at the initiation… Oh, right! I was wearing the yellow-stitch mask, so you didn’t see my face, but it’s me! Much hotter without the mask, don’t you think?”
A weight crashes against my back and I stumble as both AirPods are plucked from my ears and Nikolai stands in front of me, breathing as hard as I am. No, he’s panting, but the up and down of his chest doesn’t compare to the frantic thumping of my heart against my rib cage.
“Oh cool, you remember! Nice to officially meet you, Brandon. Or, hold on! I actually found you a perfect nickname. Lotus flower. You know, because you managed to bloom so beautifully while surrounded by the muddy swamp that is Landon. Isn’t that so fucking poetic?”
“My hand,” I say in a thoroughly unaffected tone. He squeezes more. “What about it?” “Let it go.” “Do I have to? It’s kind of soft and nice.” He tightens his hold again, mushing the fingers together, and I have to stifle a goddamn…groan? What in the bleeding livid gates of hell? Pain. It’s only pain. “I need my hand, so yes, you have to release it, Nikolai.” “Fuck. I love the way you say my name.
Though everything sounds amazing in that hot accent.” The gleam that I never quite managed to erase from my mind rushes back to the depths of his harsh eyes.
“I wonder how you’d say my name in other…more intimate situations.” I pull my hand away so suddenly, he has no choice but to release me. “I told you to keep your gay flirtations away from me. I’m straight.” ”Hmm.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes watching me intently like a creep.
Though he obviously likes women as well. According to…uh, social media. I didn’t search for him. He somehow landed on one of Remi’s tagged pictures. I have zero interest in where he dips his dick as long as he keeps it away from me.
He pushes into me with every word until his naked chest heaves against mine. A dash of unknown emotions explodes and spreads through me. It’s stifling and wrong. Like nausea 2.0. Only, much worse.
I step back and he steps forward, his chest still glued to mine, his heart thumping in an irregular rhythm. Or is that mine? Not waiting to find out, I whip around and run.
My breathing is cracked and wrong. No. You’re in control. You’re always in control, remember? Always. And yet I sway as those hands clutch, twist, tug, and—
“Don’t run away from me, lotus flower. This is the second time you’ve done it, the third if we count the initiation. I’m kinda hurt.”
But that leads me to the realization that Nikolai is on top of me. Again. This time, his knee is wedged on my lower back, his hand squeezing my nape as he talks in my ear. Fucking again. “Eh…?” He smiles, and I know this because his lips curve against the damn shell of my ear. “This position is a little familiar. Not that I’m complaining.”
“Nikolai,” I growl, my jittering nerves getting the better of me. “Get the hell off me.” “Mmm. More. Give me fucking more,” he growls into my ear. “Back off.” “That’s it. Fight me. I love this energy, lotus flower.” “You won’t love it when…” I trail off before I say I bite your head off. Good grief. This is not me. “What? I won’t love it when you what?” He speaks so close, I can feel his words inside my darn ear instead of hearing them. “You need to stop cutting yourself off mid-sentence. The suspense is killing me. You’re playing a bit hard to get, Prince Charming, but I’m all over that shit.
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