EWB: Enemies With Benefits

by N.R. Walker

I was more a hold-a-grudge-forever kind of guy.

“I don’t live here,” I said. “No. I do.” I focused on the voice to find who it belonged to and groaned. Him, again. Or still. Whatever.

a black cat that watched me, judged me, from the floor near the fridge.

Immediately my favorite character

even though my brain was like hell no, not him, my dick was definitely on board.

“I want you to hate me. I need you to hate me.” Then he popped the button on my jeans and wrapped his fingers around my cock, pumping me rough and hard. “And when you fuck me with your monster cock, I need you to hate me as hard as you can.”

“You want me to fuck you like I hate you?” He pulled out and drove back into me. “Because I fucking do.”

I dared to roll onto my back, to face him. To face the consequences, perhaps. And to ask him to do it again. But he was already gone.

He offered no apology for making a mess on my office furniture and I could deduce that was because he wasn’t the least bit sorry.

Enzo saw me and decided to jump onto my lap. I ran my hand from his head down his back and he sat and stared at our company. “Did I come here so you can both judge me?” Marshall asked.

“What—and I mean this with as much sincerity as possible—the actual fuck? You want me to hate-fuck you?” Hate-fuck. That made me smile. “Yes.”

You don’t want me to fuck you, you need a therapist.” “I had one. He assured me my methods were, if safe and consensual, perfectly fine.” Marshall gawped at me. It was almost comical. “Then you need a new therapist.”

I had plenty of guys refuse to take my cock or stop halfway because I was too big.

*eye roll*

“You need to find a better way to deal with your anger, my friend.” Like walking into Valentine’s place anytime I wanted, putting a load in him and walking out.

To them, he was so cool, calm, and collected, so superior and commanding of respect. To me, he was nothing but a whore for cock, who had a world of issues that Freud himself wouldn’t be able to fix.

I’d like to be able to say you’ll remain respectful, but you don’t show me respect at work as it is, so if that were to change, people might suspect something is going on.”

“I show you respect,” I replied. “You should hear the shit I don’t say out loud.”

He shot me a dirty glare and put the glass down. “Are you gonna do what you came here to do? Or you just going to stand there?” I bit down on the flare of anger that bloomed in my chest, though my voice was rough and I spoke through clenched teeth. “Get on your fucking knees.”

“It’s that smile that makes Marshall Wise wanna punch your head in.” I laughed. It was why I did it.

What I hated most of all was that I hated him a little less.

I didn’t turn around to see if Valentine was watching me leave. While I’d have liked to see him notice, I really didn’t want to see him not notice.

I didn’t give Valentine Tye one more thought. Well, until I was in the shower after work . . . and again when I was alone in bed.

I smiled at him and gently loosened his tie a bit more, and when I went to pull it over his head, I got to his mouth and slowly cinched the tie so tight, it gagged him. “I said stop talking,” I murmured.

stopped to give Enzo the cat a scratch—he was perched on the arm of the sofa watching me, so it’d have been rude not to say hello—and

“Nice sweater,” he murmured behind his cup of tea. “I didn’t realise the Steve Jobs look was in this season.” So much for his concern. “Thanks. It’s to hide the bruises on my neck you gave me.”

“Don’t be sorry,” I added casually. “Because I’m not.” He seemed to consider something for a second. “Well, I dunno what’s more concerning. That I’m not sorry, or that I find it incredibly hot.”

“And don’t worry about Burwood’s number four,” Connor yelled. “Bastard’ll get what he’s owed.” I glanced at Marshall on my way out and I knew he’d heard that. His smile told me he’d heard it just fine.

Me marking him? I was totally on board with that, and so was he. But someone else? Someone else hurting him? Yeah, that didn’t fly with me.

Number four from Burwood. Second row.

Giving "Jayden Adler. NASA Headquarts. DC" vibes

I could see Enzo’s bowl on the floor, and there were still some biscuits in it. I pointed to it. “You haven’t eaten all of those yet.” Then the freaking cat yelled at me. “All right, all right, Christ.”

Enzo yelled at me again. “You make a lot of demands for someone who doesn’t pay rent,” I said to him. He yelled louder, so I filled his bowl with his stupid biscuits just to shut him up.

Enzo is the best character

“Enemies with benefits includes cuddles with the cat.”

The best kind of benefits

Pretty sure he knew what I did to his owner twice a week, and he was not impressed.

“Why did you feed him?” “Because he told me he has one of those cans for breakfast.” “He told you?” “Yes. Right after he told me I was his favourite.”

“So, are you just not a morning person?” I asked. “Or does your head hurt and you just don’t wanna say? Or are you pissed because I’m still here?” He turned around, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Yes.”

But didn’t those people have faith in their sexual partners to look after them? To trust their sexual partners to ensure all their needs were being met?

He’d tried BDSM clubs, but they weren’t for him because they didn’t really hate him. And he needed someone who actually hated him.

That it was Valentine Tye who took my seed. That, like some fucked-up reasoning, I owned him. A guy who had been an adversary my entire life would bend over and take my loads because I owned him.

I technically could pick up . . . if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to. And not because it was a rule to mine and Valentine’s agreement. I just didn’t need to, because . . . well, because my needs were being well and truly met. With Valentine.

“Did you think it was the end of our agreement? Were you sad?” He seethed. “I would miss one part of you.” His gaze drew down to my dick and back up. “And nothing else.”

“If I’m gonna get fired by that piece of shit, it’ll be because I punched him in his stupid fucking mouth.” His stupid fucking talented mouth . . .

“Hey, little guy. This food is not for you.” He meowed, and I shot Valentine a look. “He tells me you haven’t fed him yet.” Valentine rolled his eyes and sighed. “He lies.”

Enzo is everything

His gaze struck me, not with heat or fire but with pure annoyance. Maybe even a hint of hatred. I smiled as I ate more. This was going so well . . .

I wanted to stretch him thin, to iron out any knots and troubles, and hold him. I wanted to kiss him, make sure he ate properly. I wanted to make him smile. I wanted to fix him.

“Ah. The new boyfriend.” “He’s not my boyfriend.” “But you want him to be.”

“It can’t happen.” Fuck. Did I even want it to happen? Pretty sure I did.

But it was supposed to be a no-strings-attached thing, and . . .” “And now there are strings.” “Just on my side,” I admitted, and perhaps that was the part that stung the most. Because Valentine would never . . . I let out a long-drawn-out puff of air. “This feeling is fucked.”

“Maybe you should be telling him.” I shook my head. “No. That’d be the end of it for sure.” “You sure?” “One hundred percent.” Because the purpose of our fucked-up agreement was for me to hate-fuck him.

But if I told him I didn’t hate him anymore? He’d tell me we were done, and that was the reason for the lump in my belly and the strange tight ache in my chest.

I lined that fucker up and cracked him right across the nose with my elbow. He went down like a sack of shit, his nose a bloody zigzag, and I went down on him, my elbow across his ribs. “For Valentine Tye,” I spat.

“So it’s like a work bromance,” he said, nodding. “But the b is silent.”