Sweet

by Howl Avery

I slam the thumbs-up button so damn fast. He is exactly what I need right now. Questionable self-esteem. Possibly dependent. Eager to please. And just so sweet.

I smile at my screen. Maybe it’s beginner’s luck. Or maybe I already found that special someone I’m looking for—the one. The next guy I’m going to kill.

“I can’t help it. Even thinking about talking to him makes my brain force restart.”

Cutest goddamn beekeeper in existence. Who could blame me?

I don’t know what this guy looks like, or even his name. And yet, if he were to answer my call all out of breath from rushing to get to his phone and then say how happy he is to hear from me… my hand would go straight down my pants.

I know that won’t last forever and I don’t want it to, but this is a game where most of my moves will be none at all. Pursuing the object of my desire offers limited satisfaction, since what I want most is to be pursued.

He’s well aware that I have only one interest when it comes to television, and that’s competition shows.

If I ever figure out how to control what I hyper-fixate on, I’ll be unstoppable.

“I swear, if I ever find you out in the wild, I’m going to fuck your beautiful brain out.”

I don’t want him so much as talking to other people—because he should be doing that with me.

When we’re texting or on the phone, I get to be his entire world. Out here, not so much. And it’s nothing short of infuriating for me.

Instantly, I’m reminded of what Cas told me earlier this week about shoving anyone between me and him off a bridge. That thought, of someone matching my obsession with their own darkness, gets me to come.

“So, basically, I give you something only I can do for you, which means you’ll have a level of reliance on me only you can offer. You feed my fixation and it’s exactly what yours needs.” “Sounds toxic and codependent.” “No, more like you and I were made for each other, baby.”

He wants me all to himself. I want him all to myself. Instead of our neurosis overcoming us, we rev each other up and feed off it.

“Sounds like someone’s fallen in love,” he says with a smirk. “No. You fucking came along and tripped me.”

Someone is clearly a minimalist and doesn’t cook for shit, either. Likely he can, since he made the popcorn. Yet so much of the house seems barren. Where the fuck are the spices, my dude?

Most people get off so easily, so I don’t feel bad at all about getting my way. With Cas, I’m tormenting him the entire time and I know it. Yet without me, there’s no relief either. It’s an insane amount of control to have over a person.

“Do you want it, baby?” “Yes, please,” he chokes. “Then I don’t care if you don’t like it.”

Lots of people are into shit like spanking, or choking, or even much heavier stuff, but… I figured out long ago there’s more than one way to skin a cat. And if you happen to enjoy hurting someone—and I mean really hurting them—giving them a good smack feels unimaginative at best. After all, bruises heal and go away.

“I find it interesting how all the times I’ve gotten you off, a lot of those happened after I threatened you,” Will says with a smirk, followed by another kiss.

He’ll never admit it, I’m sure, but the only thing he loves more than me being so possessive is me constantly reminding him of it.

“Lick your cock for me, baby,” I prompt. With his eyes lidded from lust, he laps at the tip with minimal squirming.

I love how he treats me like he owns me and I love waking up every day covered in bite marks and bruises from him spending the night claiming me and I even love how the soreness lingers like a memory, so even when he’s not there, I’m instantly brought back to the night before and him panting right in my ear how much he adores me.

With a trembling voice that matches my quivering body, I say, “Fuck me, Daddy.” Will halts so aggressively, I almost think he intends to stop. He doesn’t. He picks back up and fucks me so mercilessly I can’t believe I’m not making more noise.

“He’s a barely legal airhead.” Jess rolls his eyes again, but he’s starting to smile. “Exactly! Those are the best ones, Jess. No expectations. No basis of comparison. You can mold him into whatever you want. He’s like a gay blank slate waiting for you to draw in cum all over him.”

“You fucker. You really did kill Riley, and now you’re going to do the same to Will.” I scoff. “Of course not. Will’s my boyfriend.” And because he’s proven to me over the past few weeks that I’m only a menace while topping.

Finally, I have the perfect fucking man. Literally made for me. And there’s a very real possibility he’s slightly homicidal. What the fuck does that say about me?

Almost sounds as if you’ve fallen in love.” “You tripped me.”

Without him, there is no me.