Anything Goes

by Chara Croft

That’s right, not a romantic here. Just nineteen, hung, and horny.

I was supposed to do things for him. He was the master, and I was the slave. That was what we’d bet, right? The bet I’d lost with that last poker hand? Or... had I won? Now I couldn’t remember. I touched my collar again. Oh, right. I’d definitely won.

As far as I was concerned, there were two types of people in this world: those who could suck it up and deal when I was a dick to them, and Noah, who would never have to.

Having Noah on my mind 24/7 was a lot like breathing: necessary, natural, and unstoppable.

Obviously, he wasn’t leaving. I needed him. He needed me. This was non-negotiable, and the only X-factor was how to correct his parentals’ misconception that he’d be better off anywhere that I wasn’t.

I stroked the back of his tongue with the tips of my fingers and made him gag again, but even with the gagging, he didn’t try to pull away at all. Just took what I gave him and kept right on sucking… licking… staring up at me like I was the one taking care of him. Worked my fingers over like he’d suddenly decided to start majoring in Cocksucking 101 and was cramming for finals.

Right now I had to clear my throat again so I didn’t break down and do anything to lose my man card, like dump a bunch of feelings all over him or whatever,

Shit. Did I need to do some more gay research? The kind that didn’t involve porn?

I might be feeling some sappy shit now that I knew me and Noah were actually boyfriends, but not gonna lie, getting all romantical wasn’t and probably never would be my strong suit.