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My mouth is abnormally dry. “I’m um… I’m not…” He steps off the barstool, towering over me. “You’re not what?” Swallowing, I lean in a bit. “Gay.” His smile widens as he leans in closer to my face and whispers, “Me neither.”
I’m just so desperate to watch two hot guys hooking up, I barely even need to be involved. I’ll sit in the corner quietly if that’s what it takes.
Or maybe he doesn’t have a type. I don’t know him at all, but judging from his activities tonight, he seems to just love fucking, without giving much thought to the gender of the person on his cock.
“Oh God, holy fuck…” he grips the sheets at his sides. “I’m gonna come I’m gonna come I’m gonna come.” “Velle, hold out,” I demand. “Jesus, it’s been two seconds.”
Do I like guys? Am I… gay? Glancing down at the head bobbing up and down on my erection—so hard it’s about to snap off—I think I can say with some level of certainty that at the very least I’m bisexual.
He shrugs, though I can see a smug little smirk forming on his mouth. It’s irritating to me that the kid is so good-looking, considering he’s a cold-blooded murderer. The least he could do is be ugly.
“You beg so good, Officer.” The last thing I hear is his whimper before my mouth hits his.
“A-are you gonna… lick me?” My breathing is truly out of control. “No.” He bites his lip. “I’m gonna eat you alive.”
“You doing okay?” I lift my brow. It takes him a moment, but his eyes fall to mine and he nods. “I don’t remember what okay feels like to be honest with you…”
He does things to me I can’t understand. He keeps me comfortable, and I try to push it away like one of those terrifying things that make you too happy, so there must be a catch.
I want to reach out and pull him closer. I want his arms around me again, because they’re big and warm and it feels good to have him holding all my brokenness together.
“What the fuck is wrong with the two of you?” I rake fingers through my hair. “I swear to God, you’re both the most resistant people I’ve ever met. Do you also tell rainbows they’re overrated?? Jesus…”
But we also know the guilt is just a stopover to the final destination of merciless rage.
Funerals suck. It’s an awful, emotional time when you want nothing more than to celebrate the life of the person who’s left, but it always ends up just reminding you they’re gone.
“I promise you, when you fall to your knees for me, I’ll always pick you back up. And I have no problem kneeling for you in return. Because I love you. I’ll never take from you without giving in right back.
Because I know what he wants; the roughness and tenderness, together. He needs love behind his pain.
