Bad Wrong Things

by C.P. Harris

“Have you fixed the bedroom door? Lock and all?”

“Are you locking me out, or locking yourself in? Because there’s a difference, Raven.”

“And what difference would that be?”

“Are you afraid of what I may do, or wha...

“Is. It. Fixed, Clint?”

I strained to recapture our last night in this room.

“Tell me no.”

“...

“Say it like you mean i...

He had a key.

“Clint—”

“Let me hol...

“Let me love you goodbye, then.”

“Clint—”

“You were gone. I couldn’t find you. I didn’t know i...

“I couldn’t find you. Do you know what that did to me?”

“You’re never leaving me again.”

He’d hated himself for what we had become, for the lies we had to tell, even the ones by omission. We’d turned each other into poisoned goods, and I’d taken the brunt of the blame—as I should have.

“You’re not listening to me, Clint.”

I dodged his kiss, his lips catching my ear, his teeth taking revenge on my sensitive lobe. “Fuck!” My cock toughened from the sting, from th...

“I love you, Raven,”

“We can’t—”

“Listen t...

“I-I can’t do this without you. Life isn’t the sa...

“...

“No doesn’t hold the same meaning for us, Raven. You know that. But this time, this time, I’ll believe you if you want me to. If you say it again.”

With one fist steadying me by the hair, and both eyes bewitching me with their fucking voodoo, he impatiently felt around the bed. A cap popped, and I whimpered, digging my heels into the mattress as a lube-lathered finger rimmed me, giving me the chance to deny it entry, and damn my legs for fucking spreading wider.

I sorted through my disheveled mind, hunting for the man I used to be. Not the one known for being a slut for Clint’s cock and mouth.

If I allowed Clint to fuck me, he’d lose all restraint. He’d chain me to him and bolt us into this room if it meant keeping me there.

“I. Can’t.”

“Don’t do it, Clint.”

“Say it, then.”

“Tell me, baby,” he encouraged. “Tell me there will never be another man for you. Tell me you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you. Promise me we’ll do whatever it takes to make us work. Promise that you won’t hold this night against me. Say you believe things can be different.”

“Promise me. And if you can’t promise me all those things, then please, lie to me.”

Never breaking promises was a cardinal rule ingrained in me, and I didn’t want to lock myself into saying something I’d regret come escape time. “Yes, you fucking own me, Clint.” I gave him a different truth. It was the best I could do. “And no one fucks me like you do.” I scraped a nail along his jaw. “I’ve missed you so much I’ve gone blind. Feeling my way through life. My senses are fucked, Clint. Nothing looks the same since you, nothing smells or tastes the same. The world is bland.” But I can’t stay.

I was in love with him. With the straight man that took me in and saw me as a son. And I wanted to scalp every slut that got to ride his cock.

If Clint couldn’t grow old and gray with me, then I wanted him to do it alone.

On principle, I avoided people, unless they were my people, and I didn’t have many people, and rarely were there openings for me to take on more people.

You belong on the cover of a fucking magazine.

“I wanted to rip his fucking tongue out and spank you for being such a whore.”

jesus

“The mouth and the heart are connected. That’s why words hurt. I’d never give either to anyone but you.”

Clint showed me no reprieve or mercy. Manhandling me until he’d secured my waist between his paws, planted his feet flat on the bed, and then fucked the living daylights out of me.

If rimming him full time was a job position, I’d have taken it. If I could’ve eaten him inside out, I would have.

“Forgive me?”

“If you want my forgiveness, Clint, you’ll need to beg for it.”

“Please fo...

“On your knees. Between m...

“That sounds like a cry for more, sweetheart.”

“No,” I said with power, “it’s not.”

“We’re gonna do this all night. We’re gonna do this until my leaving tomorrow is a nonissue.”