Bad Wrong Things

by C.P. Harris

Clint and I were like hot oil kissing water. Gasoline crooking its finger at an open flame. We came together like animals in heat, marking and pissing over our territory. And love had everything, yet nothing, to do with it.

I stood there confident in knowing that the worst mistake I’d ever taken part in was the best decision of my life.

“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.

Clint dragged his flattened tongue from my testicles to the top of my cleft. “Mmmm,” I moaned, eyes spinning. “I can’t…” I trailed off, my words breaking down in my throat. He was attentive and careful to get everything, and he lapped at me long after, ignoring my protests and holding me in place. The ritual of Clint cleaning up his mess ended with me shaking on hands and knees, my chubby cock hanging, racked by the aftershocks of another orgasm.

No never stopped us. Especially not after we’d decided that turning ourselves into monsters would be the only way to cope with the pain. To be more deserving of it.

“Focus on me,” he said. “Take a deep breath, count back from ten.”

“Why does it feel like something’s died between us tonight?” “It hasn’t. I promise, Clint.” He grunted. “You used to call me Dad. Took you a while, and I didn’t make a big deal about it when you first said it because I didn’t want you to take it back, but damn, did it hurt in the best of ways.” He hit me with a side glance. “And then one day you stopped. Out of nowhere. And that hurt, too, but in the worst of ways.” I remembered the year, month, day, and second Clint referred to. The night I shot my rope all over his bedroom door, marking my territory, manifesting the future. No longer was he the pseudo father I’d come to know him as. He was more. And calling him Dad after that made me queasy. “You never said anything.” “No. I had no right to. And my love for you didn’t hinge on the name you addressed me by. Still doesn’t. I wanted you safe, warm, fed, and I did my best to see to that. Other than respect, you didn’t owe me anything.”

Clint didn’t love me in the way I loved him, and therefore, he’d never truly see me because there’d always be a part of me hidden from him. The part that wanted us writhing in the pit of our ugly because I wanted him too much to ever settle for something as superficial as pleasant with him. Fuck pleasant. I wanted the kind of passion that left us standing in a pile of rubble.

“All we have is right now, and all we’ll have in a second is right then.

“What-if can’t coexist with right now, Clint. There’s no time for what-if.”

“You being territorial over me feeds my need to be loved or some shit.”

“I want to be seen for who I really am and loved for it, anyway.”

I didn’t see this freight train called attraction coming until it had me roped to its tracks while barreling down at full speed. I had to shake it. I was a mad man to think he and I could ever be friends.

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

Staring back at me was the worn-down answer to the question plaguing me since learning the origin of Raven’s tattoo. I was the one who didn’t love him back.

“I fucking love you, Clint. And if you’re brave enough to let me show you, I promise I’ll never stop.” I expelled a shuddering breath, kissing my forehead to his. “How can you be so sure you’re in love with me?” “Because it’s been six years. That’s seventy-two months, one-hundred and ninety-two hours, forty-three minutes, and twenty-eight seconds, and I still haven’t been able to talk myself out of it. I give up. Tell me you’ll throw in the towel, too.”

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

“You and the Lord. You’re going to have a lot to answer for when you get through the pearly gates.” I dried off before slinging a leg into my jeans. “I’m sure the gates I’ll be going through will be anything but pearly,” he quipped.

“Who does he want?” he asked, perplexed. “Law.” “His father?” “It’s complicated,” I yelled back, making my way to the passenger door.

“When did your feelings change?” “When the best part of my day became returning home. When I realized home was wherever you were.”

“When the curve of your neck stopped being just the curve of your neck. When it became a place I wanted to bury my troubles away in. A place I hungered to breathe from. When the sun in my eyes stopped being a simple annoyance, but a plot of the universe to keep me from gazing at you. When seeing you do what you love stopped only being an inspiration of pride, but also an inspiration for my attraction.” He flipped me onto my back, growling as he rubbed his erection along mine. “And when seeing you here, on our sofa, in this very spot with Lincoln, made me want to gut him and rut into you.”

“That second and every second after,” he whispered. “Will the seconds ever end?” “When I take my last breath, and not even then.”

“Has your underwear shrunk a size?” “No, that’s my dick shouting for room to breathe.” Clint had a mouth on him when turned on.

love you,” I panted, breaking the kiss, and Clint froze into a block of ice beneath me. He loved me, we both understood this, but where my love for him had time to bloom into something new over the years, his love was still working out its kinks. “I love you so much, Raven,” he said, his voice raspy and pain stricken.

“I don’t need protection from you, Clint. I want everything you got.” My breathy response was more metaphorical than literal. I trusted Clint. He’d drilled the importance of suiting up into our heads, and after conceiving Joey, he never went without. “I want so much of your cum in me.” I writhed below him, slicking up my own shaft as he pushed back on his calves and shined up his. He watched me without an ounce of kindness, muscles flexing, dick and big balls hanging obscenely from the torn boxer brief pouch. “I want to leak you for days.”

“Fill me up, Clint. Make me choke on it.”

“I’m gonna shatter every trace of who’s been here before me,” he promised, making me virginal and robbing me of my purity at the same fucking time. I whimpered, and he sneered sardonically. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” He violated my mouth with his before I could say fuck yes.

“Get used to those hickeys, sweetheart. From now on, they’ll be a permanent fixture. And don’t you dare try to hide them.”

“Jesus.” His head tapped against the bouncing mattress. “Your ass…oh god,” he hissed with a spasming eye roll. “Your ass feels warm and suffocating, baby. Like a hot summer night.”

“You first. I want to see how smug you are when your prostate is being dinged post orgasm.”

“Just kiss me, Clint. I’ll never tire of it. It’ll never go out of style.” His grin was slow and alluring. “You turn mushy after sex.”

“I need to get to sleep right now, because I can’t wait to wake up to you.”

“I’ll never forget how it feels to be inside you, Raven. Your body, your mind, your heart… Never.”

“I’ve got a lot for you this time,” I said, gauging the fullness of my sack as it swung. “I’ll be slurping it out of you all night, Raven.” 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. If I could’ve fit my lips, my teeth, my tongue, and my heart inside him all at once, I would’ve done that, too.

“I hate that others have been here,” I said. “That out there, right now, someone’s remembering you were the best fuck of their life.”

“Whose ass is this?” “You—yours, Clint.” “Who else has fucked you this good, sweetheart?” “No one.” “I can’t hear you.” I drilled into him with an unbroken rhythm. I couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t take enough from him. “No one!”

“Get your handcuffs,” he whispered, out of breath. “Sit your ass on my mouth first,” I said, nibbling at his armpit and sending a thumb through the cream-bubble at his hole. “Ah, fuck,” he said, grinding onto the digit. “Please.” “Me first, baby. Me first,” I said, blackmailing him into straddling my face. Raven’s cock toughened in response to it.

“The size of your dick has been scaring the shit out of me for years, Clint. I wanted to be good for you, the best you’d ever had. I wanted to take all of you. Your balls are pretty big, too,” I added, and he soothed a hand up and down my spandex-encased cock as he listened. “My ass disappears in your hands, your fingers take my throat with room to spare, and my mouth can barely accommodate your tongue.” I shook my head in wonder. “I don’t know where they found the parts to build you, but I didn’t have anything to fear because they fit perfectly inside me. I was made for you. To take you. To handle you taking me. You’re larger than life, Clint. In every fucking way.”

“Mmmm, you still have some of me in you from this morning, sweetheart.” “I like to feel it trickle down throughout the day.” “That could be messy,” he cautioned, swallowing audibly. “I didn’t have anywhere to be,” I explained throatily. “Are you gonna smell me?” “You know I am.” He smacked my ass lightly, my reprimand for asking a silly question.

“I need to touch, taste, smell, and eat you. I need you in my body, and everything about you is a turn on. Does that make sense?” “Perfectly.”

“If you want my forgiveness, Clint, you’ll need to beg for it.” “Please forgive—” “On your knees. Between my thighs.” I sent him there with a palm to his head. His hand and mouth circled my dick like a leash, tugging on my orgasm like one, too. I came within minutes. “Eat it,” I whispered, holding his face to my short nest of pubes, circling my hips and spurting my cum into his gut. “Turn around and spread yourself for me,” Clint demanded, masturbating on his knees and licking my cum from the corners of his lips. His flaring nostrils told me exactly what he wanted to put there.

“How could you think I’d want anything but this?” “I said no. Are you going to fuck me anyway, Clint?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because it’s been too long since I took something without a care for what anyone else wanted. Because I can’t un-remember how much I love it now. And because I want to.”

“Because I need you to. I need you to take what you want without giving a fuck.” “I know,” he said, snaking into me slowly, like the exhale of a dying breath. “I see you, Raven.”

I slipped a hand between us to spread one ass cheek, and he got the message, sandwiching his soft cock down my center.

“I’m sore.” “You can take me,” he assured, knowing my body better than I did. “I can’t,” I said weakly, more of the same. He ignored me, easing into my loose, wet ring and hardly moving but still able to ejaculate in me again, using my insides as a cum depository. I took care of myself from the front, going rigid through my climax. “Yes,” he breathed hesitantly, agreeing to everything I’d said he would do. The shame in his voice made what we were doing feel dirty. I liked it dirty.

“I need to touch your bones,” he said, palming my sternum, getting comfy. “I can’t get deep enough inside you, or close enough to you. I want nothing in our way. Not even skin.” He yawned, his voice sleep heavy. “I sound crazy.” “No, you don’t,” I said, shimmying around to graze the tip of his nose with mine, my next words a gust of wind blowing over his lips. “You sound like a man in love.” You sound like me.

“Sex in my truck is new. I never let you two so much as eat in here.” “And now look who’s doing all the eating in here.” I spread my legs to show him my spanking clean hole. “Always so hungry,” I said wickedly, and Clint’s mouth kicked up at that. “And I always clean my plate.”

No one knew me better than me, and I wore my trauma like a badge of honor because if life didn’t hurt sometimes, we wouldn’t have a frame of reference when things were going good. I didn’t want to be fixed, I wanted to be loved for my brokenness.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t fallen for me. I was at my breaking point with loving you.” “You’re looking at me like you’re the lucky one.”

I popped my lips off the hickey I promised him months ago I’d never let fade. Raven was a creature of touch. The more possessive the better.