Twenty-two
For almost a year, I used to dread coming to school. My blood would run cold and fear would skate down my spine every time I’d hear Asher’s rumbly voice or the echo of his footsteps coming my way.
Now, I have to physically restrain myself from smiling. Or popping a boner.
There’s still a thrill there, a rush of adrenaline, but it’s a different kind now. I fucking love it.
I feel his presence before he’s even turned the corner. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, my stomach flutters with… Holy shit, are they butterflies? Jesus Christ. I keep my head stuck inside my locker, not wanting anyone to see the dopey grin plastered on my face. I can’t be looking at my bully like a lovesick fool, even though I kind of am one. I get a waft of his cologne, feel the heat of him at my back, and then I’m shoved hard into the lockers, my body practically crushed from the force of the hit.
There’s a collective gasp, then silence. Asher crowds me, leaning in to say, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “Watch it, Farrow.”
And I… shudder. Man, I’m so gone for this guy. It’s ridiculous.
He steps back, but not before discreetly taking my hand and placing something in my palm, giving my fingers a squeeze as he does. When he walks away, as usual, the world starts spinning again. The noise-level increases, everyone forgetting about what just happened.
I peel myself off of the locker bank, shaking out my aching muscles. Double-checking that nobody’s looking, I unfold the note that he slid into my palm.
Supply closet. Now.
Taking a calculated guess, I head to the closest one. The door’s unlocked, but the light isn’t on. I take a slow step inside, glancing around the small space with narrowed eyes, searching for a familiar looking shadow.
Asher launches at me from the darkness, using one hand to close the door behind me and the other to wrap around the back of my neck, dragging me to him. Our lips clash in a kiss so hard and desperate, that we stumble back and crash into a shelf. Something falls to the floor, then something else. And then something else. We pull away from each other, both of us chuckling under our breath.
He reaches up, pulling the cord for the light and we both hiss as the space is suddenly illuminated.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, looking me over.
I shake my head. “Not at all. It kind of… turned me on, actually.”
He hums, grinding our hips together. “I can tell.”
This feels like a dream, like something I’ve cooked up in my imagination. It’s been almost a full week of living with Mrs Sanderson, with having no contact with my uncle. And every single day, Asher and I have been together. Yes, to the rest of the world it might seem like we hate each other’s guts, but behind closed doors, it’s a completely different story. It’s been pure fucking bliss.
I know that saying about hope, that it breeds eternal misery. And I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the danger lurking just around the corner. But right now, even if only the tiniest amount, I’m feeling optimistic. Like things are finally starting to look up.
“We need to be careful,” I murmur, running my nose along the side of his neck. “One of these days, we’re gonna get caught.”
“Isn’t that all part of the fun?”
I nip at his jaw, relishing in the groan he lets out. “That’s right, I forgot. You want them to see you, want them to know how fucking filthy you are.” He cries out and I grin like the devil. “Let’s see how loud I have to make you scream for someone to come looking. Turn around, hands on the wall.”
He hurries to comply, already panting as he glances back at me over his shoulder. I take my time, running my hands up his back and around his sides, listening carefully for every gasp and hitch of his breath. When I make it to his front, I skirt my fingers over his taut stomach achingly slowly, feeling his body vibrate with anticipation.
“Look at you, so wound up already,” I taunt, biting down on his earlobe. “You want it pretty bad, huh?”
He whines and the sound goes straight to my dick. “Oakley, please. Touch me.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got you.”
I pop the button on his pants and drag the zipper down. I pull them down over his ass, taking his briefs with them, mouth watering when his cock springs up, already leaking. My fingers trail over his hips, through the blonde strip of hair beneath his belly button, before moving down, closer and closer to his length. He stops breathing, waiting. But, I bypass that area completely, coming back around his hips to his ass. He’s protesting, begging me to come back. I ignore it all, instead falling to my knees and spreading his cheeks. With the first pass of my tongue over his hole, all of his complaints come to a grinding halt.
“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers, his voice breathier than I’ve ever heard it. “Oakley… shit. What are you—”
His words cut off with another moan as I lick him again and again. Before long, he’s pushing his hips back to meet me, silently asking for more. I give it to him. Gripping his ass so hard that my fingernails are leaving marks in his skin, I eat him like he’s my last fucking meal. I’m ravenous, groaning at the taste of him, so hard that it feels like my dick’s about to burst out of my pants. Asher cries out, slapping his palm against the wall, making me growl like a rabid animal as I plunge my tongue inside him. His knees buckle and I wrap an arm around his middle to steady him.
“You taste so fucking good, baby,” I say. “So sweet. So… mine.”
He trembles in my hold, gasping for air, unintelligible words falling from his lips. I can tell he’s close, teetering right on the edge. Sucking a finger into my mouth, I brush the tip around his rim before pushing inside. I thrust in and out of his tight heat, twisting and crooking it until I find that magical spot that’ll make him—
“Holy fucking shit!” he yells, so loud that it echoes off of the walls.
Bingo.
Before I can even process what’s happening, Asher lets out an almost pained cry, his body shuddering violently as he paints the wall in front of him with his release. Without even touching himself. Fuck.
He collapses to the floor and I let him go, spinning him around and yanking down my pants. My fist flies over my cock so fast that my vision swims and with only three strokes, I’m right there. Tipping my head back, I groan out Asher’s name and fire off spurt after spurt all over his face.
Asher slumps back against the wall, his breathing ragged, sweat dripping down his brow. He looks completely wrecked, like if he never had to move again, it would still be too soon. And man, if that doesn’t make my chest puff up with pride. I did that to him. Me.
I tuck myself away and crouch beside him, pushing his damp hair back from his forehead. “Are you okay?”
“Can’t— words— ngh.”
Stifling a laugh, I dig through a couple of the boxes on the shelves until I find a box of tissues to clean him up with. I almost wish I didn’t have to. The sight of my cum all over him - and I mean, all over him - is enough to make me want round two. But, we’ve been in here for too long already and I’m slightly concerned that it’s gonna drip in his eye any second. I set to work, wiping gently but thoroughly. His eyes fall shut, a contented smile pulling at his lips.
“Thank you,” he whispers after a few minutes. “I think I really needed that today.”
I frown. “Something wrong?”
“My dad. He’s just been really on my case lately. Trying to get me to—”
The muffled static of the intercom system cuts him off. “Will Oakley Farrow please report to the Principal’s office.”
I jump to my feet immediately, stomach already churning. There are probably a hundred different things that I could be needed there for, most of them completely harmless. But, of course, my brain jumps straight to the worst end of the spectrum. Most of them starting with April being hurt and ending with someone actually hearing Asher’s screams and reporting me for it. I try to calm myself down, think rationally, but in around zero point five seconds, I’m a complete nervous-wreck.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I should probably—”
Asher nods. “Go. I’ll talk to you after.”
I grab my stuff and open the door, taking one last look at Asher’s face. There isn’t a trace of bliss there anymore, just stress and… despair maybe? I make a mental note to figure out what’s eating at him later, then hoof it out of the closet.