Landon
I HAVE NO REAL preference on whether I’m dominated or dominating—both are fun, and the real joy comes from the struggle of it.
There is nothing more appealing than a man on my level, pushing and shoving as he tries to overcome me. The feeling of hot, calloused hands roughly running over my skin, of a strong man whimpering as you finally push inside, or trying not to come when they finally push into you.
Or, at least that’s what I thought. That is what I was convinced I liked more than anything up until about three months ago, when Nate locked up my cock and fucked a painful, overstimulating orgasm from my balls.
As it turns out, I like being forced into submission. Sure, the triumph of winning such a fight is liberating, but having no choice but to surrender? Letting it all go after instigating over and over again? So. Fucking. Hot.
And if I’m being honest, so is the unfortunate reality that it’s hotter coming from him. Nate. The man who hates me, and whom I, in turn, loathe to my core.
You’d think that the struggling aspect would be the most appealing when beneath his hands, but there is something wild in those honey-brown, cat-like eyes of his when he finally has me where he wants me.
When Nate finally gets me to listen, he glows. It’s like some dangerous, primal part of him becomes so pleased that I can feel it. He becomes a bit frantic, a whole lot horny, and honestly—kind of nice.
Soft, gentle touches and calming words will leave him as I lie there, panting and sated. He’ll say things like, “That’s my good boy,” or “Have you finally learned your lesson, sweet Lanny?” and I’ll melt, nodding my head like a bitch in heat even though I just fucking came.
And the next time I see him again? We start all over; I antagonize and push his limits, he shit-talks me and sort of hurts my feelings, and then he fucks me until I listen to him again.
Then all the of the evil, vile things he whispered into my ear prior to my getting naked feel like foreplay rather than cruelty, and I find myself wanting to thank him for wringing me so dry.
I mean, I don’t, but I want to.
Sometimes, late at night when I’m all alone, I begin to wonder exactly who it is I’m hurting here with my seduction plan. Because at this point, with him visiting twice a month on the weekends and texting me to head over to his little hotel, I’m finding it hard to imagine this ending.
I still don’t even know why he does text me—why he calls me to him.
The first time he locked up my cock and took my ability to speak, I passed out before he could say anything important.
It felt almost as if the whole purpose of that exercise, of his visit, was to enforce his rule of monogamy, even though we aren’t dating.
And since then, in the six other trips he’s made to California, all we’ve done is fuck, fight, and sleep. He doesn’t ask me about coercion outside of inquiring if I’m still lying low, whatever that means, and never questions me on anything personal.
I guess that means he’s really only interested in my body, but I can’t really bring myself to care. Not when he handles it so well, and once he’s gone, I find myself annoyed by his existence again.
I mean, the justice complex? His high sense of morality, which he appears to think makes him better than everyone else? The fact that he’s convinced that what he says is always correct, and basically law?
I could never be with this guy outside of sex, even if sometimes, when he’s holding me after I come so hard I nearly black out, I let myself imagine it. Just briefly—before he goes back to annoying me.
So yes, my plan to destroy him with the only thing he cares about—my body—is absolutely still in place. It’s just… harder.
Especially today, as he’s supposed to be here right now and isn’t. He has come every other weekend without fail since the end of January, and what, now I’m supposed to say nothing as he ditches me?
No way. I may enjoy being shoved into submission more than I originally thought, but I don’t enjoy being toyed with.
If Nate won’t come to me, I’m going to him!
I send a message to my dad, informing him that I’ll be leaving the state again for the night. He’ll believe that I’m flying to see Julian, considering how much time we’ve spent together in the past, but convincing Susie that nothing is amiss? That is much harder.
“You’re leaving again?” she asks, lifting her head to meet my gaze as she makes her morning oatmeal.
“Yeah. I leave in a few hours; I got a last-minute flight.” It’s pretty easy to do when the cost of a plane ticket is pocket change.
Susie sighs, placing her spoon back in the bowl as she turns to face me fully. “Tell me what’s going on, Lan. You’ve been nearly bipolar the past few weeks, and now you’re disappearing again.”
“Again? I haven’t left in a few weeks,” I grumble, plopping down at the dining room table. I can tell this will be a tedious conversation.
“I know you. Something’s wrong.”
But she doesn’t, not really. She doesn’t know about the black swirling in my chest, something that only recedes when I’m with Nate.
Something I thought being a designated bottom would fix, but it turns out I was wrong. It’s he who makes the demons run, keeping them at bay.
But… why?
“All you do is go to the gym, lie around the house, and disappear on the weekends,” she adds. “It’s like you don’t have an interest in the world.”
I feel like I’m drowning in this moment because not only is she right on this account, but it scares me. I don’t have an interest in the world. Not in a career, not in a relationship, and not in a future.
Everything could keep on passing right by me, and I wouldn’t even bother to lift my gaze to see it.
But how do I explain this to Susie, who has never seen the darker parts of me? How do I explain it to anyone?
“I just like being alone,” I tell her. And it’s true.
Well, outside of one person. One person who should be here right now.
Does this mean… No. I still hate him, right?
“But it’s not good for you,” Susie complains. “You need your friends. You need interaction. What are you flying out for, anyway?”
“I’m going on a solo vacation,” I lie.
I don’t add that I can’t lean on my friends right now because I’m hiding from them. From her.
When you spend so much time wallowing in a sadness you can’t explain, it becomes hard to be around people who will ask about it. It’s hard to want to be around them.
The only person I can stomach is Nate, because there is no sadness with him. Just pleasure, anger, and mind-numbing bliss.
“There truly is nothing wrong,” I try to assure her. “I just need some space.”
Susie is eyeing me hard, obviously not believing a single lie coming out of my mouth. But she does love me, this much I can tell, because she just sighs again and goes back to finishing her oatmeal.
“Alright,” she concedes. “I’ll let you handle this alone. Just know I’m here, alright? And so is Julie. You should call him.”
I expect that common feeling of misery, the one that feeds off of my own darkness to overcome me at the mention of Julian’s name, but it doesn’t.
Ever since Nate told me that he and Atlas were officially seeing each other, I’ve sort of… resigned myself. I’ve given up.
“Thank—” My words die off as my phone begins to ring, flashing my father’s name. “I have to take this. I’ll see you when I get home tomorrow, alright?”
Susie grumbles, giving me some kind of acknowledgement as I flee the kitchen and lock myself in my bedroom. I can’t get my lies mixed up.
“Hey, Dad.” As I finally answer his call, I’m breathless, sitting on the edge of my bed as I speak in a low voice.
“Landon,” he greets. “You off to see Julian again?”
“Yeah, just for the night.”
I expect him to say something along the lines of “Why are you wasting more time?” or something equally as annoying, but he doesn’t. Dad goes straight for the kill.
“I need a date, son. You have to grow up and tell us when you’re joining Ocean View.”
“W-what?” I sputter out, my blood pressure rising as I stare at the carpeted floor.
“There are plenty of people I could hire to take this position, and you’re prancing around telling us soon every few weeks. Enough of this. Give me a date for hire, and I’ll prepare everything. You just need to show up.” He sounds serious, annoyed even.
“But Dad, I’m not ready to commit—”
“You’re using my credit card to fly out and see your friend. We pay your bills. Give us a date or find your own income.”
Oh god, he’s serious. He wants me to lock in when I’ll be joining the family business, or he’s fucking cutting me off!
I know I’m a spoiled brat. I know this. But it still hurts all the same, knowing I have to sign my life away or return to Burger King.
Sure, I have a degree, but I don’t want to work for some big corporation that’s going to suck my soul from my body and make this darkness so much harder to bear.
But I also need the means to get to Oregon, and someone to pay my rent.
“Those are the only options?” I murmur into the phone.
“Yes. Your uncle told me that he talked to you a few weeks ago, and that you sounded off. It’s time you grew up and bettered yourself, Landon. No more wallowing. No more fucking around.” His voice is so calm, yet so commanding, that I can’t even argue.
I run dates through my head, then say the latest I believe I can get away with. “The end of May. I’ll start at Ocean View at the end of May.”
Dad sighs, and I can practically see him rubbing his temples in annoyance from the other side of the phone. “Alright, bud. The end of May. Have fun on your trip, alright?”
Yeah. Fun.
Can I have any fun now that I know I’ve sold my soul?
The airport is crowded. It’s afternoon on a Saturday, so of course it is, but it annoys me all the same.
Everything is annoying me because my entire future just became a lot more real, and I’m not one to be excited for the next big adventure. Not lately, anyway.