19. Chapter 19
Asher
The coating of chocolate and sugary sweetness in my mouth poses a harsh contrast against the dark, grimy atmosphere of the basement.
Without me having to ask him to, Noah blocks out the intrusive sunlight from the window with a piece of cardboard while I sit on the bed, waiting for him.
I pull impatiently at my fingers, still feeling rattled from holding my phone in my hand, if only for a split second. I don’t want to be confronted by it—my world outside. I just want to live in this little bubble with Noah and convince myself everything’s fine. Why doesn’t he get it?
Window successfully blocked, he settles down beside me on the bed. I want to touch him, but I can’t help but glare at him instead.
“What if I called my dealer?”
“What?”
“You handed me my phone. What if I called my dealer? What if I got him to deliver drugs right to your doorstep? What if I did them in front of you?”
Noah frowns. “You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Well?…?What do you want me to do?”
“Don’t let me have my phone. Hide it somewhere; I don’t even want to look at it.”
Part of me wants to take the words back. Part of me wants to run upstairs, grab my phone, and call Joshua right away. I scrape at the edge of my fingernail in agitation. Why is this so fucking hard? I have Noah now. I don’t need the drugs. I don’t.
“That’s fine, I can do that.” Noah lifts a hand to stroke my hair. I don’t particularly want him to touch me right now, but I let him have at it. Maybe it will make me feel better. “Do you think about it a lot?”
“What?”
“The drugs.”
“I don’t know.” Yeah, I do . “Sometimes.” A lot .
“Whenever you think about it, whenever you crave them, you can use my body as a distraction.”
“How generous.” I reach over to push a strand of hair out of his face, jumping at the chance to replace my cravings for drugs with cravings for him, if only for a little while. “As if you don’t want it too. As if you’re not as desperate for it as I am.”
His cheeks flush, and he looks away. “Well, that’s—”
“Shh, don’t worry. I’ll give you what you want.”
His eyes flit to me, both scared and wanting, and fuck, if my dick doesn’t stir just from that look on his face.
“Lie down,” I order.
Noah lies on his back, so willing to give himself up to me, never questioning what I want. I crawl across the bed and straddle his hips, settling myself heavily on top of him, crotch to crotch. He gazes up at me, face relaxed but eyes shiny with anticipation.
I close my hands around his wrists and pin them over his head in a silent order to keep them there. Then I close my right hand carefully around his throat. His eyes flit closed, and I feel the first stirring of hardness between his legs.
My hand looks tan against the extreme paleness of his skin, but the lack of sun hasn’t done me much good.
In summer, my skin shines golden, and freckles dot my nose.
The same goes for Ethan. We don’t tend to burn in the sun, except for that one time we went on holiday to Maui when I was twelve, and we spent the day snorkeling.
The next morning, the skin on our shoulders bloomed with red and flaked and itched, and we laughed and took turns spreading aloe vera on our burning skin.
I blink away the memories. There’s no need to think about how much I miss my brother. There’s no need to think about anything not related to this moment. To Noah. To us.
I sink my fingers deeper around his throat. I squeeze, testing the give of his tendons, the heat of his skin, contemplating his staggered breaths. How much would he struggle if I bore down for real? Probably not much. He’d probably let me kill him.
The realization has my heart pumping hard, sending hot blood to my groin.
“I’m going to fuck you again,” I tell him.
His eyes are mere slits as they fix on mine, head tipped back in surrender, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Okay.”
“This time, I want you on your back, like I was.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll keep my hand on you like this while I do it.” I squeeze lightly around his throat. “Is that all right?”
He squirms underneath me, the hot length of his erection lined up against mine. “Yeah. Please.”
“Please?” Smirking, I press down harder, and his eyes flutter shut.
“Ash?…”
“Get these off.” I rip my hand away and start ripping at his boxer briefs instead. “Quickly.”
I need to own him. Need to be inside him so bad, need him to surrender his very life to me. Even if I won’t follow through, I want him to give me the ultimate submission.
Fuck, the thought of him letting me kill him is so hot I feel dizzy.
Dizzy?…?and disturbed. I barely recognize myself—what I have become, the desperate creature he’s made me into, but damn it if I don’t want to ride this wave for as long as I can.
For as long as we’re alive. For as long as it hasn’t yet brought us under and drowned us both.
With our underwear gone, I straddle Noah once more, and I grab both our cocks in one hand and stroke them dry. Noah shudders underneath me.
“You liked what I did yesterday?” I mumble. “Coming on your cock and jerking you off with my cum?”
“Yeah. Loved it.”
“What if I used your blood instead, hm?” The words come out of me before I’ve even registered the thought, but I pretend they don’t shock me as I spit on our cocks and keep stroking us.
“My b-blood?” Noah asks, rib cage expanding and deflating with his quick, shallow breaths. “Okay.”
I chuckle, low and dark. “I just wanted to know if you’d say yes. And you did.” So he’d really let me do anything to him, beyond what is reasonable. The thought makes something clench in the pit of my gut, and my cock swells to a painful degree.
“But you want it?” Noah asks.
“Maybe later.” I stroke my thumb over the edge of his jaw, lost in thought for a while. “You know what? You should have a word to say if I do something you don’t want. Something other than no. You should have a gesture too, for when you can’t speak. Like right now.”
Just because I want to see his reaction, I demonstrate needlessly, pinning his throat to the mattress with my hand. He arches his back, and his cock twitches, pulsing out a bead of precum that mingles with my spit and eases the glide of my fist. Smirking, I let off the pressure to let him reply.
“A gesture?” he asks, breathless. “Like what?”
“Anything. Tap my thigh two times or something. Here, try it.” I take his hand, and he obeys, gulping as his fingers meet my skin. “Good,” I mumble. “We need a word as well. That way, you can tell me no, and I can still continue.”
“But what if I don’t want to say no?”
“Well, maybe I want you to say no.”
The outside me would never say this, but down here, in the basement, everything feels dreamlike, and my true self eludes me.
I can’t tell if I really want these depraved things that are spilling out of my mouth, or if it’s something I say just to make Noah react, just to see that flicker of fear in his eyes.
But even if he fears it, his cock remains hard in my hand, and mine does too.
“You pick,” he says, licking his lips.
I don’t have to think for long. “Oatmeal. I hate oatmeal.”
Noah smiles. “Okay, Goldilocks.”
I smile with him, but my smile is sadistic and wicked, knowing what he’s trying to do but not allowing him to gain the upper hand. Not this time.
“Repeat the word to me.”
“Oatmeal.”
“Good. Maybe we won’t ever need it though. Maybe you won’t ever get enough.”
Noah licks his lips. “I don’t think I will. It feels too good when you?…?when you control me. It makes me feel like you want me.”
“Well, that’s because I do want you,” I say, just to see his cheeks flush that pretty pink color. “Don’t you like controlling me too?”
“I do, but this is better.”
“I’m glad we agree.” Letting go of our cocks, I reach over to the bottle of lube, and I pour a generous amount into my palm. “This time, I think I’ll fuck you without stretching you out with my fingers first. How do you feel about that?”
Noah parts his legs. “Okay.”
I keep a steady grip on his throat as I coat myself with lube and smear a bit around his rim. “Good. Say ‘please.’”
“Please.”
“Say ‘please fuck me.’”
“Please fuck me, Ash,” he whimpers, lifting his legs into the air.
I fit my cockhead to his barely prepped hole and push my hips forward. There’s a lot of resistance. Feels like it won’t work.
“Relax.” I bear down on his throat, and that pressure is like magic: I feel his hole opening up to me, yielding to the intrusion, welcoming me in one smooth slide.
Noah lets out a shaky moan, and I see the pain in his half-lidded eyes, as well as the pleasure.
“Relax,” I say again. “It’ll feel better soon.” I lift his right leg and kneel on the bed to find a better position to fuck into him. “You ready for me to start moving?”
Noah nods, or he would, if his neck weren’t trapped under my palm. “Please.”
I pull out almost entirely, and he lets out a gasped whimper, body trembling. The tendons of his throat tense like bowstrings under my palm, and the muscles of his leg spasm as I fuck back into him.
“A week ago, you were a virgin,” I grunt, voice strained. “Imagine that.”
“What am I now?”
“You’re made for this. Made to take my cock. Made to please me.”
Noah nods, tears springing to his eyes. “Nothing else.”
“This is all you need to care about. Just be a pretty little cock sleeve for me.”
Noah moans, and a strange expression flits across his face. Relief? Maybe. Maybe it’s freeing for him to hear this, even though it’s degrading.
I glance down, watching my cock slide in and out of him. His rim is stretched around my shaft, reddened, glistening with lube. “You know what?” I mumble. “I think you can fit a bit more inside.”
Noah makes a small, questioning noise, like a whimper, as if he’s forgotten how to speak.
I let go of his throat to bring my hand between his legs. “I think you can take a finger as well as my cock. Don’t you?” I ask, tracing his poor rim with the tip of my index finger.
“More?” His eyes widen, as if he can’t believe my words.
“I think you’re hungry for it. What do you think?”
“Oh?…?Okay.”
“Say ‘please.’”
“Please.”
I wedge my finger alongside my cock, applying the required force to get his sphincter to yield?…?and?…?there. It slides inside his slick heat. It’s strange feeling it next to my cock.
“Does that hurt, baby?”
“No,” he groans. “It feels good.”
I slip the finger deeper inside and start fucking him with it alongside my cock.
“Of course it feels good. You’d let me stuff whatever I want into you, wouldn’t you?
I could put my whole fist in here.” I punctuate the sentence by pressing a second finger next to the first but without forcing it inside, just letting it push against his rim, like a threat.
Noah whimpers, eyes glazed with tears.
“Don’t worry,” I say smugly. “We’ll work up to it.”
Is this okay? Is this a sane thing to do?
Maybe not, but neither of us is right in the head, and Noah’s deranged kinks merge with mine so deliciously.
He makes me darker than I am, whips up desires in me I didn’t even know I had.
If I did have them, they lay dormant before I met him, and now they’ve awakened in full.
I shift between his legs and lie on my side, spooning him, and I start fucking him in that position instead. It gives me ample access to his throat, so I take it, forcing his head back, at the same time shoving my finger inside him as deep as it will go.
“Fuck, Ash?…,” he whimpers.
“Shh, you can take it. I know you can.”
Part of me wishes I were bigger than him—stronger, able to overpower him physically—but this is somehow even hotter.
He could stop me whenever he wants, yet he doesn’t.
He lets me do this because he wants me to, not because he can’t stop me.
He’s helpless to his desire and mine, and I feel the same.
We’re in utter understanding, in sync with our depravities, letting our every desire run wild, because who’s going to judge us down here? It’s just us—me and him.
The people outside this room don’t matter, and besides, they don’t give a shit about us anyway, so why should we care about them?
All we have is each other, and that’s fine by me.
As long as I get to have him in every way I want him, in every way he wants me, I’ll be fine.
I don’t ever need to set foot outside this house again.
I’m fine.
I’m fucking fine .
I have to be.
Gritting my teeth, I slide my finger out of Noah’s ass and wrap my hand around his cock instead.
I know he’s close. Sure enough—after a few pumps, his thick shaft pulses in my hand, his body convulsing as he fucks himself back on my cock, breathless and moaning.
I snap my hips into him one last time, losing my foothold on reality, slipping further into some faraway place I didn’t know existed.
White lights dance before my eyes, my muscles pulsing with the intense pleasure of my orgasm.
I lie on my back, an arm over my forehead, while I gasp for breath.
Noah turns to me. “That was so good, Ash. Thank you.”
He presses a kiss to my cheek, but I can’t even reply, still breathless, still engrossed in whatever just passed between us.
“Did I do well?” he asks, the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice. He drapes himself over my chest, and I kiss the top of his head, breathing in his scent.
“You did amazing, Noah. So good.” I tilt his head up to plant a kiss on his mouth.
He tries to slide his tongue inside, but I can’t return his insatiable appetite right now, so I lean my head back with a sigh.
“Asher,” he says, face on my chest, gazing up at me.
“Yeah?”
“Did you really mean that? What you said about?…?about using my blood?”
“I don’t know. Would you want me to?”
“I think so. I can’t stop thinking about it. Is that bad?”
“Fuck?…?I don’t know. Come here.” I clutch him closer, feeling like I need to console him, but at the same time, I suspect I’m more afraid of my desires than he is. The force of them, the depravity of them, and my own unwillingness to resist.
In many ways, it feels like when I first started taking drugs: that lurch of exhilarating want at the pit of your stomach, and the lack of care for what consequences those wants may bring.
“Asher,” Noah whispers into my ear.
“Yeah?”
“I need something.”
“What do you need, baby?”
“I need your hands on me.”
I’m already holding him, but I know what he means. I turn around, he turns with me, and we fall into our familiar position with our bodies lined up and my hand snugly around his throat.
“Like that?”
He sighs in relief. “Yeah, like that.”
“Do you want to sleep?” It’s the middle of the day, but considering all the other shit we get up to, napping is hardly the worst of our sins.
“I don’t know. Do you?”
I hum and lead my hand down the side of his body, past his hip, down to his buttock, and dip my fingers into the slick heat of his crease. “Not yet.”