Chapter Twenty-Two
Wes
I test my newly copied key in the lock, surprised it actually works. Everything’s been so surreal lately, I’ve begun to question my perception of reality. So, really, I think the situation could have gone either way.
Speaking of surreal… When I swing open the door, there’s a gun in my face. On the other end of it is Troy.
“Jesus fuck, Kitten.” He lowers it to his side. “What are you doing here?”
I grip the key in my fist. “Why are you pointing a gun at me?”
“Because someone was coming into my fucking apartment.”
“Well. Thanks for not shooting me.” Exhaustion pulls at my body. A few days ago this would have been terrifying. Now it’s more of a “been there, done that” situation. I’m already over it.
I don’t know what that says.
“Don’t worry, it’s not loaded.” He lays it down on a battered and scarred coffee table.
One like my mother had ages ago, with a piece of glass in the center.
In this case, someone has used to the glass the way someone would a whiteboard, including a reminder to pay the rent and what I guess is a very mature and adult shopping list of nuts, nog, and “those fruity things I like.”
“Great. Fantastic. I feel so safe now.” Without any invitation, I enter and sink onto the lumpy sofa. One solid night’s sleep apparently doesn’t wipe away a deficit like the one I’m carrying.
Troy narrows his eyes at me. “What are you doing here, Wes? Where did you get a key?”
Realizing I’ve closed my eyes, I manage to pry them open. “Are there a ton of people running around Belle Argo with keys to this place? Where do you think I got it? I stopped by the hospital to see how Adam was doing. He asked me to get him some clothes.”
For some reason, Troy laughs. “Did he? That little fucker.”
“I don’t understand.”
Instead of explaining a damn thing, Troy assumes a defensive stance and rolls his neck until it cracks. “Why bother stopping to see Adam? You made it pretty fucking clear you didn’t want a relationship with us.”
“I didn’t…” Fuck, I’m not alert enough for this.
I run my hands through my hair and lean forward, propping my elbows on my thighs.
“That’s not what I said. I said I didn’t know what the hell we were doing, and moving in together seemed premature.
But…” Oh, this is painful to say. “Adam pointed out that I’m pretty short of options at the moment.
Until I find something else it’s sleeping in my car?—”
“Which I already told you, you are not fucking doing.” He firms his jaw.
“—which I can admit probably isn’t safe. Or that shitty roadside motel in Beacon Hill?—”
“Which is full of dealers and whores. Not the classy kind like me and Adam, either.”
“—or there’s begging my brother to let me use his guest room?—”
“You’ll have to put up with him and PJ fucking all the time.”
“—which would put a strain on our already strained relationship. So, if you don’t mind me crashing on the sofa temporarily?—”
“Fuck that. Adam’s got a king bed. Plenty of room.”
I drop my head back, expecting to meet the cushion of the sofa. Once again I’m too tall, and I thwack my head into the wall instead.
“Ow. Listen. If your plan is to interrupt everything I say and steamroll over every one of my ideas, then maybe I need to reconsider.”
“Shoot me some good ideas and I won’t.” He rounds the coffee table and straddles my legs, sinking into my lap.
“Troy,” I groan tiredly. I’m pretty sure my intention is to tell him we can’t do this, whatever it is, right now. I need rest. I need space to think. I need?—
This. Exactly this. Letting him sink against me, I give up and release a tired groan.
His nose runs along my jaw. “I don’t know what it is, but you smell so fucking good, Kitten.”
“Probably my deodorant.” I stocked up during a buy-one-get-one-free sale. “I’m out of aftershave and I don’t wear cologne.”
“Spicy.” He kisses my jaw. “Manly.” Then my throat. “Sexy as fuck.”
Okay, I don’t know who can stay stoic in the face of being kissed this way and, oh hell, being licked and called sexy, but I’m not that person.
“Troy,” I breathe. “We probably shouldn’t…”
We shouldn’t confuse things. If I’m going to stay here, it should be a roommate thing, shouldn’t it? Clear boundaries so nobody’s confused. Except I’m already well past confused, lost in a haze of arousal and starved for affection.
I’m drowning in him, in both of them. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t really want to be rescued.
When Troy yanks my shirt free of my slacks, I wind up helping him. Somehow, I’m the one who takes care of the button and zipper on my pants. When he stands up, I’m the one who pushes them down to my ankles.
“Turn over.” He slaps my hip. “Face in the cushions, ass up in the air.”
You’d think my first concern would be, do I really want to do this? Does he want to fuck me? Am I ready again so soon? I’m still sore.
Any one of those things.
Instead I blurt, “When were these cushions last cleaned?”
As protests go, it’s got all the strength of a wet paper bag. That I ask even as I’m getting into position destroys all my credibility.
“Just do it.” Troy slaps my hip again. And I can’t seem to say no to him.
Sure fingers pry my cheeks apart. His hair brushes my lower back.
“What are you?—”
Then something wet touches my hole. “Ohmyfuckinggod.”
Behind me, Troy makes a noise that’s half moan and half laughter. “First time getting rimmed, Kitten?”
“Everything’s a first with you two.” The confession slips out before I can call it back. But it’s true. When did I last enjoy sex? Long ago, I decided I could pleasure myself more easily with fewer complications.
Or so I thought.
“Speaking of firsts,” he murmurs. “When Adam gets out, we’re going to have a do-over. The two of us fucking you, without all the bullshit from before. Just the three of us.”
“Is it—” My breath puffs out, short and labored. “It’s fucked up, but it was so hot. Being watched. Th-the danger. I’ve never come harder in my life. Do you think that was the drugs?”
“Hmm.” Troy plays with my balls, pulling and rolling gently at first, and then squeezing a little.
“Ow!” In spite of my protest, blood surges to my cock. “Fuck, why do I like that?”
The pain grounds me somehow, both bumping my pulse and relaxing my muscles. It’s excitement and anticipation, like the part of a roller coaster ride when you’re cresting the first hill. I know I like it, even if I don’t understand why.
When he returns to working his tongue in maddening patterns around, but rarely quite touching, my asshole, I’m too busy whining and begging to ask more questions.
A trilling noise comes from my pocket.
“Oh, let’s see what we have here.” There’s a rustling sound as Troy pulls my phone out. It lands with a soft thud on the cushion next to me.
“Answer it,” he demands as he prods my still sore ring with a wet finger.
The caller ID says it’s my brother. “Are you fucking serious?”
The pointed tip of Troy’s tongue spears into me. As soon as I’m sinking into it, he pulls away with a slap to my ass.
“Troy, come on.”
“Answer it or I’ll stop. Put it on speaker.”
“He’ll hear.” For God’s sake, did more blood just surge to my cock?
Look at you, Wes. Get kidnapped once and you’ve turned into a fucking pervert.
“Three rings, Wes. Better hurry.”
Goddammit, my common sense must have given up the ghost back at that industrial building in Beacon Hill. I hit the speaker button with a clumsy finger. “Yeah?”
The second I answer the call, Troy’s tongue returns to its previous ministrations. I have to bite my lips together to keep the desperate noises stuck in my throat from coming out. Burying my face against my braced arm only does so much to muffle my heavy breathing.
“Wes. Hey. There you are. You haven’t been answering your phone. Mom called, worried because you haven’t answered her calls either.”
A finger slides inside of me. I have got to stop this before?—
Troy pulls out again. Thank God.
“I didn’t hear it ring,” I manage. “Is this an emergency?”
It comes out sounding short and rude, but it’s all I’ve got right now.
“Uh, well, I mean, you tell me. Gina called. She seemed to think you’d had a male escort in your room at the Premiere. Which doesn’t sound at all like something you’d do, except…”
Troy slides what feels like two fingers into me at a maddeningly slow pace. When he brushes my prostate, I’m shoving my face into the cushion.
“…and then PJ said you were at the hospital when he went to visit Adam, so I felt like I should ask?—”
“Fallon.” I sound like I’m choking on something. That something is my own tongue.
“Look, I’m not trying to pry. I’ve asked you to stay out of my personal life and I owe you the same in return, but you went through something really traumatic recently, so it felt important to ask?—”
Another finger glances over my prostate.
“God. Damn. Fucking. Fuck.” There’s no covering the way my breath stutters or the way my voice cracks.
A few weeks ago nothing was more important than my brother wanting to talk to me. Now? I can feel myself slipping, my body choosing Troy with every stroke.
“Wes? Are you okay?”
My molars grind together. “Look, I’m fine, okay? I just need…” Oh, God, he’s stretching me. “I have to go.”
I hang up the phone, throwing it somewhere across the room. If I’m lucky, maybe I broke it for good.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I all but scream the words straight into the sofa cushions.
All I get out of Troy is a strangled laugh. “Damn, Kitten. Watching you try to keep your shit together while I played with your ass? Really turned my crank.”
I shake my head, trying to dislodge something I can’t shake. It turned my crank too, but in a way that was twisted and honestly infuriating.
“You can’t…do things like that.” When I press my face against my arm again, my skin is tight. Hot. Burning.
“Is this a hard limit? A definite no?” His teeth sink into the flesh on my hip. The pain makes me howl and then push my ass backward for more.
God, I don’t even know. “Are you going to finish, or not?” I demand. After all that, I deserve for him to finish. I demand it.
“You want my tongue or my fingers, babe?” He pauses. “Or do you want me to fuck you again?”
I release a heavy breath. I’m so hard I could pass out. This time I can’t blame it on any drugs in my system.
“Fuck me.”
He goes still behind me. For once, I may have thrown him off. “It’s going to hurt, Kitten.”
“I know.”
Something strange buzzes in my belly. Excitement. Anticipation. The rollercoaster ready to barrel down the hill.
There’s the click of a lube bottle getting popped open, and my anticipation builds. Slippery fingers push at my entrance. “You sure, Kitten?”
“I’m sure,” I whisper. “Hurt me.”
My head drops as I brace myself, waiting for Troy to make me fly.
If I thought things would be less intense this time, I was wrong. A minute later I’m shouting into the sofa cushions. Troy’s body presses against mine.
“You good, Kitten?”
“I’m good. Promise. Just fuck me.”
“Not trying to hurt you again.” The way his voice shakes. Oh God. What do I do with that?
“I asked you to.” Tears sting my eyes. Not because it hurts. Because I can’t ignore the way he’s asking with so much tenderness.
His fingers dig into my hips. Still, he seems to hesitate. “Babe?—”
“Stop asking. Stop asking and fuck me.” Nothing makes sense right now. I’m angry, frustrated, my throat clogged with emotion. There’s this kernel of sweetness threatening to unfurl in my chest thanks to the concern he’s showing me, but at the same time all I want is for him to stop asking me.
Stop making me choose.
“Like before,” I insist. “Fast. Hard.”
Troy’s lips brush my shoulder. “If that’s what you want.”
He pulls back and adjusts his grip, thrusting into me with intent.
It’s not so brutal as before, though it’s hard to tell for sure since before every sensation was heightened by those pills we were given.
He’s steady with his rhythm, testing the angle until he finds the one that makes me shiver and cry out.
“There it is, babe. There you go. You’re so good for me, aren’t you, Kitten? Is this what you need? You need for it to hurt? You need to be reminded you’re alive, don’t you?”
“God, yes.” The words slip out on a gasp. I’m clearly past caring that I’m getting sofa fuzz into my mouth. “That’s how I feel when you touch me. Alive.”
Low laughter, and he thrusts harder. “Listen to you. Gonna blow up my ego with that kind of talk.”
Should I care? Do I? No, no, I don’t. “It’s you. And him.” Him. Adam. “The way you make me feel—I didn’t think that was possible. I didn’t know I was like this. Did you make me this way? When you jerked me so hard my skin burned and then pinched me while Adam sucked me and then…”
And then.
And then.
As the words tumble, I’m both terrified and euphoric. Maybe this is how you become someone new—by saying the scary part out loud and owning it.
I’ve never been this honest. Not even with myself.
Troy groans, low and loud. One hand leaves my hip, sliding over my stomach and across my nipples. His grasping fingers make my cock surge. “Babe, I’m no expert, but maybe your freak just matches ours.”
“Mmmph.” I’m getting close. Every push and pull pinches and burns and brings me higher at the same time. I’m at the end of a race, my lungs burning and my heart threatening to burst out of me as I sprint for the finish line.
“Harder,” I beg. “Please, Troy.”
“As you wish, you dirty slut,” he says in a way that sounds fond and teasing.
“Aaaargh.” The worst of the pain hits right as I come. As he slams home, my body jerks and shudders and my mouth stretches wide on a silent scream as I unload all over the sofa cushions.
Fiery aftershocks hit me as I tighten around him. His cock jerks inside me as he fills me. Another first.
If the way he mumbles “Oh, Kitten” against my back does warm and fuzzy things to my insides, I don’t acknowledge it for now.
Later. Everything will happen later. Whenever that is.
And what if my nervous system calms as Troy lays himself against my back and we both float down to earth? If the act of getting fucked until I’m aching is what makes the world feel right side up again? What if I’m starting to realize what’s happening here means a whole lot more than just sex?
Yes. Also later.
So much later.