Chapter 10 #3
“Am I making myself clear, baby?” I say in a husky murmur, checking to see if he understands what I’m saying through action instead of words.
“Yes,” he cries. “Yes, Trav. You fucking own me, I’m fucking yours. I know where I belong—I know who I belong to.”
As much as I love telling him those things, words are useless if he can’t feel me in his body. I need his heart to pound with me, his blood to flow with me, and his bones to ache with want for me.
The same way my body cries for him.
“Trav, Trav, I can’t. I can’t. I can’t,” he chants.
“Can’t what, pretty boy?”
“Gonna come if you keep … ahh, ungh. Please.”
I want him wild and desperate. He’s close after all I’ve done to him, but I want him even more desperate. My hips halt their thrusting.
“No. No, no, fuck you!” He beats on my wide shoulder, digging his heel uselessly into my ass cheek.
My response is an evil brush of my hand over his shiny red cock. His hips buck, begging for me to just fucking touch him, his body straining with an orgasm that wants to explode.
The power. The control. God, I love it. That’s another way to own a body—dictating when it comes. But whatever power I hold over him, he holds greater power over me. I would do anything for this man.
Well, except let him come without permission, because I’m a sadistic bastard. Besides, this’ll make his orgasm even better.
I brush my finger down his cock this time, garnering another lovely reaction, an almost orgasm, where his cock spasms and his muscles shudder.
“You’re even prettier when you’re thirsty, baby. Do you need more of my cock?”
“You know I do, asshole.”
“Hmmm, that’s not very nice,” I say with enough teasing in my voice to let him know I’m amused.
He tries to move, but he can’t with the way I’ve got him pinned under me, at my mercy.
But I’m at his, too. It takes all my willpower not to move, and acting skills I’m not sure that I have to make it seem like I’m apathetic about the whole thing, while every urge screams to pound into his ass.
All because he drives me to the brink of sanity.
“You don’t understand, I’m so fucking horny,” he says. “I might die.” A desperate tear leaks from his right eye and down his cheek.
God he’s pretty.
“Can’t have that,” I murmur.
My hips rock slowly and of their own accord as if guided by something else, but then they speed up and I’m overtaken. The room fills with heavy breathing and the slap, slap, of skin meeting skin. My cock seems to thicken inside him, and he squeezes around it, trying to milk an orgasm out of me.
It works. I’m hit with an explosion of pleasure that seems to come out of nowhere. “Fuck, baby, fuck,” I grind out through a tight jaw, but then my mission becomes filling him full and making him see stars. I grip his thigh tighter, pumping him full of hot cum, spanking the side of his ass.
That does it.
Dirk lets go.
White streams shoot from his cock, thick cum drenching him like Vancouver rain, one streak landing across his abused nipple. I pull out so my cum can drip down his thighs and smear my semen as far as I can up his torso because I’m a territorial mother fucker.
He’s not just gonna bear my marks, he’ll smell like me, too.
Iget to have Dirk curled around my torso for the first time, naked, my spent cock sagging against his wall of abs.
Our legs are tangled, fronts pressed together, and I hold him, a cage and a shelter at the same time.
I’m not letting him go, and he doesn’t wanna go anywhere, clinging to me with fingers curled around my neck.
The other hand explores territory that belongs to him now, all the sharp planes of my body, running feather-light touches over my skin, passing over the roadmap of scars. I catch the questions he’s wondering if he should ask, because maybe they’re too personal.
“You can ask, pretty boy.”
Shy eyes flick down then back to me. “I know you had a rough life,” he says as if he’s already decided what they mean.
He doesn’t know the half of it. I lift an arm over my head and lean back, then I take his hand and run it down the long scar on my torso.
“Knife fight,” I tell him. Then I direct his fingers over more of the jagged skin.
“Three more knife fights.” I drag his hand up to the back of my skull.
“Dad pushed me; I fell into the corner of the dresser.” His hand moves of its own accord this time to the underside of my jaw. “Prison.”
Dirk swallows hard, but he doesn’t stop running his fingers over the years of damage. “Fuck, Trav.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I’d have had a lot less if I didn’t live the life of a criminal shithead. I like to think they make me look bad ass.”
“They do.” He smiles. “But most of them are covered. Why?”
“I guess I don’t love how I got them, but most of them happened during low times, which is when you learn the most, so I got the lessons written in ink.
” I turn my hand so he can focus on the moth tattoo he’s seen a million times.
“A reminder not to chase fire—destruction. The time I got this scar was the same time I was arrested for aggravated assault. I was collecting debts for the club. I didn’t need to go as far as I did, but the guy was egging me on, because he knew I was just a hot-tempered kid with a skewed moral compass. ”
He runs a thumb over it. “I love them. I have scars, too. Just from hockey fights, but they tell stories.”
I’m sure they do, and I’m sure it’s gonna be a lot harder watching him get clobbered on the ice, but I don’t wanna think about that right now.
“And you drew them? Dash,” he says when he sees the question in my eyes. I don’t go around telling everyone that.
“Most of them, not all.” I lean in and nibble on his ear. “So, why me?” I whisper.
“Why you what?”
“I kinda assumed you’d prefer to top. You’ve been begging me to stick my dick in you—you’ve been very specific about that.”
His cheeks heat. “Um, yeah, that. Well, I mean, I’m … look, topping is expected from a guy like me. Y’know? And don’t get me wrong, I like it, but I’d rather be…”
“Taken?” I supply. Because what I just did to him? That was a fucking taking.
A wistful smile spreads all the way to his eyes. “Yeah. I needed you to do it, Trav. It’s an energy thing for me. You’ve got the energy I need. I’ve craved it.”
“Probably helps that I’m bigger than you,” I muse out loud.
“Honestly? Yeah. I swear I’ve tried with smaller guys who claimed to have dominating energy. I’m not saying they didn’t or can’t do it—they clearly worked for some—but they didn’t do it for me.”
“Nothing wrong with that. We like what we like. You shouldn’t have to feel bad about seeking what you need.”
“Agreed. And I might have felt bad for a minute, which is why I gave it a shot, but it didn’t work.
I decided I don’t really give a fuck what other people think.
It’s my life and my desires. I mean, I guess it makes me blush a little with how needy you make me, but I need a massive, domineering lion of a man to top me, or it doesn’t work.
I love the way you can throw me around for real. ”
I won’t tease him now, but he doesn’t just blush a little, he blushes so hard I’ve seen cherries less red than his cheeks. I make him more than a little needy, and I’m wearing that as a damn victory badge.
“It better not be just any lion of a man.”
“There’s only one lion man in my life, baby.” He toys with the hair on my chest a little shyly. It’s fucking cute.
“Lion man, I fucking love that. Also, you should know that I’ve decided this lion’s cock is the last cock you’ll ever have.” I press my lips against his neck. He gets quiet. Too quiet. “I hope you’re not dreaming of some other guy’s cock.”
He laughs. “No, but now that I’m coming down from the sex high, reality’s setting in.
I’m still having no luck with Hunt. I need him to accept us, Trav.
” The joy in his voice is gone, and he trembles in my arms. “It’s just …
I want us forever. You might as well know that.
Especially after whatever the fuck just happened between us.
Oh god, did you feel it too? Please tell me you felt it too. Or am I fucking lovesick?”
I don’t mean to laugh at his plight, but he’s kind of a-fucking-dorable. I lace my fingers with his and hold him tighter so he can’t go anywhere.
“Didn’t I just say my cock was the last cock you’ll ever have?”
“Not the same thing, asshole.”
“Speaking of assholes, how’s yours? Is it sore?” I reach my fingers down to play with it.
“It’s fine, jeeeez. I’m not a porcelain doll.”
But he lets me continue to inspect it.
“Hmmm, not sore? Let’s change that. I want you feeling me on the first day of training camp.”
He spins in my arms to face me. “Wait. I want you to say it, Trav. You didn’t fucking say it.” He grits his teeth.
Dirk’s perceptive and smarter than he’s given credit for. People assume that silence means lack of intelligence. It’s the same for me—people think I’m stupid because of my tattoos, how I keep my hair, and I’m quiet unless I have something meaningful to say.
So I’m not surprised that Dirk’s caught my attempt to get out of making my own admission.
Because I won’t lie to him or insult him by giving him the truth without honesty.
But I can’t help the kernel of doubt, niggling at my chest about us.
I’m certain about how I feel—that’s not in question—but unsettled about how things are gonna play out.
I’ll feel a lot better once Hunter’s on board, that’s assuming he ever is.
The rest of it … for him, I’ll find a way to deal with it.
“I want forever with you, too, pretty boy,” I admit.
Because even if something ends us romantically, I’d never let him go.
He’d have to put up with me as a shadowy presence, always there to give him protection he doesn’t really need, but that he’s getting from me anyway.
“I definitely felt whatever the fuck that was, too.”
We know what “whatever the fuck” was, but I’m not ready to say it and, clearly, neither is he. If he’s gonna let us get away with that for now, I am too. I’m already terrified to death about everything to do with us.
So I turn my mind to other, safer things, like how fucking smart he is, which leads me to remember how well he did in school.
“What are you thinking about?”
“When you told me about making the honor roll your grad year.”
He blushes harder than when I was about to eat his ass earlier.
He gets shy about that stuff, but I’m proud of him for it.
Hunter made sure he did well. Dirk missed out on a lot of social time because of how hard Hunter was on him—maybe too hard sometimes in my opinion—but it paid off.
Dirk doesn’t talk about it much, but he could have gotten into any school he wanted to with grades like his.
As I continue talking about regular shit, I press my fingers inside his hole, the one still dripping with my cum.
Yep, he’s still nice and open. I slide my cock inside, and Dirk exhales with relief as if he was missing it there.
I don’t move, I just want to be in him, connected with him in the deepest way possible.
“Trav?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Is there a bite mark on my shoulder?”
“Yep,” I say without apology. “And before the night is over, there’ll be one on your ass, too.
” Maybe I’ll tattoo it there myself one day.
That’s the only way it’s gonna happen since I’m not okay with someone touching his ass to do it.
For now, I’ll have to bite it over and over until I leave a scar.
“I love what a fucking beast you are. Don’t change.”
“Couldn’t if I wanted to. If anything, you pull the animal out of me. Just wait until we’re free to express ourselves in public. Then you’ll really see what a beast I am.”
I think we’re beyond hope now. A lot of people aren’t going to accept us, but dammit, we’re falling hard and there’s just no stopping it.