Chapter 15 Noah
Noah
As I bring my fingers to grip the cool iron railing I realize my hands are shaking.
Because this is exactly what I’ve been hiding from, since the moment Torin stepped foot in Onyx House.
My obsession with him.
I said it.
I admitted it.
The way I launch into the fucking stratosphere every time he touches me—fuck, every time he even looks at me, making me feel woozy and practically drugged.
That’s what Torin Jensen is. An intoxicant stronger than any other I’ve had.
Ignoring my feelings for him was supposed to make things easier, but instead it’s only made me crazier and more reactive to everything he does.
And his fingers are still between my ass cheeks now, and I’m so aware of it at every moment, even as I adjust and try to find some sort of comfortable position on the balcony railing.
His silence puts me on edge.
I’m thinking pathetic things that I’m too chicken to actually say out loud: Is this how you want me? And tell me I’m doing this right?
Instead he’s holding power over me by saying nothing at all.
The trembling in my hands is slight, maybe subtle enough that Torin wouldn’t even notice it. But it's another clear signal that I’m in way over my head.
“Breathe, Noah. You're shaking.”
Nevermind.
Of course he can tell.
Great, cool, very good.
Lord I am so screwed.
The railing is cool and wet, a sharp contrast to the steady burn inside my body. I slide my hands further forward, supporting my body with my forearms on the railing instead.
Steady.
At least try to pretend you still have any ounce of dignity left.
The awning goes out far enough that at least I’m not getting rained on while I’m being utterly humiliated.
He presses his fingertips a little harder against my hole and I jump.
“Bro,” I protest, “if you’re going to give it to me raw, at least warn me first—”
But it was just another tease.
“I’m not giving it to you raw. As much as I’d love to. Chill.”
He lets his hands roam over the area and the firmer pressure feels like a violation that I already want more of. My desire for him to touch me there has been buried under a thick blanket of denial and now that it’s gone, his touch feels even more illicit.
I push my ass backward against his touch and I’m repeating silent thoughts in my mind, over and over, wishing like hell that he wasn’t so appealing.
Or demanding.
Or my fucking stepbrother, which he loves to remind me.
But he’s all of those things, and there’s no use trying to fight it anymore.
When he pushes against my hole a little again, my cock drips precum, hanging there neglected between me and the railing. I look down at Red Row and scan the familiar rain-dotted rose bushes along the edge of the yard, and the trees that line the front around the iron gates.
“I have, uh, lube,” I say. “Bottom drawer of my dresser, inside a black bag in an old cardboard box.”
Torin’s laugh is so genuine and melodic. I turn around and watch as he brings his free hand to push my hair to the side.
“You may as well put the lube in a padlocked, bulletproof safe.”
“Sorry I don’t leave condoms and dildos all over the fucking house like you do,” I utter.
The only reason I put it away was to discourage myself from random hookups earlier this year, anyway.
I was never shy about sex for a day in my life.
Until Torin.
“I keep all of my belongings in my own room,” he says. “You’re the one who waltzes in there to go through my things.”
“Shut up. I only did that once.”
“And I loved it when you did,” he murmurs, bringing his hand away from my ass and suddenly leaving me feeling very needy for more. “Be right back, after my Mission Impossible lube heist.”
Finally, I feel like I’m able to take a breather.
Missing his touch at least means that I can attempt to bring myself back from the brink of practically having a handsfree orgasm for him.
His gaze rakes across my bent-over figure and he cocks his head to one side, like he’s making a quiet decision in his mind.
Finally he nods at me. “Put your hand on your cock and don’t stop stroking it until I’m back.”
I let out a frustrated groan, dropping my head for a moment before looking over my shoulder at him again.
“I’m too…” I falter, searching for the right words. “Too excited. I’m not trying to come that fast.”
His gaze is steady. “Hand on your cock. I’m not leaving until it’s there.”
When his eyes are on me like that it’s a command all on its own, and I already know I’m going to follow.
I put one hand down to grip my dick, swallowing hard as I squeeze around it.
“And stroke,” he says, lifting an eyebrow.
I start to pump my fist along my shaft, already feeling so good that I have to squeeze my eyes shut so I’m not staring at him anymore.
“Happy now?” I mutter.
“Look at me,” he says firmly, and my eyes flutter open to meet his cool gaze. “Good boy.”
My cock pulses in the tight grip of my hand.
I should despise anyone calling me that, especially him, but fuck, it’s as if that phrase finds a new depth of arousal for me to sink into.
“Torin,” I protest.
“Very good.”
His voice has dropped into that lower register that he seems to only use when I’m being obedient for him.
He takes his sweet time heading back through the paned door into the room. His eyes are on me until he steps all the way inside. I defocus my eyes once he’s gone, staring into the middle distance and listening to the rain.
But I don’t stop touching myself.
Just like he said.
Every stroke on my cock feels dangerously close to pushing me near the edge, and it feels like Torin’s somehow still watching me the entire time.
He walks back outside and when his eyes land on me, a jolt goes through my body.
“Keep going,” he says, lifting an eyebrow as he looks at my dick.
The snap of the lube bottle seems far too loud, like I’m expecting crowds of people to suddenly look up from the street and say look, there, Noah’s ready to take his stepbrother like a champ.
Fuck.
Don’t picture people watching us.
Too hard to function.
I’m still stroking my cock, and it isn’t helping. I turn and scan the street and yard below, seeing that the coast is still completely clear.
A sudden cool, slick touch hits my ass and I gasp.
“Christ, Torin,” I protest as he wastes no time slicking my hole from behind.
“Hand off your cock now,” he says, leaning over my back and getting close to me. I feel the heat of his breath beneath my ear. “You’re not allowed to come until I’m completely inside you. Understand?”
I let out a breathy whimper.
I let go of my cock and I don’t know if it’s better or worse to have it aching between my legs and getting no attention.
At the same moment, I feel a weight against my ass and I realize that Torin’s leaning forward, dragging his slicked cock between my cheeks, just giving me the suggestion of more before he pulls it away.
“God, I cannot wait to fuck you,” he utters in a growl near my ear. “Spread for me.”
“Aren’t I already spread enough?”
I feel him push his knee between my thighs. “Spread.”
I step apart further, feeling him grip one of my ass cheeks and give it a tight squeeze.
When I first feel him push the tip of his finger past my hole, it’s instantaneous relief.
Pure, blissful, and sudden.
Yes.
There.
It… actually feels so fucking good.
Finally, you quit teasing me and give me something.
But his gentle pressure only lasts for a little while. The moment he’s slowly, gently worked me open, he gives me some of his second finger, too.
“Holy fuck,” I whisper at the difference.
“You can take it,” he tells me in that low, certain tone.
“Don’t think I can,” I utter as he pushes it in just a tiny bit further and I groan loud enough that I’m thinking about that goddamn street below us again. “Torin, can you chill?”
“Nope.”
I try to breathe through the pressure, the dull pain.
I’m finally not shaky anymore because the intensity of this is distracting enough that I’m no longer capable of being nervous.
I just have to breathe, in and out, just like he told me to. He takes some mercy on me at least, easing into me more slowly now. He’s still close to my ear and he leans in to nibble at my earlobe, and I can hear his every breath, too.
He groans softly as he pushes another inch of his two fingers deeper into me. The sound of his pleasure in my ear is a burst of encouragement.
I like his voice too much.
As soon as I can accommodate the new pressure, I’m desperate to get that kind of reaction out of him again.
So I bear down and push back against him.
Harder.
I thrust my ass back onto his fingers, with some part deep inside me wanting to make him proud.
Sickening.
And fucking irresistible.
He moans louder into my ear this time and it really does feel like I’ve earned something. The feeling is addictive, and it floods my veins with a new thread of confidence I haven’t felt until now.
“Give me more,” I utter.
“I will when I feel like it. And when you can handle it.”
“Clearly I can.”
“Pretty ambitious of you, isn’t it, Noah?”
A moment later he shoves his two fingers in all the way to the hilt and it’s another flash of sharp pain, followed by an impossible fullness.
“You’re fucking insane.”
“And I’m giving you exactly what you want, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” I hiss, leaning over the railing a little further.
The rain is still coming down, but less now. It’s a drizzle that steadily patters on the leaves, and I focus only on the sound.
It’s okay.
I can handle this.
I can take any pain if it feels this good afterward.
What will his cock feel like, if this is just his fingers?
The idea of it sends a ripple of desire through me, followed by a tiny thread of fear.
How hard is he going to give it to me? Will I actually be able to take him, or am I bluffing? Is all of this a giant mistake and I’m the craziest person on this campus for ever allowing this to happen?