35. Hotaru
“Please,” Nate begs before he’s even in the room. “Another month and I’ll be gone. Don’t make me leave a virgin.” He shoves a bottle of lube into my hand. The pleading in his soft amber eyes is next level. Kicking a starved puppy territory.
Miss Booth doesn’t beg me to fuck her. She happily takes her orgasms and goes about her business of trying not to get fired for fraternizing with students.
“I’ve been playing with my ass every day like you said.” He hurries inside, stripping as he moves to the center of the room.
“Hey, Arlo.” He tosses his shirt at the overlord sitting in his reading chair.
After months of toying with Nate’s ass, I’d stopped. I told him to finger himself in the hopes that he’d find fulfillment in the act and quit begging me for something I want so badly, it physically hurts to say no time and time again.
As much as I want to bury my dick in a hot and ready hole, I want Arlo to be my first.
Fucking hell, I want him to be my only.
“I can take three fingers, no problem.” Nate slides his underwear over the taut globes of his ass in a definitive act of seduction.
My cock twitches.
“Fuck him already,” Arlo groans.
Fuck you.
The words are on my tongue. I bite them back and nearly squeeze the cap off the bottle of lube.
I started this sexual exploration with the express goal of opening up Arlo. Of making him more comfortable with his body and his lust. Of pulling him out of his cracked shell and showing him, as fucking Aladdin would say, a whole new world .
He never participates more than a random barked order and getting himself off. Most times, he doesn’t even leave the chair. So often, he grips the arms of it, locking himself in place. As though proximity is too tempting.
“You fuck him,” I toss back.
His lips clamp into a line, and his wide jaw tightens.
There aren’t many more things I can do to tempt him.
I stare at Arlo. “Undress me.”
Nate is used to being the guy between us. He knows I’m speaking to him because Arlo rarely follows my orders.
Stunned by the command, Nate jumps up from the floor. Every bulging muscle and delicious ridge flexes under his skin. Gone is the tan and the extra fluff from summer. I wish it would come back.
Too many times, I’ve closed my eyes and envisioned Arlo under my hands and around my dick.
“I’ll be the best boy,” Nate promises, rushing through the buttons on my shirt and then my pants.
He would be if I loved him or even cared about him.
Yeah, I want the best for Nate, but I don’t really know him, and he doesn’t really know me. He doesn’t know the first thing about my family and I know little about his, except that if he goes off to college and totally blows it, he’ll be okay. Set for life.
He’s kind and giving and a great sub, usually. The begging is getting out of hand.
There’s no grit to Nate. No real substance I can file my teeth against. While Arlo has my chompers honed to deadly points.
And my patience whittled to almost nil.
“Please, Sir.” Nate’s deep and desperate voice whispers over my neck. “I need this.” His palm smooths over my growing dick. He scrambles to pull down my pants and my underwear. Like he needs me. I know better.
This? He needs this . He doesn’t need me .
It’s the quiet part out loud.
This is a release for us all. It’s dirty and hot. It’s gluttonous and hedonistic. Intimate, it is not.
Sorrow takes hold. I’m suddenly exposed in a way I’ve never really experienced. It has nothing to do with the absence of clothes. The power and control I usually feel when orchestrating our pleasure is nowhere to be found. I want to hide under the covers and never come out.
My skin itches as though it’s too tight and too cold.
Nate’s hands skate over my skin, taking more liberties than he’s been given. His thumbs graze my nipples. His lips lavish my collarbone and shoulders.
Arlo looks on from the chair. His brow furrows deeply. I wonder if he can see my control slipping away, like an unmanned and unmoored sailboat in a storm.
Eager hands cup my balls while his lips move up my neck.
“Please, Hota.” Nate nips at my ear. “Please, I’m ready.”
He kisses my jaw and wraps his hand around my dick.
Of course I’m hard as a fucking railroad spike. My body betrays my emotions. Pleasure makes stars dance in my wide eyes.
Nate works me hard until precum drips off my tip. The crinkle of foil breaks the uneasy silence, and then he rolls a condom down my shaft. I stare, unable to do anything else.
He slips the lube from my hand and spreads it over me. The feeling is foreign and too good. My entire body quakes harder than it did the first time a girl touched my dick.
Nate stretches and tilts his chin. His lips reach for mine.
Something inside me breaks free. I don’t know if it’s my patience, my outrage, or my innate need to control, but the chains are off.
I grab Nate’s wide throat, stopping him cold. “You don’t kiss me,” I hiss. “You don’t beg me. You take what you get, and you’re glad for it.”
His eyes go wide. “Y…Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”
With deft hands, I spin him to look at Arlo. “Tell him what you want.”
“I want to be fucked.” Nate’s voice quivers.
“Do you think he’ll fuck you?” I ask, angling my head over his shoulder and staring at Arlo.
My friend is on the edge of his seat, like he’s actually contemplating something. I have no idea what.
“No,” he answers, reluctantly.
“But you think I will?” My fingers dig into his nape.
“I want you to.”
“On your knees.”
Nate drops quickly. My hand stays in place. His clothes are in a heap in front of his knees.
I lean over him and push his face to the floor. “If you come tonight, we never do this again. We’re done. All of it. Do you understand me?”
“I don’t…I can’t?—”
“Do you hear me, Nate? There is always a price for the things you want. Sometimes it’s small, inconsequential. Other times, it will cost you everything. Decide what you want and what you’re willing to do for it.”
His chest expands, spreading the thick wings of his back and straining his shoulders. A squeak comes from the leather chair only a few feet from our heads. I don’t take my gaze away from this pivotal moment.
“Fuck me, Hota, please.”
I don’t know what I hoped for. That Arlo would stop the whole show. That he would say he doesn’t want me to fuck someone else. That this has all gone too far.
Only the chair squeaks.
“Keep your cheek on the floor,” I snarl.
“Yes, Sir.” Nate presses his belly toward it as well, pushing his ass into the air. It’s thick and taut.
I swallow. The lump forming in my throat doesn’t move. I drop to my knees behind him, grab his ass with one hand and the base of my dick with the other. I lift my gaze to Arlo and dare him to call a stop to this. Every part of me begs him to.
Except the defiant part that rams my hips forward and finds the resistance of Nate’s already slicked and puckered hole.
Nate exhales, then relaxes his body like I showed him many times before when I finger-fucked him. When the stakes were much lower.
Arlo’s eyes are wide and greedy. I press forward a little more. Nate groans as his tight hole sucks at my fat head.
“Fuck.” My vision goes fuzzy. I hold perfectly still, letting us all adjust to the tectonic shift.
“More, please,” Nate begs.
I’m through caring about the begging or my ultimate desires. I’m through thinking at all. The moment I sink the rest of my dick inside Nate’s heat, my brain turns off. My body takes over.
I stare into Arlo’s hungry eyes and take what Nate offers, pistoning my hips with little finesse. I’m wild, unhinged.
Moans and whimpers stain the air. I don’t know whose they are. Mine? Nate’s?
Arlo is silent. He’s completely still, except for his eyes that catalog everything. Even so far away and unmoving, he calls to me. My mind clicks on once more.
It’s a bucket of cold water.
The body calling to me is not the one I’m inside. I grit my teeth and do my best to ignore it.
Nate’s fingers sink into the carpet. “Oh fuck. Yes, oh God. Hota, I’m going to come. I, fuck, I love it. Fuck me.”
I do as I’m told and rail Nate. Sweat coats my skin. I smack his ass and grip his thighs.
His asshole squeezes my dick. I close my eyes and give myself over to the experience, for better or worse. Tonight, pleasure is the devil, and he dances down my spine, drawing my balls tight and making me fill the condom.
“Thank you,” Nate pants.
I brace my hand on his back to hold myself still, too dizzy to move. We pant and gobble up oxygen together.
When I feel the floor under my knees once more, I pull slowly from his body. A shudder wracks him. I open my eyes, carefully keeping my gaze off Arlo.
“I’m sorry,” Nate whispers, straightening. “I couldn’t stop myself.”
“Are you sorry? Really?”
He looks at me over his shoulder and smiles. “No, not really.”
I nod and scrub my hand over his hair. “Good.” I jerk my head toward the bathroom. “I’m going to get cleaned up. I’ll see you around, Nate, but not back here.”
His face falls, but he picks it back up. “Thank you.”
I push to my feet and flee. I close the door behind me, take care of the condom in a fucking daze, and step into the shower. I turn the water on and don’t really register the cold or anything else.
The water rushes over me as my thoughts tumble from their neatly-sealed box in my brain. I reach for the soap and my rag, trying to hold them off. Like suds and a scrub can perform the monumental task.
My stupid, stupid tears are camouflaged by the torrent of water, so I ignore them and scrub more. My stupid, stupid heart aches.
Virginity is a construct and all that. But my first time…I wanted it to be with Arlo. Which was an impossibility.
I strangle the rag in my fists.
“Hota?”
I jerk from the water and find Arlo’s silhouette on the other side of the cloudy glass.
“Are you okay?” His words are quiet, full of strain. I know he didn’t come. He didn’t even touch himself and I don’t know how to feel about that, piled atop everything else.
It’s on the tip on my tongue to lie to him. As much as I want to protect his feelings and understand his hang-ups about getting physical, I can’t tonight. I’ve given so much already.
“Not right now.” I mean it in so many ways.
He lifts his left hand and presses it firmly to the glass. I lift my right and mirror his while tears streak silently down my face. We stay that way for a long time, and then I pull my hand away, too raw to deal with him anymore.
Arlo withdrawals his hand and enters his room, making sure to leave the door cracked. The usual invitation to sleep.
I dry off, shuffle to my room and dress, and then close my door and lock it. My heavy feet drag to my empty bed and I bury myself inside. My cries lull me to sleep.