Chapter Thirty
Ravi
At first, I didn’t think this was going to work. I only sort of planned it out.
Lying in my bed after packing up the few things I actually wanted to take with me, I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t relax. Couldn’t reframe things in a positive light the way my mom and my therapist always tried to get me to do.
There’s no silver lining to finally getting everything you want and having it ripped away just as fast.
As I stared at the popcorn ceiling, all I could feel was this ugliness boiling in my blood. Watching Mr. Cat curled up by my pillow, the need to hurt Liam the way he was hurting me crowded my insides. To use him the way he’d used me.
So, I guess that’s what I’m doing. Liam would say I’m being impulsive again, but it’s working out better than I expected.
“You’re so big,” I whisper as I slide down the length of Liam’s monster cock. “I’ve never been so full.” I’m breathless with the effort of taking him.
This isn’t the moment I wanted it to be. Him on top. Sweetness. Love is what I wanted. But I’ll take this, if it’s all I get.
I’ve experimented with a few things. Things I later found out I shouldn’t have tried to put in my ass, and I guess I’m lucky I was able to get them out.
Would Liam have been even angrier than when I overdosed if he’d had to pick me up from the hospital because I had a cucumber lodged inside of me?
God. Don’t think about that now.
Anyway. Liam’s cock is something I don’t ever want to get out of me. It’s so intense. And so, so good.
He groans and pulls at the ties I attached to his wrists. Does he want to touch me, or is he trying to get away?
“If you use your safe word, I’ll stop,” I remind him the way he reminded me. I don’t bother with the second part, the part where he told me if I safed-out, then everything would stop, and I would have to leave.
I’m leaving anyway. Like he wants me to.
Through the pale sliver of moonlight on his face, I can tell that his lips are pressed into a thin line, his jaw set and stubborn the way it always is. Why is that so freaking hot?
My ass meets his pelvis, my balls resting lightly on his stomach, and I can’t hold back my satisfied groan. It hurts, but it’s a good hurt. Intense.
This is exactly what I wanted.
I bounce a little, feeling the satisfying ache that fills me every time I try to get him a little bit deeper. A quiet sort of growling groan comes out of his throat.
“Is this what you wanted too, Daddy? Did you want to fuck me, but you were too afraid? Or are you too stubborn to use your safe word?”
He answers me with a defiant glare. The hope inside me still wants him to want me back. This new, angry darkness in me feels somewhat gratified at the idea of taking the thing he refused to give me even when he had me at his mercy.
I’d stop if he asked, but he won’t. I know he won’t, like I wouldn’t. Because I wanted everything from him, even if I couldn’t say so.
“Now who’s the one tied down and helpless?”
Still no answer.
I lift up, slowly at first. Carefully, because I’ve seen porn where the top pulls out too far and can’t get back inside, and I’ve never liked the way it seems to kill the momentum. This train needs to keep rolling because this is probably my only chance.
“Ravi…”
He doesn’t finish. Is he saying my name because he’s turned on? Is it a protest?
“See, if we had a normal relationship, I’d know what you wanted,” I say.
“I’d know exactly how to make you feel good.
Since you’re being all stubborn and lying there looking like you’ve got your lips glued together, I’m going to have to guess.
Or I’m going to have to do what feels good to me and hope you like it too. ”
I like that option better.
Guessing only ever leaves me confused.
So after a few tests, some slow slides where I figure out how much to pull off him and how fast to sink down, I find a rhythm that works. An angle that hits my prostate just right.
“Oh, fuck, Liam. Daddy, you feel so fucking good.” My words aren’t enough, but they’re all I have right now.
“This is exactly what I hoped for, you know? For my first time to be with someone like you. For it to be sexy and memorable.” I lean forward to kiss him when I sink down again.
“Some of the guys have some real first-time horror stories, you know? Simon said his first didn’t even know to bring lube.
At least now I know, whatever happens in the future, I’ll always have this. ”
That seems to piss him off. He punches his hips upward, but I keep my legs clamped right against him. Like that time at summer camp when I learned to ride a horse.
Save a horse, ride a man, right? I saw that on a T-shirt once.
“You feel as good as I thought you would,” I tell him. “No.” I grind down on him again. “You feel even better. I used to fuck myself down the hall in my bedroom and pretend that dildo was you, but it’s like you said—plastic and silicone can’t hold a candle to the real thing.”
His chest and abs ripple, expanding and contracting in quick staccato motions.
His nostrils flare. He’s fucking me harder now, thrusting his hips up as much as he can with the limited range of motion.
It’s hard and fast, though, almost as angry as I feel, and so aggressive I need to brace my hands on his chest to keep myself steady.
It hurts. He’s stretching me too fast. His hip bones bruise me with every jab. It’s so, so good.
“Is this what you wanted, kid?” He fucks up harder. It’s no longer me sliding up and down. It’s like Liam’s one of those fuck machines, and I’m holding on for the ride.
What a ride it is.
“Not exactly.” There’s a buzz inside me; the one that tells me my orgasm is building.
I squeeze my muscles around him, strangling him, wanting to hurt him and urge him on at the same time.
“What I wanted was for you to want to keep me, Liam. But if this is all I get, then this is what I’ll take.
I’ll make sure you remember me every time you jerk off for the rest of your life. ”
“I can’t,” he rasps. “I can’t.”
“I know,” I say sadly.
I’m not even lying. Whether I like it or not, I understand better now.
When he told me about those innocent people his team killed, the guilt was all over his face.
Even if it wasn’t my fault, I still carry guilt about not being there when my parents were killed.
His guilt won’t let him be with me. Maybe mine is why I’ve clung to Liam, even knowing he’ll never let himself be happy.
With one hand braced on his stomach, I slide the other up and down my dick, pinching the foreskin a little because an orgasm always feels better to me when there’s some hurt, and pushing my hips down.
I fill myself with him, with the overwhelming ache of him, as much as I possibly can before it’s all over.
No matter what, it’s going to be too soon, especially after that night when he edged me for so long. By the time his hips stutter and he comes with a strangled groan, I’m too impatient for my own release. I’ve got places to be.
Places that aren’t here.
When Liam forced me to have orgasm after orgasm, it reached a point where the orgasms were honestly more pain than pleasure. Where my oversensitive body didn’t seem to know if what it was feeling was good or bad, but it was pretty sure it had been duped in spite of the cum leaking out of me.
This orgasm hurts more than all the others.
A primal yell that bursts out of me as I shoot all over my hand, all over his stomach. There’s moisture leaking from my eyes and running down my cheeks, but I ignore all of that.
I don’t want to wipe my tears away. I earned them.
When the final aftershocks have passed, I lift myself up. Sort of like he did to me before, I wipe the cum from my hand right onto his chest. Then I release him from the restraints quickly, because I’m not sure what he’ll do once he’s free.
I can’t read his face, which causes a little spark of fear. Like I used to feel when I thought there was a ghost in my parents’ basement. My body shakes as I back away.
Which is also why I don’t take the time to clean him up. Besides, it might do Liam good to sit here with my cum on his skin and think about what he’s done. Since he likes punishments so much.
“Consider this your penance, Daddy,” I say too fast.
I’m sort of on a schedule anyway. My phone, which I placed on the bed by Liam’s leg, lights up in the dark. Probably Michael, letting me know he’s almost here.
As I back away, Liam struggles to sit up. “Ravi…”
But there’s nothing more. No protest. No asking me not to go. He doesn’t even stand.
Maybe his knee hurts. Maybe he’s too spent.
His eyes glitter in the dark. His jaw is slack. Feeling emboldened by the now-or-never-ness of the whole situation, I return, leaning down to press a kiss to those pouty, parted lips.
“I’m going to miss you, Daddy.”
My clothes and everything else are waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, including my backpack and Mr. Cat, in the carrier I got for him when Channing took me to the pet store.
He’s mewling, the sounds soft and insistent. A protest.
“I know, Mr. Cat,” I whisper to him. “I’m not happy about this either.”
My phone lights up again.
Michael: I’m outside.
Ravi: brT
One last reckless impulse has me wrenching open the kitchen junk drawer. I hastily scrawl a message on a sticky note before stepping out into the humid, dark morning.
Who’s going to keep me from doing stupid things now, Daddy?
I’m proud that I only wait for a second to see if he follows before I close the door behind me.