18. Anders #3
Lifting my hand, I silence him. “Let me finish before you say anything. Let me get it all out. Please.”
Henry nods, and I swallow thickly before I start again.
“The morning that I woke up with you in my arms, I realized that I want to own you, and I don’t just mean your body.
I want to literally own you. I want to take over your life and reconfigure every single aspect of it so that it’s under my control.
I want you to follow my rules and play my game, and when I realized how out of control I was, I panicked. ”
“You said goodbye.”
Inhaling sharply, I nod. “Yes, I did. I thought I was doing what was best for you.”
“What changed?” Henry asks, accusation and intrigue alternating through his wary gaze.
“I got drunk, and then angry, and then I went to talk to Knight.”
“You work with him?”
I nod. “I needed to talk to someone, so I went to him and I told him about you. I told him about the man in the past, and I told him all the things I’d done and that I didn’t want to destroy you.”
“What did he say?” Henry asks.
I chuckle softly. “He asked me who my ex was, then he found his cell number and called him.”
Henry blinks. “He called your ex. Why?”
“To speak to him, I guess, to ask him how bad I’d been. How big of a monster I am.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said that I hadn’t been a monster at all. He said that he’d needed a way to break up with me because he was an addict and he didn’t want me to forgive him for cheating on me and try to help him get clean. He told Knight that he’d said I was abusive because he thought I’d know he was lying.”
The indignant splutter that falls from Henry’s lips makes me smile.
“He lied. He said all those terrible things about you and made you question yourself for years and it was all a lie?” he growls angrily.
I nod.
“He ruined you,” Henry whispers.
I shrug. “He was messed up. He was taking drugs and drinking too much.”
“Are you defending him?” Henry gasps.
“No, I’m not defending him,” I say, then fall silent, because I don’t know what else to say.
Gabe’s lies have affected my relationships for the last ten years.
I don’t know who I’d be if I hadn’t believed I had the capacity to abuse my partner.
But I can’t change the past. All I can do now is look to the future and try to fix things with Henry.
Neither of us speaks, and the silence stretches until it feels all-encompassing.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Henry finally says.
“I’m sorry that he lied, he shouldn’t have done that, it’s awful…
but…but.” Swallowing, he looks down, then back up at me again.
“But you hurt me. You told me I was yours and then you dropped me like I was nothing. I should be used to being rejected, but being rejected by you was different. It hurt.”
The look on his face makes me feel like I’ve been stabbed by a thousand knives. He looks broken. By trying to stop myself from smothering him, I’ve done what I’d been fighting not to. I’ve hurt him, and I don’t know how I make up for that, but I know that I have to.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.”
“Then let’s get to know each other. I know you haven’t forgiven me, and I don’t expect you to take my apology on face value.
But let me work for it. Let’s spend time together.
Let’s talk for hours. Let’s learn who each other is, because, if you believe it or not, you are mine, Henry, and I’m yours.
We just have to give it a chance.” I’m begging him, but I don’t care.
When it comes to him, I have no pride, no shame, because I’ll do whatever I have to if it means he’ll give me a second chance.
“What about the control stuff?”
“I’m a dominant, Henry, and I believe you are naturally submissive. I need control like other people need air. It’s who I am and I’ve been fighting it, suppressing it, because I was scared of going too far.”
“And now?” he asks, cautiously.
“I don’t want to lie to you, Kitten. The urges I have when it comes to you, they’re bigger, more unbridled than I’ve ever experienced. It’s why I ran; it’s why I left. But knowing that I’m hopefully not the monster I believed myself to be has relieved some of the pressure.”
“And what if I don’t like it? What if I don’t want that? What if I don’t want to be a prisoner of your issues?”
“I’d never make you a prisoner, Kitten. I don’t want to cage you, I just want you to need me the way I desperately need you.” The words come out on a yell, dredged from the pits of my very soul.
Silence fills the room again and I hold my breath, waiting for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t, and the longer the silence stretches, the more angry and enraged I become.
“We’re going to get to know each other. We’re not going to turn our backs on this,” I finally snap, each word coated in the dominance I hadn’t realized I’d been repressing.
A soft smile curls the corners of his lips, and he nods. “Okay.”
My lips mirror his smile, and I grab his face with both of my hands, dragging him over me until he’s close enough to kiss. “I love you.” The words are as much a vow as they are a statement of fact, but I use them to seal the kiss, slamming my lips against his and plunging my tongue into his mouth.
When he doesn’t immediately kiss me back, I tense, but his tongue slowly slips into my mouth, gently moving in tandem with mine until our chests are sliding against each other, spreading the remnants of his release all over us as we devour each other’s mouths.
For the first time since we met, his touch is bold, and I love it, craving his hands on me and wishing for more, more, more.
“Please,” he whimpers against my lips.
“What do you need, Boy?” I rasp.
“I need you.”
“Tell me what you need?” I demand.
He shudders at the order in my words, and I smile into his mouth.
“I want…” he falters, his cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.
“Do you need my cock in your tight little hole?” I growl. “Do you need to be fucked and filled with my cum?” I’m being deliberately crass so that I can watch as heat flares in his eyes. He likes the dirty talk. I file that information away for the future and wait for him to answer.
“Anders.”
“Answer the question, Boy.”
“Yes. Fuck me. Please. I want you to…stretch me.”
Smiling widely, I flip him over until he’s on his back, lift his ass into the air, and bury my face in his hole. Finding his pucker with my tongue and finger, I start to stretch him, using my spit as lube.
He tenses at my first touch, then slowly relaxes, digging his fingers into the sheet beneath us and gripping it tightly. When his body has softened, I climb out of the bed and find my wallet, crawling back to him with a sachet of lube gripped tightly between my fingers.
Ripping it open, I coat my fingers in the slippery liquid and carefully push first one, then two fingers into body. His tight muscles tense then slowly relax, allowing me to fill his ass, carefully prepping and stretching him, while he mewls and moans, his head thrown back in pleasure.
“Don’t come, Boy. You do not have permission to explode until my dick is in your ass. Do you understand?”
His nod is pained as he squeezes his eyes shut, and starts to chant, “Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come,” over and over again.
His body opens for me easily once he fully relaxes, precum dribbling from the head of his engorged cock. By the time he’s stretched enough to take three of my fingers, he’s humping the air, grinding his cock against nothing as he mumbles incomprehensible nonsense, his eyes screwed tightly shut.
“I’m going to come. Anders, please. I need,” he babbles.
“Ask for my cock, Boy,” I snarl, lifting up until I’m sitting on my knees, one hand gripping the base of my dick.
“Please, please, please. Fuck me. I need you inside of me. Please.”
If either of us was in a little more control, I’d probably force him to beg me to fuck his ass and pump him full of my cum.
If we weren’t this desperate, I might edge him with my mouth, bringing him to the brink only to refuse to let him finish until I was buried deep inside of him.
But that’s not what either of us needs right now.
Guiding myself into his ass, I lift his legs, then slowly inch inside of him, fighting the urge to slam deep. I search for self-control, reminding myself that this is only his second time and that we have the rest of our lives to be crazy, rough, and intense.
The moment I bottom out, he groans animalistically, and streams of cum burst from the head of his dick. Chuckling, I pull back, then push forward, grabbing his cock and working him through his orgasm while I rail his ass.
Starting gently, I build up momentum once I’m sure I’m not hurting him, pumping into him steadily until he begs for more. Harder, faster, deeper.
“Turn over, on your knees and elbows,” I demand, pulling my dick out of him.
His eyes flash open, and his accusing glare lands on me.
“Knees and elbows,” I order again, grabbing his waist and helping him to move.
Once he’s in position, I guide my dick back into his ass, groaning when I bottom out, my groin resting against his butt.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I praise, able to fuck him harder in this position as I grip his hips and work him up and down my dick, watching his hole stretch wide around my cock as I slide into him.
He comes twice more, the guttural sound reverberating around the room as he soaks his sheets with the evidence of his need. I love it. I want him dirty and messy and desperate. And I want to make him feel this way for the rest of our lives.
“Fuck me,” he moans, long and low, as he comes once again and I follow him over the edge, ramming my cock into his ass seconds before I implode and my hips jerk as I fill him with my cum.
Sagging, I brace my weight on my hands, making sure that I don’t crush him, as I press a kiss against his slender back. “I love you,” I say on a ragged exhale.