Chapter 12
ABEL
You fucking idiot.
What the hell was I thinking?
Feeling sorry for myself apparently, just like I am right now. Which is why I’m going to get dressed, look hot as fuck, and go out to try and forget all about Peris and what he did to my head.
I’m not going to let him fuck me up.
He doesn’t have control over me anymore.
I’m not going to let him anyway…
I drop my head against the shower wall and let the water hammer relentlessly down on my back until my teeth are vibrating in my skull and every coiled muscle has loosened.
But of course, with relaxed muscles comes the memories of last night.
Of Peris’s hands wrapped around my throat and his cock inside of me again, but better.
Because fuck. He could always fuck me good, but now?
Peris sure as fuck hasn’t spent our time apart being celibate, and it shouldn’t make my heart clenching knowing that, but I can’t control what the useless fucking muscle does, irony or not.
I’ve been fucking for money for years.
I left him to do just that.
I shouldn’t be… no. I’m not jealous. Just… curious. As to who it’s been. Who’s been worthy of his time and his cock because whether he likes to admit it or not, I know him. Someone like Peris doesn’t change that fucking much, and he wouldn’t give that part of himself to just anyone…
Or fuck. Maybe he would, and I’m just losing my mind because I don’t know him anymore.
After all, I only saw flashes of the boy I knew last night. Because who was in front of me was someone else entirely, yet… exactly the same.
“Fuck’s sake,” I grumble, then splutter as I inhale water.
I shove my way out of the stream with fingers yanking at my hair.
I turn and lean back against the shower wall, hissing as the cool water hits my skin before settling against it completely.
The water hitting my front feels nice, and I let my eyes fall closed as I reminisce—just for a few minutes.
Before I get out and I’m forced to push it all into the back of my mind and pretend I don’t care.
Because maybe I don’t.
But maybe I do. Just a little.
With an unsteady hand, I reach up and brush my fingers over my bruised throat, pressing slightly on the sides. When the dull, pulsing pain intensifies, I groan slightly and let my head fall back with a thunk.
Next, my fingers travel down my collarbones to my chest, over my sensitive nipples, and my pierced belly button that Peris couldn’t stop playing with, to the hair at my groin.
I brush my fingers through the hair there, hissing lightly as I scrape my nails down my shaft before wrapping my fingers around myself.
Hand curled loosely around my small girth, I reach back with my other hand and cup my balls for a moment, massaging them before moving on to my taint. I press against the tense skin, and my legs twitch, making me slump against the wall for support.
I then find my hole, still loose and puffy from the abuse it took last night. Not only from Peris but from Harvey after I got back because he loved fucking me all dirty and sloppy and used, and I’ve gotta admit, it was fucking hot.
But I’m paying for it today.
I’ve been sore.
But even still.
I run my fingers along my abused entrance and gently press my index finger inside, hissing at the sting, even as my eyes roll back in my head at the sensation.
The slide is slow and shallow, just enough to give me the pressure and the sensation of something inside of me, but it’s enough, and I’m panting as I drag my hand over my cock, now erect and straining against my abdomen.
My movements are slow but so fucking good, and I can’t help the way my mind flashes to images of Peris from last night as I bring myself closer to the edge.
The resident curl of his lip, the crinkle of his nose. The obvious disgust he can’t mask—how it marries so well with his desire for me, even now. Even as he fucking hates me.
“Oh, God,” I stutter, hands shaking as I teeter on the edge, and just as I press my middle finger alongside my index, the stretch is just enough to send me over the edge, and I shoot my load into the water streaming across my body with a loud groan and Peris’s voice echoing inside my mind.
It’s always him.
“Fuck,” I mutter, chuckling as I stare down at myself and watch as the water rinses my cum down the drain.
Time to get absolutely fucked up.
This bar is the definition of a dive bar, and I love it from the moment I step inside.
It reeks of week-old beer and sweat, and I instantly feel at home.
The walls are covered in newspaper and magazine articles glued and taped up with graffiti overlaying them.
I run my fingers over the sticky walls as I slip my way past the bodies crowded along them.
By the time I make it to the bar, I’m covered in a sheen of sweat, and there’s a smile plastered on my face. There’s a small, local band playing on the small stage, and it’s utterly deafening. I can’t hear a fucking thing, and that’s just fine by me.
“What can I get for you?” the bartender shouts, and I look her over. She’s in a cut off tank, boobs out for tips, and props to her, I’m sure she’s making bank tonight.
“House tequila and OJ!” I shout back, leaning over the dark, sticky bar, and she nods and goes about making my drink. I hand her a ten and wave her off for the change. She nods her thanks and makes her way to the next patron. I sip my drink and wince at the straight shot of tequila that I get.
Jesus, at least I’m getting what I paid for, I guess.
Shuddering, I make my way into the crowd, and before long, I find myself swaying and bopping along to the music. It’s some small rock band, and while they’re not that great, it’s still fun, and everyone’s just having a great time.
There are multicolored lights flashing and smoke curling around the room. Someone nudges me, and I nearly spill my drink. Just as I whirl around to bite their head off, I see a blunt in front of my face. He dips down. “Wanna hit?”
I squint in the dark for a moment as I meet the stranger’s eyes.
Bodies are jumping and bumping around us, and they all seem to slow for a moment as I nod and take it from his hand and take a few, long pulls from the end.
The earthy smoke fills my lungs, and I drop my head back with a sigh, relishing in the lightness that fills my head.
“Fuck,” I sigh when I hand it back to him. “Thanks.”
He laughs loudly as he takes a hit for himself. “Sure thing.” And then, we go back to watching the band play another cover of some pop song I vaguely recognize.
Just as I stumble my way out of the crowd to get my third drink of the night, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I lean against the bar and drop my plastic cup against it.
“Another?” she asks, and I nod as I pull my phone out with slightly fuzzy eyes.
“Yes, please. Make it a double!” I squint as I stare down at my screen.
Unknown:
It’s me.
The crazy thing is, I recognize it.
Peris never changed his fucking phone number.
I stare at his text, unanswered, as the bartender drops my drink in front of me and leaves me alone because how the hell am I supposed to respond to him? I shouldn’t have even given him my number—my real number at that—but I did, and not only did I, but I can’t not answer him.
But what do I say?
What do I even do?
It’s Peris, sure, but it’s been so long, he can’t be the same person because I know I’m not. So, can I say I even really know him at all? Can I trust my judgement when it comes to him?
No… because I’ve never been able to trust my own judgement. I’m irrational and impulsive. I act first and think never. I’m selfish and impatient, and I don’t give two shits about anyone else in the process.
I’m literally the worst person when it comes to common sense… so I should just do the opposite of whatever it is I think I should do…
I barely resist stamping my foot on the ground and crossing my arms over my chest in a tantrum fit for a four year old because I don’t want to.
I want Peris.
I always have.
And he’s here, reaching out to me this time. So, why the fuck shouldn’t I?…
Because this time, I can do whatever the fuck I want.
There’s no one stopping me… stopping us.
We’re not foster brothers anymore, as hot as that was. We’re adults now. Free to make our own choices, as stupid and as fucked up as they may be.
“Oh, damn it all to hell,” I mutter as I reach down and pick up my phone from where I dropped it on the bar top.
Me:
Who’s me?
His response is instant, like he was waiting for me.
Unknown:
Don’t fuck with me.
I shiver, reading his tone clear as day through those four words, and damn, it’s like he still fucking knows me.
That’s kind of irritating.
And hot. So hot.
I run my fingers through my sweaty hair, relishing in the wet drops that drip down my neck and slide down my back.
My thumb taps alongside the screen as I ponder what to say for a moment before I change his number in my phone with a hazy smirk, knowing he’d be so fucking pissed if he saw, but how can I not?
He’ll always be my baby boy.
Me:
Sorry, baby boy.
Three dots pop up immediately, just as I knew they would.
Baby boy:
Don’t fucking call me that.
Me:
Why?
Baby boy:
You know why.
My heart clenches unexpectedly, and I pick up my drink and chug it until there’s nothing left, and then, I drop it onto the bar top with a deep breath I can’t really feel through the burning that’s taken over.
When I can finally take a breath again, I respond to him, more solemnly.
Me:
Maybe I do.
I don’t expect Peris to respond so quickly, but when he does, my breath catches in my throat.
Baby boy:
I want to see you, Abel.
I am not prepared for the way my heart skips a beat inside my chest as I read those words. Even though we just saw each other last night—just twenty four hours ago—he already wants to see me again.
Fuck…
I’m a goner.
Because I’m not gonna say no, and he knows it.
Me:
I’m drunk. At a bar.
Baby boy:
Even better.