Chapter 13
PERIS
Abel follows behind me like a good little puppy as I drag him into the bathroom, shoving through a group of people that bitch indignantly, but I couldn’t give a fuck less. I need my runt, and I need him now.
He stumbles as I shove him in and slam the door behind us, sliding the lock into place. Abel catches himself on the sink, and I take the moment he uses to catch his breath to really look at him.
He looks fucking gorgeous, and it sets my teeth on edge.
I still can’t believe how well he’s really grown into himself. He’s no longer the scrawny little boy he was, but a man now. He’s not any taller, but he’s filled out some and gained a bit of muscle. He’s still tiny—I think he always will be—but he looks damn good.
His hair is bright pink and cut into a mullet, cheekbones still sharp and cutting.
His eyes are smokey tonight with eyeliner, and the steel of his irises beckons me to him.
I back him against the sink, running my hands down his body.
Over his necklace with a reverence I pretend I don’t feel, down over his black, mesh shirt, and the double belts on his too big, ripped up jeans.
My fingers graze a chain around his hip, and I back up and look down, brow arched. My lips twitch into a grin as I yank on it, causing Abel to stumble against the sink at his back. His breath stutters, and I catch it with my lips.
He tastes of tequila, and it’s strange because for the first time in years, I’m stone cold sober. But I don’t feel like it. I feel buzzed out of my mind on AbelAbelAbel.
And it’s better.
Abel curls over the sink at his back as I force him against it until his head smacks against the mirror. He jolts, and I smirk against his mouth, molding my lips against his parted ones, loving the taste on his tongue and feeling drunk from him alone.
I reach up and run my fingers through the hair at the back of his head and grip it tightly, keeping his head pinned in place as I reach down with my other hand and wrap it around his hip, shoving my way beneath his see-through shirt—but not before flicking his nipple ring and making him hiss.
“Fuck.” He tries to drop his head back, but with my hold on him, he can’t move, which only makes him groan louder, and I feel high on the control I have.
Nothing has felt this good in a long time.
I drag my mouth down his stubbled chin and over his throat, nipping at his Adam’s apple before following back up with my tongue.
“Jesus Christ, Peris,” he groans loudly, and I sink my teeth into the fleshy part of the side of his neck.
“Unless you wanna get caught, you might wanna be quiet, runt,” I say once I pull back, soothing the spot with my tongue once more. Abel mewls and gyrates against me, lids closed and lips parted with soft breaths. I reach down and grasp his cock through his jeans, noting how hard he is already.
A knock sounds just on the other side of the door, and I still my movement on his dick. Abel tenses from head to toe, his head jerking up from between his shoulders. I catch his wide eyes in the graffitied mirror as the door handle jiggles and voices sound on the other side.
“It’s locked.”
“Well, no shit, but it shouldn’t be…”
“I don’t know, man, but I’ve gotta piss.”
They’re muffled, but I can still hear them clear as day, and it makes me chuckle as I continue to stroke Abel’s cock through his jeans. He huffs and draws his brows together.
“It’s not funny!” he whisper-yells, and I arch a brow, stilling my hand for a moment. I feel his thigh muscles bunch for a moment in anticipation, and then, I’m shoving my hand inside and touching…
“Oh, fuck me, Abel,” I mutter pathetically as I wrap my hand around his lace-covered cock and squeeze. He mewls and bucks into the sensation, his long fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of the sink.
All the other voices and sounds fade away as I reach around and undo Abel’s belts, listening as they clink to the dirty floor below us.
Before the sound has even finished echoing, Abel is reaching down and undoing his jeans, letting them fall and pool to the floor around his pink Converse-covered ankles, and I really try not to think about how those are the shoes I bought him.
I try not to, but he’s wearing them. And my necklace still, and fuck.
“I still own you, don’t I, baby?”
“W-what?” he chokes out, shocked eyes jerking up to find mine in the grimy mirror. Our gazes meet, and it’s like the first time all over again. I reach down without taking my eyes off his and push his lace thong to the side to expose his pussy.
“I said, I still own you, don’t I?” Because I know I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t because that’s how Abel Silver works.
Unfortunately, he owns me just the same.
I run my fingers over his soft, dry hole and watch it twitch against my touch. He mumbles something, and I chuckle.
“What was that?” I ask, increasing pressure, just to tease him. My blood is running hot, and I feel it burning my face.
“I said, fuck you,” he snaps, head jerking to the side so I can see the flush rising on his cheeks and the clenching of his crooked jaw.
I smirk. “I know you did.” And with that, I smack his ass.
The clap is resounding, and it echoes in the small space.
Abel gasps and jerks away from the hit. I watch his ass bloom a beautiful shade of red in the shape of my hand.
Just as I reach back to do it again, he jerks back as if to grab me, and I snatch his wrist.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
He freezes, gaze locked forward on the mirror. I try meeting his eyes, but he refuses to meet mine. “Nothing.”
‘Nothing?” I question. “Seemed like you were trying to stop me. You want me to stop, baby? ‘Cause I can stop if you want me to. But if I do, I stop everything.” And I make it clear to him I mean it all. I remove my hands from his body, which makes him cry out.
“No!” He trembles, still arched over the sink.
“No?” I ask, arching a brow with a smirk.
He seems to war with himself for a moment as I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for Abel to make his move. If he wants me, he’s gonna have to fucking ask for me. Like a good boy.
And if he doesn’t… well, then, at least I’ll have my answer.
“Peris…” he drawls softly, and I look at his bent over form. At the black strip of lace over one buttock. The red handprint, the tattoos down his legs, and the scars in the middle of his thighs, unmarred by ink.
“What?” I snap, hating the way my heart is racing just looking at him. Knowing he’s this close again. Knowing I can touch him, have him, lov—no. No. Absolutely not.
“Please,” he chokes. And it’s that sound that depletes all thoughts from my brain and shoots blood straight to my cock.
“I forgot how pretty you could beg, runt,” I muse softly as I drag my hands down his body, over the ink he put into his skin, before reaching up and gripping his hair tightly and yanking him back into me.
Abel gasps as his back connects with my front.
“Put your hands behind your back.” And when he does without questioning me, my mind kind of blanks out.
I let Abel fall forward, face pressed against the dirty glass of the mirror as I reach down to the floor and unhook the chain from around his belt loops.
I wrap it around each wrist and hook it into a slip loop, yanking it tightly to secure it.
Abel hisses as the chain bites into his skin, and I grin, watching him rotate his arms against my hold on him.
“What’re you doing?” he asks, peeking over his shoulder at me, eyelids heavy, pupils dilated, and I grin.
“Whatever the fuck I want.”
“Fuck.”
My breathing kicks up a notch as I spread Abel’s legs, and while keeping hold of his arms with my left hand, I use my right to undo the button on my own jeans. The door handle jiggles again, and Abel’s breath hitches, his feet shuffling on the floor.
“Nervous, baby?”
“No,” he mutters, but his face flushes, visible even in the darkly lit room, and I smirk.
“Sure.”
“Fuck you,” he snaps and tries to push his way up. I use my grip on his arms to shove him back down. His face smashes into the glass.
“Nah. I’m gonna fuck you, though.” I drop my jeans and shove my briefs down my thighs just until my dick is free.
I spit in my palm and stroke myself a few times until I’m dripping, and then, I situate myself between Abel’s spread thighs.
I rub the wet head of my dick over his hole, groaning as it twitches against me.
Then, I angle my cock downward, between his thighs, and push along his taint until my cockhead bumps against his balls, making him gasp and arch.
I tap his ass. “C’mon, runt. Make it tight for me.
” Goosebumps break out along his back as he shuffles his feet closer together.
The sensation of his body squeezing around my cock is staggering, and I can’t help tossing my head back and groaning as I grip his bony hips.
I slip forward, and we both gasp. “Fucking shit.”
“Oh, God,” Abel groans, rolling his head to the side and exposing his bruised throat. I reach up with shaky fingers and run them along the spikes adorning his neck before reaching around and placing my palm flat against his chest, keeping him pinned in place as I ride him.
Abel’s back is curved perfectly as my dick slides between his legs, and I groan, watching his ass cheeks bounce from the force of my thrusts, one still red in the shape of my hand.
The lace of his thong rubs against my shaft with each thrust, and it burns so fucking good. I reach down and wrap my fingers around the string running through his ass, making him hiss, “What’re you doing?” And when I stretch it tighter and he mewls in soft pain, I grin.
“Whatever I fucking want, baby.” The friction has to be absolutely burning him at this point, but I don’t care. I relish watching his skin turn red as the seconds tick by. Sweat coats my skin like a blanket, and our shared, heaving breaths make the mirror in front of Abel fog over.