10. CHAPTER TEN
“I’m not a fucking puppy!”
“Don’t try to deny it. You’ve got the face of a fucked bitch.”
“I will kill you.”
“No, you won’t." A tear drips directly from Curren’s left eye and lands above my top lip. And when I lick it, I sense another change in him. I can feel it in the way his gloved hands flex around my neck. “You want me to fight.”
Curren’s thighs press into my hips with so much force I’ll be bruised come morning. His index fingers crawl to my carotid arteries, and push. And my muscle memory has me digging my thumbs beneath his, ready to bend them back.
We’ve reached a stalemate.
He knows it, and I know it.
If I let go to try and overpower him, I’ve only got ten seconds before I pass out. And if Curren tries to move, I’ll snap his thumbs at the knuckle.
“You’re a sub, Curren. Why are you trying to fight it so hard?”
He screams at me, “I’m not a fucking sub!” But doesn’t tighten his grip.
“I’ve had you on a leash since I poured that Scotch down your throat.” The twitch of his right eye is subtle, but I see it. “You’ve always been in control, haven’t you? You’ve left every woman you’ve fucked worse off than how you found them.”
“It’s been twenty-one years since they took you away. Don’t you dare pretend like you know me!”
I release his finger. "That's right. I don’t know you.” The leather floats back down to my neck but applies no pressure. “Because I am you.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, more tears fall to my face.
My palms reach for his chest and hide the words KILL ME that are inked there—scarred, really. His skin was sliced so deep it’s hard against my palms.
“And that means I’m not Harry.”
“Shut up!” he yells, shaking his head; his perfect dark waves tussling further.
“You’re not a kid anymore, Curren.”
“I said, shut up!”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
I can see it happening before he even moves, yet I don’t stop it. I don’t move my hands. I don’t break eye contact. I will be his punching bag for as long as he needs me to be. Though I can’t deny that it hurts; a fist as strong as his to your jaw will do that.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I repeat. And so does he, this time to my cheekbone. But I’ve had worse.
Now he’s holding back.
“It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault.”
His heart is beating so fast that the veins in his neck look like they’re about to burst. Unable to hold it together, he wipes his face free of the tears that prove me right, and this time his voice shakes; “Fuck you.”
Grabbing his wrists, I bring his hands to my mouth.
With wide eyes, he watches me lick up the palms of both gloves and suck every finger, drinking his tears.
His pain. And when I’m done, Curren doesn’t remove his hand.
Instead, he slides his middle and index finger over my tongue.
Then, parting his fingers, he pushes them into my mouth.
They run across the top of my teeth, under my tongue, over my lips.
“Fuck me,” he shudders, instantly appalled at himself.
Sitting up, I hold him by the back of the neck. “I will if you want me to.”
He just stares at me.
Behind his dark eyes, I can see a war waging.
Or are they searching for something from me? Permission, perhaps?
“Is that what you want, Curren?”
His bottom lip trembles, and he clamps down on it with his teeth. A well of tears fills his lash lines, and I impulsively lick them. He closes each for me in turn as I lap upwards through his eyelashes, then without pulling it back into my mouth, I kiss him.
His hands slap against my cheeks as he licks himself off my tongue.
His hips rock, the cleft of his ass grinding against my cock as he ruts his own against my stomach.
“Do it,” he says, rising to his knees—his hands wandering over my shaved head. My neck. My back.
I grip it ass. “Hard or soft?”
“Fuck me through the floor.”
Curren bounces when I throw him onto his stomach. As I hover over him, I lick up his spine. It’s not smooth, but I never expected it to be. He tries not to react but lets out the sexiest little moan.
Reversing, I kiss back down his spine, and when I get to his ass, I grab his hips and pull up. His head mashes into the covers and he hides his face with his hands.
I reach around and push his dick between his legs, then lick a stripe up from the tip, to his balls, to his ass. He clenches under my tongue as I circle his rim. And I’m pretty sure it’s unconscious when he arches his back, pushing himself firmer against my face.
“Such an eager puppy.”
Curren's feet flex and he groans into the quilt because we both know he doesn't hate the name. So I tell him he's a, "Good boy," and suck one of his balls into my mouth.
His toes claw at the covers.
He swears.
He punches the mattress.
I tickle it with my tongue and let it pop from my lips.
Wrapping my fingers around them like I did before, I tug down. Slowly. Well beyond what should be bearable. I watch Curren’s thighs and glutes tense, and his tan hole pucker and release as he fights against the urge to cry out.
Soon enough, he’s fucking my fist and rocking back against my waiting tongue as it pokes, teases, and digs without a second thought for the strain on his sack.
I spit on it and watch the bubbly fluid drip down over my fingers to his balls. Then I lick it up and spit again.
Releasing his cock and balls to hang low and heavy, I pry his ass cheeks apart. Coating a finger in saliva, I work him open. And once I’m two knuckles deep, I start pumping.
Curren’s body shakes and I can just make out his teeth digging into the leather covering the back of his hand as he bites down into it.
I lick around the side of the first finger as I slowly sink a second inside him. Fully in, I twist my hand and kiss his lower back. Then I crook my fingers and work in and out, up and down, scooping at his insides while my twice-edged cock leaks continuously between my legs.
“How much do you want it to hurt?”
“So much… Please… Make me scream.”
“Puppies should be careful what they wish for.”
“No! You can do whatever you want.” Then, when I think he has nothing more to say, he says, “Can you piss on me?”
Did he just?
“Curren, I—”
“Please,” he whines. “I’ve been coming to the thought of it for as long as I can remember.”
My eyes roll back because, holy shit, that’s hot. The thought of him thinking about me while he’s alone, fucking himself, and wishing I was there with him…
I crawl back over Curren’s body and brush his hair from his neck.
I kiss it, then pry his hands away from his face.
With no instruction, I plunge the fingers of my other hand into his mouth and onto the back of his tongue.
He gags around them, and I collect the thick, viscous saliva.
Then reaching between our bodies, I use three fingers this time and force my way inside.
His face contorts in pain.
“Three fingers is nothing compared to the real thing.”
He opens his eyes and tries to look back at me.
With my fingers as deep as they can go, I pump, and search, and—
Curren tries to bite back a wail as his body shakes beneath me. So I latch onto the crook of his neck, and rub the same spot.
“Ah—fuck! That... That...”
“Does Puppy think he’s been stretched open enough?”
“Ye—yeah.”
“Are you gonna keep being a good boy for me?”
Curren nods his head frantically against the bedding.
My fingers slip from his ass and back into his hair.
“Get in the fucking bathroom,” I growl directly into his ear before standing him up and dragging him along with me.
He has to hunch over so he doesn’t lose a chunk of his scalp as I push him one step ahead of me.
But he still looks so big. So strong. Not that much smaller than me in reality, and nothing at all like I pictured he’d turn out.
But this is better. Because Curren isn’t the only one who dragged a fantasy around; it’s just that mine felt so shameful I rarely let it rear its ugly head.
“Over the bath.” I toss Curren towards the tub.
He stumbles but ultimately does as he’s told.
Hands inside on the white porcelain, chest on the edge, knees on the tiles.
I can't help but smirk at the sight of him; from his wide shoulders to his narrow waist where the dimples at the base of his spine catch the harsh fluorescence light.
My hand lands on his ass in a smack that echoes off the bathroom walls.
His cry is a mix of grunt and groan that goes straight to my cock, and that's the last thing I need right now, so I grip the head of my dick and squeeze until it hurts. Then I slap Curren harder a second time as a penance he doesn’t know he’s paying.
“Spread your ass open.”
I watch the muscles of Curren’s back tense at my demand, but he doesn’t move. So I step beside him and push his head down with my foot. “Did I, or did I not, tell you I only like rewarding good boys?”
He tries to turn his head, but I’ve got too much pressure on it.
“Did Puppy change his mind?”
I get my answer when Curren finally moves; his torso now supporting him on the side of the bath as his hands reach back.
Kicking his head to the side, I retake my place behind him and watch as his fingers slide between his ass cheeks to grip the flesh, and expose himself to me.
“If only the guys from juvie could see you now.”
His rim pinches as his balls tighten.
“I bet you’ve always wanted that, too, huh? For them to surround you with their cocks out, drowning you in their piss.”
“No... Just you.”
“You want it in your hair? On your chest? In your face? In your mouth?”
He just nods.
“Inside you—”
“Oh, shit,” he gasps, but the tub magnifies its volume.
“You filthy… fucking… whore.”
Moving on his own, Curren’s gloved fingers crawl towards his rim, and with the most painfully depraved groan I’ve ever heard, he buries two from each hand inside himself until his back is arched, his ass is up, and his hole is gaping.
“I need it… Please, Jude. Don’t make me beg.”