Chapter Nine #2
The pleasure is building again, and surprisingly my dick is hard and leaking already.
Aaron stands, picking me up with him—and his hand never stops moving inside of me.
He lays me down on his bed, settling on his knees between my legs, eyes drilling into me.
They bounce between my face, my dick, and my hole as it stretches over his fingers.
Bending down—as his fingers fuck into me—he finds every spot within reach that's covered in my previous release and licks at it, groaning and biting at random. Like he can’t get enough of me, like he’s starved, like I just taste that fucking good.
“Flip over for me.” He says, moving off of me and pulling his fingers out of my ass.
“Wait—”
“I’ll put them back, so flip.” Aaron’s panting, his eyes sharp and focused, if not a bit aggressive. Hesitantly, I roll onto my stomach, letting him grab my hips and pull me to my hands and knees. “Benjamin. You’ll tell me if you don’t like something?”
“Yes.” I groan, anticipating. He pushes between my shoulder blades, laying my chest flat and shoving my face into the bed. My ass is still up in the air, and I thank God I’m a swimmer as I feel how well my body is arching. Aaron’s hand runs up my spine as I turn my head so I can breathe. I shudder.
With no warning, he shoves his fingers into me again, pumping in as far as they will go.
“Oh fuck. Wait. It’s so deep now, too deep. Oh my God. Aaron.”
“Mhm.” His left hand circles around my waist, and right when I think he’ll grasp my leaking cock, he pushes down hard over the area between my hips.
I choke on my spit. “Do you feel it? Can you feel my fingers here?” I can’t necessarily feel them that far up, but the added pressure feels insanely good and so does knowing that if it was his dick in me, I’d probably be able to feel his head when I press there.
“So so good.” I cry.
“I want to be that deep inside of you, Button. So fucking deep inside of you. You’re so warm and wet, so delicious.” He sounds out of his mind, delirious. I’m starting to understand his obsession with my pelvis.
Aaron retracts his left hand, and it isn’t long before I feel him rub lube all over the inside of my thighs.
“What are you doing?” I manage, confused and trying to think around his fingers that are intentionally not hitting my prostate.
“You’re going to make me come. You want to worship me, no?” I groan—fuck, that’s so hot.
“Yes, yes, I do. What can I do for you?” My voice is strained, and I can’t turn my head far enough to fully see him. I can only make out his face and the arm that’s connected to the hand pumping inside of me.
“Squeeze your thighs together—show me how much of a slut you are for me.” My knees audibly smack together, my thighs tense with how hard they’re clenched. I’m still a bit unsure what he could be—Oh my God.
Aaron shoves his cock in between my thighs, thrusting between them in time with every thrust of his fingers.
I’m gasping, trying my best to stay lucid under the feel of his fingers and his cock on my thighs, how it's rubbing on the underside of my own length. Aaron leans over my back just enough to grasp the nape of my neck, and he holds me down with just enough pressure to remind me I can’t move without his permission.
He’s groaning and panting, mumbling my name and twisting his fingers repeatedly.
He’s already close—I can feel it in how he’s pulsing, in how he’s crying out for me.
Every time he slams his hips forward it shoves his fingers in further, the curl on them intoxicating, like he’s memorized where my prostate is and has decided now is the time to abuse the fuck out of it.
“Baby,” Aaron’s voice is lower than normal, coming out in between groans and pants. “You’re so close to being so fucked. So close to never being allowed to be touched by anyone else ever again.”
“Ahhhhh.” We both moan at the same time.
“If you ever let me fuck you, if you ever put my dick in your ass, I won’t be able to take it.
I think I’d kill anyone who touches you.
” He might be crying as he talks. Like it hurts him to admit this, like he’s dying right now.
“That’s why—that’s why I won’t fuck you.
But oh God, I want to fuck you. Benjamin, baby, I really want to fuck you. ”
One last stroke of his fingers over my prostate, one final drag of his giant cock under mine, and I’m coming again. I don’t moan; I don’t call out to him. I’m sobbing. Drool and tears soak the blankets under me, and I just keep fucking sobbing.
Aaron leans over my back, never stopping, never letting up, and bites the nape of my neck—digging his teeth in like I’ll get away if I’m not fused into him.
I shriek—the pain of his teeth settling deep beneath my skin, mixing with the pleasure streaming through my veins and my come shoots out harder.
As he’s licking over the wound, I feel Aaron groan deep in his chest and he shudders.
His come shoots out to join mine, mixing together on the front of his comforter.
Throughout his orgasm—even as I’ve stopped coming—he never stops thrusting, never stops the thrust or curl of his fingers, and I’m doing everything in my power to not pass out as he finally slows to a stop.
Aaron’s breathing hard, his hands shaking as his fingers pull out of me, earning a loud mewl from my mouth.
He sits back and wraps an arm under me and over my chest, locking his hand over my shoulder.
I say nothing as he pulls me up, my back flush against his chest. My head dangles, my arms limp at my sides.
“Button?” He asks tentatively.
“Mm.” I answer, so he knows I’m alive at least. I feel him peek around my shoulder, pushing hair off of my face, looking over my expression.
“Blink once if you’re good and just really worn out, blink twice if I should be worried right now.” If I had even an ounce of energy, I’d laugh. I blink one very slow blink. He chuckles.
“Can you at minimum stand?” I nod, sighing as he lays me back down on his bed.
I hear the shower start and a few minutes later he picks me up bridal style.
I crack my eyes open and peek up at him.
Aaron’s staring ahead as he walks, his face drawn in concern, and I have a feeling it doesn't have anything to do with my current condition.
He steps into the shower and stands me up. I watch him as he grabs my loofah and pours soap all over it. He runs it over my body slowly, softly, like he’s kissing every inch of me. His eyes meet mine and they look a bit sad as he presses his lips to my forehead. Something in my gut twists.
Aaron washes himself as I lean against the tile wall, mesmerized by the movements, by the flex of his muscles.
I reach out, run my fingertips over his skin and he shudders.
After we’re both clean he pulls me against his chest, holds me there, kissing my neck and touching any part of me he can reach.
His eyes stay closed, stay turned away, and if they do look into mine—if I can catch them—I can see the sorrow and the desire there. He turns the water off.
Then he puts his sweats on me and sits me on his bed so he can towel dry my hair.
“Aaron?” I ask as he’s rubbing the towel over the mess of gold on my head.
“Hm?”
“You’re not… going to make it weird again, are you?” I expect him to laugh, make a bit out of it, or at the very least just say no. Instead, he pauses. That pause sucks the air right out of my lungs.
“What do you mean?” He eventually questions, continuing with the towel. Slowly, I reach up and pull it away, dropping it into my lap. Aaron avoids my eyes for a moment, before he finally gives in and looks at me.
“Aaron. You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“You’re running from me. From this.” He laughs, strained and awkward, taking a step backward.
“No, I’m not. I’m right here, aren’t I? Don’t be silly.” I observe him. He’s right—he’s still here physically and he’s yet to kick me out. But otherwise, he’s already fled.
“You’re never going to accept this are you? Accept me?” Aaron stares at me, his pleading green eyes full of more pain and fear than I’ve ever seen him express. He says nothing. This is the very first time I wish I couldn’t read his expression.
There’s a knife in my chest and it’s twisting.
No, someone is pulling it out and shoving it back in.
Over and over and over. I don’t know what I thought.
He’d want to date me? Be friends with benefits?
A situationship even? I don’t know. But I can see now that all I—all we will ever be is a temptation that burdens him.
Nothing more, nothing less. I feel fucking sick.
Someone is screaming. I think it’s me—in my mind I’m screaming and screaming.
The part of me who only has my dad left, who only has the Archer family to rely on, can’t help but laugh.
I mean, I wasn’t worth it to my mother for her to keep herself alive.
I’m not worth enough to Dad for him to stop beating me unconscious.
And now, I’m not enough to have anything other than regretted hook ups with Aaron.
I understand he thinks he has some kind of noble intent, but damnit, can someone pick me?
Just one time, please—someone choose me.
I’m worth something more than this, right?
I stand, laying the towel on his bed and grabbing my clothes off of the floor where they were thrown after our shower. Aaron is a ball of nervous energy now, hovering over me, watching what I’m doing. When I start toward the bathroom door he calls to me.
“Wait, where are you going?” I keep walking.
“Please wait, Button.” I want to throw up.
I want to carve out my heart and my central nervous system.
Then I’ll never have to feel him again. I want to rip the veins out of my wrists and watch them drain.
Before I can enter the bathroom Aaron grabs my bicep, halting my steps. “Hey.”
“What?” My voice is harsh and I feel him flinch.
“I… Don’t be mad. I told you in the beginning, we both know we can’t do this.” I laugh. It’s a small, sarcastic laugh that pairs nicely with my narrowed eyes as I turn around to face him.
“Can’t? We already did. And did and did.” He looks away, unable to hold my glare, the emotion I have there.
“I know. But you know what I meant. We have to stop.”
There’s a long pause in which I study him. The sadness, the slumped shoulders, the trembling hands. Aaron looks like an abused puppy. Like I’m the one doing the rejecting here.
“For someone who claims to be completely at my mercy, you sure enjoy crushing me.” He takes a sharp breath, reaching a hand out to hold my cheek.
I step out of reach, doing everything in my power to make my eyes as cold as possible.
We stare at each other, and I realize this area of his room that exists between us will remind me of this moment for the rest of my life.
“Okay, Aaron. You can have your wish, I’ll spare you.
No more of this—we can go back to how things were at the beginning of last summer.
” His shoulders relax and he sighs. I can see the relief, the grateful gleam in the green of his eyes.
“Thank you. I knew you’d understand. It’s not that I don’t want it, I just—”
“But, Aaron,” He meets my eyes, curious and unsure. "Don’t ever fucking touch me again.” The color drains from his face, those same grateful eyes widening.
“Button—”
“Whether it’s a hug, a high five, or the brush of our fingers when you hand me the remote.
If you touch me again, I swear to God you will be like a ghost to me.
Nonexistent.” A single tear rolls down Aaron’s cheek, and I pretend not to see, pretend it doesn’t suffocate me, pretend it doesn’t look like his entire world is falling apart.
It’s so easy to see what you hope is there when you want something, someone bad enough.
I turn, walking through the threshold of the bathroom. I can hear his sharp intakes of breath, like he’s panicking. How he’s still standing in the exact same spot, watching me leave.
When I reach the door to Felix’s room I pause, not bothering to turn around as I speak.
“Oh, and Aaron?”
“Yes?” His voice is so fucking broken. I’m glad I didn't turn around.
“You were right. You are a fucking coward.” I walk into Felix’s room and slam the door shut behind me. Things are changing again—we are changing again.
Whiplash.