Chapter 14 #2
I don’t know what any of that means, but I understand the need behind his tone.
So I cling to that, taking mental notes to Google the meaning like everything he murmurs under the daze of lust. My hand works his cock while my tongue twirls around the tip.
Aggressively, he fists my hair, nails biting into my scalp as he pulls me away from his cock.
I make sure to close just enough for my teeth to drag up his length, saliva stringing.
For a moment, he just looks into my eyes, and I’m not sure what I see.
Does this make him as sick as it does me?
I slowly move my hand up and down, stroking him lazily, while he meets each stroke with a pump of his hips. Mirroring my movements.
“Why didn’t you tell Nico?” I ask.
Thiago groans, thrusting into my hand.
“Fode3, I didn’t know, Zayden,” he snarls through gritted teeth as my nails rake over the veins in his cock. Despite the grip on my hair, I inch closer so the tip of my tongue can flick his piercing, and he nearly growls from the contact. “Fuck.”
I don’t believe him, even though a small voice inside me demands that I do—demanding that I look into his eyes and take the truth he’s willingly giving me.
But instead, I continue to suck his cock.
He ruts into my mouth, fucking his frustration away.
And I take every painful thrust to the back of my throat.
My mouth is a mess of saliva and precum as he continues to brutalize my throat.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he needed the distraction, and maybe we both did.
“I need to be inside you,” he whispers while gently stroking my cheek. I open my mouth, but only a sound escapes—a whimper that makes him laugh softly.
“Come, let me show you the moon.” He pulls me up upright and winks.
“It’s beautiful tonight.” With that, he slams my body into the window.
He wasn’t kidding; the view is gorgeous from this room.
The moon is high in the clear night sky, the ocean calm, soft waves rocking gently into the rocky shore.
The cold bites into my heated flesh even more when he pulls down my pants, his other hand working at my shirt.
Once there are no barriers between us, he grinds into me.
“Olha o que você me faz.”4He murmurs words I understand. Look what you do to me. Words that he whispers into my ears every time he slips inside me.
And I melt.
My ass presses into his erection; it’s embarrassing how needy and desperate he makes me. Thiago trails hot kisses and sharp nips at the muscles in my back, while he preps me to take all of him.
“Relax, okay?” His voice is strained, like he’s in pain from holding back.
His fingers move to my mouth, a silent demand for me to wet them.
I do just that, then he hooks them, and I make sure to leave my lips parted enough to collect the spit he needs, while he continues to hump my backside.
My warm breath fogs up the window, creating a small white circle.
Saliva pours down his fingers, and he groans.
“Fuck, Zayden.” He smacks my ass before bringing his finger to my tight entrance and prying it open with care.
The sudden burn is quickly soothed by pleasure.
Safra’s fingers play me like the keys of the piano.
Slow and deliberate. With a grace that's exhilarating when he hits the spot inside that makes stars dance around my vision.
And with the ocean view creating a romantic atmosphere.
The gothic kind of vibe that matches the rot inside us.
“Safra…” I bite out as his fingers curl inside me, my legs shaking from the intensity of it.
“You like that?” he murmurs as his other hand wraps around my hand that's currently stroking my cock.
My gaze finds my reflection in the glass, and the flame of shame sparks to life.
The guilt makes it hard to look at myself, and Safra notices, like he always does, and I let my eyes fall closed.
A sharp sting at my shoulder has them fluttering open to catch Safra biting down on my shoulder.
Both of us hissing and moaning from the sensation.
“Eyes on me,” he whispers, making sure that I’m looking before continuing to say, “I will never judge you.” He recites the words like a promise, one I’m sure he means. “It’s okay to want me.” He lines the head of his cock against my puckered hole. “I want you too.”
With that, he pushes himself inside, and we both moan in unison.
I don't know what it feels like for him, but for me it feels like ecstasy. A drug that rushes straight to my brain as his hips move in a slow and deliberate circle. His pace makes me a whimpering mess, and he presses deeper into me. My eyes flutter closed, and he stops.
“No, Ruas, on me.”
I do as I’m told, opening my eyes only to meet his heated stare.
Heat crawls up my neck, licking up my cheeks, blushing from the embarrassment of him witnessing me like this.
His lips stretch wide until all I can see is his pearly white smile and the gold grill that sits on his canines and premolars.
Safra's pace quickens, his skin slapping harshly against mine, nails digging into my sides, and I enjoy every fucking bit of it.
Panting and sweating, I bite down on my bottom lip, while my heart continues to somersault inside my chest. Trying to hold onto the last shred of dignity left in me while Thiago fucks me into oblivion.
“Oh, meu principe,5” he groans through his gritted teeth. “Tell me you like this?”
I don’t.
“Tell me that you’re mine…” he pleads, as his movements become more erratic… more demanding. My back bows as I meet each of his thrusts. I bite down harder until the familiar tang of blood coats my tongue.
My hand moves faster…
Matching his punishing rhythm, each one tackling me closer to the edge.
The side of my face presses against the glass, his hand pinning me down, and my toes curl into the plush rug as I feel the heat quickly gathering at the base of my spine and sending delicious tingles up the length of it until it pours over my brain, making me feel like I’m underwater, and he’s my only source of oxygen.
The music that plays softly in the background fades, replaced by the sound of ragged breath and crashing waves.
With one final thrust, I’m tumbling off the edge, my arms open wide as I fall from the height.
My hand falters, and my cock jumps. Ropes of cum hit the glass, and when I look up.
Safra is looking at me like I’m made of magic, and that chips away at my armor a little more.
“Você é lindo,” 6he breathes, and I understand.
He thinks I’m beautiful, and he takes his time drinking me in, slowing down his frantic movements, only to watch me unravel for him.
Dragging his cock from inside, only to slam back in.
Over and over. Until he brings me back to the edge, and this time he doesn’t stop until we are both barreling off it.
“Você é meu,7” he murmurs through gritted teeth, as his cock twitches and spills deep inside me.
And like always, he pulls out, without a word, and walks away. My gaze catches his back muscles, watching the light cast shadows on them. This is the part I hate the most: the crash after you take the drug. Once the bliss is gone, all that is left is disgust.
Like clockwork, he steps into the bathroom and gags until he’s spilling his own shame into the toilet bowl.
I never stay for this part. By the time he’s done, I’m gone, before the voices of shame can grow any louder.
This time is no different; I clean myself the best I can.
Take another swig of alcohol for good luck and get the fuck away.
I don’t look back.
Not at the bed. Nor at the man heaving in the bathroom like he’s trying to purge everything he just did to me.
My feet move quicker than my mind, walking as fast as I can and far enough so I can breathe again.
My clothes are disheveled, not that I bothered fixing them. I can’t even bother to fix myself.
The hallway walls grow closer; they feel endless, and soon I see the light of the red blinking exit sign.
I push the door open and breathe in a lungful of night air.
The night is quiet, and for a moment, my mind goes still.
The reprieve is quickly interrupted by a vibration in my pocket.
I groan as I fish out my phone. Looking down at the screen, I’m reminded of the dance that’s days away—the one I’ll be auctioned at.
I bring the phone to my forehead, pressing the device into my flesh with a deep and guttural groan.
I’m so fucking tired. I shove the phone back into my pocket and keep walking, cutting across the courtyard and heading towards the dorms. The wind bites at my skin, but I don’t slow down.
Not until catching a glimpse of Wyatt coming from the east wing, a grey hoodie pulled up and hands shoved deep into his pocket.
His pace is fast and erratic which is unlike him, making me question what he’s up to.
I hide between one of the buildings, watching him look around before choosing the path that leads to our dorm.
I follow close behind him, making it appear that I didn’t notice he was there when we almost collide into each other.
“Watch it,” he mutters, trying to push past me, but I grab his arm. He jerks away, and that’s when I see it—the stain dancing on the edge of his sleeves. My brows pull together; there’s no mistaking what it is. Sure, it’s faint, but it’s there. Blood, smudged into the cut of the fabric.
“Wyatt.”
He doesn’t answer with words, only a glare.
“What happened?”
His eyes narrow into small slits. “Remember your place, I don’t answer to you.” He smiles as he gently slaps my cheek. “It’s the other way around, Zayden.”
As much as I try not to let this affect me, it does. Wyatt isn’t my friend, that I know, but we got along for the most part. And unlike Ezra, he has never spoken about people's worth. My jaw clenches from anger; something happened… I just hope it wasn’t to Nico.
Wyatt storms off, and I’m left standing in the doorway, my heart finally steady, even as the voices grow stronger.
The ones that remind me I’m not enough. The ones that scream that I’m nothing.
Maybe Safra was right about something. I’m only here to be used.
But I know blood when I see it. And I also know guilt when it disappears behind the bathroom door.
A sick feeling blooms in my chest, making my stomach turn, leaving me winded.
Something happened.
And it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world bleeds for it.
1. my prince
2. “That's right, good boy.
3. fuck
4. “Look at what you make me do.”
5. my prince
6. “You are beautiful,”
7. You are mine