Chapter 20 #2
“Yes, Da–haha, no, wait, that’s not right.
” I snatch the napkins from him and shove them into my pants.
The car starts to move as I try my best to clean myself up, or at least dry everything off enough that my jock isn’t glued to my dick by the time we get home.
That’s a funny image, and I giggle while I work on my task, until I finally just give up because the sensation of the napkins scraping across the skin of my cock is distracting as hell.
I toss the soiled trash to the floor, uncaring.
“Touch me,” I beg again. “Don’t take my clothes off if you don’t want to, but please, Young-gi, I’m dyyyying. Touch me, I want you to–”
He hauls me into his lap again, so I’m straddling his thighs, and silences me with a kiss.
Well, ‘silences’ isn’t the right word, because my moans are loud as hell.
He holds my face with his hands and I enthusiastically submit to his kisses.
His tongue slides against mine, and I grip his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer.
“Young-gi,” I groan as he pushes my head back so he can get at my throat. “Yeah, fuuuck. I dream about you all the time.”
“We’re not going farther than we already have,” he says sternly, like he’s reminding both of us. “You’re high; you can’t consent to new rules.”
“But Daddy,” I whine, then laugh breathily when he freezes solid. Through my giggles, I manage to explain: “Oh shit, I’ve been trying not to say that.”
“I know.” Those two words are dark, possessive. Energy sizzles between us, in my skin, wherever we’re touching. His hands grip my waist and I find myself hauled tighter against him. “I fucking know.”
“Do you…like it?” I ask, strangely nervous about the answer.
“Yes, Tommy. I like it.” The confession sends a thrill through me. “I didn’t think I would, but I do. Save it for when you’re not high. See how you feel about this tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I pout.
He frowns, and I kiss the line between his eyebrows. His eyes soften, and his thumbs pet my sides where he grips my waist as if to silently praise my sweetness, but he keeps frowning anyway.
“Actually,” he says somberly. “Tomorrow won’t be good for you. Ecstasy has a come down that can last for forty-eight hours. When you’ve taken this in the past, what happened afterward? How did it affect you?”
“After?” I scrunch my nose, trying to think through all the good feels and tingly vibes and sexual pleasure still throbbing through my entire body.
“Um…hmm… The first time I took Molly, the next day I got on a bus and visited their graves. I almost dug them up, too. Felt scared, like I wasn’t sure they were dead anymore. It was so stupid.”
“Paranoia,” Young-gi murmurs, like that’s to be expected. He doesn’t ask me whose graves I’m talking about, like I expect him to. Instead, he just glosses over it, because he’s a psycho bratva boss and I’m into that, I guess. “And the other times?”
“Felt like shit afterward,” I say softly, stroking his shirt, wishing he would take it off. “Wanted to sleep forever, and not wake up. Sad, lonely. Just shitty. Stupid, again.”
“Depression,” he nods. “The come down lasts for a while, Tommy. You need to stay close to me until it’s over. And then we can talk about this. Not before.”
“Yeah, sure,” I agree easily, because why wouldn’t I agree with everything he wants? “Whatever you say, Daddy.”
“No, Tommy.”
I shiver, torn between scowling and smiling. “I don’t know if I like it when you correct me, or if I hate it. It’s confusing as fuck. What the fuck do you do to me? I can’t figure it out. The soap? Shit. The corner time? Goddamn, what the fuck, you know?”
“I know,” he admits, tilting his head and letting me press my lips to his jaw. Then, his voice turns hard, unyielding. “Yosef, eyes on the road.”
“Oooooh,” I turn to look at Yosef in the driver’s seat. It’s dark, but I can see the ruddy stain on his cheeks from getting caught peeking. “Yosef likes to waaaatch.”
“Tommy,” Young-gi growls.
“What?”
“Don’t talk about him while you’re sitting on my lap.”
“You jealous?”
That makes him pause, frown, then shrug. “I think so.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” I sigh, then melt in his arms when he tightens them around me.
“You make me worry, Tommy,” he admits quietly.
“Sorry, Daddy,” I say. He grumbles, but this time, he doesn’t correct me, and I hide my triumphant grin against his shoulder.
The car ride is dark, and small, like I’m in a cocoon with him. I marvel at the lights passing the windows, and get dizzy giggles from the way it feels like the car is standing still but the world is moving under our tires. Everything is all topsy-turvy, and I like it.
Yosef drops us off in front of Young-gi’s building, and I stumble out of the car like a drunkard, laughing as Young-gi drags me to the elevator.
“We gonna have sex?” I ask once we’re inside, completely ignoring the older couple standing beside us.
Young-gi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, keeping quiet until the older couple get off. They send me wide-eyed looks, scandalized, and I leer at them as the door shuts behind them.
“No, Tommy,” he says once we’re alone. “We won’t be having sex.”
“What are we gonna do?”
“We’re going to bed. You need to rest.”
“Ugh, I’m not five.”
He turns a look on me that’s so stern I almost whimper. He’s in corner-time Daddy mode right now, and while I want to get that sweet correction, I also don’t have the energy to disobey. “Fine.”
But like fuck am I sleeping alone.
As soon as we’re safe inside his penthouse, I cling to him like a monkey, surprising him when I practically jump up into his arms. After a stagger-step where we both almost fall, he hitches me higher up on his waist with a grip under my thighs and walks me down the hall.
I hum, pleased to be getting my way, and slide my hands up and down his back.
When he suddenly drops me, I squeak out an alarmed ‘Fuck!’, only to hit a soft mattress with an ‘oomph’.
I stare up at a milky-white ceiling and realize I’m in Young-gi’s room.
The bedding is silky and sends fissions of electric sensation all over my body, so I roll around and rub my face on it, groaning.
Time skips around, things get a little fuzzy.
The world is wobbly, and I flicker for a second, like a flame.
“Whoa, I’m fire,” I sigh, putting my hands above my head and staring at them. “Cool.”
“Tommy, here.” Young-gi tosses a shirt and some shorts onto my chest. “Change, get ready for bed. It’s time to sleep some of this off.”
“Ugh, that defeats the whole purpose of getting high,” I complain, still obeying despite my arguments. I slide out of my shirt and laugh when he turns his back on me, keeping his eyes averted as I undress.
“Tommy,” he warns me.
“I’m dressed,” I lie, completely naked.
“Don’t make me get the soap, young man,” he growls without looking. “I know you’re not dressed. Put the fucking clothes on.”
I like the way he bosses me around, so I do as I’m told. I want to see if he’ll tell me I’m a good boy if I behave, so I put on the too-big shirt and shorts, relishing the fact that they’re very obviously his clothes.
“Alright, I’m decent,” I sigh.
He looks me over and nods in approval, but doesn’t praise me. I pout. “No good boy this time?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He raises a brow at me, because the answer is obvious.
I huff. “Young-gi, I love a consent king as much as the next guy, but shit, I really wouldn’t have minded if you saw me naked. It’s no big deal.”
He crawls onto the bed with me silently, not even bothering to respond to my obviously problematic statement. He manhandles me so I’m laying next to him under the blanket. His big, muscled arm wraps around me, and I cuddle into him with a happy sigh.
“You like cuddling, Tommy?” he asks, husky and quiet, like we’re exchanging secrets. And I guess we are, because me liking to snuggle is kind of top secret information. I don’t share that with just anybody.
“Love it,” I admit, squirming around in his hold. Then I keep squirming.
“Be still.”
“Can’t,” I huff, panting. “God, I feel so good. Oh shit, I’m hard.”
I roll my hips and grind against him, and when he doesn’t protest, I do it again.
His big hand slides to my chest and he traces my torso, my neck, my jaw.
He places kisses at the corners of my lips, over my eyes.
I’m overloaded with sensation, being way too noisy with my moaning and sighing, but he doesn’t comment.
I climb on top of him and make out with him, all sloppy like I’m a horny teenager.
“You’re hard,” I observe, feeling it under me, liking it. “Put it in me, Young-gi, use me. Fuck, yeah, use me to get off. I’ve wanted it for so long, way before I got high. That’s consent.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Come on, you gotta do it now,” I whine, tearing up because I want it so bad, even while I lean over him, grinding on him just to feel the sparks. “I don’t think I’ll let you do it later.”
“That’s exactly why it doesn’t count, Tommy.”
“Shit, fuck you, bossy motherfucking bastard,” I mutter, then kiss his shoulder. “Didn’t mean bastard as an insult to your mom or anything.”
“I know.”
When I’ve finally exhausted myself and the electric feeling of his hands sliding around on my body starts to get too overstimulating, I collapse beside him and he lets me snuggle back against his chest. I don’t cum again, but I feel great anyway.
“You’re going to stay close to me for the next two days,” he says, managing to sound stern despite the rough tiredness in his voice. “I’m going to keep an eye on you. For your own good.”
“Love it when you say that,” I admit, my eyes already sliding shut. I’m tingling all over, floating on a cloud, warm and happy and easy and free. Nothing hurts, and nothing is scary.
I fall asleep smiling.
****************
Tommy
I wake up slowly, and for a second I’m back in time. I’m stuck wondering which client I let fuck me and then sleep with me, since I usually charge extra for that. For a blurry moment I think I’m back to living with Bruce, because he’s one of the only people I’d be okay sleeping next to.
Then I remember that Bruce and I broke up ages ago, and I don’t sell sex anymore, and also I got high and let my bratva boss owner/employer make me cum in a car outside of a nightclub.
My eyes snap open, but I keep my breathing even.
Young-gi sleeps beside me, his arm wrapped loosely around my waist. All of it comes screaming back into my memory, and I cringe at everything I said and did.
Did I really tell him my horrible secret, that I can’t get off without getting high?
Did I actually debase myself and grind on him in the booth, because I’m so broken I can’t cum any other way, and I had to use him like a fucking sex toy?
And did I actually make out with him, messy and moaning into his mouth? Did I actually climb him like a fucking tree and make him take me to his room? Did I actually call him Daddy not once, but several times?!?
Fuck me, I’m so fucking stupid. I’m dying inside, every memory another pound of dirt burying me in shame and regret. So stupid, I can’t believe I did that. He must think I’m so pathetic.
Having Young-gi’s arm around me is making my skin crawl because there’s no way he wants me here.
I made him bring me to his room, I wouldn’t let him go.
And when he tried to go to sleep, when he told me to be still, I threw myself on top of him, forced myself on him. God, the horror is eating me alive.
I’ve taken Molly with my friends at the club, but that’s why I do it there.
I can grind on them and it’s no big deal, they all want me to dance with them and get down and dirty with them.
It’s part of the deal. So for me to do that to Young-gi, here in his goddamn bed, makes me want to fucking vomit because I feel so dirty and horrible.
Holy fuck, I begged him to fuck me, and he had to tell me no multiple times.
I’m such a piece of shit. I told him to use me, like some kind of psychopath.
Tried to trick him into looking at me naked.
Tried to tell him to fuck me while I was high because I wouldn’t do it sober, as if that was an okay thing to say.
My insides are tying themselves into pretzels, and I can barely breathe through the self-loathing tightening my lungs.
Without making a sound, with years of practice under my belt, I start the slow process of sneaking out from under his arm. It’s a special skill that I haven’t needed in a while, and it takes patience I don’t feel right now, but soon enough I’m standing beside his bed, looking down at him.
Young-gi’s eyebrows twitch, and his arm curls around the warm pillow I shoved in my place, but after that, he settles, and he stays asleep.
I turn to go, ready to disappear forever, when I’m hit with another memory.
“You’re going to stay close to me for the next two days,” he’d said as we fell asleep. “I’m going to keep an eye on you. For your own good.”
I pause. Anxiousness and neediness swirl in my gut and I wonder if maybe I should stay despite my humiliation.
But the truth of the matter is that I can’t face him in the light of day after last night.
Everything about that situation feels ugly to me.
I don’t feel free or easy or happy today.
Today I feel shitty, and disgusting, and wrong.
It takes me a few minutes to sneakily find some reasonable clothing and get the fuck out of the building.
I’ve got my hood up over my face because I don’t know if he still has guys tailing me or not.
It’s so early in the morning that it’s only just gotten bright out, I probably only slept a couple hours–just enough to come down.
No one looks suspicious, like they’re watching me, but I don’t stick around and risk it.
As I briskly stride down the street, Young-gi’s building looms over me and I get the paranoid feeling that he’s looking down on me right now from his window, sneering at me, glad that I’m gone, relieved that I left and I’m not there forcing him to put up with me anymore.
I start running, and I don’t stop, because I can’t run fast enough to forget about last night. Can’t run far enough to escape the way I acted.