Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SEBASTIAN
Fiona’s gentle fingers ease some of the tightness in my chest, even as my mind spins with all my failed attempts at intimacy.
I’ve got you.
Part of my problem was always a connection—I just can’t feel sexual attraction without one. But what he did to me that night is always there too, scratching the surface of my consciousness with its clawed fingernails.
I’ve tried so hard to be “normal.” I’ve tried so many times.
Eyes of every color. Long hair, short hair, curly hair.
Thick thighs. Breasts large and small. The smell of their skin—vanilla, coconut, strawberries.
But my erection was just a biological response to soft hands and warm, wet mouths.
Inside, I was an empty husk. And it always felt wrong, like I was being violated.
Like I was allowing something to happen against my will.
I never came with any of them. I’ve only ever come in my own fist.
I look over Fiona’s shoulder. Michaels is sitting in front of the heater, his legs spread wide, and his eyes are straight fire.
The intensity in his gaze makes me feel vulnerable, but it also sends a pleasurable rush to my balls that only heightens my confusion.
Since high school, I knew I was different.
While my friends were bragging about blow jobs in the school parking lot, I struggled to understand what the big deal was.
But these two key me up like no one ever has. Yet it’s more than lust—this strong emotional connection pulls me dangerously close to them.
I try to relax as Fi leans in, using her weight to push us against the barn door, and she runs her tongue along my lips. When I open for her, Fi moans into my mouth, and I swallow it, my teeth nipping at her bottom lip and my cock hardening against her thigh.
“Touch him,” Michaels says breathily.
My eyes fall to his hand, which is pulling languidly on his cock through the thin material of his boxers while he watches us with hooded eyes.
Why is that so hot?
Fi reaches for me, her hands pulling at my pants, and before I know it, her chilled fingers are wrapped around my bare cock.
“Fuck, Fi.” I make a noise in the back of my throat, my head falling to her neck, breathing in her floral scent.
“Pull out her tits, Bastian.”
I normally hate being ordered around, especially by Brantley Michaels, but my lust is almost unmanageable, and I find myself wanting direction.
We break apart so I can pull Fi’s sweater over her head, her long hair fanning out over her bare back. She’s not wearing a bra.
I can’t take my eyes off her. The swells of her breasts are streaked with glossy silver stretch marks and her nipples are tightened in the cold air. She’s so fucking perfect. I graze my thumb over one tight bud and pinch. She moans. Michaels moans. My balls ache with pleasure.
Fi pulls back, her emerald eyes hooded, and she grabs my hand, our fingers interlocking tightly. Michaels scrambles up, the head of his uncut cock peeking out of the waistline of his underwear, and takes her other hand.
I stop when we reach the tractor. Fi releases my hand and opens the door, climbing the three steps into the cab.
“Are we really doing this?” I ask.
Her eyes shine with mischief. “B just stripped for us to a song about a sexy tractor. It’s serendipitous.” She wiggles her feet at me, and I reach forward, untying her boots and sliding them off. Once they hit the floor, Michaels wastes no time peeling off Fi’s jeans and panties.
She sits perpendicular to the steering wheel and giggles as her bare ass hits the black vinyl seat, her bare pussy spread out for us.
Us.
I glance at Michaels with a swallow. He’s fisting himself again, his blond hair curtained over his eyes. He looks knowingly at me through the strands and nods toward Fi.
Do I really want to cross this line? With her? With him?
But the voice in my head helpfully points out that we’ve already gone too far to stop. I’ve never felt this free—this euphoric. I want to touch her and taste her. But I’m so fucking nervous.
Michaels seems to sense my hesitation. He releases his cock and steps toward me. I flinch when his hand falls on top of mine and guides it to rest on Fi’s thigh. When I look into his eyes, I expect amusement or judgment, but I only see empathy and lust in his small smile.
I step closer, my face inches from her clit, the smell of her pussy sweet and intoxicating as I inhale. I lift her thighs, place them on my shoulders and run my tongue tentatively through her folds. She practically bucks into my mouth with a needy gasp.
“Own her, Sebastian.” Michaels’s voice is deep and throaty.
Whatever control I had left dissolves with the command from his lips, and I bury myself in Fi. I suck her clit and slide my tongue into her hole. Her hands tangle in my hair, and the delicious sting hardens my cock to the point of pain. I’ve never felt this feral for anyone.
I pull back, panting as I stare up at her, licking her wetness from my lips. Her pupils are blown wide as she stares at me, her hips twitching toward my face as if she wants me to dive back in.
Michaels leans close to my ear, his hot breath on my neck as he speaks.
“Your turn. Be a good boy and climb onto the tractor.” The words send a thrill up my spine and I turn, our eyes locking, lips inches apart.
“Don’t you want to take care of this?” His hand brushes over the length of my cock, and I whimper involuntarily.
Just the feel of his fingers through my pants is torture.
This isn’t me though. I don’t whimper. I’m not gay, I don’t think. But, fuck it feels so good.
I nod. “Y–y–yes…”
Fiona reaches for me, and I pull her off the seat.
She hops to the ground and turns me so my ass is facing the tractor steps, then nods her head for me to sit.
I back up the steps, facing her, and perch on the seat.
She makes quick work of removing my boots and pants.
I tense when she shimmies my boxers down and my cock springs free, slapping against my stomach, a string of sticky precum dripping from the tip.
“Relax, baby.” Fi croons, moving up a step.
I spread my legs and she stands between them.
“I’m about to make you feel so good.” She runs the flat of her tongue along the underside of my cock.
I swear, I’ve never been this hard, the veins pulsing as she swallows my tip, hitting the back of her throat.
“Oh shit,” I curse. My balls are already seizing up, pleasure crawling up my spine like a rollercoaster preparing for free fall. “I’m sorry,” I pant, closing my eyes tight. “I’m so close already.”
Fi pulls off with an audible pop, and I hear her moan. My eyes snap open, and I watch as Michaels bends her over, lining himself up with her backside. He lovingly runs his fingers over her skin, and she makes the sexiest keening noise I’ve ever heard, her eyes rolling back in her head.
“I’m going to fill up your pretty little pussy. Do you want that?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “Please.”
Then he slams into her roughly. Her whole body jerks, and I feel the burst of her hot breath on my balls. My orgasm starts to crest again, my limbs tingling.
Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come.
Fi looks completely wrecked, her cheeks flushed, sweat beading on her forehead, her hair tangled over her shoulders.
“I need you, Fi,” I say, my voice rough and hungry. “Please.”
Her gaze crashes with mine, brimming with raw lust. Without thinking, I grab her face, pulling her mouth back to my cock.
She opens like she can’t wait to taste me, taking my entire length into her mouth and down her throat.
She gags and makes obscene slurping sounds that vibrate my oversensitive skin.
I’m surprised when Fi comes first, her body quaking on Michaels’s dick.
He grunts and I look up, our eyes clashing as Michaels’s face contorts with pleasure.
The orgasm that crashes through my body is intense as I watch him fall apart at the same time.
One of Micheals’s hands leaves Fi’s hip and connects with mine, squeezing until I think our bones must be grinding to dust. But all I can feel is pleasure scalding me, making me dizzy.
When I come down from the high, my head feels floaty and little spots sparkle before my eyes. My legs give out, and I stumble down the tractor step and sit, not even caring when my bare ass lands on the cold floor.
Fi sinks to the ground in front of me, nestling her body into my lap.
Michaels walks unsteadily to the heater, pulls it closer to us, and picks up a couple blankets.
He throws them over our naked bodies and sits beside me.
He looks at me warily, and I suspect he’s waiting for me to freak out, but I’m too tired right now. I can hardly think.
When I don’t move, he cuddles into my side under the scratchy material. I stare at our bare legs brushing together.
This is so weird.
I hear a long creaking noise, and I squint into the shadows. The heater casts flickering orange light around the space like we’re in a burning building, but it doesn’t touch the dark corners. Nothing moves.
“Did you hear that?” I ask sleepily.
Michaels shrugs, the movement pushing his body firmly against mine. “It’s an old barn. Probably the wind or a critter.”
“Right,” I agree around a yawn.
Michaels runs his fingers through Fi’s hair. Her cheek is pressed to my chest, and she’s snoring softly. I can’t stop the wave of exhaustion that pulls me under.
I open my eyes when beams of daylight pierce the darkness, making the space seem dull and gray like I’m looking at the world through a monochrome filter.
Last night, everything was bright and colorful—a kaleidoscope of pleasure and acceptance.
The nightmares stayed away too. But now, there’s a wicked little voice in the back of my mind whispering that I don’t deserve any of this.
It happens every time I allow myself comfort, but normally, I wake up in my bed alone, my fist, sticky with cum, curled around my flaccid cock.
Those emotions are present now, churning nausea in my gut, but I’m not alone.
I’m sitting upright against the tractor tire with my arms around Fi on one side and Michaels on the other.
Fi’s hair is a tangled mess, and her freckle-dusted cheeks look so soft. I want to keep touching her.
And him?
I don’t have the mental capacity right now to understand what I feel for Michaels.
Their hands are loosely joined across my lap like they reached for each other in the night. His obvious devotion to her must be connected to my confusing feelings for him, right?
I give my head a shake. Just thinking about it is painful right now. I look between them. Why is it so easy with them? To let go. To feel. To be myself.
It’s too much.
The heater turned off at some point after we fell asleep, and despite the obvious chill permeating the air, our skin-on-skin contact under the blankets provides plenty of warmth.
Too much warmth. Too much comfort.
My stomach dips and saliva fills my mouth.
I jump up, startling Michaels and Fi awake, and scramble around the room, gathering clothing. I don’t even bother to lace up my boots. And I don’t look back.
“Sebastian? Where are you going?” Fi’s voice is quiet, but the hurt in her words booms in my aching head.
More saliva.
I bolt out the door, running across the field.
Fuck.
I double over just as I reach the tree line and retch violently. I turn away from the mess and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. That voice in my head telling me that I’m not good enough is back, and it’s shouting.
Last night wasn’t real, but what Matt did to you was.
You’ll never feel enough happiness to erase it. It’ll always be there, violating your body.
Over and over.
I vomit again.
“Bastian? Are you okay?”
I didn’t even hear him approach. I still can’t look back. I hold up my hand. “I’m okay,” I rasp. “Just, please leave me alone.”
“We can help. Was it the alcohol? Are you sick?”
My mouth tastes bitter with bile and my skin feels too tight and I snap. “I said fuck off, Stitch!”
I know I’m being an asshole, but I just want to be left alone. No one’s ever been there the morning after. I don’t know how to process this.
I storm off, my boots stomping through the snow.
I grab what’s left of the bourbon from last night and finish the bottle in a long swig, letting it burn down my esophagus and sit hot and heavy in my stomach.
I stare at the fire pit, the logs black and lifeless, our footprints scattered around the forest floor.
It’s all a testament that last night was real.
So why are you fighting it?
My eyes are hot and wet. I throw the empty bottle, and it shatters against a tree, glass cascading like ice into the snow. A loud sob rips up my throat, and I shove my fist against my mouth to stop it.
When I hear their footsteps crunching along the trail, I hurry inside. I kick off my boots and then run to the only place in this self-imposed prison where I can have privacy.