11
Asher
I’m still pretty fucked up as Manson drives us to work. I’d be an idiot to believe anything when it comes to that girl, but I don’t have a doubt in my mind that she wanted me to come inside of her.
But why?
Why would she want something so goddamn intimate with me? The power? She saw how weak I was when it came to fucking her, and she wanted to feel like she’d won something. That has to be it.
But the question remains... why was I so fucking weak? Seeing her laid out getting feasted on did something to me. I felt like I’d lose my damn mind if I didn’t claim her after. Goddamnit, I’ve let her too far under my skin, and I don’t know what to do about it.
Manson keeps glancing over at me like he’s waiting for me to speak, but I still have nothing to say. I could never admit how good that was for me or how fucking her while she’s awake was better than all my fantasies, so I try my hardest to avoid the topic at all and focus on the job we have to get done. “Did you bring the Sway?”
“Of course I did. I’m not trying to get shot again,” he mumbles, fingers spread as he turns the wheel with his palm. “I have more than enough for the three of them.”
My mind begins to drift again as he speaks, but I pull myself back to the present before he can tell. “Good. You were grazed this time, ya big baby,” I tease. “At least it wasn’t like the time we had to drive across state lines with a hole in your shoulder. Now that’s a time you actually got shot.”
“Yeah, and it pissed me off because it fucked with my tattoo. Damn thing still looks screwy.”
“It looks fine. You can only tell when you’re looking for it, and I’m the only person who gets that close to you anyway.”
Or I used to be.
He nods a little, tensing up. “About earlier...”
Here we go.
“Which part?”
“You’re mad at me for eating her out, I can see it. I couldn’t help it. She fucking apologized and looked at me like—” he shakes his head — “I couldn’t help it.”
A chuckle bursts out of me before I can fight it. “I’m actually not,” I admit. “You have every right to use our pet however you need to. That’s why she’s ours, right?”
I can’t tell if I sound convincing enough, so I glance over to read his face, but all I see is hesitation.
“That’s the thing, Ash. I wasn’t using her.”
I feel my jaw tense even though I’m trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I got that vibe.” I rub the tension out with a sigh. “Say what you’re thinking. Did you like not using her and just sharing a moment like that? Because if you did, I’m not going to tell you not to. I want you happy here.”
He shrugs, looking as uncomfortable as I feel. “I don’t want you to think you’re not enough for me. It’s not like she’ll ever love me anyway.”
“She might,” I answer honestly, something weird tightening in my gut I refuse to look closer at. “I know I’m enough for you, alright? But don’t hold yourself back with her for me.”
I say that, but deep down I know the only reason he’s held back at all is because of how I’ve reacted to things. Why is all of this so confusing? I mean the words I’m saying, yet each one of them comes with a heaviness I don’t understand.
“And you? Did you feel like you were using her today?”
“Of course I was.” Lie. It’s so fucking bitter on my tongue I can’t stop myself from releasing a frustrated growl. “Fuck... was I?”
He’s the only person in the world I feel comfortable to be vulnerable around, and it still sucks.
“I’m not gonna tell you how you felt. I’m just saying in another life, if we were different people, that girl would’ve given us everything we ever dreamed of. It’s in her eyes.”
I’ve seen it.
Maybe I could have denied it a week ago, but seeing the look in her eyes as I fucked her this morning is something I’ve seen more than once. Not as raw and blatant as it was while I was inside of her, but it was her submission all the same. I just don’t know how to admit that I need it... not even to my best friend. “In another life, I guess, because I don’t see a way to get there now.”
There, it’s as close to admitting I feel the loss the same as him as I’ll ever get.
“I wish I had an answer for you. But she’ll never trust us until we let her go, and we can’t let her go because we don’t trust her. It’s a catch-22 that really only benefits us. We still get what we want, she stays collared and cuffed, and at least we still have each other.” He turns onto a long dirt road and nods to me. “Get your gun ready. We’re almost there.”
It’s my fault for being so distracted that I didn’t even notice we were this close, but I have to push all thoughts of that woman from my mind unless I want to die.
Pulling my gun out, I get a bullet in the chamber and click off the safety, then do the same for his and the spare we keep in the glove box. “You think Creed will have any other cronies there this time?”
“Doubt it. It’s Harvest Day at the school, so the Wardens will be busy picking their next little whore. Grab the darts and let’s get this over with. I love being outnumbered.”
Harvest Day.
For the longest time I wished I could work at that school and cycle through whores with no attachments, but these days I’m glad I never did. Something tells me I’d only be emptier inside.
Once the dart gun is locked and loaded, we hop out of the car like we’re on a mission with our game faces on.
Neither of us is thinking about anything but the job at hand, because he’s right. We’re about to be outnumbered again, and we have to walk in this abandoned piece of shit building with the hope that we have the biggest balls in the place.
At least this is where Manson shines. He might get soft with our pet, but he’s a fucking savage when it matters. Whistling a menacing little tune, he kicks the door open with his gun swinging around his pointer finger. “Callan!” he yells to the seemingly empty space. “Provost Creed has a message for you!”
“Fuck!” a voice hisses off in the distance. “Put that shit away!”
We share a smile that shows just how detached we can be, guns out as we round a corner and find the three of them scrambling to hide the fact that they were just doing coke. Losers.
Without hesitation, I shoot one of them in the foot, his screams making me feel alive as the other two stare down the barrels of our guns with fear etched all over their faces. “My bad. I thought that was the other gun,” I lie. “Guess it’ll just be you two enjoying the Sway tonight. He won’t be any fun.”
I tune out his cries as Manson pulls the dart gun out of my waistband. “Who first? Mmmm you.” He aims at Lucas’ neck, but loses focus when the little bitch I shot scrambles for his own gun.
I shoot him twice in the chest, even as I hear another shot behind me. In a matter of seconds, Alex is dead, Callan has blood pouring out of his mouth, and Lucas is cowering against the wall.
“Fuck,” Manson hisses. “I hope you’re happy, Cal. All three of you could’ve walked out of here today but you two just had to go for your guns.” He kicks Callan’s shoe as blood pours from a hole in his stomach. “You’re no good to us now. Let’s see if you can survive long enough to watch Luc here spill all your secrets.”
The dart gun ended up on the ground, but with the way Lucas is already stuttering out, I have this sinking feeling we won’t be able to use it. What a waste... I got it loaded and everything.
“What’s the message?” he cries. “Y-You said we could have walked out of here, but if this wasn’t the message, what was? What does he want?”
Cal starts mumbling and gurgling some shit about his mom, but I step in closer to tower over Luc.
“The message is that he hates thieves,” Manson says simply, leaning down and putting a black latex glove on his right hand before sticking a thick finger in Cal’s bullet wound. The scream he lets out is grating as hell. “And we caught you, uh... white nosed.”
“This was my own stash.”
It’s bullshit, we can see it written all over his face that he’s lying, but it’s not our job to get the truth out of him — we already know the truth. Our job is to teach them a lesson.
The ones that survive us, anyway.
With the butt of my gun, I slam it down hard enough to make his nose shatter, cussing when blood sprays across my pants and boots. “Goddamn it, Lucas!”
To make him fear us even more, I press the barrel to his temple like bleeding on me is punishable by death, and the little bitch pisses his designer jeans.
“We do need to know one thing,” Manson interrupts. “Tell us and maybe I’ll ask Ash here not to pull the trigger. Who told you where the coke was?”
“Fuck you,” Cal spits, his body limp now as he reaches the end, and the sight of him has Lucas turning away to puke. Fucking bitch was never cut out for this life.
“R-Red,” he finally admits when he catches his breath. “Red told us. He — he said we could pinch some and Creed wouldn’t know. We never took a lot. Come on, guys. You going to say you’ve never taken any for yourselves?”
“Do we look like junkies to you?” Manson growls, and I realize a split second too late what’s about to happen. Blood spurts from Cal’s wound as Manson pulls his hand back, throwing his body weight at Luc. “Do I?” he screams, slamming his fist into Luc’s face over and over.
These three had to be the biggest idiots in all of Saint City. They all might have walked out of here with a broken nose at best, but instead they individually signed their own death warrants. The last person in the world Manson wants to be compared to is his junkie, piece of shit father, and the insinuation that we’re cut from the same cloth pisses me off too. I’m angry, but while I came home from school and found my dad murdered, Manson had to sit next to his abusive father as he overdosed. He watched that man deteriorate and splutter his last breaths. Manson might’ve gotten some form of relief from it, but it’s still heavy as fuck for anyone to witness.
So no, I won’t stop him from taking all that out on a thief. I’ll revel in it. “Another one bites the dust.”
He doesn’t stop until long after Luc goes limp. There’s nothing recognizable about his face as Manson pulls back with blood dripping from his knuckles, but his eyes look clear. “We got what we needed. Call Creed, tell him what we learned and that when Harvest Day is over, he needs to send his guard dogs to clean this mess up.”
“Will do.” I step in closer and breathe deep until our breathing synchronizes, and I watch my best friend slowly come back from that ledge. It’s a scary place, somewhere he’s pulled me back from a dozen times. I may not return that favor as often, but I need him to know I’m here. I’ll always be here. “We need to make sure they didn’t stash more around here first. You want to help me, or you need some air?”
“Don’t move,” he says softly. “It can wait.”
It can. Everything can, so I nod my head at him once and stay put.
He meets my eyes until his heart rate steadies, then admires his mangled knuckles. “Shame we didn’t get to use Sway. I fucking love that shit.”
I huff. “Me too. The fucking look in their eyes, huh?”
We seem to get the same idea at the exact same time. “She’d hate us,” he reminds me, but what’s the difference?
She hates me 100% of the time already and him 75% of the time, so will anything really change?
“What if she enjoyed it though? Hear me out. When she’s in an episode she can’t remember shit, but this could give her firsthand experience to one of her episodes while actually being awake.”
“We did that when we filmed it and made her watch.” Again with the logic. “You were right earlier though. There’s no way back from where we are, and look at this. Look at what we did here. We might as well do what we want.”
That’s one way to look at it. “Might as well,” I agree. “We’re already on the highway to Hell. What’s another fun pit stop along the way?”
“It will be fun. We’ve got six doses, we could keep her down for a couple of days with that.”
Instantly I imagine how much cum we could get inside her in that time and I feel myself harden. How broken does someone have to be to be able to get a boner around three dead bodies? Because apparently that’s how broken Manson and I both are.
“Shit... yeah, let’s go. I’ll call him in the truck.”
I nearly forget to search the place for more drugs, but once we’re done with everything and on our way home, that boner is in full effect once again. There’s no question Rhea is going to hate us more for this, but I also know that isn’t going to stop me. I’ve tasted her hatred for years, and the flavor of it haunts me day and night — by now I’d be fucking lost without it.