13. Cinn
thirteen
Cinn
C inn fell into Julien, who caught him with strong, steady arms. He spun him around so that his body blocked Cinn’s exit, then clicked the door shut for good measure.
Right then. If he wanted it like that.
Cinn lunged for him, gripping Julien’s shirt with two hands, before pushing him against the nearest wall, hard. If it took more than words to make his message clear to Julien, so be it. “I’ve had more than enough of this fucked-up game you’ve decided to play with me, Julien.”
He expected Julien to push him back, or taunt him at least. What he got instead was a bewildering blend of expressions flashing across Julien’s face. Panic, alarm… fear?
Cinn loosened his grip slightly and shuffled backwards.
“I’m trying to apologise.” Julien’s tone was a calm breeze compared to the tempest Cinn was riding. “If you’ll give me the chance.” He placed a hand on Cinn’s chest, lightly pressing against it. “Will you let me? Please?”
The pleading, slightly haunted look on his face had Cinn’s hands releasing him. Julien slipped away from the wall, opened his drink cabinet, and pulled out a half-full bottle of golden whiskey. Throwing the stopper to one side, he took several deep gulps before offering it to Cinn.
He should have probably refused, but being sober seemed rather unappealing presently .
Julien moved to the sofa in the middle of the room. Leaving a great deal of space between them, Cinn perched on the other side of it. After burning his throat with several deep swallows of the whiskey, he said, “Start talking then.”
“My friends are incredibly precious to me. So the fact that I’ve hurt you has upset me. I feel awful, genuinely.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cinn said, laying the sarcasm on thick. However, searching Julien’s eyes for any sign of manipulation, Cinn found none. It wasn’t possible he was seeing Julien in his most candid form right now, right?
“You’ve coped so well with everything that’s been thrown at you so far. I guess I didn’t think that you’d find that dinner so stressful. I didn’t think at all.” Cinn opened his mouth. “I know, I know, I was stupid. I was a prick.” Julien reached across for the whiskey, twirling the bottle before taking a swig. “I’ve been dreading this weekend for weeks. The only thing that kept me from spiralling was the knowledge that you were staying here with me. It made me almost… look forward to it.” Then he muttered quietly, as if to himself, “But then I fucked it up.”
Some of Cinn’s anger began to dissipate, chipped away at not by Julien’s words, but by the way he looked right now: sombre, morose, but most importantly, remorseful.
“I wouldn’t have minded being a buffer if you’d better prepared me. And hadn’t used me as a surprise. Why were you dreading it so much, anyway?”
“My father is truly insufferable. You’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg. He cares very little about me. About anyone but himself really, and his business. And the power he holds with the consortium. He didn’t care when my mother died, and barely seemed to care about Béatrice’s death. Now all he cares about is what I can do for him.”
He drank two more large gulps of whiskey before Cinn could grab it off him. “Do you know the first thing he suggested to the consortium once the Lumimeld hit production? That it could be sold to governments to wipe the memories of prisoners of war, after they’d been interrogated.”
“Fuck,” was all Cinn could say.
“I don’t know why I was surprised. He was so… cruel during our childhood.” Julien’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he broke eye contact to look at the floor. “Especially towards our mother.” He rubbed at the shoulder Cinn slammed into his wall moments earlier.
A wave of nausea shuddered through Cinn. Remembering the confusing way Julien had reacted to being thrown around, he fisted the hands that he’d allowed his anger to control. “Oh God—” Cinn started, before his throat closed. “Julien, I shouldn’t have…” His eyes flicked to the wall.
“What?” As if clearing his mind from a trance, Julien shook his head. “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply—genuinely, that wasn’t meant to be a guilt trip. It’s me that should feel bad. I shouldn’t have brought you here, Cinn. I’m sorry for being so selfish. I’m a worthless piece of shit sometimes. You’ve every right to hate me. I’ll book you on a flight for tomorrow morning, if that’s what you want.”
A pensive silence filled the space between them. Cinn’s lingering fury from earlier was now at war with the deep melancholy in Julien’s expression. This new Julien alarmed him. He’d have taken any other version right then, if it meant freeing Julien from the prison of this one.
Cinn took one last sizeable gulp of the smooth honey whiskey before setting it on the coffee table. Julien hadn’t moved a single inch in minutes. Shuffling closer to him on the settee, Cinn reached up with gentle fingers to tip Julien’s chin towards him, resting his hand on his thigh. Grey, unblinking eyes stared at him.
Cinn’s anger dissipated like a sunbeam piercing through fog. “It’s okay,” he said, against his better judgement. He’d likely live to regret letting the princeling off so easily, but he couldn’t cope with those sad, sad eyes. “Fucking hell, I don’t hate you. I… I can forgive you. But stop all the bullshit. If you want me as a friend, treat me like one.”
“I don’t expect your forgiveness.”
“Well, you’ve got it, so don’t waste it.”
Julien sighed, running a hand over his face. “I won’t. Promise.”
Cinn dropped his hold on Julien’s chin, but kept his hand on his leg, unable to pull it away from where it was tethering them together. “Why don’t you just cut your father out of your life?”
“He’s too fucking influential within Auri’s consortium. All the chairs are meant to hold equal weight, but his motetech business liaison role has made him untouchable. He’s wormed his way into everyone’s pies, so to speak. It could mess up my future if I go too far against him. Anyway. Let’s not spend any more energy talking about him.”
Julien wrinkled his nose in disgust before reaching over to grab the whiskey from the table. He wrapped his mouth around it to drink from it, pulling off it with a soft pop, all the while giving Cinn an almost challenging stare. Then he did it again, dipping his lips down a little lower on the bottleneck.
“What are you doing?” Cinn groaned. This fucking guy.
“What?” Julien asked, with a bat of innocent eyelashes.
Cinn reached for the offending object. “Give me that.”
Like he was fluid liquid himself, Julien ducked away from him, sliding off the sofa and taking two large steps backwards. “What, this?” Julien took another gulp.
“You’re going to be completely sloshed if you keep that up.”
A familiar glint in Julien’s eye. “What are you going to do about it?”
He should have whiplash from the abrupt change in dynamic, but instead he was only relieved. Maybe it was the whiskey. Or maybe he enjoyed Julien’s attention more than he wanted to admit.
He dove for the bottle, narrowly missing it as Julien darted away from him, tossing the liquid to the back of his throat. His next lunge was successful—his arms wound around Julien’s waist, and he snatched the whiskey from him. Pushing Julien against the wall, the writhing man twisted in his arms in time for him to see Cinn finish the bottle off, pouring the alcohol into his mouth so quickly, much of it spilled down his neck.
Laughter erupted out of Cinn, cathartic and cleansing.
It died in his throat when he felt the hot press of Julien’s tongue against his neck. Licking a drop of liquid from his collarbone to his jaw. The bottle fell to the floor with a clink .
A small involuntary moan came out of Cinn’s mouth before he could stop it. “Julien,” he started, tangling his hand in his blond waves and making no effort to gently push him away. Both of Julien’s arms wrapped around Cinn to clutch the back of his shirt.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Cinn said, his voice weak to his own ears.
Julien’s mouth moved next to his ear. “Why not?” With the gentlest of caresses, he brushed a thumb across Cinn’s cheek.
So, so many reasons why.
Strangely, none of them were coming out of his mouth.
He should remove Julien’s hand from his cheek. He should tell Julien not to touch him. He should take five steps back.
But he didn’t.
“Why… why are you like this?” What exactly he meant by this, he couldn’t articulate, so he flung his hands in the air instead.
“This?” Julien whispered, one hand still cupping Cinn’s cheek, the other sliding up the nape of his neck to entwine his fingers in his hair, knocking his beanie to the floor in the process. “What am I right now, Cinn?”
You’re about to make me lose my damned mind .
Cinn shut his eyes, half stumbling towards Julien. His hands hit the smooth plaster of the wall on each side of Julien’s head, his body pressed up against his.
Darcy’s words—Darcy’s warning —about Julien’s many, many lovers echoed through Cinn’s head.
Even so, the world faded around him, the dimmed lights seeming to darken as he was further pulled into Julien’s orbit. All that remained was the feel of Julien’s warm, lithe body, the electrifying tingles dancing across his scalp from Julien’s skilled fingers, the racing of his pulse. As Julien traced the features of his face, brushing over each eyebrow like it was a work of art to be worshipped, Cinn accepted his path had been set for him. His fate had been sealed.
Julien gently pulled his head close to his mouth, to whisper, “Do you trust me?” his fingers brushing over Cinn’s cheekbones in a reverent dance. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”
In response, Cinn closed his eyes and leaned into Julien’s touch, traitorous legs trembling.
“Give me complete control, and I promise you”—he nipped at Cinn’s earlobe, making him cry out softly—“you won’t regret it.”
Over his dead body would he give Julien complete control. But now Julien’s hot tongue was in his ear, thrusting itself into it. “Fuck you,” Cinn gasped.
“I’m trying to.”
Cinn attempted to shove Julien again, a half-hearted endeavour that only ended up with him fisting Julien’s shirt with shaking hands.
They were so close he could feel every hot breath of Julien’s ghosting across his face.
“Shhh.” Julien used both hands to tip Cinn’s chin up, then kissed his cheek. The strong honeyed scent of whiskey on Julien’s hot breath, warmth and spice, only served to heighten his arousal .
Julien tightened his grip on Cinn’s head. “Trust me. Follow my instructions and I promise you, I’ll make you come harder than you ever have in your entire life.” A shaky breath escaped Cinn’s lips. “Then I’ll do it all again.”
Subtle pressure applied to his shoulders had him dropping to the floor so quickly, his knees hit the wood with a thud. It may have been Julien’s hands that pushed him down, but it was definitely his hands fumbling with Julien’s belt, his hands palming Julien’s hard length through his trousers, his hands reaching around Julien’s thighs, dragging him closer.
Cinn tugged down the layers of fabric, and Julien’s erection burst out of his briefs, slim yet lengthy, an echo of his tall, lean body, nestled within a groomed crop of dark hair.
“Hands behind your back,” Julien commanded, again in that honeyed whisper, and Cinn found himself doing exactly that, any last scrap of resolve to stay in control abandoned in favour of the heedless pleasure his body so desperately wanted to take.
When Cinn’s mouth dived straight for his cock, Julien laughed, lightly grasping Cinn’s hair to control his head, tugging him back so he couldn’t quite reach it.
Fucking maniac.
“Do you want me to suck your dick or not?” Cinn snapped, staring a challenge into Julien’s grey eyes.
Lifting it with his hand, Julien traced the outline of his closed lips with his swollen member. “Open up for me.”
Cinn obliged, parting his mouth to allow his tongue to dart out, to lick only the very tip retreating again, pressing his lips closed.
If Julien wanted to play games, then he would get what he deserved.
Although, he couldn’t deny that the soft moan he elicited from Julien went straight to his head, to his own balls, his own cock further swelling, scraping almost painfully against his jeans .
Julien’s fingers flew to Cinn’s mouth—trying to force it open?—but Cinn ducked his head away, diving for one of his balls.
He inhaled it into his wet, waiting mouth.
Sucked it.
Nipped it ever so gently.
Julien brought up his other hand so that both now clutched Cinn’s head, nails digging into his scalp as he gasped.
The tiny hint of this Julien—a version of him not entirely in control, even though he’d claimed to be—drove Cinn to see how far he could take it, to see how undone he could make him.
Drenching his tongue in as much saliva as possible, next Cinn mouthed up the entire underside of his cock, dragging his tongue as slowly as he could make himself, pausing on every inch of soft, velvety skin, licking and swirling. When he eventually reached his girthy head, leaking thick, salty precum, Julien’s grip on his hair became painfully tight, a slight tremble vibrating through his hand.
If Cinn was to become one of Julien’s ‘many, many ’ sexual conquests, then at least he would make sure he was one to remember.
“What should I do now?” Cinn asked innocently, gazing up at Julien’s flushed face, batting his eyelashes. Before Julien had a chance to answer, he pressed his tongue into Julien’s slit, one deep, long lick, taking the hot liquid into his mouth.
In answer, Julien pushed himself deep into Cinn’s mouth in a single long thrust, his tongue gliding along the silky underside of his cock until it hit the back of his throat, then kept going.
A thump and Julien’s head hit the wall, chin tilted upwards, face a picture of bliss. He pulled out a little before then pushing back in, impossibly further. Almost gagging—it had been a while, a long, long while—Cinn sucked in air through his nose, swallowing around Julien as he threaded his fingers through his hair, rhythmically, as if petting him .
“Look at you,” Julien breathed, stroking his cheek again. Then Cinn’s lips joined to the base of his cock. “Don’t deny how much you’ve wanted this, too.” Two ragged uneven breaths. “My cock in your mouth.”
Fucking hell.
Cinn could only increase his fervour in agreement, sucking and swallowing with renewed frenzy.
“From the moment you pulled my hair that night we met.” Three ecstatic gasps, taken in quick succession. “You were mine.”
Tiny prickles of tears emerged from the corners of Cinn’s eyes as Julien continued his punishing assault of his mouth.
As if he could sense it was becoming too much, Julien pulled out, leaving just the tip inside, a moment’s reprieve. Cinn inhaled greedy gulps of air, his heart racing impossibly fast as he collapsed against Julien’s legs, hands still clasped behind his back, beginning to ache.
Julien wiped away the single tear that had tricked down his cheek.
Then, after flashing Julien a gratified smirk, he was ready to continue.
Squeezing his eyes, he swirled his tongue once around Julien’s head before opening his jaw as wide as possible, inviting Julien to thrust inside him again.
And that he did.
Julien struck up a punishing rhythm, slamming himself again and again against Cinn’s face.
“I want to see your eyes, beautiful.”
Cinn found himself powerless to disobey, fluttering them open to find Julien gazing down at him with… lust? Desire? And maybe, just maybe , a hint of adoration?
“That’s much better.”
Julien went slower then, gently tilting Cinn’s head back so he could burrow deep into his gaze, the eye contact so intense it sent a ripple of anticipation through him.
And when Julien said, “Look at you,” the outrageous sound Cinn made around his cock was one he’d never heard himself make before. Needy. Desperate. Hopeless.
Julien moved the tip of his length to Cinn’s tongue. Jerked his hand in frantic movements.
“Swallow,” Julien whispered, a heartbeat before he came, and Cinn did, attempting to match every spasm of Julien’s cock with a greedy gulp. Ignoring Julien’s earlier command, he unclasped his hands to grab both of Julien’s thighs, to balance himself as a frenzy took over, his sole determination to suck Julien dry, to lick up every last drop that dared escape him.
Julien’s soft humming noise continued to soundtrack their escapade, until his dick finally fell soft, his grip on Cinn relinquished in favour of stroking the nape of his neck, in a manner almost absent-minded. Again, Cinn found himself collapsing against Julien’s leg. Now that he’d freed his hands, one shot straight to his own aching length, desperately rubbing it through his thick jeans.
Sliding down the wall, Julien captured Cinn’s wrist, before pushing him backwards onto the Persian rug. He sank his head backwards, staring up at the intricate crystal patterns that refracted the warm glow across the room.
His body was no longer his own.
He was completely at the mercy of Julien.
A terrifying notion.
Yet, a sense of euphoria enveloped him, as if he were drifting weightlessly on a cloud.
Almost like being high.
Agonisingly slowly, Julien unbuttoned Cinn’s shirt, then positioned his limbs as if he were a doll to tear it off him with a flourish. Cinn reached out to do the same to Julien’s but quickly found his wrists clasped tight together, forced above his head, as Julien pushed him down flat on the floor.
“Keep those there.” Kneeling with Cinn’s legs between his, Julien trailed his hands down the underside of Cinn’s arms, squeezing the firm muscles of his biceps, then cupped his cheek briefly before pressing his fingers deep into his left pec, where his ouroboros was inked into his skin. The first tattoo he’d ever gotten.
Julien’s lips danced over the design before he scraped his teeth against it, following the shape of the tiny red snake eating its tail.
When Cinn groaned, attempting to buck his hips upward to little success, Julien held him firm. “You’re going to need a lot more patience than that, darling. I’m nowhere near done yet.”
Indeed, he wasn’t. Julien’s lips traced a feather-light path back up to his right arm, spreading electrifying tingles across his skin, to mouth his Pixies tattoo before lavishing it with attention from his tongue.
Next came the lyrics that curved alongside the bone of his ribs, from Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way”. His mother’s favourite song, played so often in his childhood it had never left him. His tattoo artist had thought the words a dig at her, a mantra of his independence, but that had never been his intention.
Julien continued his exploration of Cinn’s tattoos until the only one he hadn’t discovered was the inkwork on his shoulder blade, the near-identical match to the tattoo all of his Feltham Young Offenders crew had given each other—a tiny spider web, as intricate as their poke and stick kit allowed.
And, fuck , now he was thinking of Tyler again. Of his bare shoulder pressed against his chest night after night in their cell together. For almost a year, they’d slept together like that, cocooned in their bed of warmth. Of love.
He swallowed, forcing himself back to the present moment .
Thankfully, that wasn’t particularly challenging, as Julien now had his left nipple between his teeth, tugging on it with the perfect amount of pressure. As he writhed on the floor, a low groan tore itself out of Cinn’s mouth.
Fuck, how much longer was Julien going to make him wait?
“If—” he started, interrupted by Julien tweaking his other nipple at the same time. “Fucking hell! If you don’t touch me soon, I’m going to—”
Lifting his head up, Julien devoured him with his eyes. “Going to what?”
“I’m going to…” A pause, punctuated by his panting gasps. “Scream your fucking house down!”
He smiled wickedly. “Be my guest.”
And with that, he pressed a hard kiss to Cinn’s forehead, sucked his eyebrow bar between his teeth, then nipped along his chin, placing his lips everywhere aside from Cinn’s own, even though Cinn had his mouth slightly parted, his waiting tongue desperate to meet his. However, when Cinn leaned forward to capture Julien’s mouth, he ducked his head, moving down to his neck, licking across skin until he found a spot above his collarbone, sucking hard.
It was okay though, because finally, finally , Julien’s hand was touching his twitching cock, tracing the outline of it through his jeans with gentle fingertips.
“ Please ,” he choked out. “Is that what you’re waiting to hear?” Because he’d quite happily beg at this point, his desperation for release nearing blackout levels.
But Julien only kept sucking his neck oh-so-softly now while his fingers matched that same pressure.
More tears sprung out of his eyes. He was so far gone; he didn’t even care.
The sensitivity from his rock-hard erection had cranked up to maximum levels, every tender touch making him lose another fragment of his mind until he wasn’t sure if he was fully conscious, time blending and bending as gentle, torturing waves of euphoria enveloped his body.
Distantly, he became aware that the golden bangle around his wrist had warmed, blocking his body from slipping. Sex hadn’t ever been a trigger before, but there was a first time for everything, particularly when Julien’s tongue was involved, apparently.
“Julien, please. ” He tried again. “I… need you to…”
“Shhh.” A finger was placed on his lips, and he opened his mouth to lick it, desperate for some act he could control. “You’re going to come just like this,” he said simply, so matter of fact, then returned to sucking the spot on Cinn’s neck.
Cinn screamed out a noise of outrage, wiggling down the rug, trying to get under him to buck up against him. “I can’t,” he spat.
“ Oui , you definitely, definitely can.”
Slamming his head against the rug in frustration, Cinn released his arms from their position above his head, but before he could touch himself, Julien had pinned both of his wrists back to the floor, using both of his hands.
His face filled Cinn’s entire vision, his smile wicked. “If I have to restrain you, then I won’t be able to touch you.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you .”
His aching, torturous pain continued, with Julien mouthing tiny kitten licks in that same spot above his collarbone and applying his excruciating pressure to his throbbing bulge.
“Come for me, Cinn,” Julien whispered into his ear, and then, squeezed his cock hard, just once, but that was enough for Cinn to erupt into his jeans, his blissful ejaculation taking an eternity and a half, Julien finally using his palm to rub him with firm strokes .
As Cinn whimpered, cursed, then whimpered again, Julien released him, using his hands to brush the tears from the two paths they streamed down his temple.
His mouth came to his ear again to breathe the word, “See,” into it. “Maybe you’ll trust me more next time.”
Next time.
The sound of his zip being undone. The sensation of his jeans being ripped off. Now Julien wanted them off?!
Once Cinn had lifted his hips, brain too scrambled to even question what was going on, Julien slid his briefs off, rendering him entirely naked, sprawled spreadeagle on the rug. Entirely naked, with Julien entirely clothed.
Julien kissed all the way down Cinn’s stomach, which clenched in anticipation, until he reached his twitching cock. When he licked it—wet and hot tongue sliding over the entire length of it—Cinn cried out, barely resisting shouting Julien’s name.
Where the fuck had he found this absolute demon?
With devout attention, Julien licked every inch of his dick, his balls, his thighs, hands moving back to knead the fleshy muscles of his butt while he did so. Hours could have passed, days even, and just as Cinn thought he was going to pass out with the onslaught of fresh waves of ecstasy, he felt the muscles of his cock begin to reharden, his member twitching back to life.
“Oh,” said Julien. “Well, that’s a nice surprise.”
Cinn groaned as Julien popped the tip into his mouth and sucked lightly.
It took an embarrassingly short amount of time before Cinn was writhing on the floor again, another round of cum bursting out of him straight into Julien’s mouth.
As Julien’s last tiny, soft moans of pleasure and Cinn’s raspy breathing created an unholy symphony of sounds, Cinn brought his hands down to Julien’s hair, running his fingers through the long strands, his fingertips stretching out, grateful for being used again.
Cinn laid there, utterly exhausted and spent, as Julien’s body slid upwards to lie next to him on the rug. Cinn turned his head, mouth reaching for Julien’s, but he ducked out of the way, nudging Cinn’s chin up with his cheek, returning once again to that spot above his collarbone for one last suck.
Cinn laughed weakly. “What are you, a vampire?”
After a light nip with his teeth, Julien relinquished him, shuffling slightly away. “When you want me to be. So,” he said, eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Did I live up to my promise?”
“If your promise was to absolutely torture me and make me regret my every choice that led me here tonight, then yes.”
Julien made a pleased hum before stretching both arms. He yawned, opening his mouth wide. “We better get some sleep to be refreshed for the stupid party tomorrow. Can I offer you another drink before you head off?”
Cinn’s mouth dropped open as his heart stuttered. Tongue frozen, all he could do was shake his head.
Just what had he expected, though? To crawl into Julien’s queen-sized bed with him—tantalisingly visible from their position on the rug—and cuddle with him all night? Maybe just a little bit .
Lyrics from “Wicked Game” flew through his head.
It hit him all at once.
For years, he’d repressed this side of himself that craved physical intimacy. That wanted to be held, and loved, and cherished.
There had been Tyler, beautiful Tyler, who had made him feel safe during the darkest of times. The relationship with him had changed the course of Cinn’s life.
Then, there had just been him, and he’d quickly closed the door on anyone that showed the slightest interest in it being opened .
And now, this door had just slammed itself open wide. With a bang.
It didn’t necessarily lead to where he wanted it to go, however.
In a brisk manner, he jumped up, tugged on his beanie and resigned himself to shoving on his damp jeans, stuffing his underwear in his pocket.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Julien said, still lying on the floor.
Not trusting his voice to reply, Cinn took a step towards the door.
“Oh, and Cinn?”
Cinn turned, positioning his face into a blank mask, because he had a feeling he knew what was next.
“You probably know this, but I can only do casual.”
There it was. A tiny pinprick, straight through his heart.
Many, many, Julien!
Well, he couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned.
“Sure,” Cinn said, spinning on his heel. Face burning, heart pounding, he had to force himself to close the door with a quiet click before rushing down the corridors to reach his own room.
Any fire alarms be damned, he swung open his window and lit a cigarette, breathing the frigid night air and the blissful release of tension inhaling the smoke offered him.
He had dropped to his knees, followed Julien’s every command… and loved every second of it, yes, but… oh God, what had he done?
It was okay. He would resolve this. Tomorrow, he would make it crystal clear to Julien that tonight was a one-time thing.
A moment of weakness, never to be repeated.