4. Drew
CHAPTER 4
DREW
M ouths locked together, tongues tangled, we crash against the wall by my front door. We can’t wait. There’s a level of desperation that ramps up every time we do this. Like a race to make everything else go away to make each other feel good. It’s a competition, who can drop to their knees first. Who can draw the pleasure from the other first. It’s rough and dirty and so fucking hot.
I pull on his belt, working to undo his pants as quickly as possible while he pushes off his leather jacket and it falls with a thump on the floor. We didn’t plan on ending our night like this, but lately it just seems to be what happens. Both needing the escape we find in each other that no one else seems to understand.
As I go to my knees to pull at his pants, he stops me. “No, you’re not going to reinjure your knee because you can’t wait to have my dick in your mouth,” Adam insists.
I can’t hold back my eye-roll. “It feels fine, and it’s never stopped your dick from going in my mouth before.”
“Never on the hard ground. You want this? Then get your ass to the bedroom.”
I think about fighting back, but don’t feel like arguing when I have a raging erection that desperately needs attention. Stomping off to the bedroom, he follows easily. He’s used to being the one to call the shots as my coach and that doesn’t stop him from doing the same when we’re alone.
No one can know about us, though. Our sexualities aren’t a secret—we both enjoy cocks just as much as we enjoy pussy. But he’s my coach and while the people we know wouldn’t have a problem with us being two guys, they would have a problem because of our roles in each other’s lives.
Even though I’m injured and have been unable to fight for the last several months because of it. I fucking hate it and the man currently standing in my bedroom—stripping off the rest of his clothes—is the one not allowing me to do more than just coach because of said injury.
“Still desperate for my cock? Then you’d better get your ass on that bed,” he demands darkly. And while I may not usually like being told what to do, I can’t deny the shiver that goes down my spine in anticipation, making me want to do exactly what he says.
Yanking off my own clothes quickly until I’m just in my briefs, he continues to watch me as I climb onto the bed, sitting on the edge, leaning back on my hands. He smirks, taking his time to walk over to me, his hard length free from the confines of his pants and my mouth waters, not wanting to be denied again.
He stands in front of me, and I don’t wait for him to say anything because I want the desperation back. It feels better to be distracted because if I’m not then I’ll argue with him about my fighting status again.
I swallow his thick cock, immediately pulling a groan from his throat as I run my tongue along the underside the way he likes. His hands grip the longer hair on top of my head tightly, the pinch of pain making me groan around him. His hips thrust forward, pushing himself further down my throat and I take it, wanting him to lose all control.
My own cock is hard as steel underneath my briefs and I can’t help but press my palm against it for some sort of pressure, trying to find some semblance of relief.
“Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good,” Adam grits out, pushing me further down onto his cock forcefully.
I breathe through the gag my body wants to let out, but instead I swallow around him, and he throws his head back with a guttural groan. Reaching up, I tug his balls with one hand, grabbing his ass in my other, pushing him further down so my nose is pressed against his groin.
He pulls me off him with the grip on my hair, and I let out a sound of disappointment as the drool drips down my chin. His eyes lock on my mouth and seeing it makes his gaze blaze with heat.
“Fuck my face, you know you want to,” I taunt him. Needing the loss of his control. Needing relief myself. Just fucking needing something more than him standing there staring at me.
“So desperate to be used like a pathetic fucktoy, aren’t you?” His voice is dark, and it only makes my dick throb even more.
I press my hand against my erection again, needing just the slightest friction because I’m unbearably turned on. Dropping my mouth open and sticking my tongue out, I show him that I do want that. I want to be used the way I know he wants to use me.
“Are you gonna fuck your hand while you choke on my cock?” he asks, sliding his own hand along his length, using my saliva to help guide his movement.
“No, I’m going to make you come, then you get to be my fucktoy,” I taunt, enjoying the exchange of power between us because he may like to be in control most of the time, but I know he likes to be used just as much as I do.
Before he has the chance to respond, I swallow him down again, doubling my efforts, using my hand to squeeze around the base of his cock as I lick and suck the rest of him. When I feel his control slipping, I let go, wrapping my hands around to his ass, my fingers grazing his crack, but not breeching between them yet as he thrusts forward burying himself to the hilt in my throat. I’m warmed up now and ready to take him as he fucks my mouth without holding back.
I choke and gag around him, all while moaning and craving more. It’s when I push my finger against the tight bud of his asshole, not even pushing in, just adding pressure, he comes with a groan, holding himself inside me as deep as he can go, his grip on my head tight so I’m not able to go anywhere while his hot cum fills my throat and I swallow it down.
Pulling off him, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, smiling when I say, “My turn.”
Adam kneels in front of me, I spread my legs to accommodate his large body between them. Leaning back on my hands I watch him grip the waistband of my briefs and lift up slightly to help him pull them down my legs. My cock is painfully hard as it bobs freely between us. Precum pools at the tip as I wait for him to touch me, and I’m seconds away from shoving his face onto my length and forcing him to take it.
He wraps his fist around me, dragging his thumb across the tip and swiping the liquid there, then gripping me even tighter as he pumps. He toys with each piercing, the six ladder rungs decorating my cock, which only adds to the sensation.
Groaning, I throw my head back at the feeling, finally getting some relief but it’s not enough. I always need more—an extra level of pain to reach the peak and he knows it. Reaching out, I grab a fistful of his hair, pulling his mouth onto my waiting cock and he doesn’t fight my hold as I push him down.
His hands grip my thighs as I hold his head down on me, thrusting up into his throat. His fingers tighten on my legs, his short nails biting into my skin giving me that bite of pain I crave while I use his mouth for my pleasure. When his teeth graze against my cock I moan loudly, feeling the impending orgasm barreling toward me.
All semblance of control is gone as I use him, and he gives me what I need. The fucked up parts of my mind that need the pain, the giving and receiving of it, take over as I find my release, holding Adam’s head still as I come down his throat. I feel him swallow around me and it prolongs my orgasm. Especially when he grips my legs even tighter, there may even be a little blood, and God I hope there is.
He pulls off me, looking up with a raised eyebrow. “Feel better?”
I scoff, shoving him lightly away to pull my briefs back on. “I felt fine before.”
“That’s why you practically begged me to come back here with you, right?” He grabs his own clothes, already pulling them on because we don’t do sleepovers. Our arrangement is purely physical. We get off, we fuck off.
“I didn’t beg, you were the one looking at me all night like you couldn’t wait to get me alone,” I tell him.
He lets out a noise that I know is a chuckle, but Adam doesn’t really laugh. “Hardly, but I know you needed an outlet after today.”
I grimace at the reminder, the high of my orgasm fading quickly as I think about the day. Another day he hasn’t let me practice due to my injury. I’ve felt fine, my leg hardly bothers me anymore, and yet Adam acts like I’m at a huge risk for more. I can practice without making it worse. But all he lets me do now is assist in coaching, stretch, and do light workouts.
And now, I’m pissed off all over again.
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you take away my main outlet, I have to find something else,” I snark.
He blows out a breath after pulling on his shirt. “I didn’t take it away. I want you to be cleared before I let you fight again.”
“You say that,” I grumble with an eye roll.
“Is that why you continue to do this? Get me to come and hope I’ll be convinced to let you back into the cage before you’re ready?” he fumes.
“That’s fucking bullshit. Don’t act like I’m using you anymore than you’re using me.”
“Caine has a fight in Portland this weekend, I’ll need you to cover jiu jitsu classes on Friday,” he says, not acknowledging my comment.
“Yup.” I pull my sheets back up, getting ready to climb into bed the second he steps out of my room.
He looks like he’s about to say something else, but just shakes his head, walking away. I hear the front door close as I lay down. Despite the annoyance and anger thrumming through my body I am tired. Even as I try to go to sleep my body fights the sensation like it always does.
My body and brain know that I’m vulnerable when I’m asleep and that’s when the memories of the past assault me, and I can’t fight back. Sleeping is when I’m weakest. Weak, the very thing I work hard not to be anymore, but it doesn’t matter because once the state of unconsciousness takes over there’s nothing I can do but succumb to the trauma once again.
Yet, when sleep pulls me under, I don’t fight it anymore. I can’t fight anything in my life anymore apparently, so I let it in. But for some reason tonight, as my eyes close, I think of the woman at the bar. She drew me in immediately the second I saw her. We didn’t speak, but there was something about her that felt like it mirrored something in me. I felt drawn to her in a way I’ve never felt before.
Of course, Caine already pissed her off, that seems to be how he is with everyone. Barely speaks and when he does it’s generally not anything good. Instead of cowering to him, she stood strong, and I liked seeing it. I don’t know her name, or anything about her, yet her hazel eyes are the last thing I see before the depths of sleep pull me under.