Chapter 12 #2
“If it’s any consolation,” he whispers, “I’ve never seen a prettier crier.”
“Please stop talking,” I grumble against his shoulder.
He moves his hands to the sides of my face and pries my gaze upward.
In his own eyes, there’s something I can’t quite name.
A bit of a twinkle, steadfast and longing.
Eyes that feel as though they’re not looking at me, but rather through me.
Something in me stirs, awakens—it begins as a seed in my gut and then sprouts upwards, tangling like vines around my heart that suddenly races.
Deep, dark, dangerous eyes that demand attention, and I give it.
“Such pretty fucking tears,” he whispers, brushing his thumb under my eye, wiping the tears away, but they’re all too quickly replaced with a fresh batch of waterworks. “Such beautiful fucking eyes.”
“You’re demented,” I groan, but maybe that’s exactly what I need.
Something demented.
Twisted.
Forbidden.
“What do you do when the world stops around you? When it all goes quiet and all you want to do is scream into the endless void?” His eyes are fixed on mine like a lighthouse guiding a ship home in the perilous storm. “What do you do when you’re lonely? When you’re scared?”
I find the nearest guy and let him fuck my brains out.
“Tuck,” I plead, placing a hand on his bare chest.
His heart doesn’t rage like mine. It’s calmer, practiced and unphased. Is this who he believes we were? He’s dead ass wrong, but is there harm in letting him be right just this once? Especially if it takes my mind off all this other shit?
“I think I know you better than you know yourself anymore,” he suggests, and fuck him if I’d ever let him know that maybe he’s right. “I have the antidote for your sadness.”
I suppress a sob and guide my hand down his chest, over his dark happy trail, and unbutton his jeans. His eyes don’t move from mine as I pull down his zipper. Gravity does the rest, his jeans falling down just enough to expose his already hard cock. Long and thick with prominent, angry veins.
I steady my breathing, try to think straight. I run through a list of every reason I should put an end to this before it begins, but the list is short at approximately zero reasons. I’m not me when I’m out here.
Tucker is unhinged and dangerous.
Truth be told, it only took a few weeks in the real world to find out the best fucks are those you’re best staying the hell away from. I learned very fast that the quickest cure for loneliness was meeting a stranger and letting him destroy my hole.
I turn in a slow circle and prop the weight of my body against the casket, gripping onto the sides with both hands.
Tucker wastes no time reaching around to undo my jeans, and then pulls them down my thighs and legs, letting them pool at my ankles.
He rips my underwear down the curves of my ass, but not all the way down my legs.
Just far enough to grant access to my hole.
The elastic fabric, rolled at the top, clings to my thighs.
He hawks a load of spit into his hand and slicks his cock.
I close my eyes and exhale as I feel the heat of his wet cock smacking my cheeks. I widen my stance and push my ass backwards, giving him better access.
“Shit,” Tucker moans just as I feel his hot head pressing against my hole.
I squint in discomfort as the thick head of his cock inches forward, forcing its way inside. Out here in the wilderness, they apparently don’t believe in foreplay. Don’t know you’re supposed to stick a finger in first and then another.
He steadies a hand on each side of my hips. His touch is gentler than I’d expect. But his cock… Christ on a stick. I let out a pained groan as he inches forward, filling me bit by bit. Stretching me. Thankfully, I’m only a week removed from my last fuck so I’m able to bite through the discomfort.
“Fuck.” I let out a sharp gasp as he breaks through the ring. “Shiiit.”
He reaches the hilt and steadies himself there, giving me time to fully accommodate his width. The longer he waits though, the deeper his fingernails dig into my flesh. He’s touch-starved, on the verge of breaking. He bows his head against my back, his breath hot fire on my skin.
I jerk forward, feeling his cock move inside me. It gives him permission to do the same. He arches back and then bows forward. Slow, short strokes that burn and arouse in equal measure.
“Just like I remember,” he huffs. “Ten fucking years.”
My eyes roll to the side, but I don’t have time to question or argue.
He pulls almost all the way back out and then slams right back in.
His thrusts are erratic and feral. No rhythm.
Just an unadulterated need to come. He’s the animal he always said he was.
Taking me, ravaging me, fucking me like it’s the last fuck he’ll ever fuck.
Every time I manage to pry my eyes open, I find myself looking at the corpse of my father. It’s better then to just rest my eyes and enjoy the distraction.
I’m half expecting my father to roll over onto his stomach.
He’d reach through the veil that separates this world from the next and choke Tucker and me both.
But honestly, fuck him. He married the psychopath for his own fucked-up reasons.
I think my reasons for letting Tucker fuck me are just as valid.
Wait.
A troubling thought occurs to me—Tucker, my stepbrother… became my stepfather?
This is fucked up.
But the way he hammers my good spot… I don’t fucking care.
The more fucked up, the better.
The wet, violent smacking of my ass echoes off the walls of the temple. The noises of sex combine with Tucker’s grunts and moans to compose a symphony of sin. A relentless pounding to chase the blues away.
He grabs me by the throat and pulls me up to meet him where he stands. He mouths his wet lips over the side of my neck and then sinks his teeth into my flesh, sucking at my skin as he breathes out barely audible obscenities.
I reach for my own cock and stroke it. It’s dry at first, but quickly becomes slick with the river of precum leaking from the head. Tucker and I are nowhere close to being in sync, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Two men using each other for their own reasons.
“Fuck…” he cries, thrusting into me in short strokes. “I’m going to… Fuckkk.”
He stills himself and empties himself inside me, planting his seed. That’s when I break, painting rope after rope of cum onto the side of the wooden casket. When I’m finished, I peel myself forward and collapse my head on the side of the casket.
“Forgive me, Father,” I say between ragged breaths, sweat dripping onto my father’s blanket. “I definitely think I’ve sinned.”