Chapter 18
The water’s too hot but I don’t say shit. Reid’s got his sleeves rolled up, one hand braced on the edge of the tub while the other works a rough washcloth over my collarbones, smearing the FREE USE ink into a blur.
My dick’s still hard.
It’s embarrassing, okay? I’m not proud. The silk cord’s gone, but my cock sits thick and heavy against my thigh, bobbing every time Reid shifts me to scrub another patch of skin.
I wish I could sink underwater and hide it, but Reid’s grip on my shoulder keeps me upright with no way to hide anything.
“Hold still,” he mutters, dragging the cloth down my sternum where HUMAN FUCKTOY is half-gone. His knuckles brush my nipple, and I bite my tongue to keep from flinching. Fuck, even that tiny contact sends a direct jolt straight to my groin.
Reid’s eyes flick down, then back up. His mouth does that thing where it’s not quite a smirk, but it’s not not a smirk either because he’s pissed.
He keeps washing me without saying a word, ignoring the fact that I’m sitting here leaking pre-cum into the bathwater like some desperate slut after causing so much trouble.
He reaches my hips, scrubbing at USE ALL HOLES until the words dissolve into gray streaks. The washcloth dips lower, skimming the crease of my thigh, and my breath hitches. Reid pauses.
“Is that okay?”
I nod.
He hums, then drags the cloth over my inner thigh. My dick jerks, slapping against my stomach, and a fat drop of pre beads at the tip. Reid ignores it.
I want to cry.
But more than that, I wish I could’ve gotten five minutes alone before the cleanup. I wanted to jack off right here, staring at the dried cum on my skin while replaying the way guy after guy pulsed inside me.
But I wouldn’t have that luck. One of them always stays behind after the session, like I’ll short-circuit if I’m left alone with my own post-nut clarity. At this point, I wish they’d realize that post-nut clarity isn’t a thing for me. But apparently, aftercare is non-negotiable to the entire house.
Reid reaches for my face, his fingers tracing where my lip split earlier.
It’s clean now—that was his priority the second we got back from the park, wiping the cum off my face with pissed-off motions while telling me to keep my mouth shut.
He checked the cut under the bathroom light, tilting my chin up and pressing his thumb into the corner of my mouth to see how deep the split went.
Satisfied it was inside my lip and not contaminated with some random dude’s load, he shoved me under the shower to get rid of the cum on the rest of my body.
I get why he was mad. That shit could’ve been really dangerous.
Now, in the tub, Reid’s hands are much gentler, even if his expression remains sour.
“You’re lucky,” he mutters. “You know that, right?”
I just stare at him. Honestly, I don’t even know what the correct response to that is, so I keep my mouth shut. His jaw ticks at my silence.
“Stop that,” he snaps. “You’re not in mode right now. You don’t have to be a fucking statue.”
“Sorry.”
He sighs before dumping shampoo onto my head and starting to wash my hair. Except “washing” is a massive overstatement for the kind of aggression he’s using.
“You’re gonna rip my hair out by the roots, man,” I mutter, craning my neck back to try and catch his eye.
His jaw is clenched.
“There’s still some cum in it,” he grunts. Still, his grip loosens up, those heavy thumbs pressing slow circles into my temples instead.
It feels ridiculously good, so I sink back into his hands, completely letting him massage my scalp.
“Why do you like it?” he asks suddenly.
“The massage?”
“This stuff. This kind of kink.” His voice isn’t judgy. He sounds genuinely curious. And still a little pissed, too. “Doesn’t it fuck with your head after?”
I glance pointedly at my dick, bobbing lazily in the water.
“No part of me feels bad about it. Not my mind.” I flick my cockhead, making it twitch. “And definitely not my body.”
Reid’s eyes track the movement, his nostrils flaring.
“You’re such a freak,” he mutters, but it sounds like praise.
“I know.” I grin at him.
“Sorry,” he says quietly, running his hands through my hair to rinse out the suds. “Didn’t mean it like that.”
“Nah, I know what I am. And I think being a freak is awesome.”
Reid’s fingers pause. “You’re not a freak, Kit.”
I snort.
“Kit.”
“Reid,” I say, mimicking his serious tone. “I just spent two hours in a park letting strangers fuck me and I’m still hard thinking about it. The freak diagnosis is pretty locked in.”
“As far as kinks go, yours isn’t even that hardcore.”
I snort again, bubbles dripping down my nose.
“I looked it up, you know? Whole ass Reddit threads about how some kinks come from trauma or whatever. Something you needed and didn’t get, or something that scared you, or—But nah, man. There’s zero reason why I like being a human fuck-doll.”
“I spent a while trying to figure out my thing,” I continue.
“Like what’s the root of it, you know? And I couldn’t find one.
First I thought it was because I didn’t have to think, but that’s not it.
I think more in doll mode. My brain’s just one big billboard saying ’holy fuck this rules’ the entire time. ”
Reid’s quiet for a second before asking, “So what’s the reason?”
I shrug.
“Dunno. Maybe I just like handing my body to someone else. No trauma, though. Turns out you don’t need to be broken to have a kink. And you don’t owe anyone an explanation for what makes you throb, man.” I grin up at him. “If that makes me a freak, hell yeah. I’m chill with it now.”
I made peace with being like this. I thought it would scare the hell out of me, but it doesn’t. I don’t even know why I say the next part, but the words just slip out.
“I think that’s why my relationships never worked. Like, deep down I knew what I actually liked. And it’s fucking—” I laugh, low and steamless, looking back at him. “I’m fine with this, I am, but who the hell’s gonna love and accept someone who wants to be a literal human fleshlight?”
Reid looks at me like I’m the dumbest motherfucker on the planet. His dark eyes scan my face before he opens his mouth—
“I would.”
The voice comes from right behind me. I twist around to see Miles leaning against the bathroom doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.
“What?”
He pushes off the doorframe and crouches next to the tub, resting his elbows on the porcelain edge. His fingers skim the surface of the water, hovering just above my knee.
“You heard me.”
Yeah, I heard him clear as day. I just can’t wrap my head around the words.
“I’d love you, if you let me. Like, full-on simp mode. Take you on dates. Hold your hand in public. Do whatever you want. The whole nine.”
A nervous laugh slips out of my throat.
“Are you high right now?”
“Nah.” He flicks a small splash of water at my chest. “Stone-cold sober. And yeah, I don’t care if you’re a freak.” His thumb rubs light circles on my knee, right where USE ME was written earlier. “Freak’s not a bad thing.”
“How can you even say that when I literally get off on being treated like a cocksleeve, man?”
“You’re not a fucking cocksleeve, Kit. You’re a guy with a kink. It doesn’t define who you are as a person.”
Fuck.
Wait. Why are my eyes burning?
“I would too,” Reid says, quietly.
I twist my neck back to gape at him.
“I would too,” he repeats more firmly.
“I already love you,” Miles says, and I look back at him. “Doll kink and all.”
“I already do too,” Reid cuts in, and there’s a rare streak of desperation in his tone. “I’ve been loving you for months.”
“I’ve been in love with you for a whole year,” Miles counters, dropping the final bomb without blinking.
I shake my head, because I need my thoughts in order right now. What the hell is going on?
“You told me that you weren’t in love with me.”
Miles holds eye contact. “I’m a little surprised you believed that, honestly.”
I did. I absolutely believed that. I believed it completely because Miles said it with such a straight face, and Miles is the most level-headed guy in this house. He doesn’t just throw words around.
“So you straight-up lied to me?”
“I was freaking out.”
Oh my GOD.
I look at Reid. His jaw is doing the tight clenching thing again.
“You shouldn’t let a kink define the limits of what you think you deserve,” Reid says, intentionally not looking at Miles. “So, yeah, I’d love you. And I’d keep you. Not just for fucking, but for everything. Even the mushy stuff.”
Miles rolls his eyes dramatically. “Wow. Look at that, romance isn’t dead.”
Reid flips him off. “Fuck off.”
They glare at each other, and in any other scenario, I’d be into this—two hot guys fighting over me? Hell yeah—but right now my chest feels weirdly tight.
“Wait,” I say, because, seriously, everyone needs to wait the fuck up. “Wait, wait, wait.”
I try to stand up, but my legs are noodles—too long in the water, too much adrenaline crash, too everything, really. Reid grips my shoulder before I can faceplant into the tiles, and Miles catches my opposite arm, the two of them hauling my dripping body out of the bath.
Reid snatches a dry towel, rubbing down my chest, while Miles grabs another one, and starts doing the same to my hair. I catch Reid’s eyes flicking down to my dick—soft now, thank God—before he tugs the towel tighter around my waist.
“You good?” Miles asks, slinging an arm around my waist when my left knee threatens to buckle.
“Never better,” I mutter, but my voice cracks.
Miles herds me into my bedroom and drops onto the mattress right beside me, crossing his legs while Reid trails behind like a pissed-off shadow, leaning up against the dresser with his arms folded.
“So,” Miles says, dragging the ‘o’. “You believe us, or…?”
“Dunno. Feels like a prank.”
Reid rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Miles’ master plan to confess his undying love while you were ass-deep in post-orgy cleanup wasn’t peak romantic timing.”