Mayfly

19. CHAPTER NINETEEN #2

His bloodstained nails dig into my waist, my tattoos, my scars.

He looks up at me, his eyes so different from just twenty minutes ago. So full of admiration and pride I’m not certain I deserve.

We lied to each other; kept ourselves apart for so many years because of stupid preconceptions. I was right about one thing, though: Jude Clarke has always been my hero.

Jude lifts me, then slides me back down.

“Jesus fucking christ,” I gasp, and grip his shoulders.

He does it again.

And again.

Until my dick bouncing against him just like he wanted.

Each time it's harder to keep focus, but I need him to hear; “I’m a really bad man.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He bucks up to meet me. “I’ve killed people too, Curren.”

Pausing, he holds me still so he can fuck my suspended body.

His thighs slap against my ass. His nails pinch at my skin.

My necklace ricochets off my bare chest. The impulsive hunger doesn’t just belong to me anymore.

He's figured it out. He needs this as much as I do. We’re like animals, unable to control our urges when around each other.

And then, when I think I can’t possibly take anymore, he stops, with just the head of his cock still inside me.

“It always felt good… But not as good as this.” He drops me, and I grunt in the most pleasure-filled pain as I'm forced to accommodate him even deeper than before. “All I ever wanted was to be a man you’d be proud of. But I failed at that too."

"Don't say that."

"But it's true. At this point, I'm not even sure how many people are dead because of me.”

“That might just be the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“Nothing about us should be. But you're still not bad like I am."

“Having ‘MI6 Agent’ near my name doesn’t make me a hero. I’m a robot. I do whatever they tell me to do. I seek out the most dangerous jobs and don’t give a fuck about how many men I hurt.”

“So why do it if you thought I wanted the good kind of hero?”

“I’m not the only one with a self-fulfilling prophecy, Curren. And by the looks of it, I’m exactly who you wanted me to be… Now hurry up and fuck me. Prove just how much you can love me for being a bad man, too.”

The timbre of his voice.

The weight of his presence.

The strength of everything about him.

I raise myself as best I can, and sink back down on him. It's good, but so limiting with his legs still bound to the chair.

With Jude inside me, I drag my knife over with my foot.

One by one, I cut the buttons of his shirt so I can spread it open and see more of him.

His dark nipples.

The patch of hair that runs from his belly button to my new favorite thing.

“I'm fucking obsessed with you,” I tell him with a kiss, then lean down to cut his legs free.

As soon as he can move, Jude grips my ass and stands.

I press the knife to his neck. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“You can’t expect me to just stay sitting there.”

“I think I can. You told me to fuck you, so let me do it.”

Jude reaches for my knife and it slides from my fingers without resistance.

Jude kicks the chair further away from Marius and the hole before sitting. And when he does sit, he stops groping my ass so he can make a point of stretching out his arms and linking his hands behind his head. “Go on, then.”

Just for being cocky, I stand straight up with no warning—my legs still straddling him—and watch his expression fall as my warmth is replaced by London’s morning air. “I can stop right now, if you like.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I do have some self control.”

“We only got this far because of you, remember.”

“Fuck you.”

He grabs my dick, then licks his lips. “I thought that's what we were doing?"

I want to hit him. I want to show him how fucking angry he makes me, but—my god—I need this man exactly like he is.

I'm still straddling his legs, and when I don't move, he opens his mouth.

I clamp my hands around his head, force him forward, then ram my length into his mouth and down his throat. He gags, but it’s what we both want. The constant conflict. The knowledge that nothing we ever give will be too much for the other to handle.

Jude gropes my ass and pulls me deeper.

His biceps bulge around me. He tries to keep eye contact, but every time I barge past his tonsils, they squeeze shut. He gags, again, and again, and again until the chair is forgotten and he’s on his knees for me. Pants around his ankles. Shirt caught up—high and sticky on his back.

I cup his neck and feel it swell, then contract. Swell, then contract.

His eyes roll and his hips tilt so far I can see the bruises covering his back and ass.

“Fuck, you look sexy,” I tell him, and he arches his back further. “You look so pretty covered in my bruises, don't you?”

His moan vibrates around me.

“Don’t you?” I demand.

He pulls back— "They're my bruises, now" —and stands. "Get to the window."

I look to where I left my coat, then back to him.

"Get to the fucking window, Curren." He wipes the spit from his mouth and chin with his soaking shirt sleeve, replacing saliva with more smeared blood. And I just stand mesmerized, watching as he rises to his feet, towers over me, and kicks off his shoes and pants.

Then he’s sucking the life out of me; tongue down my throat, fucking my mouth and giving me no way to fight back.

He pulls away and I stumble.

He tears his shirt from his body, and tosses on top of Marius.

“Fuck, I love you,” he says, then turns and walks away.

His back is purple the whole way down to his calves, with strips of navy-black in the shape of his belt.

“Get them tattooed,” I say, following after him.

“No.” It’s final; no room for discussion. “You’re the only permanent thing I want in my life,” he says, leaning forward with his hands on the window’s bare concrete sill and looking out over the Thames.

I kiss his neck as a gust of wind blows through the window.

Jude turns, gently takes my head,and kisses me.

“Should we jump?”

“I’m scared, too, Curren.”

“But what if this is as good as it’s ever gonna be?”

“There’s no way that can be true… It’s only been one day.”

“Mayfly’s live their entire life in one day.”

“Shhh.” His breath puffs like a drug against my lips. “I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up and bend over the window.”

I've barely moved and he's already gripping my hip and pushing back inside me.

I fall forward onto my blazer—my forearm supporting me on the windowsill as the other hand presses flat against the wall beside it.

"We grew up just over there."

"Stay focused— ah, " I moan. "Don't look at it."

“It’s hard not to.”

“The park has changed.”

Jude presses his forehead between my shoulder blades, and lays a hand flat against my chest. “What?”

“I went there this morning… Before coming here.”

He stands, and pulls me with him. Then he tilts my head back so he can look down on me from behind. "Why?"

“I needed to.”

Jude shuffles his feet apart so I'm not forced onto my toes.

It's painful; how slow he's moving. As though he now wants the powers that be to catch us.

"You feel so good. But please…" I reach behind for his hips, but he raises the hand that was supporting my chest to wrap around me like a choke hold.

"You're not in control, Curren," he tells me, then rams inside me to the hilt.

I arch my back further, and he bites my flesh in the crook of my neck. "Please. I need more."

His other hand smacks my ass and I jolt in his arms.

“Just. Like. This?” he grunts, punctuating each word with an even more ferocious thrust.

"Fuck. Yes. More."

He unwraps his arm from around my neck to grip my shoulders, and tilts me forward. Using his hold on me as leverage, he pounds into me with so much force my dick slaps against my stomach.

Just as abruptly as he started, Jude almost stops—drawing back at a snail's pace until I feel the tug of his crown on the inside of my rim. Then millimeter by millimeter, he threatens to withdraw completely, until I'm tensing around him, desperate to pull him back in.

A whine gurgles in my throat, and he ploughs into me so hard I topple forward.

Jude praises me with the most possessive moans while I grip the windowsill—literally teetering on the edge of life and death. Because without Jude's hands on my shoulders and his cock in my ass, I'd be on the dry, hard, ground, ten stories below.

His thighs slap against the back of mine.

My hands are cut up.

But I'm greedy.

"Jude, I… Have to touch… Please."

“You’re half out the fucking window.”

“But I— Ah. Need to come.”

“No."

“That's not fair,” I whimper like a fucking baby. “I need to... I need to...”

"You need to let me use your whore ass until it's so full of my cum that you’ll never get it all out.”

My voice croaks, then cracks, and the sounds of my frustration are like a broken record out of time with how quickly Jude is pounding into me. But life be damned; if this is the way fate wants to take me out, then at least we'll be together.

I spread my legs as best I can, and cling to the windowsill with all the strength my right arm can afford.

My head is outside in an instant, but the relief of being touched is too good for me to stop.

"You bratty little shit," Jude curses, and pulls me back in.

With me back in a headlock, Jude braces against the side of the window, and his teeth latch onto the same flesh by my neck.

There's resistance as he bites down, but when the first wave takes me, I feel my skin break. And I don’t stop pumping until my cum is dripping down the concrete, and I’m a boneless jelly struggling to hold myself up.

I should have listened to Jude from the start.

I should have cut him free and made him run with me because one thing these twenty four hours have proven, is that graphic, wanton violence turns us the fuck on.

I just killed the most consistent thing in my life.

My best friend of eighteen years. The only one to call.

The only one to ever ask how I was. And I slit his throat without a second thought, then started fucking over his dead body.

So will our lives from here on out consist of us spiraling further into sado-masochistic depravity together, as we chase this same high?

I try as best I can to reach back for Jude, but he breaks the latch and pulls out of me. I fall forward. Reaching out for anything to grab onto, the heel of my palm slips from the edge of the broken window, and my balance is lost before I’m whipped back inside.

Held only by Jude’s iron grip on my arm, he drags me across the concrete like a caveman, then lifts me and throws me against the wall.

My head slams back against it, and I barely have time to focus on his face before he’s kissing me—my blood added to the unholy amalgamation inside my mouth.

His hands knead my ass as he pushes back inside me. And I’m whole again.

I’m complete.

I’m a mess; inside and out. A literal cum rag drenched in the blood of three different men and smeared with spit, my battle-scarred body being used by the man of my dreams as a vessel for him to unload into.

My arms hang loose as Jude drives up into me on relentless repeat. The skin of my back is being pulled apart by the raw cement walls, and he is so deep inside me that I can’t be held responsible for what happens.

“I’m gonna tear up my passport the second we get the fuck out of here.”

I use the last of my strength to wrap my arms around him as tight as I can. “I can get us new ones. We can be whoever we want.”

“I don’t care who I am as long as it’s with you. I’ll live in a cave… I’ll hunt down that bastard’s family so you can kill them for me too, if that’s what you want.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’d never promise you something I didn’t mean.”

“I like killing people.”

“I know. We just need to— fuck— hone it a little. Now squeeze tight for me.”

I go to say something else but Jude clamps his hand over my mouth.

Holding me up by one arm, he fucks me like we won’t have a tomorrow.

My throat is dry, my eyes are sore, and I feel him falter before a string of profanities pour all over me.

I can feel him pulsing inside.

He shakes, and grabs my other leg again.

He kisses me; sucks the life right out of my lungs as he fills my already burning insides with his remaining staggered thrusts.

I squeeze around him, desperate to not let any of his cum drip out.

His chest forces the air out of me as he leans the rest of his weight against me.

I can feel his grip on my thighs weaken, and don’t know where I get the strength, but I cling to him instead.

This moment can’t last, we’ve already been here too long, but even so, my aching body just isn’t ready to let go.

“I love you so much,” I tell him as his head rests heavily against the side of mine.

With his breath still labored, he turns towards me so his nose is pushing into my cheek. “I love you too, pup.”