Chapter 1 #4
And then he started fucking his ass back against me, forcing the rhythm, making it wilder, harder, deeper, and rougher.
He knew all too well how to work me, and I lost myself to it, all roadblocks down, as I began pounding into him like a madman, powerfucking him into the stall wall.
Over and over and over.
Our grunts and roars filled the space.
All I was aware of was his ass basically suctioning my cock to the point where the bliss was so intense I could barely manage a single, unencumbered breath.
I pulled my hand from the wall, reached around in front of him and grasped his cock, fisting it wildly to match my brutal thrusts. He threw his head back, cursing me out and begging for more at the same time.
My power flared, my frost pushing against his fire.
My shadows leaked out, swirling around his throat, dipping beneath his shirt and rushing over his abs, feeling and teasing him everywhere.
“Damn, Win… fuck… gonna blow… gonna…”
He lurched and screamed out, coming all over the wall and my fingers.
Oh, yeah. The feel of all that hot cum, his sexy vulnerable reaction… it took me over the edge too, and then I was pumping deep inside him with a curse.
In the throes of it, my frost shot up his arms, crackling over his tattoos.
He pulled his hand from mine, then called his heat, melting it bit by bit, while undulating as my shadows became unhinged all over his torso, his throat, then dipping down to his balls as well.
The conflicting sensations did a number on him, and then he was coming again, shooting all over the wall.
As I eased from his ass with a groan, I leaned over him and slicked my hand in the lovely mess he’d made, then wiped it all over his face.
He hissed and finally turned to me, covered in it.
I could see the resistance in his eyes as usual.
As it started off, anyway.
But as he looked into mine, he must have seen the spark of desire there, and he submitted, licking it all off and making a beautiful show of it for me.
“Very nice,” I breathed.
I pressed my hands to his shoulders, and he smirked as he lowered himself to his knees, then lashed his tongue all over my cock, cleaning me up and tasting the both of us.
I stroked his shoulders. “Flawless. My exquisite fireball. Always so incredible.”
He beamed up at me while he was lost in that submissive-like state, on his knees for me, wanting to be commanded—just like he’d wanted to be taken and fucked.
But the moment he licked up the last drop, all that slipped away again.
His eyes narrowed as he rose to his feet. He cursed to himself under his breath.
I reached out to him, but he batted my hand away, then hurriedly fixed himself back into his pants and wiped away any sign of what we’d just done together, clearing the walls with a sweep of his magic as well.
He snapped his fingers and did the same to me. I even noticed that my previously wet shirt was now dry.
“Zayn—”
“No. Don’t,” he ground out. “That was just… rage relief.”
“You really can’t process that you enjoy a little submission? Not wanting to lead, but to receive instead doesn’t make you—”
“Stop. Just fucking stop. We’re not having a heartfelt moment here. It was just some rough and raw fucking.” He gestured around. “In a bathroom stall. Nothing romantic about it.”
“I really don’t think the venue has any bearing on—”
“It’s done. Fucking was had. Satisfaction was achieved. The end.”
“It’s not—”
Something soft hit me on the top of my head.
Before it dropped to the ground, I caught it to find my charcoal hoodie in my hand.
A jolt went through me—my hoodie that I’d left out by the sinks.
Oh, no.
A throat cleared roughly.
“This is my fourth time doing that,” a familiar voice spoke.
“Dad,” I choked.
“Now, Zayn, if you’re finished using my son like a fleshlight, I’d teleport out.” He was using that rumbling, dangerous tone. “Right now.”
Zayn’s alarmed gaze careened into mine.
But before I could get a word out, he swept himself up in his fuchsia power and teleported out.
I took a moment, even though I was already dressed and cleaned again thanks to Zayn, and I drew in a couple of calming breaths before I stepped out of the stall.
Dad stood there facing away from the sinks, his arms folded across his chest and looking a mixture of upset for me and indignant.
“To be clear, that’s not why I came in here. He just showed up and—”
“This is a toxic dynamic you’re embroiled in.”
“Toxic? I… no, I wouldn’t refer to it as…”
“He’s using you to feel something he’s ashamed of feeling. You’re meeting him halfway, holding back in several ways too, but he’s not doing the same for you.”
“Pops was like that with you at first. He told me.”
“No. It’s not the same. Lazriel was afraid of his bisexuality initially.
But he was also open, just unsure and needing a patient, guiding hand.
That’s not what’s happening here. Zayn fucks everyone, day in and day out.
He performs the role of dominance which isn’t natural to him, nor what he needs.
He’s so very deep in denial that every now and then the pressure breaks and that’s when he comes back to use you.
It’s been two years since things turned from platonic to sexual between you, and no progress has been made.
Why? Because he isn’t willing to give anything, only to take. And it’s hurting you.”
He came to me and laid his hand on my shoulder.
“You’re like your mom when it comes to emotional dynamics.
You see the pain beneath the anger and upset in others.
And when that’s leading the way, it can be very difficult not to give that empathy free reign.
But a line needs to be drawn at some point.
From what I overheard and what I know of Zayn as it is, this should be that point, Winter.
You are trapped in the role of his emotional caretaker and it’s unfair, deeply toxic, and clearly painful. ”
I swallowed hard as his words cut at me.
“How long… when did you—”
“Just as you were talking. Finishing up.”
Finishing up? Urgh. “Huh.” I shifted my weight, but as he went to pull his hand from my shoulder, I held it there, not wanting it to leave me yet. “I start at Loxley Academy tomorrow, Dad. He’ll be there for another year yet.”
“I’m aware. And we also know he’s one of the reasons you chose that specific academy.”
“We? The whole family knows?”
He nodded.
“It’s also partially about Evira, isn’t it?”
I jolted. “What? Why would it… that’s not—”
He squeezed my hand in his. “When you make a deep sexual connection, it stays with you. You can’t just shake it off.
” His lips quirked. “Unlike me. At least, before Lazriel, Velra, and Cassius came along.” He smiled kindly.
“Especially when both of them were your firsts—the first woman, then the first man you fucked.”
Fucked. I didn’t like that term associated with Evira. It hadn’t been… sordid like that with her. She’d needed me. She’d needed help. Help that I’d been in a position to offer without any fallout. Well, at least no fallout for her.
“I didn’t know she was starting at Loxley this same year as me when I applied. But even though she is, you know the situation.”
A rumble sounded in his throat. “Yes. The disgust of dragonkind toward the idea of necromancers fornicating with their most treasured beings. Life versus death—from their perspective. They can’t stand the idea of a death-touched being connecting physically with a dragon that exudes life, that they consider the antithesis to death. ”
“It’s their nature.”
“And that should just be accepted, not subject to re-evaluation, to evolving?”
“Of course it shouldn’t just be accepted.
Nothing that devalues and discounts beings based on their species should be.
But when it comes to Evira’s specific situation, it is the current status quo.
I can’t do anything about that. Not without endangering her and the position she holds as Crown Heir of the Dracoryn Realm. ”
“If you want to do something about it—”
“No, Dad.”
“What?”
“I don’t think your brand of intervention is going to do anyone any favors.”
I could see his urge to push forward with it.
He hated that I was seen in a negative light because of the necromancer aspect.
Well, it was the Wraith part as well, but not to such an extent. Frost and shadow came along with the Wraith aspect, and dragonkind considered it connected to nature and elemental magic. It was… a whole lot of complicated theorizing and stereotyping.
“If you change your mind, I’m here.”
“I know. Thank you.” I grinned out at him then. “And… ‘fornicating’? Wow, you really toned that down, Dad.”
He patted my shoulder, then stepped back. “Well, I saw your disgusted reaction when I used the word ‘fucking’.” He eyed me suspiciously. “When it came to Evira. You didn’t seem to have a problem with my use of ‘fleshlight’ in regard to Zayn.”
“Oh, the disgust was still there. It just… it was accurate in that case. As much as I obviously don’t like being compared to a sex object.”
“It’s what you are to him, Winter.”
“Dad—”
“It’s why I used that specific word. You needed to hear that, to recognize it. Without that, destructive patterns can’t be broken. It begins with awareness.”
I scrubbed my hand over my face. “You’re right.”
He frowned. “I am?”
“Please. You know you always are.”
“Of course, but you recognizing that is another matter.”
I shook my head to myself. “I conjured an oil painting into his dorm room, one that reflects repressed emotions and needs.”
“You… what?”
“I know. I crossed boundaries… literally. And not just when I breached his ward. The fact that I went that far, did that—”
“Something that’s most definitely not like you with how deeply you respect others.”
“Yeah. I guess that, combined with what just happened in here with him, it’s clear it’s not just toxic, which is bad enough, but it’s twisting me up, turning me into something… someone… I don’t want to be.”