Chapter 68 #2
I lift his balls and go lower, my tongue swiping over that tight patch of skin, the taint, something I’ve never dared to do before.
His whole body tenses up, a guttural “what the—” choked out before he can stop it.
He doesn’t pull away, though. He just goes completely still, like a wild animal that’s not sure if the new thing is a threat or the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to it.
I can feel the muscles in his thighs clench under my hands.
I do it again, slower this time, a firm lick, and he lets out a shaky breath, his control shattering.
“Fucking rabbit,” he groans, his voice rough and uneven.
I pull back just enough to look up at him, my lips swollen and wet. “Face or mouth?” I ask, my voice a low purr.
His control snaps. He grabs my hair, his fingers fisting in the strands, holding me in place as his hips buck. The sound of splintering wood cracks through the air as one of the floorboards behind us splits clean in two.
“I want you to choke on my cum. Open your mouth,” he snarls.
He fucks my mouth without a care, tears are falling down my cheeks as I struggle to take his cock. He comes with a harsh, ragged groan, and I take it all, my mouth working to keep everything in.
The apartment’s lights flicker wildly, a strobing, chaotic pulse, as he empties himself inside me. I don’t just swallow. I pull back, open my mouth, and show him how I got every drop. I lick my lips clean.
He smirks. ”I can’t believe you moved back,” he says. He pulls me up, maneuvering me until I’m sprawled across his chest.
I can't believe it either. The thought follows me into sleep a few minutes later.
* * *
We drank too much, smoked too much. By the time I wake up and find myself spread on top of him, naked, on the floor and very nauseous, it’s too late.
My stomach rebels. I scramble off him, a clumsy, desperate motion, and make a run for the bathroom, barely making it before everything comes up. My pride goes right along with last night’s poisons. I really hope he’s sleeping through this humiliating symphony of retching.
No such luck. I feel the air shift before I hear him, then his hands are there, gently gathering my hair, holding it back from my face with a care that feels completely alien.
“Go away,” I try to mutter, but it’s cut off by another heave that leaves me a groaning, pathetic mess.
“This is my place,” he says calmly. “You puke in my toilet, you get the audience. You’re stuck with me.”
He waits patiently, his touch a steady, grounding presence that’s somehow more intimate than anything we did hours ago. I hurl again, the thought of his eyes on me in this state making me feel more exposed than when I was naked and spread out for him.
When I finally slump back against the cool tile of his bathroom floor, feeling utterly wrecked, I hear him turn on the shower.
He helps me up and guides me in, then gets in behind me.
The hot water hits my skin and I flinch.
He washes me slowly, methodically, his hands roaming over every bit of skin, cleaning away the sweat and the shame.
“You don’t have to do this, Jax. I can take care of myself.”
He pauses, his hands stilling on my back. “Yeah, well, I want to.” He leans in closer. “You can let go, I’ll catch you.”
I place my hands on the wall to keep steady, my head bowed. I’m feeling sick, but too many emotions are rushing in—the shame, the residual pleasure, the terrifying tenderness of his touch. It’s the tenderness that might actually break me.
He turns me around gently, forcing me to face him.
I have to look up, and my breath catches.
The water plasters his dark hair to his forehead, and droplets cling to his lashes, tracing paths down his cheekbones.
In the dim, foggy light, he’s not just beautiful; he’s devastating.
My chest aches with a longing so tight it hurts.
I wish, with a pathetic desperation, that he felt even a fraction of this—this soul-crushing tenderness that’s currently undoing me.
He must see something in my face because his expression softens. He cups my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheek. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Rabbit?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head, unable to speak, and lean into his touch. It’s a weakness I can’t afford, but right here, right now, I don’t care.
I surrender to him, and without another word, he takes care of me.
He finishes washing me, his touch clinical now, but still gentle.
He turns off the water and grabs a rough towel to dry me.
He carries me back to the main room, not over his shoulder this time, but cradled against his chest like something precious.
He lays me gently on the floor and then goes to the corner, gathering all the blankets he has.
He spreads them out, creating a soft nest on the hard wooden planks.
He lies down beside me, pulling the covers over us both, and then he just strokes my hair, his fingers tracing a slow, repetitive pattern against my scalp.
I try to keep my eyes open, afraid this will all end too soon, that if I blink, the tenderness will vanish, he will vanish once again.
But my body betrays me, the warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing pulling me under.
By the time I wake up again, he’s gone. The space beside me is cold, the blankets a tangled mess. I lie there, overthinking everything. Right when I’m about to spiral, he opens the door carrying a plate of eggs and toast that smells way too good for the state I’m in.
“I should go,” I say, my voice hoarse.
He sets the plate down and just looks at me. “You don’t have to run, again.”
“I’m not,” I say, a little too quickly. “I just… I have things to do.”
He throws one of his t-shirts at me. It’s black and smells like him. “Eat first. You’ll feel better.”
I pull the shirt on over my head. “I’m sorry, Jax. I know it’s opening night… I shouldn’t have made you drink that much and—”
“Relax,” he says, cutting me off, his tone light. “I wanted to, okay? And you’re the one who seems to be regretting everything.” He hands me the plate, and I take a bite, my eyes avoiding his.
I move my hand over my face. “Look, I just got back and I don’t know what—”
“Sisk, look at me,” he says, his voice suddenly flat, all the teasing gone. “Last night was just one fuck buddy helping another, okay? Don’t overthink it.”
I want to say I’m relieved, but the casualness of him, the way he just built a wall and slammed the door in my face, makes me jump to my feet. “Right. Fuck buddies, of course.”
He grabs my wrist.
“Don’t,” I say, pulling away and grabbing my clothes. I start putting on my shoes frantically.
The lights flicker again. “You might want to get this place checked,” I say, trying to joke but my voice cracks. “Might be haunted.”
He sees right through me. “Sisk, are you okay?”
“Fine.”
“You are not fine.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I say, my voice perfectly level. “I’ve had plenty of practice at this part. It’s kind of our thing, isn’t it?” I turn and leave his place as fast as I can, slamming the door behind me to hide the tears that are breaking free.