20. Tate
Tate
“Jesus Christ, you look so fucking sexy in that,” I tell Roman as he steps out in his Onyx Society formal cape, sliding his tattooed hands over the edges of it. “I mean, your normal fleecy denim jacket is hot, too, but this is another level.”
He’s still a little stiff as he moves in certain positions, and the wound on his stomach is very much in the process of healing.
But after three weeks, he’s able to almost live a normal life again.
Normal.
That thing that we’ve both never been.
“You realize how special you are,” he asks me, “being able to attend the Confessional even though you aren’t an Onyx Society member?”
Tonight is apparently a tradition for Onyx Society.
They call it the Confessional, and I’ve heard the guys mentioning it throughout my time here. All of them write down a deep secret, something they’ve never told anyone. They put all of the secrets into a box, shake it up, and read them out loud at random.
No one knows who each secret belongs to.
“I know I’m very special,” I murmur, walking up and running my palm over his chest. “God, I need you to fuck me while you’re wearing this, later.”
He hums. “What if I need you now?”
“You’re going to be late for the Confessional. You hate being late.”
Roman reaches out and trails his knuckles over my cheek, down to my jaw, looking over my face. He dips low and crushes his lips to mine in a slow kiss that quickly becomes hungry. His tongue pushes into my mouth and I part for him, and his hands moving to grip my wrists.
I reach low and squeeze my hand around the outline of his cock, and the moment I feel it, I moan into his mouth.
“The noises you make for me, Tate…” he murmurs, nuzzling hard against me and biting on my earlobe. “Fuck it. I’m allowed to be late. You need my cum.”
I’m already dropping to my knees in front of him. I rest my head against the front of his pants as he unbuttons, then I move back as he shoves his pants and lets them drop.
His cock bobs free, heavy and completely hard for me.
“I’m never going to get used to this,” I tell him, gliding my palm over his thick shaft. “It’s a work of art.”
“I don’t want you to ever get used to it. I want you to look at it like that every time you take it. Open your mouth, beauty.”
I look up at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Make me.”
His eyes widen like he wants to destroy me, and he’ll enjoy every moment of it.
I love seeing him smile.
For the past few weeks, he’s been doing it more.
Little by little, I’ve seen pieces of him emerge, like spring after a thaw. He always loved giving me his cock, obviously. But now… he’s completely present with me.
Raw, rough, and needy as ever, but no longer questioning anything between us.
He’s all in.
“Confessional!” Noah’s voice floats over from down the upstairs hallway, right as Roman starts to push his cockhead past my lips. “Let’s go, boys! Everyone downstairs.”
Roman doesn’t stop.
Doesn’t even fucking pause.
He pushes into me further, getting past my throat. I’m getting good at this. Training my body to be able to take him makes me feel like I’m winning a game. It feels better and better, every time he stretches me open.
Noah bangs on Roman’s door. “You coming, Rome?”
Roman groans softly as he pulls a little bit out of my throat, then shoves back in. “I will be there,” he shouts toward the door. “Go away.”
I hear Noah’s faint laughter from the other side of the door. “The fuck are you doing in there?”
“Necessary things.”
The way Roman says it makes my cock throb under my pants.
“K. Five minutes, then I’m going to bother you again.”
“Fuck, Tate,” Roman utters, cupping each side of my head with his hands as he uses my mouth for his pleasure. “You are my favorite thing. My favorite…”
I plunge as low as I can, reaching one hand up to cradle his balls in my palm. When I slide off to take a long breath, I look up at him, nodding.
“I wouldn’t fucking stop if Noah walked in that door. Wouldn’t stop if the whole house walked in. I would take your cock in front of this whole fucking school, and I’d be proud to have them see I was yours. Give me your cum, so I can go downstairs knowing I have part of you still inside me.”
He groans loudly this time as he pushes back onto my tongue. “God, you are so fucking good for me. Going to come fast, baby.”
I’ve never wanted anyone this much.
I go faster, upping the pace as he starts to breathe more deeply, and I increase my speed until I know he’s about to lose control.
His hands start to grip harder in my hair and I take him deep another time, letting go of my need for air so that I can give him everything.
A rush of adrenaline surges through me as I feel his cock pulse inside my mouth, over and over, filling my mouth as he comes, gripping the sides of my head.
When he slides out of me, he still seems fevered.
Hungry.
Almost like he’s in a frenzy even though he already came. I take a break for air, wiping at my mouth with the back of my hand, and then Roman takes both of my hands and pulls me up until I’m standing, pressing tiny kisses all over my face.
He moves lower, and he’s still kissing me.
Sucking slow against my neck, and biting down.
“Fuck, that feels so good,” I utter.
I’m still achingly hard, my cock neglected under my pants.
“You want them to see who you belong to?” Roman murmurs against my neck. “Then they will see.”
He sucks harder in another spot and I can’t help but rut my hips up against his leg, grinding against him like I’m a needy animal.
“I have to come,” I whisper.
“You will come when I say,” he tells me, suddenly pulling away and looking down at me. “After the confessional.”
He admires his handiwork, gently running his fingertips over the swollen, bitten parts of my skin.
All at once, he glides his fingertips over my lower stomach and then shoves his hand down the front of my pants, getting just enough space beyond the waistband to reach my cock. He squeezes it hard in his fist and then lets it go, removing his touch from me.
“Trying to make me come in my fucking pants?”
“Just trying to remind you that your cock belongs to me.”
“Because I really might come in my pants if you touch me like that again.”
He leans in to brush his lips over my ear, whispering. “Good. Downstairs. Let’s go, beauty.”
I hate him.
Except I really, really fucking don’t.
I need him.
He’s already cleaned off his dick and put it away, zipping up his pants.
He looks like some sort of god-king in that Onyx Society formal cape, and I can’t take my eyes off of him because I can’t believe I get to be with this man.
I groan as he opens the door, pressing down on my shaft, as if that’s going to do anything to help make this hard-on go away.
I couldn’t even be in the same house as him without being hard right now, let alone the same room.
He turns back to look for me, that beautiful, rakish smile landing on his face again. “You will come later. I promise,” he tells me, reaching out his hand toward me. “I would never lie to you.”
I lace my fingers through his and pull in a long breath. “I know I don’t get a secret in the Confessional, because I’m not an Onyx member. But if I did, I know what it would be.”
“Mm. Roman Petrov is a fucking asshole who won’t let me get my nut?” he muses.
“No. Roman Petrov changed my life. I was a cockslut… and now I’m his cockslut.”
He waves a hand through the air. “That is not a secret. Everyone can tell just from looking at you, Tate.”
I give him a playful shove on the arm as we walk down the hallway, making sure I’m nowhere near his stomach.
Downstairs, I’ve never seen Onyx House look more like a beautiful ritual site.
In the front room, there are candles dotting nearly every surface.
The tables, the windowsills, and the fireplace mantle are covered end-to-end with dripping wax candles, tall ones and short, fat ones.
Everyone is gathered with their capes on. Roman walks over to a wooden bureau at the edge of the room and reaches in, retrieving a very fancy looking bottle of liquor.
“This is Maks’ favorite vodka. Very expensive, very delicious,” Roman says.
“Don’t listen to him,” Rayne says, coming up to us. “It tastes like rubbing alcohol.”
Roman lifts an eyebrow at Rayne. “You know I have many weapons, don’t you?” he teases. “If I wasn’t wounded, you’d be in trouble for that.”
Rayne winks at me and walks off, his cape flowing behind him as he goes over to Hunter and wraps his arms around him.
“Last call for secrets and confessions,” Noah is saying, walking all around the room and shaking a box with a slit at the top of it. “Anyone still need to submit theirs?”
“Yes,” Roman says.
Noah walks over, and when he glances between the two of us, his eyes linger on my neck.
“Somebody likes you,” Noah tells me, then reaches out to give Roman a handshake.
I feel heat creep up to my cheeks, even though I’m proud, not even a little bit embarrassed.
I like the fucking attention.
I love it.
“Somebody does like him, very much,” Roman says.
He pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, pushing it into the top slot on the box.
Noah collects two more from other guys, and then he steps in front of the fireplace, illuminated in the flickering orange glow.
A hush falls over the room.
The guys take this seriously, and it’s incredible to see. A room full of laughing frat bros and jocks needling each other one moment, only to become something sacred, the next.
The tall ceilings look colossal in this light.
And Noah begins to talk.
“Welcome to the Confessional,” Noah says. “We begin. Onyx brothers, let us say it together: Nocte onychina nigra, cor meum adhuc igne coccineo ardet. Honestas ante omnia.”
I recognize it as Latin, but I don’t know the words.
They repeat it afterward in English:
“On an onyx black night, my heart still burns a crimson flame. Honesty before everything.”
Noah nods, looking all around. “As always, we will pass this box around the room, to each member. You will reach in and randomly select a secret, pull it out, and read it aloud for all of us. As if it were written by you. From your soul, baring your truth.”