“No, it isn’t.”
“Come on, you gotta do it now,” I whine, tearing up because I want it so bad, even while I lean over him, grinding on him just to feel the sparks. “I don’t think I’ll let you do it later.”
“That’s exactly why it doesn’t count, Tommy.”
“Shit, fuck you, bossy motherfucking bastard,” I mutter, then kiss his shoulder. “Didn’t mean bastard as an insult to your mom or anything.”
“I know.”
When I’ve finally exhausted myself and the electric feeling of his hands sliding around on my body starts to get too overstimulating, I collapse beside him and he lets me snuggle back against his chest. I don’t cum again, but I feel great anyway.
“You’re going to stay close to me for the next two days,” he says, managing to sound stern despite the rough tiredness in his voice. “I’m going to keep an eye on you. For your own good.”
“Love it when you say that,” I admit, my eyes already sliding shut. I’m tingling all over, floating on a cloud, warm and happy and easy and free. Nothing hurts, and nothing is scary.
I fall asleep smiling.
****************
Tommy
I wake up slowly, and for a second I’m back in time. I’m stuck wondering which client I let fuck me and then sleep with me, since I usually charge extra for that. For a blurry moment I think I’m back to living with Bruce, because he’s one of the only people I’d be okay sleeping next to.
Then I remember that Bruce and I broke up ages ago, and I don’t sell sex anymore, and also I got high and let my bratva boss owner/employer make me cum in a car outside of a nightclub.
My eyes snap open, but I keep my breathing even. Young-gi sleeps beside me, his arm wrapped loosely around my waist. All of it comes screaming back into my memory, and I cringe at everything I said and did. Did I really tell him my horrible secret, that I can’t get off without getting high? Did I actually debase myself and grind on him in the booth, because I’m so broken I can’t cum any other way, and I had to use him like a fucking sex toy?
And did I actually make out with him, messy and moaning into his mouth? Did I actually climb him like a fucking tree and make him take me to his room? Did I actually call him Daddy not once, but several times?!?
Fuck me, I’m so fucking stupid.I’m dying inside, every memory another pound of dirt burying me in shame and regret. So stupid, I can’t believe I did that.He must think I’m so pathetic.
Having Young-gi’s arm around me is making my skin crawl because there’s no way he wants me here. I made him bring me to his room, I wouldn’t let him go. And when he tried to go to sleep, when he told me to be still, I threw myself on top of him, forced myself on him. God, the horror is eating me alive.
I’ve taken Molly with my friends at the club, but that’s why I do it there. I can grind on them and it’s no big deal, they all want me to dance with them and get down and dirty with them. It’s part of the deal. So for me to do that to Young-gi, here in his goddamn bed, makes me want to fucking vomit because I feel so dirty and horrible.
Holy fuck, I begged him to fuck me, and he had to tell me no multiple times. I’m such a piece of shit. I told him to use me, like some kind of psychopath. Tried to trick him into looking at me naked. Tried to tell him to fuck me while I was high because I wouldn’t do it sober, as if that was an okay thing to say. My insides are tying themselves into pretzels, and I can barely breathe through the self-loathing tightening my lungs.
Without making a sound, with years of practice under my belt, I start the slow process of sneaking out from under his arm. It’s a special skill that I haven’t needed in a while, and it takes patience I don’t feel right now, but soon enough I’m standing beside his bed, looking down at him.
Young-gi’s eyebrows twitch, and his arm curls around the warm pillow I shoved in my place, but after that, he settles, and he stays asleep.
I turn to go, ready to disappear forever, when I’m hit with another memory.
“You’re going to stay close to me for the next two days,”he’d said as we fell asleep.“I’m going to keep an eye on you. For your own good.”
I pause. Anxiousness and neediness swirl in my gut and I wonder if maybe I should stay despite my humiliation. But the truth of the matter is that I can’t face him in the light of day after last night. Everything about that situation feels ugly to me. I don’t feel free or easy or happy today. Today I feel shitty, and disgusting, and wrong.
It takes me a few minutes to sneakily find some reasonable clothing and get the fuck out of the building. I’ve got my hood up over my face because I don’t know if he still has guys tailing me or not. It’s so early in the morning that it’s only just gotten bright out, I probably only slept a couple hours–just enough to come down. No one looks suspicious, like they’re watching me, but I don’t stick around and risk it.
As I briskly stride down the street, Young-gi’s building looms over me and I get the paranoid feeling that he’s looking down on me right now from his window, sneering at me, glad that I’m gone, relieved that I left and I’m not there forcing him to put up with me anymore.
I start running, and I don’t stop, because I can’t run fast enough to forget about last night. Can’t run far enough to escape the way I acted.
Chapter 21
Tommy
My throat burns and my lungs are aching by the time I shakily come to a stop. I lean heavily against a telephone pole, trying to catch my breath. Everything hurts, everything feels sore. And this is why I don’t do Molly every night just to cum; comedown is a bitch. Sometimes I know that it’s the drug making me feel shitty and alone, but today it feels like I’m staring myself in the face and seeing how ugly I really am. It feels real. Like it’s just me that’s shitty, and the drug has nothing to do with it.
