The dread still curls through my chest, thick and suffocating, while something else entirely burns right alongside it.
I can’t fight it anymore. I don’twantto. It’s fucking inevitable.
My moan echoes through the room as the shadow hands move up and down my shaft. They twist around my head, varying pressure, milking precum from my slit. Whatever they’re made of, whatever gives them the ability to cross over into the physical world, they’re kind of…perfect. They’re not rough. They’re almost silky, like gossamer, their grip tight.
I’ve completely surrendered to them, my body leaning against the wall, not fighting against the ones still pinning my wrists above my head. My hips thrust up, fucking into Reese’s shadows as the darkness devours me whole. Like it knows me, claims me, pulling me deeper and deeper, until I know I’ll never be able to escape.
Despite the nature of this dark power, the heat inside me grows, rivaling the cold and the gloom.
My lashes flutter against my cheeks as my head rolls against the wall. They stroke me, cradle my balls, fucking consume me. That heat settles in the base of my spine at the same time terror strikes like lightning.
Please, fuck, don’t fucking stop.
My eyes snap open to plead with Reese not to, my mindgoing back seven years ago. As intense as his edging was then, I don’t know if I’d survive it right now. Not with his shadows there to convince me I’ll never be able to come again a day in my life.
But that doesn’t look like what he has planned.
He’s not touching himself, but I swear I can damn near see his cock throbbing through his pants. His jaw ticks, tense, something tight and strained pulling across his face. His hands are in fists at his sides like he trusts the shadow ones more than his own. Like he’s holding himself in place by sheer force of will.
And, of course, I have to tempt him.
“It feels so good, Reese,” I moan.
His head tilts slightly. “Does it?”
There’s something suddenly different about his voice. Unsteady, breathless. It catches me off guard.
I nod weakly, swallowing hard as the shadows tighten around my length just enough to make my breath hitch. “Yes. I mean, it’s…” I let out a shaky breath. “It’s bad too, but…good.”
Something flashes in his eyes. Doubt. Hesitation, maybe. Something that doesn’t belong on his face when he’s supposed to be in control.
“Bad?” he repeats.
It sounds as though the word almost gets stuck in his throat on the way out, like he didn’t expect to say it, or maybe didn’t want to hear it at all.
“Yeah, you know,” I mutter, glancing down at the shadows. I can’t even see my cock past them, but I can feel more precum leaking from it. “The whole soul-crushing dread thing.” I bite my lip to try to stifle my next moan, but it comes out even louder than the last one. “Haunted octopus hands that grope you while also making you question your will to live.”
It’s like my brain is having a full existential crisis while my body’s not exactly filing a complaint.
Something in his gaze fractures for half a second.
I don’t think he’sactuallyabout to feel bad for any of it, but I pretend he is anyway.
“You could help make it better.”
It’s a whisper, one trying not to sound too desperate, as my gaze dips down to the bulge in his pants. I’ve never even gotten to see his cock, and now I want that more than anything in the fucking world.
I’d even let him edge me until I lost my mind if that’s what it took.
His head tilts the other way, whatever split I had seen in his gaze before gone. “You want something else?”
I say nothing, just bite my lips as I continue staring.
“Go ahead. You can beg for it.”
It feels like a trick or a trap. But, right now, feeling the best and the worst I’ve ever felt in my life all at the same time, I don’t give a fuck.
I meet his gaze. I fuck into his shadows.
