What in the hell am I supposed to do with that?
What? He’s just given up, and he’s moved on to making sure his damn pet is okay? That’s fucked. So is the fact that I’m melting a little, because, fuck, that’s selfless. Not too many people like that in my world.
Still, this is going places I’d rather it didn’t. I reach back to grab his dick over his pants, stroking roughly to make him moan. When he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, I stop.
“W-why’d you stop?”
Because I need to leave before I do something we both regret. I slide off his lap and leave the bed. “Your body’s not a bargainingchip, Rowan. Neither is mine. You’re insulting us both with that shit.”
I only glance back once as I leave the room. Okay, twice.
It takes more effort than it should to stop myself from turning a third time.
7
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is late. I messed with the bull and I got the horns.
Milo
“Wait.”
Two steps out of the bedroom, I turn around to find Rowan’s eyes open wide. He’s biting his lip. A coquettish little twink in a body larger than mine. Christ.
“What do you want, Rowan?”
“I didn’t mean to piss you off.”
“You didn’t. I just don’t like being manipulated.”
He’s still doing it. I know he is. To prove my point, I force myself to take another step out of the room.
“Sorry. I don’t really know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“I don’t know.” He looks away. There’s a slight tremble to his chin. A calculated play, or real emotion? “The thing is, I didn’t see it at the time, but my ex kind of made me into who he wanted me to be. If I was his sweet boy, he showered me with praise. Things I wanted. Otherwise, I got ignored. He’d conveniently have to go away on business. For months, sometimes. So yeah, I’ll admit it. I got used to doing whatever I thought I had to do to get attention or whatever else I needed.”
Rolling my eyes heavenward, I spend a calming few seconds tracking the swirling patterns on the ceiling. What am I going to do with this guy?
Rowan clears his throat. “So, if you just tell me what it is you want from me, I’ll do it. I can be it. Tell me what you want, Milo.Please.”
My chest caves in. Fuck. Fuck.Do not feel sorry for him, Milo, or you’ll be in trouble.
Except I already do, and I already am. I don’t know what kind of shit it takes to make a person think all they have to offer is their own body, but I know it isn’t good.
Pointing to the handcuff around his wrist, I say, “What I want is for you to stay the hell put until I can sort out this cluster of fucks.”
“I came with you voluntarily, didn’t I? You don’t need to keep me handcuffed. My wrists already hurt from before.”
He nods his head pointedly, drawing attention to the bandage I wrapped around his wrist after we showered. Together.
I hate myself for knowing he’s pulling my strings and for letting him do it anyway. I hate myself more for not thinking about his abused wrists when I cuffed him. Why do I want to rip my own fingernails out for hurting him with my carelessness?
When have someone else’s needs ever before been my priority? Jesus.
Muttering, I fish the key out of my pocket and let him loose. As soon as the metal clicks open, his hand grabs my hip.
