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His hands slide around to knead my ass and then draw my thighs further apart. His tongue runs over my tightening balls, lower and lower, until he’s circling my hole, and I’m gripping the comforter in nervous, shaky anticipation.
“You don’t need to…oh, god!” I gasp as he thrusts his tongue in and out of me a few delicious times.
“Just needed to taste you,” he replies darkly, then he reaches for his nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube.
As he moves a slick hand down my crease, all of my guilt and anxiety from the other night dissolves, and I give into him. Slowly, he pushes a finger inside me, and I forget how to regulate my breathing. When he gets two more in, I’m a trembling mess.
“I need…fuckkk… I need…”
He kisses my hip bone. “I know, Z. Now get up here and ride my dick.”
With a smooth movement, he flips us over, my heavy dick thudding against his as he places me on his waist. I snatch the lube and stroke a good portion of it down his thick cock. I rock back against it a few times before lining it up with my prepped ass.
“Sit,” he orders, hands snapping to my hipbones.
Together, we force my body down and down, taking our time until I’m fully seated. When the burn eases, I start moving, grinding both of us to the edge. He keeps giving me little compliments that have my heart swelling too much in my chest.
You’re so good for me. So fucking perfect. So beautiful. All mine, sunshine. You belong to me.
There’s too much pressure everywhere. Head tipping back on a moan, I give in and explode, spraying his abs with ropes of warm cum before I can stop it.
Hail grips my ass and thighs and drives his dick up into me, skin slapping against skin. He lets out a low growl as he spills his hot release inside of me, keeping himself buried deep.
I drop my sweaty forehead to his heaving chest.
More. Give me everything,I’m desperate to ask.
I want everything.
I want him. Forever.
And that’s the most dangerous thought I can have.
In my dream, I’m laying in my childhood bed. It’s pitch-black outside the single window, but I get a sense of something off. Dread heavy in my limbs, I walk to my bedroom door and creep down the hall.
The fear in my gut expands. It’s that same feeling when you think someone broke into the house or monsters might actually be real and one is lurking in your closet, waiting to pounce after months of watching you sleep. Cataloguing you like a fucking serial killer.
I haven’t spent much time in this house since Visage started touring. It’s not a place that feels like home, but I don’t really know what else to do with myself. I don’t feel like a real person. Not since…
Lex.
Tears prickle my eyes, but my body won’t allow me to cry. It’s a cruel form of punishment, allowing these horrible emotions to bubble up inside me with no possibility of release.
Shuffling down the stairs, my feet step on something wet. It’s too dark to see, but maybe Mum splashed water on her way up to bed. She does that sometimes. Realises how drunk she is and tries to down a bunch of water to minimise the damage the next morning.
She used to make us pancakes, too, as an apology.Sorry I fucked up and hit the bottle again. But do you remember when your dad did this funny thing? Do you remember his laugh? You know why he left us, right? You know this is your fault, Zander. It’s your fault I have to drink.
I used to believe if I hid her bottles or drained them in the sink that she’d have to quit. But the thing about addicts is they’ll prioritise their crutch over everything else. The first time I dumped her bottle of whiskey, there was nothing but crackers to eat in the house for three days. I gave most of them to Lex.
Aching for a drink myself or a line to snort, I climb down more steps and enter the small living space. My heart chugs with panicked beats as I back against the wall. There’s a body-like figure on the floor, splayed out between the coffee table and the couch.
Someonedidbreak in. And I think…fuck, I think they might be dead.
I step forward and my feet hit something wet again. Grimacing, I flick on the light. Not water.No.
I stumble back as I glimpse all the blood on the carpet. The trail of it leading to the body with slit wrists. The body that is my mother.
I switch the light back off, and wake to find myself still trapped in hell.
