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“You’re mine.”
A desperate moan drags from his throat, long and loud as he takes the pounding.
“That’s it, moan for me again.”
I’m riding him hard, and I know I should be careful, be softer with him, but I can’t. Not right now. I have to bury the memories so they don’t haunt me anymore. Comfort myself the only way I wanted when it happened—with Eli.
“Please,” he begs into the pillow.
“Please what? Fill your ass with cum? Stretch you wider? Use you for my own relief?”
“Yes. More. Please.” His back arches, changing the angle, and he gasps.
I grab the lube and slick up my fingers before sliding one in, and I thrust a few times before adding a second one.
Eli shudders, his ass clenching almost painfully around me as he comes. I chuckle darkly and keep up my pace as he makes a mess on the sheets. My dirty boy. He’s panting and goes limp, his hands falling to the bed. He’s wrung out. I lean over him and moan in his ear.
“Your hole is loose and sloppy now, stretched out and so easy to fuck.” Sliding my hands under his body, I grip his shoulders again and use them for leverage as I chase my release.
“Dirty boy, laying in your own cum while you get used.” My balls are heavy with the need to come, to fill him. I close my eyes and bury my face in his neck as I let it crash over me, my hips jerking against his ass as cum erupts from me.
All my muscles give out, and I’m left struggling to breathe on top of him. I know I’m heavy as fuck, but I can’t make myself move.
My skin is still hot and slick with sweat when I regain the ability to move, but we don’t go far. I roll us back to our sides, keeping my dick inside of Eli and settling into the bed. Grabbing the corner of the sheet, I clean him off the best I can, and we wrangle the shirt off his body, then I pass out.
The waves are crashing into me, throwing my body against the rocks as I struggle to hold on to Marcus. Wait. Eli?
Eli is gone? No.
Tears are hot on my face, my throat sore from screaming for help.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you too,” I sob into the curly hair that is Marcus’s but sometimes Eli’s. I don’t understand. “I’ll do better. I promise.”
I smack into the rock again, hitting my head, and I gasp awake.
My heart is pounding in my chest, my breathing erratic, and my body jerks upright.
Quickly looking around the room, I recognize the décor and scrub a hand over my sweaty face.
Just a dream.
Fuck. Looking down at the bed, there’s no Eli. Where the fuck is he?
“Eli?” No answer.
I scramble from the bed to search for him. If he went to the fucking waterfall again, I’m going to beat his ass. What the fuck was he thinking going out there alone? Doesn’t he realize how dangerous it is? I can’t lose him.
I’m pulling a shirt over my head when light under the bathroom door catches my attention. Striding over, I open the door and freeze. Eli is sitting on the floor with his back to the tub, legs spread, and a knife blade pressed to his inner thigh. He jumps and drops the knife, slapping a hand over the wound he caused.
“Asher!” he yells with wide eyes as his face pales. Blood trickles through his fingers and down his leg to pool on the white tile floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I demand, grabbing a towel from the counter and rushing to him. There are tears running down his face, sobs shaking his slim body, and his lip trembles as he looks up at me with scared, shame-filled eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he manages to say as I pull his hand off the cut and push the towel against it.
“What were you thinking?” My eyes meet his. Fear still riding me from the dream and seeing him jump off that fucking boulder to finding him cutting his fucking leg open. “Do you do this a lot? When did you start cutting?”
Logically, I know I need to be nice, to be careful, but I’m not capable of that right now. I’m demanding and harsh, and that’s just the way it fucking is right now. I’m pissed.
