He doesn’t argue. He looks like a wounded animal, tail between his legs as he slinks out of his leather jacket and collapses onto the seat. I grab the first aid kit and sit opposite him on the coffee table, thankful it’s solid wood and can handle my weight.
“You know this is fucked up, right?” I admonish with a raised a brow, grabbing his wrist to inspect his wounds. It’s just superficial and will heal.
Tipping alcohol over the sores carelessly to grab his attention makes him gasp and moan in pain. I keep eye contact with him as I do it again. This time, he exhales a shaky breath, his eyes hooded as he watches me.
“You like pain?” It’s a question, but stated.
“I like to feel,” he replies.
“You need an outlet for all the shit you keep bottled up inside, but burning to this degree isn’t healthy,” I tell him, applying cream and wrapping his hand and wrist. “There are other ways.” Our eyes hold each other, communicating without words. The intensity is palpable in the air thickening around us. The room has a pulse. It’s loud and undeniable.
Thud, thud, thud.
He’s not going to self-destruct. I won’t allow him to implode. He’s going to enter my world. It’s going to be a rough, a wild game of survival—of healing—of learning. I’m going to give him a fucking awakening. Change him forever…
If he makes it through it.
“What are thinking about?” he asks, desperately aching. The need in his voice nearly undoes me.
“I’m thinking Ronan is going to give you some time off and I’m going to take you somewhere for a little while.”
I wait for him to pull back, to allow his mask to slip back into place, but it doesn’t. Xavi is a lost boy who needs me to find him. He simply nods his confirmation. He fucking agrees and my lungs release the air I was holding. I want to strip him bare, right here and now, and show him all the ways I can make him feel better—show him he doesn’t have to be afraid of who he is. No one has ever gotten under my skin quite like he does. I’m not sure if it’s a weakness or a gift. But I need to get out of this room before I lose all self-control and push him too far and too quick.
“You can crash here,” I tell him. “On the couch.”
Marching from the room, I slam into my bedroom, the door banging off the wall. Ripping off my clothes, I go straight to the shower.
The spray is cool, but does nothing to soothe the fire raging inside me.
Resting a palm on the tile wall, I grip my hard, throbbing cock, tugging roughly. Flashes of Xa’s tongue licking over his fat fucking lips makes the veins pulse and the mushroom tip bulge in anger. The ache is torturous—a beautiful fucking torture. Knowing he’s in the other room is a sick kind of agony. I want nothing more than to go in there, force him to his knees, and ram my fat cock into that lush fucking mouth of his. I want him to choke on my length, stretch his lips with the girth, grab a handful of that sexy hair and wring my release into him, making him swallow every drop. Instead, I tug and pull my cock with intense ferocity, milking myself for him. I catch a glimpse of his silhouette in my peripheral, but he’s gone by the time my head turns.
Ronan said he owed me, and I’m cashing in that check. I need to get away, just us two. Find out what’s behind all his inner turmoil and see what the hell this thing is between us—because there’s no fucking denying it. No matter how much he wants to tell himself he’s not gay, he’s got a hard-on for me and my cock, and I want to explore every inch of him with it.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I poke my head into the living room and find him lying on the couch in only his jeans, the button open, and the tip of his hard cock on display, begging to be touched, licked, sucked, fucked.
Soon, boy. Soon, I’ll have it all, and you’ll take it all. Everything I fucking give you—until I push all your limits. We’re going exploring. I’m the hunter, and you’re the hunted who has nowhere left to hide.
My heart is nearly beating out of my chest. It makes me wonder what the fuck I took from the bartender. The gay bartender who thought I was gay.
I’m not.
So why the fuck did I follow Blaine into his bedroom like a lovesick puppy? What was I thinking? That he was waiting for me to come to my senses so we could have sex?