“I don’t want it. I fucking hate that I even think about you,” he snarls, desperate to convince himself more than me.
Fucker.
I step toward him and clench his balls in my fist, making him holler and grab my arm.
“What the fuck! Let go,” he cries out, panic in his expression.
“You let go. Fucking drop your hands now,” I order, squeezing his balls, making his torso tense, the lean muscle contracting.
His hands drop, and his breathing increases in massive swallows.
“Apologize for being a little brat,” I demand.
When he doesn’t respond, I tighten my hold. I use my other hand to grip his throat, dragging his head toward me. “Your cock is thickening with every passing second I hold your balls at ransom, boy. Your lips are aching to be kissed again, and your ass is twitching with anticipation of when I’m going to sink my big, fat cock inside it—to the hilt. I’ll have you coming in seconds with my hand, my tongue, and my dick. And you won’t hate it. You’ll fucking love it.” I tease his lips with a swipe of mine. “Now, tell me you’re sorry and I’ll let you touch my cock.”
The tip of his dick pokes into my thigh, his labored breathing almost out of control.
“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” he blurts out. And he is. His brows are furrowed and all confidence is gone. He wants acceptance and approval.
This is a reward I can give.
I kiss the tip of his nose. “Good boy. Now, wrap your hand around my cock and play me like you played yourself earlier. When I come, I’ll release your balls.”
His touch is soft at first, unsure and sloppy, but when I tighten my hold on his throat, his hand grips my cock more firmly, stroking the length. Dark orbs search mine, pupils dilated to pinpricks, a glaze of yearning shimmering. The water turns cool, saturating our fevered flesh. I want to lick all the beaded drops from his skin.
Feeling his palm on my cock is driving me insane. My composure is slipping. All I want to do is hurt and fuck him.
Working my cock like it’s his own, he massages my length, giving the tip attention until my balls draw tight and warmth unfurls up my spine. Then I’m fucking coming, hot, furious, and all over us both. The creamy fluid decorates his torso and my forearm. I groan and shudder as the remaining wave of pleasure ripples through my cock.
Releasing my grip on his balls, but not his throat, I swipe my finger through the cum before the water washes it away and bring it to my lips, tasting myself, then crashing my lips to his, forcing my way into his waiting mouth. I ravish him, and he fucking takes everything I have to give him. Then, I release him.
“Thank you. Now, thank me,” I demand.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice quivering and body shaking from the cold water now beating down on us.
I switch off the shower and grab us each a towel. “Get dry, then come down for some food. I put your bag in the guest room down the hall,” I tell him as I make my way to the closet for some fresh clothes.
“Does that make me gay now?” he calls across the room.
A sigh rattles my chest. “Xavi, you don’t need to label things, especially when it makes you so on edge. Do you want to tell me why you’re so afraid of being gay or people thinking you are?”
No.
He’s going to hold onto that shit until I force it out of him.
And I will.
“I want to sleep. Can I just be alone for a while?” He frowns, rubbing his hand over the sores on his wrist.
“Sure. I’ll keep something in the microwave for you in case you wake up and get hungry.”
“Okay, thank you.”
I watch him leave the room, head bowed and shoulders slumped. I don’t know whether we’ve taken a step forward or two steps back.
Either way, he’s stuck here with me, and we’re not leaving until we make headway.
Holy shit.
What have I done?
I knew this would happen…us. At least to a certain degree. Hell, I agreed to it. Now, though, I’m rethinking my reasoning.
If this gets out…
The urge to check social media is more addictive than any drug I’ve ever consumed. I throw on some sweatpants after my shower and hunt down my phone. When I swipe to turn it on, I’m irritated to discover I have zero bars of service.
What. The. Hell.
We’re in butt fucking Egypt, so of course we don’t have signal.
My hand trembles as I set the phone down on the dresser and stare at it. What do I do? I told Blaine I wanted to sleep, but my mind is buzzing. I need a smoke, but I don’t think he’ll like it if I light up in his house. I grab a pack of smokes and my Zippo, and pocket them before throwing on a shirt. I’m not eager to face off with him right now, so I sneak through the modernized cabin on a trek for the outdoors.