“I wasn’t too rough, was I? We need to come up with a safeword next time,” Vars said, resting more of his weight on Jake, until his spent dick once again pushed at Jake’s crack.
Next time? Of course. He remembered Vars saying he’d fuck him every day. “N-no,” Jake uttered, frozen in place as unbearable heat climbed up his throat and teased his gag reflex.
This was all too much. Was this what he wanted? Where would it go? What would happen if the other guys found out? What would happen if anyone found out? He was working on becoming a patched member of the Kings of Hell MC. No one would respect him if he submitted to men this way, and respect was crucial.
Vars sighed and hugged Jake harder. “No? You seemed to enjoy yourself.”
“I…” Words weren’t coming. Had Jake enjoyed himself? There was no denying the facts. He’d come in his fucking pants from the way Vars fucked him. From the way Vars slapped him and hurt his nipples.
He was fucked-up. There was something seriously broken inside of him, and he would never become a patch.
This time he couldn’t help the gagging, but what came up into his mouth wasn’t bile or vomit. Despite its liquid state, it moved on its own accord inside his mouth as if searching for a way out, and when it found his lips, he sealed them tight.
Dread filled his heart and mind.
Not now.
“Jake?”
Vars’s voice came with an echo, as if the man were speaking to him from a void, not with his lips just inches from Jake’s ears. There was a heaviness in Jake’s head, and once the scorching hot sensation came up his body, his ears blocked, and dark spots appeared in front of his eyes, blocking out the view of Knight’s car. Was he about to faint again?
The dark film disappeared when Jake blinked, but it immediately came back, thicker and blacker than before. He gasped for air, but instead, the thick black goo, hot as boiling tar, spilled out of his mouth and down to Vars’s arms.
Jake tried to stop it, but it kept coming up his throat, sending tremors through his body each time he attempted to swallow it back.
He was dying.
Chapter 8 - Vars
Something hot dropped on Vars’s forearm. He would have assumed saliva, but first he realized it felt far too thick, and then the drops were followed by a drizzle.
He sucked in air and spun Jake around. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.
A black, oily substance rolled down the handsome, tanned face from Jake’s nose like spoiled blood that was about to be followed by maggots. Vars heard himself whisper Jake’s name, and the boy opened his eyes, stiff and fearful as he blinked away black tears that left behind a gray tint.
Vars was too stunned to act at first. His brain refused to understand the sight before him. It belonged in a dark sci-fi movie, not this new place where he was to retire from the bullshit of evil exes and big cities.
He watched veins bulge on Jake’s forehead and neck, his face flushing purple, but it was the dull choking noise that triggered him out of the stupor.
Jake heaved, leaning forward heavily as if he could no longer stand on his own, and the black goo exploded out of his mouth, leaking down his chin and spraying Vars’s face.
Only now Vars realized that streaks of it were going down Jake’s neck from his ears as well. With his jeans still down at his knees, Jake stumbled into Vars, but as Vars expected more black liquid to rub off on him, the opposite happened.
Stray droplets leaped off Vars’s arms, sticking to Jake one by one like wax. Jake desperately grabbed at Vars’s T-shirt, but the goo only crawled onto him quicker, as if it were some kind of fast-growing mold. Vars gasped, about to run for help, to have someone get the doctor, but with Jake’s fingers clutching at him with such desperation, he couldn’t leave.
A whole fountain of the liquid spilled out of Jake. Thick like molasses, it blocked his air ducts, making him thrash and loudly choke as his stiff body slowly rolled down Vars’s front. The black oil—whatever it was—didn’t go anywhere, clinging to Jake’s reddened flesh so tightly as if it wanted to physically sink in through the skin. He fell to his knees and slid to the damp floor, rolling in the bubbles of soap and dirt as the goo trailed down his body.
With a dull pulsing in his head, Vars watched the trim body, still half-naked after the sex, stiffen and arch as if Jake were a victim of lockjaw, arms dropping to the sides, held by an unseen force.
Jake’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently, as if something too wide for his throat were trying to push its way out. The liquid that clung to Jake, as if it had intent, was now becoming solid, forming threads that entwined over him like vines that would soon consume him altogether. Whatever the mass was, it was steaming in the cool air the same way Jake seemed to last night when he ran off to take an ice-cold shower.