BigD1ck1978: I’ll bend you over and show you the galaxy
TieMeUp69: @Backwardz_Cap I’ve never wanted a man to ride my face upside down as much as I want you to
Sub_way1010: PLEASE CHOKE THE LIFE OUT OF ME, I’LL SAY THANK YOU! xo
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if he’d never died…
Growing up without a father isn’t easy. But like most things, we adapt to it, and we move on. Human beings are built to persevere. We have the fascinating ability to come to terms with the drastic changes of life. We modify, alter, and adjust… We live, because that’s what we’re made to do. To keep going on until the wayward forces of the universe stop us in one way or another.
Ultimately, that’s what life is. Living until you die.
That said, I often stop and think about how different things could have ended up if Arlo Vega hadn’t fallen off that scaffolding. If his life hadn’t come to an early end… Would I even be here right now?
I highly doubt it. I know there are forces at work, a path we’re guided down, like one of this Choose Your Own Adventure books. Each step brings us in a new direction, to a divergent conclusion. And I’m sure that if I went back and somehow stopped my father from going to work that day, things would have turned out very differently.
We probably would have stayed in New York… Or maybe even moved to Madrid. My father has family there, and in Barcelona. I remember him talking about taking us when I was little…
But we never got the chance, and instead, because of this path, we ended up here. In Boston…
Where I’m currently in a good old-fashioned pickle of sexual turmoil with my own damn stepbrother.
As has become the standard, I haven’t spoken to Kyran in many days, since the epic incident of sixty-nine that completely obliterated any and all questions as to whether or not I enjoy hooking up with dudes. I think at this point, it’s safe to say that I’m fully bisexual… Because in all honesty, I did not hate having a dick in my mouth.
Didn’t hate it one bit.
But of course, me discovering this new piece of the puzzle that is my sexuality isn’t the cumbersome part. The snag lies in the fact that I had this revelation while going to town on the severely impressive dick of my asshole stepbrother, who, if I had to wager, is probably not joyously celebrating this newfound clarity the way I am.
Kyran is a complicated fellow. As much as I don’t want to give him credit for being anything more than a preppy, privileged do-gooder with one of the best arms in the NCAA, Kyran Harbor is definitely deeper than what you see on his stoic, collegiate surface. He’s got stuff going on, that much is clear.
And because of his shrouded composition, I can’t tell if he’s really just forcing himself through the things we’ve done together out of sheer desperation, or if a part of him is itching to figure out a new, hidden side of himself, the way I am.
I wasn’t born yesterday. Kyran obviously enjoyed himself during both of our collaborations. Those two instances are the only times I can think of when I’ve gotten even the slightest glimpse into who he really is… When he’s dropped his guard for just long enough to unwind that tightly coiled control and give in to impulse.
At the same time, though, a hand is just a hand… And a mouth is just a mouth. So maybe he was really pretending a girl was doing those things in order to get through it. For the fans. And more importantly, for their money.
My subscribers doubled after posting that video, and now the fans are utterly freaking rabid. They’re foaming at the mouth for more of Kyran and me, which is always a difficult subject to broach, since he has a tendency to disappear for days after we film, I’m guessing to rewire his robot brain and convince himself it never happened.
In Kyran’s defense, he also had an away game in Miami the day after Thanksgiving, so that could be part of the reason why I haven’t heard from him in two weeks. The Eagles kicked the crap out of the Hurricanes on Black Friday, and for all my claims that I only do the mascot thing as a joke—another way to annoy the crap out of my stepbrother—I’ll admit, I watched the game. And I may or may not have jumped up and cheered a few times when said stepbrother threw some diesel touchdown passes. But you won’t catch me broadcasting that.
Thanksgiving in the house was quietly tense, but it was still good to see Mom and spend some time with her. Although, the awkwardness piqued when she asked me what I’ve been doing for money, and I had to make up a part-time job on campus on the fly.
I told her I get paid to be the mascot, which is entirely untrue, and that I’ve also been working in one of the dining halls. Thankfully, she has too much on her own plate to be worrying about me right now, so simply assuring her that I’m fine and I’m figuring it out was enough to thwart the third degree.
I don’t like lying to my mom, but what other choice do I have? I can’t very well tell her that I’m slowly turning into a gay pornstar, and that my tuition money is coming from videos of me sucking orgasms out of her husband’s son.
I can still feel his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass, the tightness of his throat squeezing my cock while he moaned and gasped on it… The flavor of him pouring pleasure into my mouth as our heated bodies trembled and shivered…
Jesus. I don’t think anything has ever felt so good, which is a problem, because I’m really not supposed to be thinking about it that way. If it was any other dude on the planet, it wouldn’t be so bad. But this is Kyran we’re talking about…
We’re only doing this to make money. Point blank.
But then… he kissed me.
Naturally, he snapped out of it fast and stormed away, which is more on brand for the Kyran we all know and dislike. But I can’t shake the feeling of his lips…
They’re so soft.
Okay, stop it, brain. Stop thinking about him and move on with your life.
I have one more class for the day and then it’s the weekend. It’s a bi-week, so there’s no football tonight, and I’m all geared up to spend the evening smoking some grade-A kush, ordering Chinese takeout, and maybe drawing for a while before I inevitably find myself curled up on the couch again with Robin, watching Netflix in my underwear.
The perfect introvert’s Friday night.
A couple of hours later, I run into Frankie while cutting through the quad after class. I haven’t seen her since last weekend when I met up with the crew at her apartment, where we all adjourned to her living room floor for weed and Rosé, classy bitches that we are.
“Where are you headed off to next?” she asks while we stroll, arm-in-arm, toward the Green Line.
“I have an epic night planned,” I tell her with a grin. “I’m gonna smoke myself stupid and binge-watch serial killer documentaries with my hand in my pants.”
Frankie snorts. “As awesome, and completely un-sad as that sounds, cancel it. You’re coming to a party with us instead.”
My lips slope into a frown. “Party? That would require me putting on actual clothes and engaging with humans.” I shake my head. “No, no. Too much effort. Sorry, love.”
She gives me a hard yank on the arm. “Stop being a hermit. Let fun Avi out of his cage for the night!”
“But… it’s so cold,” I whine and pout.
“Come on, dude.” She rolls her eyes. “We all know how wild you are… Backwardz_Cap.” I narrow my gaze at her, and she smirks wickedly. “Or is that side of you only reserved for stepbrother sexy times now?”
“Shhh!” My eyes widen and flick all around us. There’s nobody nearby, but still.
Frankie laughs. “Seriously, man. I still can’t believe you got him to do that stuff. Muy caliente.” She fans herself.
“Why are you watching my videos??” I snap quietly.
“Uh, because they’re hot as fuck,” she replies casually. “I’m not even ashamed to say that last one got me all kinds of moist.”
“You’re being gross,” I grumble petulantly, shoving her toward the station. “And to think I offered to chivalrously walk you to your train. I say good day!”
Twirling away from her, I take a tentative step before she grabs me by my coat.
“You’re coming to this party tonight, Aviel,” she insists in that Frankie tone that means I have zero choice in the matter.
A scoff turns to a sigh as I mutter, “Where even is it?? I’m not going all the way down to the Hammond Street dorms…”
“Well, you’re in luck, darling,” she chirps. “It’s right up by you. In Walsh.”
I squint at her. “Whose party is it exactly?”
She pauses for a moment before she answers, “Theo Reeves.”
“Oh, hell no.” I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
“Whyyy?” She pouts.
“Because he’s the Eagles kicker! He’s one of Kyran’s best friends, and it’ll be in Kyran’s building. There’s no way… I will not invite disaster like that.”
Frankie tugs my sleeve over and over. “But it’ll be fun! We’re all going.”
“Don’t care.” I stand firm in my decision. “I’m not going to a party with a bunch of football players, aka my stepbrother’s friends, to watch them do keg stands and make out with girls.”
She shoots me a knowing sneer of a look. “So that’s why you don’t want to go… Because you’re afraid your secret hook-up buddy will be there with his cheerleader girlfriend…”
“Okay, first of all, she’s not his girlfriend.” My jaw clenches while Frankie tilts her head and smirks. “Second of all, I don’t care… And third of all…” My voice trails off in my state of fluster. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter… I’m just not going. And why the hell would you guys want to go to their party anyway?? Football players are beyond lame.”
“Bea wants to hook up with Theo.” Frankie shrugs.
Huffing, I rub my eyes. Bea has been crushing on Theo since last year. They make out on occasion, sort of casually, but I know Bea, wily little thing that she is, is itching to get him naked. I can’t say I don’t get it… Theo is pretty hot.
But that’s off topic. And how come the only guys I’m registering as hot are football players??
My thoughts are spiraling. The point is that I do not want to intentionally put myself in the same shared space with Kyran, especially after what we’ve done together.
Us alone is dangerous… With people around? It’s a recipe for destruction.
“You can’t avoid him forever, Avi,” Frankie’s voice chimes into my obsessing. “You go to the same school. If you guys are going to keep up this clandestine side-hustle, you’ll need to learn how to coexist without it being awkward.” She nudges me while I consider her words. “I mean, think about your next family gathering! Aren’t you both going home for Christmas?”
Ugh… fuck me. I hadn’t even thought of that.
I guess I was gifted Thanksgiving dinner without Kyran. Who knows what it would have been like if he was there…
Frankie has a point, which irritates me. Gorging myself on Chinese food and watching TV would be so much less involved…
“Alright, fine…” I mumble, and she jumps around in celebration. “I’ll consider it! No promises…”
“Lovely.” Frankie kisses me on the cheek, immediately darting away toward the train. But she peeks over her shoulder to call out, “Make sure you look hot! Gotta impress your secret boyfriend…” She winks, and I’m seething.
“I don’t fucking—” I shout after her, but she’s already gone as I sigh the word, “care.”
It’s true. I don’t care about impressing Kyran, and I know she’s just fucking with me. But for some reason, my nerves are swinging inside me. And my hands are sweating.
Biting my lip, I turn and stalk back in the direction of my dorm.
God, what the fuck am I gonna wear??
This is a bad idea.
That fact hasn’t changed throughout the entire course of the last few hours, while I was smoking, and showering, and smoking and getting dressed, and smoking again while standing in front of the mirror, assessing my choice of wardrobe.
I settled on my favorite black boots, ripped black jeans, and a red-and-black flannel button-down. My hair is mussed up, just the way I like it, and my nails are freshly painted, the standard black I always use.
Except that now, all I can think of is Kyran’s comment the last time I saw him.
I really don’t care that he noticed it… I’ve been painting my nails black for years. But now that he said something, I can’t stop hearing his words every time I look at them.
My anti-establishment image… Pfft. What a sheep.
Although, I guess maybe that is why I started doing it…
Goddamn him. He ruins everything.
He even somehow managed to ruin my first bisexual experience. Now, every time I think about fooling around with a guy, I’ll see his stupid face.
Bleh.
I’m in a mood as I take the stairs up to Theo’s floor of the Walsh Residence Hall. As soon as I’m in the hallway, I hear music and voices, which amps up my jittering even more. I hate coming to parties on my own. I knew I should have called Zeb or Micah to see if I could meet up with them and go together.
I made sure to arrive fashionably late, because as much as I dislike parties like this, showing up before everyone is loosey goosey sounds a million times worse. Meandering up to the door, I peer into the party. Right away, I spot Bea talking to Theo, and I decide to buck up and go say hi.
Wandering inside to the thumping bass and smooth melody of Two Feet, I keep my head down, ignoring the he doesn’t belong here gazes sticking on me like static cling. I avoid making eye contact and head straight for Bea. But an arm grabs me before I can get to her.
“Hey, girl, heyy!” Zeb kisses me on both cheeks like we’re somewhere in Europe.
“Look who made it!” Micah cheers.
“Sup…” I mumble, forcing my eyes not to travel around in search of my stepbrother.
“Ooh… someone’s not fucked up enough.” Zeb pouts. “Here. Take this.”
He hands me his cup. I sniff it and wince. “Jesus… What is this??”
“It’s my signature cocktail.” He grins. “I call it the Sex With Zeb On the Beach.”
“My mom told me not to accept drinks from strangers,” I chuckle, then take a large gulp from the cup. “Hopefully these roofies kick in quick.”
“Amen, sister,” Zeb sneers. “Can’t wait to have my filthy way with you.” He winks, and I give him a look.
“This drink, like the idea of sex with you, is completely disgusting,” I tease, and he feigns outrage. “Where’s Frankie?”
Sipping the drink again, I look around, already feeling warmed up, partially from the booze, but also from the comfort of having my friends around. They always help to improve my mood. I don’t feel like any less of an outcast, but when I’m with them, we’re all outcasts together.
“Believe it or not, she’s chatting up your all-star quarterback stepbrother.” Micah nods across the room.
My spine stiffens, and my pulse instantly speeds back up when I spot them over on the couch. Frankie is talking to Kyran, who’s smiling pleasantly, laughing at whatever outrageous thing I’m sure she’s saying.
A strange knot forms in my stomach while I watch them… The way Kyran is leaned back and sort of relaxed. Frankie’s hand on his knee.
Are they… flirting??
There’s no way… Kyran is not Frankie’s type at all, and she’s definitely not his type either.
But then my mind flicks through images of them making out, her stroking his dick and him licking her pussy… During our haphazard attempt at a threesome, which led us down this confusing and complicated path that we’re now on.
So I guess Kyran was just into her that night…
Hm.
Slugging back the rest of the gasoline that is Zeb’s drink, I cough and shove the cup at him. “Make me another one, please.”
Zeb lights up, but I can barely focus on it. I’m too busy watching Frankie trail her long, sparkly nails along my stepbrother’s shoulder.
“I think they hooked up,” Micah says, and my face whips in his direction.
“What??”
“Yea… At her Halloween party,” he goes on, and my shoulders drop back along with my perplexing dread.
“Oh…” My eyes nonchalantly swoop back over to them.
“I saw him leaving her bedroom that night, and then he bounced right after.”
I peer at Micah. Well, I guess he didn’t see me also emerging from said bedroom, so I guess that’s a good thing.
“I thought he was dating that cheerleader girl.” Micah sips from his cup. “Lexi something…”
“They’re not together,” I blurt out, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. “I mean, like officially. I don’t think…”
What the hell is wrong with me??
And where the hell is Zeb with that drink?
A moment later, Zeb traipses over with his arm extended to hand me the cup. “I made you a double.”
Snatching it, I drink it fast, ignoring the severe burn.
“Actually, maybe more of a triple…” he hums. “Go easy, hot stuff. There are like five different kinds of booze in there.”
“Mhm…” I mutter, tuning him out as my focus draws back to Kyran and Frankie like it’s magnetized.
Frankie looks up and spots me, grinning deviously as she waves me over. I shake my head at her, but she narrows her gaze, giving me one of her insistent looks. Ignoring my better judgement, I mumble to Micah and Zeb that I’ll be right back, making my way across the room while trying to move as casually as possible.
Kyran doesn’t notice me until I’m standing right in front of him. But when he does, his face drops and even pales a little, like he’s just seen a ghost whose cum he swallowed.
“Bae!” Frankie squeals, grabbing my hand and yanking me until I stumble down onto the couch. And because she’s pure evil, she moves over just in time so that I end up wedged between her and Kyran. “Bae’s here!”
Kyran scoots away from me, clearing his throat and gazing into his cup. I peek at him, our eyes locking for a split second before he goes back to searching his drink for an escape from this awkward situation.
“Hey…” I grumble to Kyran while I lean away from him, into Frankie’s side. My eyebrow arches suspiciously at her. “What’s going on, bestie?”
“Oh, nothing,” she sings, resting her head on my shoulder. “We were just chatting.”
“About what?” I ask her in a hushed growl. She smirks and winks at me, but doesn’t answer.
This girl is testing me today.
“What are you doing here, Avi?” Kyran grunts from my right, and I turn to face him.
He’s showing off his typical scowl. Because clearly awkwardness is nothing compared to his distaste for my presence.
“Well, Kyran, judging by all the people, booze, and music, I’m gonna say… I’m here to do everyone’s taxes.” I roll my eyes and sip my drink while Frankie giggles.
“Listen, smartass,” he hisses, not amused in the slightest by my wit. “There are a million other parties you could go to. You don’t need to come to the ones hosted by my friends.”
I scoff. “Don’t be such a whiny douche. My friends are here, too. My friends are canoodling with your friends.” I gesture to Bea and Theo, who are visibly flirting a few feet away. “So why don’t you just chill out, hm?”
“If you tell me to chill out one more time…” Kyran snarls, inching in closer like a rabid wolf about to pounce.
“This is exactly what I was waiting for,” Frankie hums, and we both glare at her. She’s grinning wickedly, watching us with wide, sparkling eyes and extreme interest.
“Whatever.” I stand up, tugging Frankie with me by her arm. “I don’t need to sit here and listen to your pity party. The actual party is much more fun.”
Dragging Frankie away, I swallow the rest of what’s in my cup, my neck and face all hot from the booze and the frustration Kyran carries around with him like an airborne toxin. I can definitely feel the effects of the drinks making me a little swimmy, but I push past it and march over to Zeb, demanding another one of his lethal cocktails.
I’m gonna need it with Grouchy McAsshole over there glaring at me all night.
“Why were you sitting with him??” I ask Frankie in a hushed, accusatory tone. “You know he hates me, and any time we’re within a few feet of each other, it’s the opposite of a good time.”
“Oh, you mean like the terrible times you guys have recorded for your OnlyFans?” She slants her head, wearing a knowing smirk.
My eyes widen and bounce around to make sure no one heard. Which, once again, they didn’t.
Frankie rolls her eyes. “Okay, Avi, now you need to chill out. I was just talking to him. And cards on the table, I was hoping you’d show up and bring that smoldering tension you two can’t help but make together.” She nudges me and leans in to whisper in my ear, “Maybe it’ll help drum up some more spicy content for later.”
My jaw clenches. “You’re meddling, Frances. Leave it alone.”
She shrugs unapologetically, spinning to talk to Micah. And my eyes slide back over to the couch. But Kyran is gone.
Letting out a breath of relief, and maybe something else I don’t care to analyze, I accept yet another drink from Zeb, and the four of us get to partying, which is what I came here for, despite what my jerk of a stepbrother thinks.
The night surges on. People are getting pretty drunk, shouting and laughing, dancing and hooking up. I finally get to see Bea for a few, and of course she has to tell me all about how she touched Theo’s dick earlier and how she just knows it’s big and beautiful.
I’m trying to pace myself with the drinking, but I can’t help it. Kyran is across the room all night, fucking around with his football friends and shooting me the occasional death-glare. It’s annoying because I thought I’d gotten over his assholish ways. But ever since we started recording things together, it’s like his mood is affecting me more than I want it to, and it’s pissing me off.
Kyran’s roommate, Guty, gets into the middle of the room and starts breakdancing, which is as hilarious as it is awesome. We’re all cackling and cheering for him as Zeb pokes me in the side.
“That dude is so fucking hot,” he whispers to me, and I curl my neck to drunkenly gawk at him. “What?? He is…”
“He’s also like… the straightest straight guy ever invented.” I chuckle, watching Guty move.
Zeb shrugs. “Challenge accepted.”
Rolling my eyes, I huff at his nonsense, my gaze traveling over the crowd of people swaying and moving to the music. It stops short when I see Lexi Erikson, Kyran’s cheerleader pal, with her hands running up his chest. She’s whispering something in his ear, and he kind of looks bored. But still, his hand is resting on her waist while she kisses his jaw.
Then his eyes lock on mine. Bringing my cup to my lips, I use it to distract myself and try to remain indifferent. But I can’t seem to break the staring contest. And now Lexi is licking his ear… sucking on his earlobe.
Like he did to me. In secret.
My eyebrow quirks at him, the subtlest of unintentional smirks gracing my lips. And his eyes fill with visible rage. He grabs Lexi by the face and kisses her, rough and deep. Almost aggressively, making out with the blonde bimbo like he’s digging for gold in her mouth with his tongue.
I mean, really… does he even want to kiss her?? What is he trying to accomplish right now??
I keep watching him, and his eyes creep open, settling on mine once more while his lips move audaciously with Lexi’s.
Okay… dramatic much?
We get it, you like girls. Who doesn’t??
I’m getting sort of fed up with this party, and the anxiety this whole stupid experience seems to be breeding inside me for no fucking reason. Turning away, I spot Bea on Theo’s shoulders while he gallops around the room like a horse. Weaving through the bodies, I stagger over to them.
“Babe, I might take off…” I tell Bea as she rips a shot from a bottle of Fireball.
“No! Don’t leave yet!” she whines.
“Yea, bro!” Theo slurs. “It’s so early.”
“It’s really not that early…” I mutter, pulling a joint and my lighter from my shirt pocket.
“Oooh, good idea!” Bea hops off Theo’s back. “Let’s toke toke.” She turns and bats her eyelashes at him. “Can we please smoke in your bathroom, sex muffin?”
Theo looks like he wants to protest, but Bea’s really laying it on thick, dragging her nails over his abs through his shirt.
He purses his lips. “Fine. But blow the smoke into some toilet paper or something.” Bea squeals and kisses his cheek, grabbing me by the arm. “And use a shit-ton of Febreze!”
“This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy!” I call out to him and wink as Bea drags me toward the bathroom.
“Excuse me, thank youuu,” she hums, throwing herself in front of people who were waiting for the bathroom, shoving me inside and closing the door behind us.
Laughing, I light up the joint, pulling in a long drag before handing it to her.
I grab an empty toilet paper roll and stuff it with toilet paper for a makeshift vaporizer, blowing the smoke into it while Bea showers us in Febreze.
“Isn’t Theo so fucking hot??” She spins in circles.
I try to scoff, but it comes out more like an actual laugh. “How would I know…”
“Avi, come on,” she mumbles, waving away the excess smoke. “We both know you’re dabbling in dudes.”
I freeze. “Says who…?”
“Says me.” She grins, and I relax a little. “And you. Because you told me and Frankie you thought that guy in the movie we watched the other day was sexy.”
My brows zip together while I struggle to recall what she’s talking about. Man, I really need to stop talking to people when I’m drunk and high…
“Oh, you mean Tangerine from Bullet Train??” She giggles and nods. “Objectively. I said objectively… I liked his accent.” I swallow. “And his mustache…”
Bea pouts and pinches my cheeks. “You’re so stinkin’ cute.”
“Get off me.” I brush her away while she laughs.
“Hey, you know me.” She plucks the joint from between my fingers. “I don’t discriminate against genitalia.” She beams, and I cackle. “As long as someone’s hot, I’ll be a THOT!”
We’re both laughing like idiots as she twerks in front of me chanting, “THOT THOT THOT.” Until suddenly the door is swinging open, and we’re met with the perpetual scowl of my super-fun stepbrother.
“Can you not fucking fishbowl the bathroom??” he growls, only at me. Not Bea.
Just me. It’s always my fault.
“Don’t be a party pooper, bro.” I giggle while Bea covers her mouth to hold in the laughter. “Take a hit of this sweet gange.” I hold up the joint and he smacks it out of my hand, stomping it out on the floor. “Yo, not cool.” I frown. “Party foul.”
“What the fuck are you doing in here??” He keeps coming at me with his signature brand of hostility, and I back up.
“Partying.” I wink at Bea, who bites her lip.
Kyran’s angry eyes flit between the two of us. “Are you two hooking up?”
“What?!” I snort.
He steps into the room, crowding me with his fists clenched. “Well… are you? Because my friend likes this girl, and I think it would be pretty fucked up if you were in here trying to steal her.”
“Okay, you sound mucho loco right now.” I chuckle at him. “I mean, yes, we’ve hooked up a little before, but we’re not—”
“Bea, please back away,” Kyran seethes with his glare stuck on me. “I’m gonna waste this loser and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Kyran, nothing was happening,” Bea sighs, still laughing a little, although Kyran is clearly not amused, and I’m sort of starting to worry myself that he’s about to hit me.
“You need to leave,” Kyran says to me with his eyes narrowed and his jaw ticking. “I’ve had enough of your stoner bullshit.”
I peek at Bea, who’s finally starting to look a little concerned. And because I want zero drama, especially within the football player crowd, I shoot her a forced smirk.
“Bea, it’s okay.” I wave a hand at her. “Everything’s fine. Stepbro just needs a minute to cool off.”
She blinks at me while Kyran is backing me up against the sink. “Are you sure?”
I nod fast. “Totally. Go get us some drinks. I’ll be right there.”
Bea shrugs and flits away, closing the door behind her. Leaving me with the snarling beast of suffocatingly wound frustration also known as my stepbrother.
“I literally want to kill you,” he hisses in my face. I place a hand on his chest to keep him back, and he smacks it away. “Seriously… Just seeing your fucking face makes me want to bash it in.”
“Don’t do that,” I mumble with my heart pounding louder than the thumping bass of the music.
“Why not? I want to…” Kyran grabs me by the throat as his body wedges mine between him and the sink. “Why shouldn’t I get what I want??”
He’s pressing into me so hard, my ass is resting on the counter while my upper back connects with the mirror behind me. Attempting to shift away from his rage, I move left. But he slams me against the wall, the wide plane of his chest moving up and down with heavy breaths.
“You’re acting like a fucking crazy person, Kyran.” I stand my ground, hands on his chest trying to shove him away. “Just because we—”
“Not another fucking word about that!” he barks. Both of our jagged breathing frames his voice, ringing through the confined space.
“We haven’t spoken a word about it yet!” I snap. “You’re the one being a psycho. Why? Because you liked it?? No one fucking cares!”
Kyran presses himself into me, and I’m sweating all over. His body is a million degrees. Probably because he’s about to Hulk himself out of his clothes, but it also seems like the heat is happening because of how close we are.
And how our dicks are touching…
“I hate you.” His voice reverberates into me.
With my hands on his chest, I feel how fast his heart is racing. It causes me to swallow, which he must feel since he’s currently holding my throat like he’s about to choke me to death. His eyes briefly drop to where his hand is, then glide their way up slowly over my lips, back to my eyes. His pupils dilate.
Okay… what’s going on?
Why is it so hot in here??
Something weird happens to my hands… They lightly grip his chest, my fingers curling around the material of his shirt. He gulps visibly, and his breathing shallows.
“Why do you hate me, Ky…?” I ask on a hoarse whisper.
“Because,” he growls, still plastering me to the wall with his body.
“Because why?”
I tug him by his shirt, and he comes with my pull, inching closer, lips hovering over mine until I can taste the fruity booze on his breath.
“Because…” He gulps again, glittering green and gold falling curiously once more to my mouth. “Because you’re… you’re…”
“You don’t know why, do you?” My back arches, and our chests bump, bodies sealing together.
He doesn’t look anywhere near as angry anymore. It’s still there, but more than anything, now he’s a baffled, helpless shivering frame. I don’t know what the hell is going on between us, but every single muscle in my body is bunched up and my blood is rushing in my ears.
There’s some force holding us together, and I don’t think I’m strong enough to fight it. Maybe neither is he…
So against all rational thinking, my lips brush over his. I don’t even think I did it… Why would I do that? It’s suicide. But it happened, and it prompts a little noise from within Kyran’s throat.
“Avi…” He says my name on a trembly breath. “Don’t…”
My head is clouded up with lust as I whisper, “Don’t say don’t when you really mean do…” And my lips part over his.
The way the plump bottom one fits snugly in between mine… like a perfect, plush puzzle piece. I can’t even help but give it a gentle, hesitant suck. You know… since it’s right there. And he purrs.
He fucking purrs. The hot, grouchy blonde.
My stepbrother.
That noise, Jesus Christ…
My dick jumps as Kyran’s grip around my throat loosens, his hand timidly falling down to rest on my chest while mine use his shirt to haul him in closer. And kiss him, just a little more…
Because I can’t not.
The literal second it becomes apparent that we’re actually kissing, it turns feral. Zero to a hundred. In the blink of an eye, our lips are no longer softly grazing, they’re ravenously attacking. Sucking hard, parting wider so our tongues can play. It’s fucking vicious and greedy and oh-so hot.
Kyran groans quietly and I groan back, my fingers releasing his shirt to slide up into his hair. He presses me into the wall harder, but I press back, fighting him for control, which he seems to give up easily for me, slipping under the spell of these intoxicating kisses.
I bite his lip and he whines, squeezing my chest, touching me with twitching fingers as the sounds of wet suction fill the small room.
“Close the door,” he whimpers while we maul each other’s mouths.
“It is closed,” I grunt, one hand sliding down his back while the other holds his jaw.
It’s so sharp and chiseled, feeling it move while he kisses me has my cock stiff as a pole, jammed in between our bodies. I yank his lower back to feel… and yea, he’s hard too. So, so hard.
God-fucking-damn, why does his dick feel so good??
“Lock it,” he demands, sliding his tongue into my mouth to pet mine. “The door, Avi… Please lock it.”
Fuck… his tongue. I really like his tongue in my mouth…
This is so bad.
Reaching behind him, I manage to lock the door, my hand immediately coming back to him, gripping his ass and kneading it hard in my fingers until he mewls.
“Is it locked??” he breathes in between wild, fevered kisses.
“Yes, Kyran, it’s fucking locked,” I grumble at his control-freakishness, tugging his hair in my fist and sucking hard enough to bruise his annoying mouth.
“Then barricade it,” he whines, shuddering against me.
I chuckle into his mouth. “With what?”
“I don’t care, just do it,” he croaks, rumbly, pleading desperation in his tone. “No one can find out about this. No one, Avi, do you fucking hear me??”
I nod while licking his lip and pulling it between my teeth. “Yes, baby, I hear you.”
“Don’t fucking call me that,” he hisses, and I shove him against the door.
“Sorry… I thought you were someone else,” I tease, biting him until he purrs again. My cock is fucking pulsing this is so good. “Use your big, sexy body to block the door.”
“Shut up,” he growls. “This changes nothing. I still hate you…”
“Mhm.” I nod, fiercely grinding my cock against his through our pants.
“And this is still just for the money…”
“But we’re not recording.” I brush my palm over his nipple through his shirt. He whines, and I swear to God, I’m falling apart right now.
“Then fucking record,” he pants, trailing a hand down my front, eager fingers playing with the buttons on my shirt.
I don’t think I need to record right now, a thought that brings a sliver of awareness to my mind. I have no idea what we’re doing, but I’m certain it has nothing to do with the fans.
Still, I need to use my head here; keep us in line, and most importantly, keep Kyran from freaking out. If he wants to record, then we record.
And I won’t say the idea of capturing this surreal moment isn’t an alluring one.
So I pull my phone out of my pocket, attempting to kiss him while opening up my camera. I press record and hold the phone up as best I can as we devour one another’s lips like they’re some sort of insanely delicious snack. Writhing our bodies together, I rub my erection on his, feeling it rock-hard and throbbing through his jeans.
“That feel good?” I whisper, sucking possessively on his lower lip.
He nods and whines, “Yea… Yes. It feels… really good.”
“What about if I kiss you here?” My mouth trails down his jaw, onto his throat, tongue peeking out to swipe his Adam’s apple. It bobs, and I bite it, to which he rumbles a sweet, choked sound. “Shh… Quiet, beautiful.”
“No pet names,” he snarls, though his hands are now on my ass and he’s holding me to him, helping my hips thrust into his. “I’m not your boyfriend.”
“Yea, no shit. You’re not my type,” I murmur, using my free hand to reach up underneath his shirt and feel his smooth, warm skin. “This is for the fans, right?”
He nods again. “For the fans.” Moaning softly, he whispers, “Suck on my ear.”
A slightly triumphant smirk tugs at my lips while I move them up to his ear. “Say please.”
“Please,” he begs through gritted teeth, like he wishes he didn’t have to submit to me, but it feels too good for him to care all the way.
Flicking his lobe with my tongue, I suck it between my lips, toying with him until he’s trembling and squirming.
“Do I do it better than her…?” My hips ripple into his, both of our dicks straining against our pants, all thick and solid and aching for more contact.
“Fuck off… Avi.” He gasps my name, head tipped back on the door. “Mmm… ohhfuck…”
He’s tightening all over, and I feel like it means he might come, which draws my balls up so tight they’re about to rupture. Moving my mouth back to his, I kiss him rough, rubbing our cocks together with so much friction it’s like we’re trying to start a fire.
“You feel so fucking good…” I tell him, and he whimpers.
“I don’t wanna come in my pants…” he whines hoarsely, but I can tell part of him doesn’t care. Just like the bigger, more insistent part of me doesn’t care one bit if I coat the inside of my Calvins with cum right now.
Still, I hum onto his lips, “You want me to take it out?” He nods fast while my hand falls to his cock between us. “You want me to catch your hot load in my mouth?”
“Ffuck… Avi…” He fingers dig into me through my clothes.
“I think it’s too late.” I suck the words onto his puffy lips. “Come for me, baby.”
“I’m not your—fuuuck. Fuck yes, oh God, Avi, I’m coming.”
Kyran’s body shudders, his hands flying up into my hair to hold me in place while he cries quietly into my mouth. My hand squeezes and grips his big dick though his pants, stroking out his orgasm while I grind my own into his hip.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come in my pants for you, Ky…” Before the words even flee my lips into his, pulses of cum are shooting all over the inside of my boxers, drenching my pelvis in slickness.
“What… the fuck…” Kyran crumples between me and the door, holding up his body weight by clutching onto me while we both quiver and suck all the air out of the small room.
We’re just standing, more like leaning, on each other, and the door, for many generous seconds, catching our breath and coming down from the withering high of what just happened.
What the fuck did just happen??
We made out and dry-humped each other silly, that’s what happened.
Kyran’s hands slide off of me, and he tries to stand up straight, wobbling as he does. I straighten myself and pull away, but not without first pressing a soft kiss on his bottom lip.
And when I stand back, he looks shocked, severely rumpled, sated, and horrified.
Mostly good things, I suppose.
Ending the recording on my phone—I’m not even sure what I just recorded—I can’t help but smirk to myself. I knew he came in his pants that night because of me. I win.
“That was…” he starts.
And I blurt out, “Awesome?”
“Idiotic,” he corrects me, pushing his hair back with his fingers and going for some toilet paper.
“Baby wipes.” I nod at the basket by the sink, and he grabs them.
“Good looks.”
He uses them to try to clean himself up inside his pants, while I do the same, my thoughts speeding through everything that just went down in this bathroom.
What an amazing shitshow…
“How the fuck are we going to get out of here without anyone seeing us both leave?” he rasps, rubbing his eyes in front of the mirror.
He looks stressed. And so soon after such a killer orgasm. It puts a damper on my own mood, because I don’t want him to be nervous, or afraid.
“Everyone’s drunk. I guarantee they won’t notice,” I tell him, and he peers at me. “But you can leave first. I’ll wait a few minutes, then sneak out. Trust me, no one pays attention to me at these parties. I’m, like, invisible.”
Kyran’s head cocks, and his lips part like he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t. He just nods, then bites his lip, his eyes sliding back to himself in the mirror.
I have no idea what prompts me to say this… Maybe I’m just drunk, coasting on the high of that fantastic, if not foolhardy orgasm…
But watching him stare at himself in the mirror like he has no idea who he is has the words tumbling out of my mouth. “We should fuck sometime.”
Kyran’s face whips around, and he glares at me like I’ve completely lost my mind. Maybe I have… Because no sane, rational person would say what I just said. Right?
He grumbles, “I don’t want to—”
But I cut him off with my finger on his lips and murmur, “We both know you do.” My hand slips away, and he stays quiet, his eyes falling to my mouth. “Plus… it’s for the fans. The OnlyFans, I mean.”
“I’m not gonna fuck you for money, Avi,” he growls.
My gaze narrows at him. “Who says you’d be fucking me?”
He stares at me for a moment in silence before a laugh bubbles from within his throat. It’s amazing how little I’ve heard him laugh… It looks and sounds foreign when he does it.
“You’re delusional,” he sighs, pushing me out of the way and going for the door. But his fingers sort of graze my abs as he does, and he peeks at me one last time, reaching for the knob. “Leave it alone, Avi.”
My lips quirk as I step off to the side, out of view. “No promises, superstar.”
