“After tonight, we’re done,” Mickey said firmly, trying not to stare as Roger continued to strip. “I need you to understand that this is a one time thing.”
Roger had the most delicious looking tan line around his hips and thighs from sunning in what looked to be a very small pair of shorts. The lines framed his cock perfectly, and Mickey’s mouth was filling with spit.
“What are you so afraid of?” Roger challenged, rising up to his knees on the bed. “Getting a taste and wanting more, huh?”
“I’m not afraid of shit!” Mickey snapped. He took off his jacket, laying it over the top of the television. He removed his shoulder holster as he continued to argue, “You’re fucking crazy, and I don’t like getting mixed up in crazy.”
“Yeah, but you’re about to put your dick all up in some. Come on. Why are you hiding all that beautiful fire?”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Mickey stepped toward the bed, watching Roger’s quick fingers unbutton his shirt. He was honestly surprised he didn’t rip it off. “There is no ‘fire.’ You’re just insane.”
“No? Then why are we here, eh?” Roger smirked. He pushed Mickey’s shirt down and off his shoulders, greedily sliding his hands down his bare chest. “You like me. You like what I bring out in you.”
Mickey’s pulse began to steadily climb, and he refused to acknowledge Roger’s accusations.
He did like it… perhaps too much.
Grabbing Roger’s wrist, he shoved him back on the bed. “Fuck you.”
“I mean, that’s the plan, isn’t it?”
“Why do you have to be such a fuckin’ pain in the ass?” Mickey jumped on top of him, grunting as Roger dragged him into a harsh kiss. Their teeth clicked, and he found himself getting sucked right back in.
The crazy must have been contagious.
Roger kissed him fiercely, and he raked his nails down Mickey’s back hard enough to make him hiss.
It hurt, but it was exciting, and a fresh surge of adrenaline made him lightheaded. His cock was hard, throbbingly so, and he rolled his hips down to pin Roger against the bed.
Something about being held down made Roger moan, and he went limp, sagging into the mattress. “Fuck, mmm, that’s good.”
Mickey recalled how much Roger had liked being shoved around before, and he had more than a few reasons to still be angry with him. He grabbed Roger’s wrists, pushing them up over his head. “I shouldn’t even fuck you, you know. You don’t deserve my cock.”
“What?” Roger’s eyes widened, and he pulled against Mickey’s tight grip. “No, come on. I’ll be good, I swear. I can be so fucking good for you.”
Those words made Mickey shudder, and he was once again flooded by the unique thrill of power. Roger would do anything for him, he realized. In these heated moments, Mickey had total control over him, and fuck…
That was hot.
“Please,” Roger continued to beg, rubbing his body enticingly against Mickey’s. “Fuck me, Mickey. I’m so good. I’m so fuckin’ good. I’m the fuckin’ best there is. Everyone fuckin’ says so. My ass, my hands, my mouth…”
“Oh, yeah?” Mickey smirked. “You trying to fuck everything that moves? Try to give your ass out to everyone, you fuckin’ slut?”
The dirty talk came easily, and the fog it put in Roger’s already lusty gaze told Mickey all he needed to know; he needed to keep going.
“I bet you love it,” Mickey taunted. “Whoring yourself out, getting your hot little body all used up. Don’t you?”
“I have to…” Roger bit his lip and whined.
“Oh? Why is that? Just can’t help yourself?”
“Because I’m looking for the right one. I need a man.” Roger let his head drop back against the bed. “No, not a man. I need a monster.” He grinned suddenly. “And I think I finally found one.”
Monster.
“Yeah,” Mickey breathed, a new wave of lust surging down his spine to power the grind of his hips. “I’m a monster.”
He killed people for money and had never experienced the slightest hint of remorse or regret. He was good at it, even liked it at times, and he knew he would probably never stop.
