Noah closed his eyes, sighing when he felt the wet spill of Alistair’s cum leaking down between his legs. He was so empty now, hollowed out from head to toe, body and soul. He was still trying to catch his breath and make sense of what had just happened.
He’d gotten his brains fucked out by the guy who was holding him prisoner and very much wanted to murder his shitbag uncle.
Right.
Shit.
Chapter 8
It was hard for Noah to worry about how fucked up the current situation was when Alistair was stretching open his asshole with his thumbs and admiring his filthy handiwork.
Noah kept his head tucked down on the bed, whimpering quietly. To be examined like this was both demeaning and thrilling, and he pushed himself up into Alistair’s strong hands.
“You look so beautiful like this,” Alistair said, rubbing just inside Noah’s hole. “So soft, so wet… well fucked and dripping. You should look like this all the time.” He withdrew, reverently petting Noah’s raw cheeks. “Tell me, dear Noah, did you enjoy yourself?”
“Yes, sir. It was good.” Noah groaned. “Really good.”
“Stay here a moment. I’ll be back.”
As if Noah could move right now.
He was numb, parts of him still floating up on a cloud somewhere. He barely heard Alistair stepping into the bathroom and returning, only aware of his presence when a warm towel passed between his legs.
That was new.
Alistair wiped him down from the crack of his ass to the head of his dick, thoroughly cleaning away the mess from their coupling. This wasn’t a quick courtesy cleanup; Alistair was rubbing around Noah’s balls, his thighs, and all the while his other hand was stroking Noah’s hip. He even kissed the top of his ass cheek when he was done.
It felt… loving.
“Go on,” Alistair said. “Get in bed. Rest.”
It was difficult to comply with his muscles still the consistency of Jell-O, but Noah did his best to wiggle forward and flop his head on the pillows. The sheets were cool, soothing against his raw ass and overheated skin.
Alistair left again and headed into the bathroom.
Alone, Noah tried to wake up from the postcoital fog and get a grip on reality. That was the most earth-shattering sex of his young life, and he’d had plenty in his short time on this planet. He didn’t know sex could be like that.
Alistair hadownedhim, spanked him raw, dominated every fiber of his being, and he’d… kissed him. Cleaned him. Comforted him.
Noah didn’t know what to do with that.
When Alistair returned, he looked refreshed and was wearing a black floral silk robe. He laid in bed beside Noah, beckoning him close with a finger and rewarding him with a kiss.
Noah plastered himself against Alistair’s side, eager for physical contact. He was still buzzed, on edge, but he didn’t know why. He buried his head into Alistair’s shoulder. “We still goin’ to the party?”
“When I’m satisfied.”
“Thought I already did that, sir.” Noah cracked a smile.
“Don’t be crass.” Alistair smirked. “I meant when I’m satisfied that you’re all right.”
“Huh?” Noah frowned. The buzzing sensation was getting worse, suddenly twisting into something anxious.
“Tell me. How do you feel, hmm?”
Noah didn’t know why, but the simple question suddenly prompted a flood of emotion. It bubbled out of nowhere, and he had the inexplicable urge to cry. He tried to hide it by pushing his face back into Alistair’s shoulder.
“No, no. Come here.” Alistair tucked his fingers beneath Noah’s chin, lifting his head up until their eyes met. “How do you feel, dear Noah?”
