“Yeah. You go hide downstairs. And when I find you—” he leans down to whisper in her ear. As she gasps her face heats up and I feel something inside of me crumbling. I try to read her expression, her eyes, her body language. Anything that will tell me what the fuck he just said to her right in front of me. God—I’m going to freak out.
“O—Okay. Yeah. Come find me.” She books it behind me and leaves, her excitement rolling off of her in waves as she moves past me. I slam the door, locking it to ensure she can’t come back. Unfortunately for her—whatever was promised won’t be happening if I get any say in it. I turn back to Benjamin and watch the dimples on his back as he walks further into the bathroom, then the soft strip of stomach as he jumps onto the counter. He rests his head back and asks—
“How long are you going to keep me prisoner in here?” His eyes look tired—like he’s done exhausting this dance with me. My heart beats so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. Although I tower over Benjamin even on his best days, I feel like I’m two feet tall standing in front of him right now. Like a child he’s scolding for throwing a tantrum. Clenching my fists, I think of something to say, think of anything I can do that will make him understand my anger—make him understand why this is wrong—why she shouldn’t touch him. Why no one should.
His stare is so heavy, weighing me down. I take too long to answer. That exhaustion drains away and is replaced by that familiar anger. That look of disgust that borders so close to hatred that I feel physically sick. He bares his teeth in a snarl and—sealing his fate—he says—
“What, still waiting for that tally? You’ll have to cut me some slack—I’m not too sure off the top of my head. Can I get back to you?” He regrets it as soon as it leaves his pillowy lips—I can tell. Benjamin’s eyes widen slightly, his hands claspingtogether on his lap, staring at me like he’s waiting for me to jump on him and tear him apart. Smart boy.
Not sure off the top of his head? As calmly as I possibly can manage—using every ounce of self-control I have and remembering every life lesson I’ve encountered to prepare me for a moment where my character would be tested like this—I walk to where Benjamin sits on the counter. I place a hand on either side of him, his knees hitting my hips. He doesn’t bother to lift his head off the glass, but I can see the fear there on his face. Some primal part of me is pleased at the sight. I level my gaze on his, unsure of what I’m expressing.
I’m only able to control so much, so my eyes probably give me away—telling him of the anger, panic, and pain that swirl inside of me. The ugly jealousy and envy.
“As in—you cannot recall how many people you’ve shoved your dick into?” I ask, relieved at how calm my voice comes out. I might as well be asking about the weather. Benjamin blinks once, then twice. It’s clear he doesn’t plan on answering. “Hm.” I hum. We stare—a battle of endurance.
I watch the soft green flecks in his hazel eyes as they stare back at me, the slight twitch of his full, pink lips. I haven’t been this close to him in so long. Close enough to really take in the sharp angle of his jaw, his button nose, the muscle where his neck meets his shoulders. Every part of him screams at me—so hungry—starving for my touch and mine alone.
Just as I do—his body remembers how it felt to be in my hands, manipulated by my fingers. Bent to my will, pulled undone and put back together again while the soul inside cried and begged. I plead with his body to know, to tell me how many others have tried to do that—to pull him apart—to make him cry—to touch his soul.
Anger ignites anew in me, my arm sliding around his waist faster than either of us can blink—pulling him flush against me and forcing his legs open. My other hand grasps at the base of his jaw where it meets his neck.
“Why would you do that, Button? Was I that good? Did I unravel you so hard in that pool house that you’ve had to run through bodies to try and chase that type of pleasure again?” He’s glaring at me, our noses so close to touching. One hand is gripping my wrist so tightly he might break it, the other pushing slightly against my chest.
“Fuck you.” He spits.
“Well? Did you find it somewhere else? Or are you still running around like a lost puppy—dick in hand—hoping to God someone will make you feel the way I did?” He narrows his eyes.
“I found it, so there’s no reason for you to be so concerned for me. You can go about your night now.”
“You did, huh? With who?” His eyes widen—clearly not anticipating that I’d push further. I want to punch and scream. There’s no way. No way. His hand loosens around my wrist; the other stops pushing and instead just rests on my chest. Benjamin is still glaring so beautifully—but there’s a fight in him that seems to be draining.
“Aaron, drop it.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple moving up and down roughly. I rest my thumb over it with the hand on his neck, hearing his sharp intake of breath.
“Who, Benjamin? Who’s been making you come so hard you cry?”He can hear the anger in my voice—I know he can—yet his dick still hardens. I feel him grow in those slutty jeans from where he’s pressed against my stomach. The hand that’s wrapped around his waist moves to cup his dick between us and he mumbles something under his breath, trying to turn his head away. My hand on his throat keeps him facing me. “What was that?”
“None of your business.” He says louder this time—defiantly—just like a bratty child. I laugh, a bit shocked by the display.
“No? None of my business? When you go downstairs to the kitchen and take a bite of an apple—does it become yours?” Benjamin’s brows furrow as he reluctantly nods best he can in my grip. “And when you win a medal at a swim competition—is it yours to take home?”
“Yes?”He says, exasperated, eyes rolling.
“Mhm. You’re so clever, Button.” He swallows loudly at the compliment. I take my hand from where it rests over his dick and run it over his bottom lip, watching them part slightly. “Then tell me how it’s any different—when I tore your virgin body apart and put you back together with my own two fucking hands. When I ran my tongue over every part of you—body and soul. Hm? How is it that now your body is none of my business? I had you first, Button. I think anything you do—anywhere you go until the day you fuckingdie—is my business.”
Benjamin’s eyes are so wide I think they might just fall out of his head as he says— “You’re fucking crazy.” But I can practically feel him pulsing beneath his jeans, and he’s pushing up against me ever so slightly in a way I don’t think he even notices.
I know. I know I sound crazy—that I’mbeingcrazy. But I can’t stop it. Something in me has opened up and now my hands won’t stay still, and my mouth won’t stop spitting out words I should most definitely keep to myself if I ever want to look at Benjamin again when I’m sober.
“Aaron—you don’t own me just because you jacked me off a few months ago.” I scoff. He moves up a grade and all of a sudden, he has amouthon him.
“You say it like it was some small encounter—some passing event. If I recall correctly, you couldn’t even stand on your own. You cried and begged me to let you come by my hands.” Benjamin blushes and I move my thumb to rest on his tongue, pressing down on it lightly. He lets me but doesn’t close his mouth around it—doesn’t move at all. “Have you forgotten how you trembled, Button? How you whined and grabbed at me like you were going to die?” He pulls my thumb away with a glare.
“Yeah, I guess it wasn’t that memorable for me. But you seem tolovemulling over it, Aaron. How often are you thinking about my dick, hm?”
“More than I care to admit.” My response leaves my mouth before I can think to stop it. Benjamin’s eyes widen once more and he drops my hand.
“What?” His dick twitches against me. There’s a long silence that stretches out along the bathroom walls. His chest is rising and falling rapidly.
“You really don’t remember?” My voice is so quiet—so timid. I almost can’t believe we’ve flipped the conversation so fast, but here we are. Our relationship has always been chaotic. He stares into my eyes for a few beats—his so curious and nervous—trying to read me. He’s always doing that, like he can never fully understand the expressions in my eyes.
