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I slowly start to move him up and down, while the pain in my shoulder intensifies. “That’s it, ahh fuck,” he says, his chest heaving as his hand trails down my abs and my stomach dips while he runs his finger through the semi-dried cum there.

I draw him against my chest, and his eyes fly open as I keep jerking him up and down as we both turn on our side. Our parted lips inches from each other, it feels so good the way his hot breath fans over my lips. He smiles, kissing me, “Pretty baby.” His hand digs in my ass and I drape a leg over his waist. Sticking his tongue in my mouth on a deep groan; his hand kneads my ass over and over. I tangle my left hand in his hair the moment he presses soft kisses against my throat. His head falls back, and his mouth opens in pure bliss as I stroke him from base to tip.

“Am I doing this okay?” I ask, my voice trembling. I feel so clumsy, like a fucking teenager, the kid I was at fifteen when I first met him.

He grabs my hips hard and groans, dropping his forehead against mine. “Yes, don’t stop.” Smiling, I keep my assault steady.

“Fuck, bǎobèi,” he hisses, his eyes slowly closing, and his mouth opening a little.

I stroke him harder up and down, and his head falls back against the pillow. I grasp the back of his neck and keep kissing him as I stick and swirl my tongue into his mouth. He pushes inside too, and we stay locked and pressed together as sweat drips between our connected bodies for minutes without coming up for air. I keep thrusting him up and down, as I pull my head back to fill my lungs with much needed air.

“Bǎobèi,” he cries. His hand covers mine and my eyes fly open as I watch him come apart under me, his cock jerking in my hand. Pulses of cum hit both of our stomachs and my heart skips a beat. He shouts out my name, and my chest swells. I did that, I made him come like that.

Spent and his chest heaving, he falls back against the pillows with one hand clutching at his throat. He covers his eyes with his tattooed arm, and I wait till his breathing evens out. Can I really love this man even if he doesn’t love me? When I don’t even love myself?

Tokyo

Moon and Eliot

I flex my fingers and let my eyes drift across the room. Where the hell are my clothes? I spot my sweats and listen to Moon snoring softly next to me. This is my moment; I need to get the fuck out of here. I move up and grimace. My ass hurts so much, I have difficulty sitting up. Placing my trembling hands on the edge I push up. I can barely stand and fall forward against the chair.

“Fuck,” I groan, and suddenly everything goes quiet. I glance back over my shoulder and stare at his bare ass while he turns to his front, pushing his arms under the pillow, showing off those muscles. My dick twitches, the boxers and slacks are still tucked under his defined butt, those tattoos decorating each cheek make my mouth water.

I reach for my sweats and hoist them up my legs. Trying not to make a sound I make my way across the room on unsteady feet, pulling my long-sleeved white shirt over my head. The fabric is still wet, and I shiver the moment it covers my skin. I bring the sleeve up to my nose and inhale; it smells like him. Holding my breath, I make it to the door and slam my fist against it to steady myself. Holy shit, why can I barely walk?

I look over my shoulder; the asshole is still sprawled across the bed. I try the handle, and the door clicks open. But when I reach the stairs, I’m slammed back against the wall. My head hits the concrete, and I let out a pained cry as my teeth rattle.

Moon grabs me by the throat and lifts me from the ground with ease. I cover his hand with my own holding onto his wrists as my feet lift up from the floor. I struggle, trying to kick him in the shins. I use his motion to wrap my legs around his hips and squeeze his waist hard.

“You really think your martial arts will do anything to me?” he asks, holding his head a little to the side like he’s amused. His other hand seizes my ass and I gasp when his fingers dig into my flesh, trying to break his spine with my legs.

“What the hell do you want, Moon?” I scream, pushing myself against his stomach. His zipper is still undone but his slacks are hugging his ass again.

“What do I want?” he questions and his voice sounds mocking as I loosen the grip on his waist with my legs. “Every single of your firsts.” His middle finger pushes between my ass crack, and I move up, my legs starting to shake around his body.

He smiles against my lips. “How long can you stay in this position?” His voice taunting me, as he jiggles his middle finger between my cheeks.

My head falls back against the wall, and he runs his nose along mine. Shoving himself against me, I groan when I slide down and his finger presses against the rim of my asshole. It hurts more than before because of how swollen I am, but it also feels good. Fuck, I like it when it hurts. My hole feels puffy and raw. Needing more, I drop my forehead against his shoulder to run my lips over the inside of his neck. “I want more.”

He stiffens and I chuckle. “I just wanted to go downstairs to get something to drink,” I lie.

“You were planning to escape. Don’t try me, my little psycho. I won’t let you leave before I get what I want.”

“Are we going to fuck again?” I ask and push at his chest. “Would you still take me if I said no?” I continue, and I sound so needy. I want him to fuck me for real. I want him to make it hurt so bad I can forget him. I want to keep on detesting him when I head back to New York with Dash.

He wriggles his middle finger between my ass cheeks again, waiting for him to say anything while I look up at him.

“Don’t play me, bǎobèi.” He licks his lips, still holding me up, and his pupils are dilated with lust. I’ve never had anyone look at me like he does. With anger, repulsion, with so much desire it scares me. Like I’m his most precious possession. Someone he needs to protect. He doesn’t want me; I know that much. He wants to own me, there’s a difference.

Shaking his head, like he can hear my thoughts, he looks at me with half-lidded eyes and lets me go. Planting my feet firmly on the floor I look up into his heated gaze as he towers over me. “Why are you the only one fucking me?” I question while I lose my balance a little and he holds me up.

He frowns, and runs a thumb over his bottom lip while he leans his other hand against the wall next to my face, boxing me in. “Why do you think?” he says playfully as he pushes my face to the left. “There can only be one.” He winks, probably referencing to the Chinese saying that a one is a top, and a zero is a bottom.

My blood starts to boil; he might be a head taller than me, but I’m not a bottom, or am I? Frowning, I bite on my bottom lip and look up at him. I have no idea who the fuck I am, what I want. The pain of my past threatens to consume me again. The self-hate, the loathing from my father. The way I cried in the bathroom after Yuki made me come in the karaoke room. The months I spent jerking off alone in my bed after I sucked Moon’s dick. I want more, but I know once I give in to everything he wants from me, I’ll destroy myself. I touch my throat; it feels like I’m hyperventilating. I don’t know what I want, who I am. What I need. I feel like I’m about to pass out, I think, as I plead with my big eyes as they roam over his face.

They meet his and I watch his pupils dilate. He takes my face between his big hands. “Breathe, El, look at me!” he orders in Mandarin.

I take a big gulp of air. Why are his hands the only ones that can calm me down? Why do I feel more like myself when I’m with him than I ever felt alone? I know I should hate him, he’s the reason I chose this life, he’s the reason for my obsession the moment he asked me my name.