26. Eli

Eli

Here I Am

I want to let him love me. God, I do.

It’s shitty of him to drop this on me while he’s lining his dick up with my ass, but that’s Phoenix. Inconvenient. Unignorable. Needy and insistent when he wants to be.

Fuck, I think I love him. I really do.

He rubs his face against mine, breathing hard and slowly easing into me. The burn is instant. Hissing through my teeth, I clench involuntarily.

“Shit. I should’ve warned you,” he says and pulls out.

“No, it’s okay. I can take it.” I urge him back with firm fingers on his hips.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

I kiss him fast. “You’re not. Promise.” At least not physically. Emotionally? I’m dying slowly because, despite this new shit we’re doing, I know how it’ll end—how it has to end.

The truth is, I don’t know how to be loved. I don’t know anything about it. If I had to guess, I’d say that what we’ve been doing is close but not quite. What I feel for him must be love. Who else would make me this way? But how to be on the receiving end of it? Yeah. I'm lost. The problem lies with me and always will as long as I stay on this path. Just thinking about what I have to do softens my cock while Phoenix nudges my hole. My head wants to check out. Hop on that train to disassociation. It’s what happens when I don’t want to face reality—when I know it’ll hurt.

“Look at me,” he commands, and I realize my eyes are sealed shut.

They flutter open, and he breaches me again. I blow out a breath, relax my body, and let him in. Once his cockhead is through, we both groan. There’s nothing like sinking into a tight, wet, hot ass. And knowing Phoenix is doing this to me, fucking his big dick into me, helps ease the sting of stretching for him. Shudders ripple through his limbs when his hips meet the backs of my thighs. He blinks down at me, those chimera eyes swirling with lust, love, and everything in between.

“Can I stay here?” he whispers, kissing me softly.

“As long as you want,” I breathe.

That is the truth. I’d let him live inside me if it would fix all our problems. He pulls back, almost exiting my body entirely before thrusting back in. The headboard knocks against the wall.

When he does it again, my body comes alive.

I didn’t think letting him fuck me would be anything life-changing, sex is always the best with him, but I feel vulnerable. Exposed and raw. He could scrape at fleshy bits I’m revealing to him. He could ruin me.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he whispers sweetly, feeling me. He knows. Phoenix always knows. Repositioning so he can lift my uninjured leg over his arm, his cock nails my prostate, and I cry out. “There it is.”

He gets a rhythm going, slow and steady but hard enough that I feel him fucking everywhere. He kisses my tattoo, so sweet and tender that tears prick my eyes. “Damn you,” I whimper, hating that I’m meeting him thrust for thrust. Hating that those three little words are like lead weights on my tongue. “Fuck.” I cling to him, writhing and mewling like I’m in heat.

He feels so damn good. I didn’t think it could feel better than it already does between us. When we’re connected, skin on skin, no pretenses, no fucking bad shit. Just him and I. But he’s blowing a hole in that illusion. This is better than anything we've ever done. Every nerve is like a live wire sending shocks through my system. His cock is hot and thick, claiming me from the inside out. Only Phoenix can make missionary feel like a holy experience. The tingles start at the base of my spine as my balls bunch.

“Baby,” I pant, “I want to come.”

I whimper when he pulls out of me, picks me up, and sets me on his lap, my back to his front. With precision, he lifts me and lines back up. I hear his murmured relax before I sink back onto him. The new position has my eyes crossing and my body on fire. I glance down as he curls his fingers around my cock and jerks me. I try to move, but he holds me still.

“Oh fuck,” I moan because he’s going to make me come like this. Impaled on his fat dick while I fuck his fist. My hole clenches and spasms while my nuts throb. I've never been this helpless in bed before.

“You feel too good. Too fucking good,” he growls in my ear, his cock flexing inside me.

His other hand sneaks down my front, tugging on my balls before pressing against my taint. Oh, that sneaky fucker. He strokes it just like I do to him and I start to shake. I’m going to come. Oh god . “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He bites my neck and jacks me faster, and I come with a scream. I see spots while my cockhead sprays his fist and my lower stomach. He purposefully aimed my jizz so he could have it. Through heavy breaths, he keeps stroking me until I sag against him. Once he’s satisfied that my balls are drained dry, he gathers up the milky liquid and stuffs his fingers in my mouth. I clean them, whining around them because his dick is so hard and poking my sensitive prostate.

He teases my tongue some more and grabs my hip with his free hand, rocking me on him. “Can I come inside you?”

I nod around his fingers. When they slip free, he holds my stomach and bounces me. I’m a damn ragdoll, just taking it. He’s literally doing all the heavy lifting. I hold onto his arm, watching his legs flex. And when he comes, I feel it coat my inner walls, branding me, owning me.

He claims that’s what he wants, well he did it.

I’m his.

I just don’t know for how long.

I t shouldn’t have surprised me when Kelly came back that she only brought my clothes and toiletries.

My prescription for Zofran she did include with my things, but everything else… I sigh, wet the razor, and swipe it across my face. I’m pissed because not only was that shit not cheap, but I barely got to use any of it. I can already feel the itch inside my head, the volume too fucking loud. My teeth grind absently while I tilt my chin to get more of the coarse hairs covering my face.

As much as I hoped it would, Phoenix’s dick didn’t fix me. It didn’t stop the urges, the visceral need to kill the voices that won’t shut the fuck up. He might own my body, but Tracy owns my thoughts. I don’t think she’ll ever go away, either. I want to obliterate her. And the only way to do that is through static. Interrupt those signals that penetrate my skull. Some quack might say that talking about my feelings would help, but that’s just not true. I tried.

I told Phoenix the precipice of it all and shriveled into that seven-year-old boy.

Talk about embarrassing and repulsive. I don’t know how he even wanted to fuck me after that shitshow.

There’s a part of me that recognizes that I’m nuts. Just yesterday, I was confident I could do this. Get clean, get help, be better. Now? Now I want to say fuck it, leave, and get my meds. Maybe I’ll record fucking the dealer so that way the commenters on my videos will shut the fuck up. In my last one, one had the audacity to say I looked like a tweaker.

Fuck them. I’m not a tweaker.

Not even close.

I rinse the leftover shaving cream off my face and pat it down with a hand towel. He’s waiting in the living room with Kelly. He wants to act like it’s all fine and dandy now that I bottomed for him. Nope. Phoenix can get fucked.

Gripping the counter and hanging my head, I try to stave off this anger. This is how it all fell apart before. I get stuck in my bullshit and lash out. Clam up. Kick everyone and everything to the curb because nothing makes me feel good longer than a moment in time. Temporary highs are bullshit. I want permanent.

Squeezing the cool porcelain, I bite my cheek hard. I hate feeling this way. I hate that I can’t just be happy . After everything I’ve done to get back to Phoenix, you’d think I’d try a little harder to be normal—that I’d have the decency to be honest with him. Maybe I’m just not cut out for love, not the kind he wants anyway. Tears prick the corners of my eyes and something like longing bursts in my chest. Why can’t I get my shit together? It’s always been up to me before. Not that I did a very good job, but this time feels urgent.

Important.

It will be downright detrimental if I don’t fix myself soon. I’ll lose him for good.

But I’m losing this battle, man. I’m fucking losing. All I want is for someone to facilitate my habit and keep me. Is that so much to ask for? Just let me do what I need to so I can breathe. A knock on the door rips me from those thoughts. I smooth out the twisted snarl on my face and open it. Phoenix looks me up and down, then peers over me to inspect the bathroom.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” I snap.

“I didn’t say you were,” he says, calmer than expected.

“Then stop snooping.”

He cocks a brow at me, jaw tensing. Yup, that’s the man I know. He can only put on this farce for so long before that judgmental, angry person pushes forth. I hope he screams so I can get out of here. But he doesn’t. Fuck. No, he’s crossing the space and tucking my hair behind my ear. His eyes soften, fingers light as he brushes them over my cheek. Oh, fuck this guy right now. I lean into the touch because, as much as I don’t want to admit it, it feels good. Right.

“How is your stomach feeling?” he asks, ignoring my earlier comment.

“Fine.”

“Good. I want to take you out to dinner.”

“Why?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He shrugs a little, swiping a thumb over my bottom lip. “Show you something nice for a change.”

My stomach—which did feel fine—swoops at his sentence. “You…you already do,” I admit, feeling my anger slowly die down.

“Not enough. I was thinking we could go to the Cheesecake Factory. I know how much you like it.”

I haven’t been there since…since we were together. “Um. Yeah. Okay.”

“You can even borrow my leather jacket.” He smirks.

Oh hell, I fucking blush.

One of our first sleepovers as a couple, Phoenix had made me fuck him wearing just his leather jacket. He said I was born to wear it. All those metal patches sewn into it and the studs on the shoulders are ridiculous, but after I’d made him whimper and cry, I peeked in the mirror. I did look really good in that jacket. Then it dawns on me. He’s trying. It’s different from what I’m used to, and I want to reject this tenderness because it doesn’t fit into the mold we’ve created in the past.

We were either ravenous wild animals, fucking like our lives depended on it, or we fought. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, or I’m too stubborn to want to acknowledge the in-between bits right now, but Phoenix was never like…this. I think this might be the part of him he always wanted to show me, but I wouldn’t allow it. A sudden resurge of desperation to fix it all nearly knocks me to my ass, especially when he cups my neck and kisses me hard.

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he whispers against my lips.

I blink back the sting in my eyes. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“I want to.” He searches my eyes. “Let me, okay?”

He’s not leaving me with a way to deny him. I have no legs to stand on or argument to justify it. “Okay,” I tell him, and he beams, making my heart flutter like it used to.

T his is the most fucked up honeymoon phase ever. On one hand, the past few days have been wonderful.

Phoenix hasn’t lost his patience, hasn’t judged, and hasn’t picked a fight with me. Even when I tried to leave…again. But on the other hand, I’m counting down the days until he goes back on tour. I’m practically salivating to be left to my own devices, knowing once he’s gone, nothing is stopping me from getting my medicine.

I’ve let him have me whenever he wants, the constant throbbing in my ass a reminder of how much he loves fucking me. Not that I mind it. In fact, it’s a welcome pain. Something I can cling to during the day when the pain inside gets too much to bear. He’s asleep right now, his nose whistling softly. The past two nights, after we have sex and he professes his love a million times, I find myself on my phone, staring at this website.

It’s a dance studio that teaches adults ballet —beginner ballet. I didn’t think something like that existed, as most studios tend to cater to kids. Nibbling my lip, I watch the little video over and over again. It showcases the entire building and goes over the classes and instructors. My chest pinches sharply as I scroll down to the sign-up information.

Some deep, buried part of my soul urges me to fill it out, but I don’t dare.

Instead, I open up the other tab in my browser. This website is even more daunting. I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe, so I close out of them and set my phone on Phoenix’s nightstand. Blinking up at the ceiling, my fingers spasm, and pain slices through me. Ballet is for girls and gays. Well, I’m fucking gay, aren’t I? My twisted aunt didn’t know what she was talking about because it doesn’t matter what you identify as or who you prefer to fuck. Dance is for everyone.

Fucking everyone.

I glance at Phoenix, watching his eyes shift beneath their lids. I should leave. I could go right now, and he’d be none the wiser until he woke up and found no one beside him. Kelly is staying at Devon’s during the night because she doesn’t want to hear us having sex. I don’t blame her. We are loud. Tomorrow, Phoenix has to go to the studio for practice. He doesn’t need it, but that’s what bands do. Play their songs until their ears bleed. He wants me to come with him, too. Get used to being around his friends again.

While Jorge and Kelly have been unusually welcoming, I don’t know if the other two will.

This is a safe place, as Kelly has said. They are a safe place. But what if I taint it? What if my being around them all tarnishes their otherwise shiny friendship? These are the thoughts that nearly crippled me over the past few days. I just want to stop thinking. Stop…everything. But then I think about how hard Phoenix has been trying. How…beautiful he’s been to and for me.

Does he deserve this?

I reach out and run my fingers down his bare chest, savoring the warmth of his skin and soft texture. It would destroy him if I left. And part of me knows it’d destroy me too. He sighs contently in his sleep while I drag my index over his nipple, deliberately making it pebble. My cock tingles while watching it, and before I can stop myself, I press a wet kiss to it. He moans a little but is still out.

“I’m trying to figure it out,” I tell him, nuzzling his chest and spooning his side. “I want to figure it out,” I whisper. “But I’m scared.”

Carding my fingers through his limp ones, I take the opportunity to keep going, knowing he can’t hear me. “I wish I wasn’t like this, baby. All fucked up inside. And I honestly should have kept my distance. You would’ve gotten over me eventually, probably. I wouldn’t have. I never did. That’s the thing about you, Phoenix. It hurts me that you would’ve moved on. And you would have found someone better than me. Someone who wasn’t afraid to look you in the eye and tell you what I am now.

“Do you know that, too? Can you see yourself with someone better than me? Someone who can say they love you with their whole heart and know what it means? I could tell you that I love you, but I don’t know if it’s the truth, you know? What the fuck do I know about love, baby? I know I want you more than I want or have ever wanted anyone else. When I can clear my head long enough to be there with you, I feel…happiness.

“I feel so happy for those moments but can’t keep them. They go away so fast, and I—” I stop myself because he’s stirring. My voice is no longer a whisper, so I wait a few minutes. Once he’s settled, I say one last thing. “I want to love you, Phoenix. I want it so bad. But I don’t love myself. I hate me. And I don’t think your love is enough for the both of us.”