20. Rhys

CHAPTER TWENTY

Rhys

I feel hungover.

I stare up at my ceiling, knowing I have to get up, but dreading stepping foot outside my room. It’s not that I’m scared, I’m just not ready. I feel like a hypocrite, not prepared to face the consequences of my actions. Actions that felt so justified in the moment but now astound me.

I fucked Everest.

No, I didn’t just fuck him. I don’t think that’s what you could call last night. I unleashed myself on him. Every ounce of hate, every inch of frustration, every single part of me that’s been caged in came loose and was let out on his body. Now, in the light of day, I’m almost ashamed of the things I said to him. Not because I didn’t mean them, but because I showed my hand. If he had been paying attention, he would realize that I’m not the true victor here, I’m just as much of a loser as he is.

Because he made me lose control. Because he made me give in to instincts I tried to deny. Because he turned me into a possessive monster that I don’t recognize.

But I don’t regret it. How can I when my dick is as happy as it’s ever been and my damn chest feels lighter. Fucking him was like the therapy I’ve needed for years, something I’ve been missing, and I can’t wish that away for anything.

My hand wanders down to my hard dick as I remember it perfectly. The way his snug hole hugged my cock. That annoyingly gorgeous face of his as it contorted in pleasure. The way my skin was on fire when it was wrapped around his tight body.

How he screamed my name until his voice was hoarse and his throat was raw.

It can’t happen again. I lost it once, but I can’t allow it to happen a second time. There’re so many reasons it’s wrong. Reasons that the practical, reasonable side of me can acknowledge. The most important being he’s Elton’s baby brother. My best friend’s blood. Knowing I’ve used him and taken him and claimed him would ruin my friendship with the one person I care about the most. I wouldn’t risk that for anything, not even someone as tempting as Everest.

Also, what would it say about me if I gave in to this pull between us? Everest ruined my life, turned it into something I never imagined, and it’s insane to think that I want him after all of that.

But God help me, I do.

He’s been all I can think about, and I know that I’ll never stop thinking of being with him like that. I’ll crave him with every inch of me, knowing the pleasure he can bring me, reveling in the fact that he’s been thoroughly ruined by my hand.

But doesn’t that make me vindictive? Does this deep, hot, and sticky possessive jealousy make me the villain? This isn’t who I am. I’m not someone who just lets go like that. I’m not someone who acts before he thinks.

It’s with a sense of foreboding dread, however, that I acknowledge that in my quest to ruin him, I’m risking ruining myself too. He broke my trust once and he’s bound to break it again. Getting involved with him, even if it’s only sexual, can only bring trouble that I can’t afford.

Maybe he won’t even want to do it again. I hate to admit that the thought of him lying in his bed just like I am, regretting what we did, stings. He might hate himself just a little bit for letting me inside him, and wasn’t that the point?

Jesus fucking Christ, was there even a point, or was it all just pure animalistic and carnal passion that led to me fucking him like I’ve never fucked anyone before?

And for fuck’s sake, he’s a man. I’d never been or thought of being with a man before him. How can I so easily throw away the sexual label I’d given myself all my life on a whim? Gay porn didn’t do it for me, Elton doesn’t either, so why does it have to be him ?

My mind is all sorts of fucked up and every string I try to untangle just leads me further into the spider’s web. I’m trapped in this cycle of ‘I want him, but I hate him.’ I know I have to decide how I’m going to play this. I have to set the tone from here on out.

So, I tell my angry dick to behave, letting go of it quickly so as to not be tempted.

It will never happen again.

Rolling out of bed, I’m determined to see this newfound resolution through. It’ll be easy enough. Things can just go back to the way they were. Everest can fuck off as he pleases, and I can do my own shit. Nothing in my life has to change. No more surprises need to be in store for me.

I pull on my boxers and snag my pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, heading out to the balcony to smoke. I refuse to glance over at Everest’s room to see if his door is open. Heading down the stairs, it doesn’t sound like he’s awake yet. I think I’m in the clear, sneaking out onto the balcony and shutting the sliding glass door as quietly as I can. It’s huge out here, the structure practically wrapped around the entire penthouse, and I take a seat in one of the cushy chairs right by the door. I light up, relishing the burn in my lungs, and tip my head back as I exhale. Things will be okay now. I got it out of my system and it’s over and done with.

“Can I have one?”

I freeze with the cigarette halfway to my lips. Jesus shit, of course he’s out here, because the universe can only fuck with me so much. I turn slowly, not letting him see how his presence has fazed me. Except, it’s like I’m hit by a bull when I see Everest for the first time since last night.

He’s barely dressed like I am, only in a pair of sweats, his hair damp as if he just got out of the shower. It isn’t his god-like body that traps me, though, but his face. There’s a vulnerable look of innocence that twists my insides and calls back to memories I’ve tried to push to the side. The shyness, the sweetness, the adoration I felt for someone who ended up betraying me.

“You smoke?” I question a bit harshly. He doesn’t waver, just simply shrugs. I bite my bottom lip, wondering how to play this, and decide to act casual. “Sure.”

He comes close enough so I can hand him a cigarette, sitting down beside me on the other chair. I go to hand him the lighter, but he surprises me. He’s always doing that. He leans in instead, so close I can see the blue flecks in his green eyes as he places the tip of his cigarette against mine, lighting it that way. He stays there for a second, challenging me with his stare, before pulling back.

“What are we doing, Rhys?” he asks after a moment, staring straight ahead into the skyline like he’s unbothered, but I can see the subtle tremble in his fingers as he brings his cigarette up for another drag.

I hold in the deep breath that wants to be let out. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” he parrots, raising an eyebrow with a humorless chuckle. “Last night wasn’t nothing.”

“Last night was a mistake,” I say, convinced that it has to be true. “You need to forget about it.”

“But what if I can’t?” Turning to me, he wastes his cigarette as he puts it out. “What if you can’t forget about it either?”

I don’t let him see that he might be right. He can’t be right. I need to be in control and he’s like the push I need to go over the edge. “I already have.”

He narrows his eyes, deadly fury in them. “That’s a lie.”

“Not lying,” I say calmly, turning my face back to the view in front of me. “Whether you want to believe it, Everest, one dip into that ass hasn’t made me whipped. You’re not the shit.”

“Am I not your baby either?”

I flinch. Fuck me for calling him that in the heat of the moment. In the moment when he looked so much like mine . Forbidden fruit I shouldn’t touch, knowing it would poison me. I hold my ground and refuse to answer him.

He doesn’t like that.

Before I even notice what he’s doing, he’s standing up and positioning himself in front of me. With a nervous gulp, he climbs on my lap, and I’m powerless to stop him. He’s straddling me and my cock immediately takes notice, thickening behind my boxers and leaving an obscene tent. He licks his lips and hesitates before wrapping his arms around my neck.

“Do you not want me anymore, Rhys?” he questions softly, mouth slightly open as he lowers himself onto my cock, and I hiss when he slowly drags his hips. “Am I not yours?”

It takes all of my self control to keep my hands firmly planted on the seat rest, but even though I can’t control my choppy breaths, I can control my words. But none come out. I don’t know what to say.

I called him mine. I claimed him. I’m confusing the hell out of myself because all those things remain true; I just don’t need him knowing that. It’s too late, though. He knows. I spoke that shit into truth and now I’m suffering for it.

Suffering because I need to be inside him again. Suffering because I didn’t allow myself to kiss him last night, but that’s all I want to do. Suffering because I can’t remember who started this game we’re both simultaneously winning and losing.

“Honest truth,” he says, threading his hands through my hair and gripping the locks so tightly that I let out a sharp gasp. “The honest truth is that I want you, Rhys. I want last night to happen again. I don’t care that you hate me, and I don’t care that I hate you. I can’t explain what’s drawing me in, but…” He throws his head back when our cocks brush against each other, sending a shiver of pleasure through me. “But, Rhys, I know you want me too.”

“We can’t,” I grit out, but my hands latch onto him, helping the dirty roll of his hips. “Fuck off, Everest.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and smiles brightly as he shakes his head. “That’s not the fucking you want me to do.”

“It won’t happen again,” I try to insist, but now I’m actively helping him grind against me, clenching my jaw so tightly my teeth are going to crack.

As he raises an eyebrow, I don’t think I’ll like where the mischievous glint in his eyes is leading. Nodding to himself, he clicks his tongue before sliding off me. I think that maybe he’s going to give both of us a break, do what’s right, but the little shit does the exact opposite.

He falls to his knees, hands reaching for the waistband of my boxers, eyes drunk with lust. “Say that again, but why don’t you mean it this time?”

I tried. Lord have mercy, I tried. My restraint is gone—snapped—in the wind as he pulls down my boxers and my cock slaps against my bare stomach. His hungry eyes track the precum that leaks from the tip, his mouth already slightly parted. He looks high as hell…on me .

I can’t take it anymore.

“You want this cock?” I tease, my hand wandering down my chest to wrap around my length.

He nods in a daze, opening up for me like he can’t help it, and I can’t either. We’re both victims of this consuming lust that’s dawned upon us. It’s spawned by hate, but spurred on by something much deeper that I can’t name.

And when his plump lips wrap around my head, I realize that I don’t fucking care to name it at all.

“Yes,” I hiss, sliding my fingers into his hair as he goes down until my balls hit his chin. “Look at that.”

Pulling off with a wet slap, his hands reach up to palm my thighs. “Call me your baby, Rhys.”

I shake my head. “Let me fuck your face.”

“That’s not how this is going to work,” he taunts, pressing teasing kisses up and down my dick. “Call me your baby again.”

“Why?” I growl, tightening my grip on his hair to the point where he gasps.

He doesn’t bow away from my aggression; instead, it spurs him on. His eyes are dark with longing, a sinful promise and sheer determination. “Because you hate it. You don’t want me to be your baby, but you can’t help it. Lose control for me. Just like you want to.”

Oh, fuck him . He knows just what to say to get me riled up. Just how to play me like some twisted fiddle. With his lips so close to my length, his hot breath fanning my foreskin, I can’t do anything but nod and cave. “Come on, baby. Put me out of my misery.”

His smile is wicked as he grips me with both hands and kisses my tip. “Since you asked so nicely.”

When he opens his mouth for me, I don’t hesitate fucking up into him. I hate to think of how much practice he’s had, of how many times Knox has been in this exact position. The thought causes my hips to lurch up, choking Everest, but the pleasured moan he lets out lets me know he likes it. I don’t give a fuck who came before me. What matters is now and now he’s mine.

Like I told him. Mine to torture. Mine to hate. Mine to fuck.

“Keep that sweet mouth open,” I command, framing his face with my hands. “Try not to bite my dick off.”

He flips me off, but does as he’s told, opening wide for me as I start steady thrusts into his mouth. He’s so receptive to the pace and brutality, only growing harder, a wet patch forming in the front of his sweats when I hit the back of his throat. He’s tight and wet and the sweet suction of his mouth has me seeing stars.

“Fuck, just like that,” I groan, brushing my thumb against his stretched lips. “You’re so pretty like this, baby.”

All red-rimmed eyes and running nose. All choked up and losing color for me. I can’t believe I thought that once was enough. Once will never be enough where he’s concerned because I’m hooked. I may not like him, but I like what he does to me and what he makes me feel, and that has to count for something.

But then I see the sweetness in his eyes, that beautiful gleam that calls to all the affectionate sides of me I’ve kept hidden. I bat it away with a brutal thrust, knowing that I have to make him as dirty as he is to stop myself from losing everything to him.

“I’m gonna come,” I warn him, and my hips lose their pace as his tearful eyes meet mine. “Touch yourself for me. I want you to come with my cock in your mouth.”

He nods as well as he can, fishing his cock from his boxers, tugging with harsh strokes that must burn. I think he likes it because his eyes roll to the back of his head as drool pools at the corners of his lips. The sight of him like this, so wanton and free, makes me explode. I shoot rope after rope of cum down his throat, which he swallows up greedily. It gives me a sick satisfaction when my taste is what sets him off, as he comes a moment later on a muffled whine.

I pull out of his throat, stopping myself from doing something stupid like petting the top of his head. He rests his forehead against my thigh, breathing heavily as he tries to gather his bearings. I think we both are. We’re both coming to terms with what this means and what we’ve become.

But I need to make things clear. I tip his chin up carefully, smiling at his wrecked face and swollen lips. “This means nothing .”

It takes him a moment, but he nods, wiping away some cum from the corner of his lips. “Nothing.”

And for a moment, we’re caught in a state of infinite silence. A peaceful resolution to the war we created.

Hoping that we’ll both make it out alive in the end.