10. Cyrus—Age 20

Chapter 10

Cyrus—Age 20

Cyrus and Zeke’s Apartment

“You picture her when you fuck me?” I asked Zeke as he panted beneath me.

“No,” he moans. “I guess it started that way, but I’ve discovered feelings are fluid.”

I clamped his earlobe between my teeth and tugged gently, appreciating his honest answer. My feelings for Azadeh weren’t like Zeke’s when I first met her. I saw her as competition for his affection, but as I got to know her, I yearned for her too. The girl had a way of twisting you up until the only thing you wanted in life was to pledge your undying loyalty to her. That whole notion was a fuckin’ hard pill for me to swallow as I didn’t believe in monogamy, but between her and Zeke, I was so fulfilled and didn’t need anything or anyone else. They both loved Lev, so I had to deal with that fucker. I had to admit he was fuckin’ hot in a stuck-up asshole kind of way.

“How are you holding up?” I asked as I poured the isopropyl in small streaks down his broad back.

Zeke chuckled. “If someone asked me five years ago if I’d let one of my best friends light me up before he fucked me, I would’ve laughed in their face. But fuck, this shit is all kinds of relaxing. It almost deludes me into thinking I could take that giant ass cock of yours with no lube.”

I smiled as I grabbed the torch, streaking a flame along Zeke’s taut muscles before putting it out. I had a sick and twisted impulse to allow the flames to penetrate his skin and sear his flesh, releasing the stench of burning tissue. I pushed back my baser impulses and forced myself to remain in the realm of sanity, putting Zeke’s safety above my depraved and twisted desires.

Zeke had no issue remaining still beneath me. I think he liked the beauty of motionlessness, but I always tied him down to be safe. He was face down, arms raised over his head, tied with rope, and I spread his legs, tying them to the footboard. He asked me once why I didn’t use the spreader bar and handcuffs. I looked him directly in the eye and explained that cutting him out of fabric was easier than metal. It shocked me that he still agreed to be restrained after hearing that. I was glad he trusted me. Not many people would. After all, I was the crazy kid who burned his parents to a crisp.

I bounced the torch along Zeke’s skin until I landed between his thighs. Zeke’s cock thrust from his groin as hard as steel. I licked my lips, thinking how fuckin’ hot it would be to see fire, even for a moment, on the tip. Bending, I licked his precum, relishing his salty flavor.

I put out the fire and placed the torch on its stand, turning back to the hot-as-fuck man lying ass up on my bed. “I want to fuck you,” I groaned, kneeling behind him.

“I want to be fucked,” Zeke responded.

I grabbed his tight ass, pulling his cheeks apart to expose his puckered asshole, and spat. Zeke raised his ass, letting me know he wanted me to tear into him and fuck him until he passed the fuck out.

Using my spit, I pushed the tip of my finger in, relishing his moan. Closing my eyes, I fought my violent desires. I always had to push those desires down as far as I could. I was fucked up to want to harm someone I loved, but I’d never had lessons in healthy relationships. The only things I knew were brutality and violence. Until I met Azadeh and Zeke, I had no idea about the magical ability of a gentle touch.

I reached for the lube and poured it on my fingers, letting some drip down his crack before massaging it into his ass. I pushed a finger inside him to the knuckle before adding a second, then a third. “I’m going to fuck you raw, Zeke.”

“Stop talking about what you’re going to do to me and do it.”

I pulled my fingers out of him and lined up my cock. With one thrust, I was sheathed in his tight asshole. “You feel so good, baby boy. So fuckin’ good. How does it feel knowing I’m going to unload all my cum and watch it leak out of your tight ass?”

“Fuck,” Zeke said through clenched teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ big.”

I thrust into him. “You’re being”—thrust—’“such a good”—thrust—“little”—thrust—“ass whore.”

Zeke groaned as I continued to pound into his asshole mercilessly.

I twisted my fingers in his thick hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at me. I used my other hand to pry his full lips open, shoving four fingers into his mouth and relishing his gagging noises. “That’s it, baby boy. Gag for me. I want both of your holes filled with me.”

Zeke tugged at his restraints, his dominant nature fighting to take over. Restraints weren’t my thing. I used them for fire play, but fuckin someone all tied up didn’t rev my engines. Yet watching Zeke struggle underneath me was as hot as fuck.

I removed my hand from his mouth, and his drool landed on the bed. I smiled before crushing my lips to his.

“Well, what do we have here?”

I turned my head to see Azadeh standing by the door.

“Az,” Zeke said as he tugged on the restraints.

“Please don’t rush on my account. The show is… stimulating.”

As much as having a hot girl watch me fuck was a turn-on, Zeke was too freaked the fuck out for me to enjoy it. It wasn’t like Azadeh didn’t know we fucked. She even joined in on the fun. That was her thing, dropping by every month or two, blowing our minds with rough sex, then jet-setting again. She was the only girl I knew who had three men wanting her but wasn’t willing to settle the fuck down.

Zeke thrashed against his restraints like a fuckin’ wild animal clamoring to escape his cage. I enjoyed control during sex, but this kind of shit freaked me out. I’d never worked out my hang-up. I was fine being dominated and having the shit fucked out of me. The bruises, marks, and body aches felt good, but I liked being the prey.

I didn’t stop fucking Zeke even as he bucked beneath me. I was disgusted by my actions, but I had a perverse, twisted need to empty my balls deep in his ass.

A smirk formed on my lips as I stared at Azadeh. “I ain’t rushing, Az. I’m going to fill our boy’s ass, and then I’ll be with you.”

Azadeh’s eyes were hooded as we stared at each other. Her breathing matched the speed of my thrusts. She was my fucking metronome, keeping rhythm as I slaughtered Zeke’s ass until I stiffened and came deep inside him.

I didn’t linger long to enjoy the bliss of the afterglow. I jumped off Zeke and searched the room, desperate to find my knife. Fuckin’ pretty irresponsible of me not to know exactly where it was. I would’ve been able to find it much easier if Azadeh wasn’t staring at me with a mixture of lust, intrigue, and amusement.

I turned my head at Azadeh’s soft giggle and glared at her.

She smiled and pulled my knife from her back pocket. “This might help.”

I went to grab it, but she pulled her arm back. She might not have been in the institution with us, but the girl sure had a few screws loose. Her teeth slid along her bottom lip, and her pretty pink tongue poked out as if offering a challenge,

“Sweetheart, you gonna give me that blade, or are we gonna stand here gawking at each other all night?”

Azadeh stepped closer. Without a word, she traced the jagged burn marks on my face with the tip of the blade, etching her way over the dips and curves as if painting a little picture in her brain. I fuckin’ hated how most people stared at my face. Their eyes brimmed with pity, sadness, and fear. But not Azadeh. She regarded me with intrigue and lust.

“Scars are maps. They show the roads taken on a journey. I think yours are interesting.”

I always wondered what Azadeh knew about scars. Sure, she’d gained scars during her immigration journey, but her family was great. Her brother was a pretty cool dude, and she had the most adorable kid sister who worshiped her. Her mother was a fuckin’ saint. Az said her mother was overbearing, but I saw it as a parent’s fierce protective love for their child. It made sense to be a little over the top for those you cared about. At least her mom gave too many shits. Mine didn’t give one.

Aside from her amazing family, she was also beautiful. Stunning. She was so fuckin’ radiant. When the girl walked into the room, we lesser mortals paused to watch her. Long, black hair that fell in pretty curls to her sexy-as-fuck ass. Big almond-shaped eyes. As weird as it was for me to notice, the girl had naturally thick, long lashes that mascara companies could only dream about. Her lips were full, and her body… God, her body! Curves for days. Great tits, nice big ass I wanted to bite, and thick thighs that would look good wrapped around my neck, suffocating me as I ate to my heart’s content.

I grabbed her wrist, and we stared at each other. Fuck, those eyes were something else. Deep pools a man could drown in. “What would you know about scars, sweetheart?”

She tugged at her arm and smiled when I wouldn’t release it. “Gotta let go so I can show you.”

Reluctantly, I deprived myself of her touch. But fuck, that pain was immediately extinguished as she used the tip of the blade to lift the hem of her black tank top, pulling it up over her sexy-as-fuck double D tits covered in black lace. She never took off her shirt when we fucked. I’d tried to remove it once, and she’d pulled her knife and held it to my wrist, telling me if I didn’t stop, I’d need a hook to replace my fingers.

My cock was fuckin’ straining like a soldier in a damn military parade. “Still not seeing any scars, baby. All I see is mountains whose peaks I want to touch.”

She laughed and turned.

My. Fucking. God.

Her back. Her entire back was covered in a crisscross pattern of healed wounds.