Seven

seven

GAbrIEL/BEZALIEL

I park my BMW in front of Lori's building and make my way out of the car. The forlorn structure looms in the impoverished area. It's early evening, and the game between shadows and streetlights gives the building an eerie appearance. Its cracked paint, boarded-up windows, and the overall beaten-up look tell a story of neglect and dangerous times.

I see a man standing near the lamppost. He's wearing a ball cap and smoking a cigarette. There's something familiar about him, but just as I decide to get a better look, I hear an appreciative whistle coming from the group of young guys on the building's broken front stairs. They're dealers waiting for their clients, members of a gang judging by the same tattoo of a scorpion on their arms.

"Nice ride," one of them tells me as I make my way toward them, flashing two gold teeth as he smirks at me.

I stop in front of him, leaving three feet between us, and stare him down for a moment. "It is, and if I find even a scratch on it, I'm going to slit your tongue and feed it to…" I look around them. My gaze finds a skinny boy with sad eyes. "Him."

The guy jumps down on the sidewalk and takes out an impressive tactical knife from his jeans, pointing it at me.

"You're holding it the wrong way," I tell him, not even a little intimidated by his overplayed act.

"No, I'm not, fancy-pants." He pushes out his chest and spits on the ground, still holding his knife wrong. I could grab mine from the back of my jacket, but I don't think I'll need it against this guy.

"Never draw a blade unless you're willing to show it blood," I say my mantra out loud, which only makes him tighten his grip on the knife.

We have no time for this , Bez states. Knock him out and get the knife. It's a nice piece for your collection.

"Are you going to attack me or just stand there like a pathetic fool?"

The numerous jeers behind him make him react. He comes at me, knife first, no technique whatsoever, his movements way too slow. I easily avoid the blade, and after grabbing his wrist, I spin my body one hundred and eighty degrees, sliding under his arm and positioning my back to his front. I pull his arm hard, dislocating his elbow first, then his shoulder as I grab his bicep and give another pull.

I hear the clank of the knife on the ground, the guy's whimpers, and the gasps from the rest of the gang, but nobody makes a move to help him. I spin again, twisting his arm and tuning out the scream that leaves the guy's lips. A knee in his guts makes him fall on the cracked cement and a kick to his face puts him to sleep. Blood runs out of his nose, painting the dark sidewalk red.

They never listen! Bez sighs mockingly.

I pull on the lapels of my jacket and adjust the collar of my shirt as I lift my eyes to the rest of the gang standing on the stairs staring at me with different levels of fright. A couple of them must have fled, but the skinny boy is still there, looking at me with awe in his gaze.

"Loo-look, man we don't want any trouble," a bold guy states weakly. I ignore him.

"You," I tell the skinny one as I pick the knife up from the ground and slip it in my inner jacket pocket. "Watch my car, and you'll get a Franklin."

"Are you going up to see Lori?" he asks. He knows Lori? Why doesn't that surprise me?

"What if I am?"

He shrugs. "What if I want something else?" he retorts, gutsy and reckless. Something more than money?

I sweep my eyes over him. He doesn't have a scorpion tattoo, not a visible one anyway, and his t-shirt and shorts are worn out and torn—and not as a fashion statement. He's younger than the others, and there's something about him. A hunger for life in his eyes.

"What's your name?" I ask him.

It takes him a couple of seconds to answer, "Carlos."

"What's your name, Carlos?"

He bites his lower lip, "Spencer."

"If my car is still in the same condition when I get down, Spencer, we'll talk."

He nods, and as I start climbing the stairs, the guys push back to the sides to let me pass.

The inside of the building is worse than the outside. There's a smell of decay and lost dreams in the entrance. Broken glass covers the discolored, dirty floor. There's no elevator, and the light coming from a dusty bulb flickers, scarcely illuminating the stairs. Ollie told me Lori's apartment is on the fourth floor, so I start the climb, wondering why he lives in such a dangerous, run-down place. I know what I pay him, and he should be able to afford much better accommodations than this.

I reach his floor. The walls are covered in graffiti. Weird noises are coming from the first door I pass. The stench of cheap cigars is almost unbearable, but I can't find the source of such an awful smell.

I stop in front of Lori's door. It has a sticker that says "fuck off or lose a finger." Bez smirks at that.

Rock music is coming from inside.

AC/DC. Fuck yeah! Bez growls. He's a huge fan of anything rock I'll fuck him for hours. Even better, I'll see how many orgasm I can tear out of him during those hours.

"Gabe! Oh fuck, oh fuck. You're inside me," he suddenly breaths as I keep railing his ass. "Not dreaming. Yes. Oh God." His face has slightly turned toward me, there's not much room for movement in this position with me keeping him pinned.

"Bez."

"W-what?" He whimpers as I suddenly stop, holding him impaled on my dick.

"Call me Bez," I order him, pushing even deeper inside. "Say it!"

"Will you bloody fuck me if I do?" my combative Little Wasp hisses angrily, making me grunt with pleasure.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," I growl, spitting on his hole as I pull back, dragging my dick along his walls.

"Bez." My name on his lips, and I'm assaulted by a primal impulse. I tighten my grip on the headboard for support before thrusting rough and merciless. My hips piston back and forth, gaining speed until I'm rutting into him, taking him like an animal, only intent on branding him inside.

I mutter, "Did you miss my cock? The way you're strangling it is answer enough." My grunts echo his slutty-as-fuck moans, and the slapping of my balls on his perfect, peachy ass. I spank it hard, grabbing the reddened flesh, feeling the warm skin under my palm.

"You'll never keep me away from this tight ass again." Another smack.

"Fuck, never! Love your dick! So bloody long. I want it to reach my throat," he screams, following the vicious movements of my hips. Every motion of his lithe body drives me harder, deeper.

"This is your master cock. You'll worship it every fucking day!" I growl mindlessly. I don't want this to end. But it's too incredible.

I want to live inside his hole, slowly get hard in it, feeling his walls making space for my plumping dick as it grows until, until they are stretched to the maximum, holding me inside him, massaging my length as pre-cum drips out, milking it as I shoot a load deep, so deep it will become part of him.

I am going to cum so damn hard.

Fill him , Gabe says.

Oh, I will. His hole will be so fucking full, it'll overflow.

My Little Wasp moans my name loudly, jerking underneath me and clenching around my cock so tightly, it almost hurts. Bliss bolts straight through me from my nuts up to my dick. Grabbing hold of his hip to keep us from separating, I release half of my load inside him. "Christ, you're sucking it out of my dick." And as my body is still rippling with pleasure I pull out, and with a groan I keep shooting on his back and taint. Jesus Christ!

I look at that ass covered in my cum.

"Mine," I tell him as I drag my cock over his cum-filled, stretched hole, spreading more jizz around while aftershocks still rack his body. His orgasm keeps going for a while, and I feel pretty fucking good about it.

I let my body fall on the sheets, on my side. He looks like a sexy mess. Sweat covering his skin and the collar of the jacket, lips red-bitten, and chest heaving.

"Mouth," I demand, pushing some curls away from his face. He turns his head toward me. Eyes filled with a daze and echoes of pleasure. He clumsily leans toward me but not enough, looking too exhausted. I have to grab his nape and pull him the remaining distance.

He opens those slutty lips, taking the slow and possessive assault of my tongue meekly. The kiss is long and dirty as I suck on his mouth and lick every inner part until he surrenders everything to me.

I push back, letting Gabe take over.

All yours, Bez tells me. I'll fuck him until morning next time.

Strange. You always keep your dirty word, I remind him. He simply replies with a sniff.

I tighten my hold on Lori's head and revitalize the kiss, pushing him onto his back. I nip at the delicious flesh, suck on his tongue, play with it in a twisting game until I have no more breath. When we part, his eyes are closed, face flushed. A small smile curls his mouth as he sighs contently.

My dick is hard again. I recognize the fact that the only reason is the man underneath me, lightly snoring. Obsessed doesn't even describe the tip of what I'm feeling.

I've tried so hard to repress my emotions. To never let them rule my life again. To feel in control. Bez is the impulsive one, certainly not me. Then Lori came into my life, and little by little, he dug a tunnel underneath the walls I'd erected around me. How did he do that? And is he going to accept what's on the other side?

Too late for that . Bez yawns. Doesn't matter if he likes it or not. He's mine.

He has a choice, Bez.

He just took a hard fuck, screaming my name. I'd say he likes me.

But he doesn't know you exist, I remind him.

He lets out a snort. The real question is does he still dislike you?

I roll off the mattress, feeling that prickling sensation over my skin again, and round the bed until I'm on Lori's side. I slide my arms under him and lift him up. He snuggles closer to my body, but doesn't wake up.

When I reach his room, the lights are out, but the moonlight from the window illuminates his bed enough.

I deposit him on the sheets and try to straighten up, but Lori's hands suddenly wrap around my neck, clinging to me with all his strength, which is impressive. Not expecting it, I topple onto the bed, crushing him under me. Lori doesn't seem to care that he has the weight of a man twice his size on him. If anything, he's relishing it.

"Lori," I call him.

"Stay," he replies, sucking on my neck. I'll be covered in hickeys again. The thought of having his bruises on me doesn't annoy me. Quite the opposite.

"Let go." He whimpers hearing my order. "I'll stay."

"Promise?" he asks me, taking me back to that night at the club. I can hear the same vulnerability filling his voice, it raises my protective levels exponentially.

"Promise."

He drops his arms but nudges and prods me until I find myself wrapped around him in a big spoon position. My jacket that he's wearing has risen over his hips. My dick is right between his ass cheeks, and as I pull slightly back to adjust, it finds his still slick pucker. He's pure temptation. My only temptation.

"Yes," he gives me his consent. And I push inside him once again. I fuck him slow and hard, enjoying deeply the way he moans with every thrust.

When he comes, it's my name he gasps. And when I release inside him, it's his name I groan in his ear. He drifts off to sleep, holding me to him tightly, his fingers laced with mine. My cock still inside his warm hole.

My insomnia doesn't give me the same mercy, and I lie there for an hour, enveloped in Lori and lilies. When I untangle myself and stand up, he doesn't stir. His drool feels cool on my forearm. I find it annoying and oddly cute at the same time. Like everything else about Lori.

I take a few more minutes to watch him. He's still wrapped in my jacket. My lips twitch with satisfaction.

My eyes fall on the small unopened box on the dresser containing the urn.

We need to tell him, Bez suddenly says. About you and me.

I nod. I know .