Fifteen

Nic

"I 'm in here!"

"Yeah, well, I've been in your ass, so it's a little too late for modesty, Cadence." I have to look away when he pokes his shampoo-topped head out from behind the shower curtain so he doesn't see me smile.

He looks so… cute? It feels weird, but I think, yeah. Cade is fucking cute. All soaped up and glaring at me. I don't know that I've ever felt that about him—about anyone—and I don't know how to process it.

It's gross. But luckily, it only happens sometimes. Mostly, I look at him and either want to fuck him or… slap him. Not even having regular access to his ass has gotten rid of that disdain. It's lessened it, for sure—at least sometimes—but it's still there.

"Why are you even up so early? You don't work today."

"I have a final this morning." He swipes at his brow as some suds try to slide into his eye. "Get out."

"No." I actually do have to work today. I've learned to shower at night since he never grew out of his habit of hogging the bathroom in the morning, so all I need to do is wash my face and brush my teeth. Maybe shave. My facial hair comes in white at my jawline and makes my vitiligo more noticeable. Getting rid of it doesn't exactly hide it, but it's better than giving people one more thing to notice. The comments get tiring.

"I don't bother you when you're showering."

"That's because I lock the door."

"Nic—"

"Aren't you supposed to be rinsing?"

He slides the shower curtain closed, grumbling about something that gets lost in all the noise.

A fully nude Cade being so close to me does make it hard to focus on the task at hand, but I manage—only occasionally side-eyeing the curtain and wishing it was transparent. Or maybe that I was in there with him.

Or, no. Not that. I'm not sure he's seen me fully naked, not since the last time. I don't know if that's a subconscious choice on my part or a very conscious choice of his, but he has not seen my scars since then. We've had sex a handful of times. He's even taken me down his throat a few more times, but when that happens, my pants stay on.

We don't even look at each other. It's either dark, or his back is to me. Never face to face. He makes sure of it every single time.

So, that answers that—he's the one who doesn't want to see me. And having a view of myself in the mirror kind of helps me understand the why. It's not that I look bad. I've spent time on my body and do what I can to care for it. I grew up skinny and gauntly looking, and compared to then, I know I look good. And a lot of people like my skin. They go out of their way to tell me.

But a lot of people don't. I hear that far less, but they will stare at me. They ask me what it is. I get how it can be off-putting, I do, but it's always a bummer to have to answer the same damn questions over and over.

Cade confuses me. There's a steady stream of contradictions where he's concerned. I feel how badly he wants me, but he doesn't want to look at me—how fucked is that?

His phone rings, his mom's face taking over the screen where it's resting by the sink.

"It's your mom." My voice is flat, my insecurities making me moodier than I was when I woke up. Plus, her . I can't imagine how she'd react to finding out her precious son was being defiled on the regular by me . Or how Anton would take it. The fuck-up corrupting the golden child would not at all go over well.

Cade gets out pretty quickly, not even bothering to dry off, as he steps towards his phone. In a split second, I can see how it'll play out. He'll answer it and walk away, talk where I can't hear him, or more importantly, so that she can't hear me.

Something in me snaps, and I'm answering his phone for him before he can get his hand on it.

" Nic! " he hisses, but I put it on speaker, and his mom's voice makes him go quiet just like that.

"Cade?"

He tries to take it out of my hand again, but keeping it out of reach isn't difficult, not when he's trying not to let his mommy know I'm right here. Like she doesn't already know we share a room.

"Hey! M-morning. Sorry." His face is mildly panicked, and it kills any joy I had. Not even his soaking wet body, all pressed up against me, can keep the disappointment away.

I don't know what this is or what's happening between us, but I know it won't last long. It can't. He has too much to lose, and I can't be a dirty secret. I've had too many of those in my life. Being one isn't an option.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. No, I'm fine. I'm getting dressed."

"Oh, okay. Sorry." She goes on about how she wanted to catch him before his test, and he doesn't stop trying to get his phone from me in between offering clipped replies for a couple of minutes. He does lose some of the fight when she brings up winter break, letting his wet forehead rest on my shoulder while she talks about whether or not he still plans on spending it with them. I guess the topic is safe enough for me to hear.

It feels deliberately rude of them both—even though she doesn't know I'm listening. I'm not a part of the family, and hearing about what I'm sure will be a happy holiday without me definitely cements that.

"So, you'll come down and spend the whole break with us, right?"

"Not the whole break, but most of it. I should work for part of it. We'll probably leave next weekend. I don't—"

"We? You and Nic?"

"Well… yeah?" He lifts his head, his face awfully close to mine as he stares at my reflection in the mirror before us. He looks mildly hopeful, like he wants me to go with him and is only just now wondering if I didn't plan on it.

But of course I didn't plan on it. Nobody fucking told me anything about it. And what does that even mean, that stupid look on his face? There's no way he wants to tell them about us and the mess we've haphazardly thrown ourselves into. So, then, what? He's so horny he can't handle a couple weeks without the easy access?

"I just didn't think he'd want to come," she speaks softly, clearly tiptoeing around her feelings on the subject.

It's quiet and uncomfortable. His fingers make a move for the phone again, but I'm not quite done. I'm proving a point. I know he thinks I'm the bad guy where our parents are concerned, but he doesn't see things from my perspective. The deliberate way they've both excluded me from things—even his precious mom.

I started a lot of it, but I was young. Young er and hurt. I was awful, but I've tried to mend things to no avail.

"He's coming." He sounds sure but doesn't look it.

There's a question in his gaze, but I don't know how to answer it. It depends—on her and him. On Anton and how much I'm willing to subject myself to—because do I really want to see them happy and whole while I sit somewhere on the sidelines alone? Plus, Cade did say work is pretty easygoing as far as college kids and their weird schedules go, but I just started. Taking time off may not be an option.

"Oh. Okay. That's good." All pretense ends with an unhappy droll in her next sentence. "I guess."

It's almost funny, the way Cade's face twists in confusion.

"Are you sure he wants to? He—if he doesn't want to come, don't press it, okay? I just got rid of him, and I really don't want—"

"Mom!"

This time, I let him take the phone out of my hand and watch him in the mirror as he leaves the bathroom. I should leave it, but I'm trailing after him only seconds later. He's still naked, standing there with his body on display as he politely argues about whether or not I'm going to their place for Christmas.

I don't even want to go. I'm not big on holidays—I haven't been since that last good one my mom and I had. But I don't know. It might be nice if someone wanted me there.

And it sounds like Cade does. At least he's trying to stand up for me. Maybe. Feeling somewhat worried about where it is I'd go if not to my dad's house. Maybe. Fuck, I can't really tell what the point of all this back and forth is.

I'm not used to seeing this. Someone wanting me around—that doesn't happen. So I can't be sure if it's real or something I'm reading too much into. It doesn't seem likely, even as he tells her that we can share his room—because while what was once my room is now full of her failed hobbies and shit, he does still have one.

"But Mom, he should be able to go to his dad's house for Christmas. Okay." He scoffs, his broad shoulders tensing to match the frustration in his voice. "What do you mean—vacation where?" He's quiet while she apparently tells him what the plans are—plans I don't get to hear. "Well, he's coming, so…"

I don't get it. My chest swells as he goes on, his voice getting quieter the more annoyed he gets. It sounds like he really wants me to go, but I don't fucking get it.

Until suddenly, I do. Thinking over the past week, I can guess. In a weird way—having to force the disappointment aside—it's calming. At least I'm not sinking in confusion anymore because, yeah, Cadence Howard wants my dick around on his winter break, and I can definitely deal with that.

I reach out to touch him, letting my hand barely skim over the swell of his ass before he's facing me in shock, stunned that I'd touch him while he's talking to his mom. I ignore their conversation and his panic as I reach for his flaccid dick, putting all my focus on that as it starts to stiffen in my hand even as he stutters through their talk.

"I don't—" his fingers circle my wrist, a hard beam in his eyes that makes me genuinely smile. He really is gorgeous—even when he looks at me like he wants to punch me. I've always begrudgingly thought so, but seeing him like this is next level. Cheeks rosy as his lips part on a silent breath, lust and anger so clearly painted in the green of his eyes. He's made jokes about me and glow-ups, but Cade didn't need to glow-up. "Mom, I have to go." But she keeps talking, and he keeps listening. She could be telling him anything—droning on and on about how moody and mean I am.

It's pure spite that has me sinking to my knees. Maybe it has a little to do with me not wanting Cade to have words about how awful I am being said in his ear, but mostly, it feels like spite. A big fuck you to Tracey in the form of me dirtying up the family's golden boy. Cade's gasp as I swallow him down, the way his hand curls in my hair, his hips bucking forward instead of away from me—all of that's just a bonus.

Cade wants me, and I'm pathetic for eating that up, but fuck. It feels good. His cock, hot and heavy on my tongue for the first time, feels like proof that there's someone who wants me . I'm exaggerating things, but not by much—lashes fluttering as I groan too loudly for his liking. But when he tries to tug on my hair to shut me up, I respond by groaning louder. I don't like things as rough as he does, but I like this. I'm apparently starved for it, being fueled by the throbbing in my groin and the look on his face as he watches me.

I gag on him, finally earning me a moan loud enough for mommy dearest to hear him, and he can't hang up fast enough. "Mom, I have to go— fuck, Nic ."

God. I love him telling her who it is that's got him all flustered. Say my name, lover boy .

"I'm sorry. Bye."

I pull off him with a slurp, wiping at the spit dripping down my chin.

"You think you're so fucking funny, don't you?"

"Not really." I smile, feeling happy with the very subtle ache in my jaw. "But I do think you should lay down."

"I—no. I have an exam."

"I'll be quick."

"Oh, well… as enticing as that is…"

"Why do we always have to do this? Play this little back-and-forth before I fuck you every single time—isn't it tiring by now? We both know you'll lay down for me, so let's skip all that."

"You—" His cheeks flush red in a renewed blush, his cock still bobbing in my face. "You look good on your knees."

"Yeah." I nod, just briefly playing into his attempt to deflect. "I'd look better inside you, though."

He huffs, but one look at his bed has him caving. "Whatever. Just—okay, but you do need to hurry." He crawls up, giving me my favorite view. "And not so much lube!"

We've had this argument a few times. I do go a little excessive on the lube, but he won't let me stretch him enough to make skimping an option. I've bottomed, and I know how much it can fucking suck, so too bad. "I'll use as much as I need to."

I have to use his bed to brace myself as I stand, suddenly grateful that he's given me his back so he doesn't have to watch me struggle. He has his hole on display just for me, and it's enough that I can ignore the way the band of my sweats feels on my legs.

I've thought about asking him if we can ditch the condoms, but I don't want to have that talk about exclusivity and shit. Especially not right now. He's never even looked at me while I've fucked him—if I didn't make him say name, I'd think he was imagining it was somebody else while I was inside him.

That doesn't have anything to do with condoms, but as I rush through prepping his ass, I can't help but think about it. It makes me mad wondering why he doesn't want to look at me, why he's always so careful to make sure I take him in this position only. He grunts as I move to three fingers, his hole spasming around them as I take my anger out on his insides.

"That's enough." His hips jerk, pushing back against my hand as I thrust inside him. "Nic, I'm ready," he mutters impatiently.

I pull my sweats down enough to free my cock, moving on autopilot as I slide the condom on and slather myself with lube.

"Nic," he scolds, shooting me a long-suffering glare over his shoulder. "That's too much. Wipe some off."

I ignore him and shove my fingers back inside him to try and get rid of some of the excess gel on my hand, quietly laughing when he moans. As soon as I'm notched right up against his loosened hole, he tries to push himself back, too needy to wait for me.

"Wait."

"No, hurry. Nic—"

"You should have a safeword."

"What?" His voice changes drastically, cutting through the haze he was sinking in. "No. That's stupid."

"You like shit rough, Cade. And you also like pretending you don't want me to rearrange your insides, all while moaning like a pornstar." It has nothing to do with me — but it's me who makes him fall apart, and it's my name that he moans in those moments. Doesn't stop him from telling me that he wants nothing to do with me, though. "Having a word will make it so I actually know when you mean no ."

"No."

I snort. "That won't work. Pick a word."

"Nic, I don't want to. Just because I like it to hurt a little, doesn't mean that—"

"Fine." I sigh, digging around so I can think of a word myself. He's so damn stubborn. "Cherry. We'll use cherry."

"Ch—why? Where the hell did that come from?"

I shrug. "Cherry, because I was thinking about how I popped yours." I slide two fingers inside him, taking the time to rub more lube as deeply as I can just because I can.

"You didn't pop anything, asshole. I was not a virgin!"

"Hm." I laugh. "Yeah, that's true, but this ass wasn't as ran through before taking my dick, little slut." I drag my fingers out, giving myself a stroke as I watch his hole close. I don't know why he won't admit it, but I know I'm right.

I don't care if he is a slut or not because it doesn't matter. He is one when my cock is involved. He's never once protested to me calling him that, and if anything, he enjoys it. I've been called similar things, have even let it happen, but it doesn't do for me what it does for my greedy boy. But having this safeword will let me know if I go too far.

"Also…" I want to see him. More than that, I want him to see me. If I'm not letting him pretend he doesn't want me anymore, then that should include him having to watch me as I fuck him. "Turn around," I tell him, forcing some authority in my voice. It's usually easy to come by with him, not at all something that needs effort. He's just so needy and hard up that he's more than willing to be bossed around when he's on his knees, but this command feels like a big deal. And the silence that fills the room tells me I was right to be wary. But I want him on his back. I fucking want him to look at me.

"Come on. On your back." I pat his hip, moving back so he can roll over.

"Why? We can—"

"You happily let me wreck your ass on a regular basis, but you don't want to look at me?" I scoff. "Turn around, Cade."

"What are you talking ab—"

I cut him off as I move him into place, pushing until he's on his back and I'm able to fit between his legs.

"Dick," he breathes when I've got him positioned how I want. "Okay, damn. I didn't know you wanted th— oh ," he groans, head falling back with a wince as I finally sink inside him. He grabs his thighs, pulling his knees to his chest to open himself up for me before I'm even all the way in. " Fuck ," he whispers.

All the pleasure on his face almost surprises me. I don't give him time to adjust, going straight to fucking in and out of him after that first slow thrust. It's how he likes it, and I know that, but I assumed it would hurt him. And maybe it does, maybe that's the appeal. His jaw goes slack as I slow down a bit, watching myself in a daze as I disappear over and over inside the perfect heat surrounding me.

It's a struggle not to watch his face. I just can't believe that it's him beneath me—moaning on my cock. He bites his lips to hide a whimper, our eyes getting caught on one another as I slam into him harder and harder. "Stop staring." He moves a hand to the headboard to stop his head from hitting it, and I have to laugh.

"Can't help it. You're such a pretty little whore," I tease, aiming for that spot inside him that makes him sing.

" Fuck ," he moans, reaching for his dick and sliding his precum down its length.

"Gonna cum on your big brother's cock, Cade?"

"Ah!" he cries out, his legs wrapping around me in an attempt to pull me in deeper. He loves it when I talk like that—gets off on the taboo despite denying it any other time. "Oh, god."

"Not God." I lean in, moving my lips to his ear. "Tell God who it is making you feel this good, little brother."

"You— oh, fuck ."

"Who?" I thrust in hard enough to make him hiss, my balls slapping against his skin.

"Nic!" His fingertips dig into the tops of my shoulders just as his ass squeezes around my cock with an impossibly tight contraction until I'm moaning into the bend of his neck. "So fucking good." His breathing picks up, coming out in a higher pitch as he gets closer. " Nic ," he whines, sounding wrecked. "More. Again."

I have to prop one of his legs up, move it over my shoulder so I can give him the violent thrusts he wants. The kind that make the bed move and tears swell in his eyes. He's so close he can hardly handle his own dick. I take over for him, stroking him in sync with the movements of my hips as I let my face hover above his. It's not much longer before I'm watching in awe as he throws his head back, cum spilling over his torso while he makes the ugliest face I've ever seen.

It looks so stupid it's almost endearing. I hate it.

I stop moving as soon as he's done, leaving him a boneless, sweaty heap beneath me. The apples of his cheeks are bright pink, his hair a mixture of frizz and damp. It's wild that he can go back to being so sexy after making that awful O face.

"Please."

I know what he wants instantly. Cade hates it when he finishes first. He wants me to come—wants proof that he makes me feel good too—but he gets too sensitive pretty much the second his balls unload. Even now, he's fighting a cringe as I pull out.

"Nic, please."

I could tease him about this. I don't know why he's always so hung up on me coming, but he really is. Gets sad and needy for it until I do. That first time we fooled around, I didn't, and I think that bothered him—which I can sort of understand. So, I don't make fun of him for it. "Shh." I rub his thigh, trying to soothe him as I take the empty condom off. "I'm gonna come, Cade." I don't bother with more lube, choosing instead to run my hand through the mess he made on his abs so that I can stroke myself with his cum. He watches my movements hungrily, body writhing like it's his cock I'm touching.

"Your body is unreal."

I check his face, looking to see if he's telling the truth, and find him staring at me like he could go for round two right this second.

"Honestly." He gives me a sleepy smile as he trails a hungry look over my torso. "Fucking gorgeous. It's hard to believe you're that little emo boy I met all those years ago."

Leave it to him to ruin the moment.

"You're still kind of emo, I guess. Broody little shit. You—"

"Do you want me to come or not?"

"Sorry, sorry." He laughs, not at all apologetic. "Stroke that big dick, emo boy."

"Cade." I stop all movements and stare up at the ceiling as he laughs.

"Okay, okay. Here, just…" He moves over, shoving his comforter off to the side. "Lay down."

I do as he says, letting him be the bossy one for once. I don't expect him to straddle me, but the way he gathers more cum off his body and grips me in a firm hold has me biting back any complaints. His hand is warm, a firm hold as he works my foreskin like a sleeve. It's not as good as being inside him, but his eyes fixed intently on me makes it worth it.

I try not to react too much when he starts singing me praises, but I love it. Eat it up as much as he does my attention because I think I need it in the same way he needs the things I give him. But I can't let him know that, so I keep quiet. Just enjoy it and commit it all to memory.

I don't last long, his focused touch pushing me back to the edge in just a few minutes. He makes sure my cum lands on him, painting his torso with the orgasm he's claimed—going as far as arching his back with a soft moan. He really is a bit of a cumslut. It's kind of… sweet, in a sick way.

"Damn." He lays down beside me, aggressively shoving hair off his forehead. "You look stupid when you come."

I watch him run his fingertips through the mess splattered across his six-pack, feeling all sorts of comfortable lying next to him.

"Well, you look beautiful when you come." He looks crazy in that moment—actually demented or dying—but it doesn't feel like a lie to tell him differently. He is beautiful. Always .