5

-MALCOLM-

SHIT.

WHATjust happened?

The fog of arousal clears from my brain and I blink, disoriented, like I've just woken up from a fever dream. The warm skin of North's throat presses against my face, clammy with sweat and smelling far too good. The rapid tap of his heartbeat pulses against my cheekbone. I don't think I've ever been this intimately close to someone before and it makes my chest feel warm and fluttery at the same time. I don't like it.

Breathing hard, I pull my face away and look down at North under me. He's breathing hard, too, his face blissed out and his eyes heavy. My eyes trail down his body, over the rucked-up shirt around his shoulders, his cum smeared chest, his dick resting against his thigh, to where I'm entering him with my own softening cock.

My stomach clenches. I don't know if I should be relieved or angry. Now that my head isn't filled with hazy lust, I grasp what just happened here. He pushed me to fuck him on purpose, just when I was trying to quit him. He made me have another taste, and now that I have, I don't know if I can stop. Because I already want more of him. I want all of him.

I pull out, feeling numb.

"What the fuck was that?" I say.

He smirks lazily. Fuck, he looks infuriatingly good all blissed out like this. "You weren't going to help me. So I had to take matters into my own hands."

"By making me fuck you?" Because that's what happened isn't it? He pushed me until I lost control of myself. Pulled my strings like a fucking expert puppet master. Under that dopey grin and those puppy dog eyes, he's not as innocent as he appears. I'd be impressed if it wasn't so fucking terrifying. Am I really that easy to read and manipulate?

I step back, letting his legs fall, and he heaves himself up into a sitting position, his arms still tied behind him. Reaching around, I yank the sweatpants loose so his arms come free, and throw them back to him. Blood smears his lips and chin, but I don't remember biting him or anything. Did I lose control so much that I did and don't remember? I feel like the ground has shifted under my feet.

"Did I hurt you?" I ask. I don't want to care, but I fucking do.

He grins, and wipes at the blood on his mouth. "Just enough. But this isn't mine, it's yours."

Oh, that's right, he punched me in the face. As I think about it my jaw starts to throb.

"Why did you do that?" I ask.

"Punch you?"

"Make me fuck you."

"I told you, I need to concentrate," he says. "And you weren't going to help me out."

Is it just me, or is this not making any kind of sense? He came out here, attacked me, and made me fuck him rough over the bleachers because he couldn't get his mind on track to finish his fucking homework? After telling me earlier in no uncertain words that he didn't want anything to do with me? Anger starts to flare, heating my chest.

"Bullshit," I snap. "You just want to mess with me."

He stands up and starts to pull his sweatpants on, sliding them up his sweat and cum stained thighs. It only just occurs to me that he isn't wearing underwear. He really planned this, didn't he?

"Honestly," he says. "I'm sorry, but I had to."

He had to? Yeah, bullshit. There's more to this. Deep down, part of me is hoping it's because he needs me as much as I need him, and part of me is afraid of that. If he sought me out because he regrets breaking it off . . . I can't accept that he just wanted to cum so that he could clear his head and study.

"Tell me what you really want," I say.

He sighs and finishes rearranging his clothes. "I'm failing. Ok?"

I blink at him. "Failing what?"

"College." He glances up at me. "I've fallen behind. The professor called me into his office today, I failed another test. One more and I'm out."

"Out?"

"They'll kick me out of college."

My eyes widen. "Did he actually say that?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Yet again I feel the ground shifting beneath my feet. My mind races. How did this happen? In a flash I see him squirming as I make the butt plug vibrate in class. My vicious pleasure at being responsible for keeping him awake all night. The text messages and the paper, pulling him out of class to confront him. I've been so hungry for his attention that I've been pulling it away from everything else. He's going to get kicked out, and it's my fault.

And if North gets kicked out . . . I won't be able to see him. I won't have access to him. Only a moment ago I was considering cutting him out of my life like a tumor. But the thought that it actually might happen for real is just unacceptable.

I'm surprised by how upset it makes me. But it's not because I need him. I just like having nice things. That's all it is. And North is a nice thing that I want very much.

No. I can't allow it.

"That's not going to happen," I say.

He looks at me, confused. "What?"

My mind races. Yes, I can make this work, and I can get exactly what I want from it without opening myself up, no emotional attachment. The ground stops moving. I'm finally getting my control back, everything's slipping back into place. I smile.

North's watching me with those wide blue eyes, his blond hair wild.

"I'll make you a deal," I say. "I'll help you with your grades, I'll make sure you pass. And you give me what I want."

He eyes me warily. "What do you want?"

"You. I want all of you. Anywhere, and anytime I want."