7

-North-

THAT DIABOLICALasshole. What kind of twisted guy gives you a wonderful lazy morning and then gets you all fired up only to leave you hanging. The kind of twisted guy I'm in love with apparently.

He looks very happy with himself as he drives us to college, while I sit in the passenger seat glaring at him and trying to get my boner to go down.

"You're a dick, you know that?" I huff.

He just looks over at me with that crooked smile that's all smug and sexy and infuriating as hell. God damn him. I grumble all the rest of the way.

At college, the first class goes by as normal, the only difference being the semi I'm sporting the whole time. I usually wear the cage during college, which stays on until the end of the day, so I work hard and earn my release. The buildup of tension is as erotic as it is torturous, but damn, it works. The way I bend over backward to achieve so I can get my rocks off in the evening is heroic.

But he didn't put the cage on me this morning, and my dick seems to be enjoying its freedom, and the semi Mal cursed me with doesn't fade. After fidgeting through lunch like I'm wearing a jockstrap full of fire ants, Mal takes pity on me and takes me to the equipment closet, our usual sordid fuck hideaway.

I'm like Pavlov's dog, as soon as I step into the closet my dick—which has been at half-mast all day—rises to full attention, and he hasn't even touched me yet. The door closes behind us, and without wasting a single second, he hustles me over to the bench, pushes me down, and tears off my pants. My cock springs up, with barely enough time for the cool air to hit it before he wraps his lips around it.

I slap my hand over my mouth, trying to quiet the noises that spill out of me, as he gulps me down and rolls my balls in his hand, blowing me like his sanity depends on it, like he wants to devour me. It's all I can do not to shout loud enough for the whole campus to hear.

"Fu-uck," I gasp, as he traces down my crack with his other hand and circles a finger around my asshole, kneading the muscles that are still aching from last night.

It feels so good, I'm already on the verge of coming, and then he angles his eyes up at me and looks at me through his eyelashes and—

"Oh, shit!" I grip the bench and come embarrassingly quickly. He fills his cheeks, as I shoot into his mouth, sucking every last drop out of me until I'm a shuddering wreck.

He stands and flips me over on the bench. I roll limply, and the next thing I know, his hands are pressing between my ass cheeks, spreading them apart, and I feel the warm softness of his lips on me.

"Oh fuck," I gasp as he laps at my hole, and then works his tongue inside, hot and wet. His breath puffs against the sensitive skin of my crack as he eases me open with hard thrusts of his tongue, then licks around my rim, alternating between the two until I'm pushing back against him, and my dick, trapped against the hard wood of the bench, starts to fill again.

Once I'm open enough, he locks his lips to my hole. Warmth pools inside me, and I realize he's kept my cum in his mouth, and is now squeezing it into my own asshole.

"Shit, Mal!" I shout, and then have to clap my hand over my mouth again because it's so surprisingly and unbelievably hot that I can't keep quiet at the sensation. To be filled with my own cum, that he sucked from me himself. Fuck.

Have I said that I love this guy yet? Because fuck me, I do. So much.

His mouth leaves my ass, there's a rustle of clothes, the bench creaks as he positions himself, and a moment later the head of his cock nudges between my cheeks. I bite down on my hand.

He pushes inside me, using my cum as lube and sending an ooze of it dribbling down my crack. I'm stretched from his tongue and still a little loose from the night before, but it's tight enough to make me hiss and roll my body as the amazing stretch sends flares of pleasure through me. He grips my hips so tightly his fingers must be leaving bruises, as he rocks into me, building his pace to a steady rhythm as each thrust curves into my body. He speeds up, going harder and harder until he's fucking me into the bench, and I'm resting my forehead on my clenched fists and biting down on my arm.

"Do you like that, Nolan? Like it when I fuck you in the ass so hard you can't breathe?"

I gasp and nod jerkily as my eyes water and my breath hitches. God it feels so good when he takes me apart.

"Like it when I fuck you with your own cum?" His voice is a breathy snarl.

I open my mouth to say something, probably begging for him to fuck me even harder, but all that comes out is a strangled and needy whine, so I just nod again.

He slams into me, hard, and my body jerks as I tip over the edge once again. I come with a strangled gasp, screwing my eyes shut as it spreads over the bench and my stomach. My muscles clench and spasm, and I lie limp as he slams into me, my body jerking with each thrust of his powerful hips. Small noises and half-gasped breaths punch out of me.

Finally he goes rigid and his cum mixes with my own inside me.

He pulls out carefully, and then before I can move, I feel the cold metal of a butt plug pushing between my cheeks and slipping into place. His weight leans against my back, pinning me to the bench. Although it's not as if I could move right now anyway. His lips find my neck and I lean into it.

"I want my cum inside you for the rest of the day," he hisses in my ear as he works it inside me and bites on the back of my neck. "I want you sitting in class, surrounded by everyone, with my collar around your neck and my cum in your ass."

I bite down on my lip and nod. He's going to kill me one of these days. Is it possible to die of dehydration from sweating and coming so much? Because fuck me, the things he does to me. And it's going to be the best death ever.

We sort ourselves out and slip out of the closet. I follow him back to the main campus like a well-trained dog, plugged and full of his cum, still buzzing from the high.

My stomach grumbles audibly and Mal raises his eyebrow. Then he reaches into his bag and pulls out a packet of snacks that are nestled next to the three EpiPens he carries in there. I swear he has them stashed in every pocket, every room in his house, and in various locations around the college, like a squirrel, only instead of nuts it's a life-saving medicine. Or even better, the Easter bunny.

He tosses the packet to me—roasted BBQ corn, yum—and I catch them, tip a load into my mouth and crunch on them happily, while I think. Then I lean in and elbow him in the side.

"Come with me to a study group later?" I ask.

"A study group? Aren't our studying sessions enough for you?"

"More than enough." I drop my voice. "But I thought it might be nice to try somewhere I'm not, you know, naked and chained up."

He levels a devious look at me. "You like it when I strip you off and chain you up." I have to clear my throat as a piece of corn threatens to choke me, and he smirks. "But sure, I'll come if you want. Don't expect me to contribute anything though."

We reach the lecture hall, and he holds the door open for me with one hand. I nod and smile innocently, palming another load of corn.

"Cool."

He'll be contributing all right. But that'll be a bridge we cross when we get to it.

We take our seats and he settles in next to me, slouching with his arm thrown over the back of the chair, like an arrogant king on his throne. I want to thread my arm under his and lean into him, but of course I don't. It'd be an obvious show of un-bro-ly affection in public. We're still not an official item.

That thought stops me. I want to do it, so why shouldn't I? After everything that's happened with us, why am I still holding back? Mal has made so much progress recently, so why can't I? Doesn't that make me kind of a hypocrite?

Suddenly I feel sick. Sick of hiding. Sick of pretending. Mal's dad was a wake-up call if ever there was one, and having to keep my distance for three whole days has been hell. I don't want to do that again, ever. I want as much Mal as I can get, as often as I can get it. Damn it, I want to kiss him in public. He's my boyfriend, but what does that actually mean if we can't do anything about it unless we're hiding away in his house, or in the closet, or in his car?

All because I'm worried about what random people will think of me.

But no, it's not just random people, it's my team, my friends, my family. Their opinion has been the most important thing to me for most of my life.

But if they're the kind of people that will think any less of me because of my relationship with Mal, why do I care what they think? If they're that kind of person, their opinion doesn't count, and they aren't my loved ones.

And I've found something more important now.

I look over at Mal again, his warm, dark eyes set on the professor at the front of the room, and something settles in my belly.

I'm ready for the truth.