9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Roman

B eck is a work of art. He calls me his muse, but if I had an artistic bone in my body, I’d be writing songs about him. Or sonnets, maybe. If I could draw like him, I’d capture this moment on paper so the memories would never fade.

Unable to help myself, I lean down and cover his body with mine, sealing our mouths together again. We both gasp as our bare chests press together for the first time. A whine rises in his throat, and my cock throbs at the sound. I pull back, needing a second to get control before I embarrass myself. I can feel pre- cum leaking from my cock, and it makes me flush with a mix of arousal and embarrassment.

He stares at me with wide eyes as he reaches out, trying to pull me back. I place my hand on his chest, feeling it heave under my touch. I slide my hand down his chest to his stomach. He trembles below me as I take my time, touching every inch I can. My body is strung tight, so much so that I have to physically resist the almost overwhelming urge to grind against him until I come. God, I want him so badly.

I trace his hipbone with my fingertip, dipping into the waistband of his jeans. His breathy moans make me desperate for more. Wondering what other sounds I can draw out of him, I lower my mouth to his stomach, pressing kisses along his skin. A groan rumbles in my chest at the slightly salty taste of his skin. His hips rock up, and he whimpers.

I adjust my position, settling myself between his legs, my head hovering over his crotch. The bulge straining against his jeans makes my mouth water, and the thought of giving him a blowjob makes my pulse skyrocket with want. I look up at him, wondering if he would be okay with me trying that. His head is thrown back on the pillow, the long column of his throat exposed, his chest rising and falling with rapid, unsteady breaths.

Using all the courage I have, I reach down and unbutton his jeans. His eyes dart to mine, desperation shining in his blue gaze. The sound of his zipper going down is loud in the otherwise quiet room. His head falls back against the pillow, and his hips thrust up. I pull his pants and boxers down over his cock, and it springs free, slapping his stomach. The tip is wet and shiny, and I swallow hard at the sight. I look up to find him watching me, his gaze intense.

“Can I?” I ask, my voice shaky with nerves.

He nods rapidly. “Yes, please. Anything you want, you can do.”

I dip my head again and drag my tongue slowly up his cock. It jerks against my tongue and I watch, fascinated, as pre-cum forms at the tip and drips down to his stomach. The sight makes my insides tighten with arousal, and I groan before sucking the tip of his cock into my mouth. The taste is strange, but not bad. I swirl my tongue around the head, dipping into his slit, and he reaches down, gripping my hair tightly.

“Oh God. That’s… your mouth is so good,” he chokes out, his voice ragged and harsh, his breath coming in short pants. The sound of his voice makes my cock ache, so I rock against the bed, desperate for relief. I pull off his cock and run my tongue over his slit before trying to take him a little deeper. He groans and thrusts up, his cock hitting the back of my throat and making me gag. He lets go of my hair instantly, apologies falling from his lips.

I pull off him and look up at him. “No need to apologize,” I whisper, and then I suck him back into my mouth. Relaxing my throat is hard, but after a few tries, I manage to swallow him to the base without gagging. Saliva pools in my mouth, starting to drip out from the corners of my lips. I try to swallow, and Beck gasps, “Oh fuck, coming.”

He grabs my hair, trying to pull me off, but I double down, hollowing my cheeks and sucking him deeper. The first jet of cum hits the back of my throat, and it’s enough to send me over. I grind my hips into the bed one last time and explode, my moan vibrating around his cock, causing me to choke slightly on his cum. I pull off him, another spurt of cum hitting my chin as I ride out my orgasm, humping against the mattress, trying to drag out the pleasure.

Within seconds, Beck collapses against the bed, his body shivering. I wipe my chin with the back of my hand, then wipe my hand on my jeans. They’re already covered in cum. What’s a little more? I climb up his body to kiss him, but hesitate, not sure if he wants my mouth on his after what I did. He takes the choice away from me when he grabs my head and pulls me down, his lips crashing into mine. His tongue lazily explores my mouth, like he’s trying to taste himself on my tongue. I groan into the kiss, and he pulls back.

“Your turn,” he mumbles, trying to slip out from under me.

“Um, no need,” I say softly, heat traveling up my chest and flooding my cheeks.

He glances down at me like he’s attempting to figure out what I mean. “Did you… already?” he stammers, and I laugh a little at the role reversal.

“Uh, yeah. Literally the second you did. That was so hot, Beck. Maybe one of these days, I’ll come somewhere other than in my jeans.”

He laughs. “Yeah, maybe. Let me get you something to wear and we can watch a movie.”

As much as I want to, I better not. Dad was in a shitty mood when I left, which is why I was late getting to Beck. Dad doesn’t like me hanging out with him at all. He keeps ranting to me about how Beck and his family are too good for me, and how I’ll never be enough to deserve him. Sometimes, his words almost win. But I’ve gotten really good at ignoring them, especially when I’m with Beck. The way he looks at me, the way he talks to me—that’s not a man who thinks I don’t deserve him, and it’s embarrassing how much I have to remind myself of that. “Actually, I should probably go home. Dad was being shitty today. So I don’t want to piss him off anymore than I already have.”

Beck nods, though he looks a little disappointed. Which is fair because same. But then he smiles brightly. “Okay, that’s fine. I’m glad you got to hang out with Riley today. She’s been begging me to meet you.”

“I’m glad I got to meet her too. I can’t wait for all of us to hang out again.”

I reluctantly climb off Beck and retrieve my shirt while he pads across the floor, his soft cock tucked into his boxers, his jeans still unbuttoned and hanging low on his hips. The way he looks right now is almost enough to convince me to stay longer and risk my dad’s wrath. He gets some clothes out for me and I take off to the bathroom to clean up and change.

When we pull up to my driveway, Beck gets out like always, and I glance around to make sure dad isn’t around. He’s gotten really vocal about his dislike of Beck, and while I always thought he would be okay with me liking guys, I’m starting to think that might not be the case. It scares me, but not enough to give up Beck. I wouldn’t be able to live a lie forever. Even if I don’t end up spending my life with Beck, I will eventually spend my life with someone . And that someone will be a man.

Beck, seemingly completely unaware of how on edge I am, wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into a sweet kiss. I kiss him back quickly, not wanting to raise any alarms, but also not wanting Dad to see us. I pull away sooner than usual, and Beck gives me a strange look. I force a smile to my face, but I know it’s not convincing.

“I’ll text you,” I say quickly, a knot tightening in my stomach. There’s a strange feeling inside me, like I’m being watched. And knowing Dad, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was. I try to keep my eyes on Beck’s, but they dart around anyway, looking for danger.

He looks at me for a few seconds, his lips turned down into a frown, his gaze assessing. After a couple of torturous seconds, he nods. “Okay, works for me. I’ll talk to you later, Roman. I’ll let you know when I make it home.” I nod, trying to keep myself calm, and turn to head up the driveway.

I can feel his gaze on me for a while, but then I hear his door shutting. My shoulders drop in relief, knowing he’s about to pull away.

My body relaxes as I walk up to the porch and see that Dad isn’t out here. I take a shaky breath, trying to convince my mind that we were worried for no reason. But the second I step through the front door, a fist connects with my face. The impact makes me sway on my feet and I topple over, hitting the ground hard. My hand comes up to my cheek, rubbing my throbbing face. Dad’s face leers over me, and I suck in a sharp breath, fear filling me so quickly I almost choke on it.

“So what, are you fucking that pig’s son, then?” he snarls, his eyes full of hate. I flinch away from him, but he’s having none of that. He reaches forward and wraps his hand around my throat. Unlike the last time, he is trying to cut off my air supply. He’s succeeding too. My throat convulses under his hand as my lungs seize with panic and a lack of oxygen. My body fights with no input from my brain, like it’s doing all it can to survive—with or without my help. He drops to his knees beside me and presses his nose into mine. “You think I didn’t see you down there? Tongue fucking him? Fucking disgusting. What did I tell you about that boy?”

My eyesight dims around the edges from lack of oxygen, my body going lax in his hold and my brain going fuzzy. He releases my throat, but before I can even draw in a breath, he rears back, slamming his fist into the same spot as before. The pain exploding across my cheek is too much to bear, and my eyes fill with tears.

“And now you’re crying? Can’t even take a hit like a man. You think that boy’s gonna be with you? You think he’s gonna stay with you? That you’re going to live happily ever after? Knowing that you’re trash like your momma? Knowing how fucking weak you are? I keep fucking telling you he’s too good for you. He’ll drop your sorry ass the second he finds out how fucking pathetic you are.”

I want to yell at him, to scream and rage, to tell him he’s wrong about Beck, that he knows nothing about him. But I can’t. My throat aches from him choking me, but even if it didn’t, the terror inside me wouldn’t allow it, wouldn’t allow me to speak the words in my head. Beck is not too good for you, I try to tell myself. But then the insidious voice in my head whispers back, but what if he is?

Dad stands up and kicks me in the side, a harsh groan choking me as he storms out of the living room, leaving me crumpled on the floor. I stare at the ceiling, my body throbbing with pain, my cheek pulsing with every beat of my heart. Silent tears stream down the sides of my face, pooling on the dirty floor beneath me.

After a few minutes, I force myself to stand up, dragging my battered body to my bedroom. I lock the deadbolt behind me, shutting myself in. It won’t keep the monsters out of my mind, but at least it will keep them out of my room.

I pull my phone from my pocket and see that Beck has texted me three times.

Beck

I made it home. God, I had so much fun today.

Beck

I can’t wait to see you again.

Beck

Roman, I think I might be falling in love with you.

The last one hurts. So much. I think I’m falling in love with him too. But maybe Dad’s right. Maybe Beck deserves better than this. Better than me. Better than a broken man from a broken family. Do I really think I can keep him happy? I can’t even let him in my house. We’re so different. There’s no way it’ll ever work out, right? He has a perfect family. A perfect life. And I’m trash. Just like my mom.

I power my phone off and roll over, trying to forget how happy Beck makes me feel, and how quickly that happiness can be overshadowed by the darkness.

I jolt awake the next morning and blindly swipe for my phone. When I turn it back on, multiple texts from Beck flood the screen.

Beck

Good morning.

Beck

I miss you so much. When can I see you again?

Beck

I’m sorry if I did something wrong.

Beck

I’m trying to call, but it’s going to voicemail. I’m getting worried.

Beck

Did I freak you out by telling you I think I might be falling in love with you?

Beck

Roman, please answer me. I’m freaking out.

I look at the time and groan. I actually slept through the night and well into the afternoon. My body aches, and my cheek is still throbbing. With a sigh, I set my phone down and climb out of bed, my limbs feeling like lead.

I listen for Dad moving around, and after not hearing anything, I step into the hallway. I tiptoe down the hall and peek into Dad’s room, and I find him asleep in his bed. Thank God.

I’m restless. And sad. And still scared. I need some fresh air.

As I step out onto the porch, Beck’s familiar car comes slowly down the driveway. My stomach drops, my heart pounding in my chest. Why the fuck is he here?

Panic courses through me, and I consider running back in the house to avoid him, but that wouldn’t be fair. If I had responded to his texts, he wouldn’t be here right now. My stomach is in knots, dread twisting inside me. Like it or not, he’s about to see the state of my life. My real life. Not the fake bullshit we’ve been sharing the last few weeks. That wasn’t bullshit.

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to make myself look presentable as he pulls up. Not that fixing my hair will distract from the bruises I know are obvious on my face. As he steps out of the car, his wide eyes immediately start scanning his surroundings—the piles of junk around the yard, the porch that’s collapsing in multiple places and pulling away from the house, the boarded-up window from a particularly bad night when dad slammed me into it, shattering the glass.

After a few seconds of taking everything in, his eyes lock on mine, pity and sadness radiating through the blue depths. He slowly walks toward me, and I’m frozen in place, unable to tear my gaze away or force myself to run, no matter how much I want to. When he gets within a few feet of me, he stops so abruptly that I think Dad might be behind me. I spin around in a near panic. The last thing I need is for Dad to know Beck is here.

But no one is there. When I turn back, Beck is right in front of me. He raises his hand, and with my body still in overdrive from the adrenaline of last night and the panic of him being here, I flinch back, my body trying to protect itself from the incoming blow. His eyes widen, and I see a flash of hurt in them as he slowly lowers his hand and steps back.

“I was worried about you,” he finally says, breaking the silence.

“Why?” I ask. A lump forms in my throat, embarrassment over flinching away from Beck’s touch mixing with the already ever-present shame that’s consuming me.

“You didn’t answer any of my texts. I thought…” His voice trails off as he looks around again at the condition of my home. “Oh, Roman.” The pity in his voice makes me spiral into anger. Anger at myself for letting this happen. Anger at him for showing up here. Anger at him for pitying me.

“Fucking leave, Beck,” I say, my voice low and shaky. I’m trying so hard to keep my composure, but something is burning in my stomach, and I don’t know if I’m going to scream or cry.

He shakes his head, his eyes locking onto mine, gentle and kind, as always. I can’t take that fucking look right now. It makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. It’s too much.

“Leave, Beck. I don’t want or need your fucking pity. Get in your car and drive away. Leave.” I try to make it sound stern, but it’s more shaky and pleading than anything. God, I’m trying so hard not to fall apart.

He closes the distance between us and raises his hand again. I force myself to stand still. Beck won’t hurt you. Calm down . He gently grabs my chin between his fingers and turns my head to the side. I close my eyes as he inspects the bruise on my face. His touch is soft, but it doesn’t matter; an ache blooms painfully on the tender skin anyway. He tilts my head back and lets his fingers trace over the skin of my neck, lingering on the spot where Dad’s hand was.

“Who did this, Roman?” he asks, his voice choked and… angry? The shock of hearing that in his voice makes me open my eyes and look at him. His blue eyes blaze with fury as he takes in my face. When he turns his gaze back to mine, I flinch away again. I know the anger isn’t directed at me, but last night is still too fresh in my mind for logic to work.

In an instant, his expression softens, his eyes returning to their usual calm, kind state—endless pools of gentle blue. A shaky breath rattles in my chest.

“Please leave, Beck,” I whisper.

“Why do you want me to leave? Because you don’t want me with you or because you don’t want me to see you like this ?”

I drop my eyes. “The second one.”

“Well, I’ve already seen, and I can’t unsee. So again I ask, who did this to you?” I inhale a shaky breath and then another. “Tell me, Roman, please.”

“My dad,” I say, my voice so soft I’m surprised he even hears me.

But I can tell from the look on his face that he did. He drops his hand from my face, and panic surges through me. He’s going to leave. Now that he knows, he’s going to leave. “Please don’t leave, Beck. Please . I’m sorry I was hateful to you. I just… I didn’t want anyone to know,” I choke out, fear constricting my throat.

He taps my chin gently. “Look at me, Roman.”

I slowly raise my gaze back to his, fighting hard to hold back tears.

“I’m not going anywhere. We are.” I frown in confusion, not understanding what he means. When I flinch at the pain that shoots through my cheek, anger flashes in his eyes again, there and gone so quickly I almost miss it.

“I’m serious, Roman. Go pack a bag. You’re coming with me.”

I stare at him in shock. “What…? What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said. Go pack a bag. Right now. Do you want me to come with you?” I shake my head instinctively, the idea of him seeing more of this place making my stomach twist. But then I remember Dad’s hand around my throat, the fear that coursed through me, my inability to breathe. I nod quickly.

His eyes soften, and he takes my hand in his. “Let’s go, Roman. Pack enough stuff for at least a couple of days. We’ll figure out something more permanent later, okay?”

I nod and lead him into the house.