31. Daemon

T he first time I laid eyes on him, I knew he was trouble, and that has never been truer than it is right now. With the taste of him still in the back of my throat, his tight rim choking my cock, and that smug grin staining his lips as he tells me he can take it. Well, he has never looked fucking better.

And he’s all fucking mine.

Slowly I draw my hips back, until only my crown remains inside of him, a delicious pained moan slipping past his lips, and fuck I want to swallow every sound he could ever make. I slam back inside of him, and am instantly rewarded with another strangled groan, his eyes rolling back as he presses his ass down into me, choking my cock in a damn vice.

“You’re so fucking tight,” I grit through my teeth, crushing his hips in a bruising touch, that excites me more than it should.

“And you’re so fucking thick,” he gasps, making me feel like I’m on top of the fucking world, especially when his hand reaches up and pulls at my neck, dragging my mouth back to his.

I kiss him freely, wildly, forcefully, and in a way I have been envisioning since the night I found him in my fucking bed three years ago. A night where I wanted him, but thought I would never have him, and now he is writhing beneath me and moaning my damn name.

I pull back and push inside him again and again, relishing in every gasp and moan that slips past his lips, as he begs for more against mine. And I see the moment pain turns to pleasure, his thigh lifting up and sending me deeper, until we both groan. Leaning on one hand, I use the other to grip his thigh, holding him against me, as I watch my cock disappear into his hole, a place no one but me has been before, and possession like I have never known flows through me.

He’s mine, fucking mine, and fuck does he feel good.

My hips move in long, slow rolls, letting his ass swallow every inch of me on repeat, his body becoming pliable beneath mine, as I thrust all the way in again and again. “Fuck, you feel so good, baby, your greedy hole was fucking made for me.” His eyes roll so far this time that they close, and my hand snaps from his thigh to his throat. “Ah, ah, Gray, eyes on me when I’m fucking you,” I demand, as his eyes snap open and he forces his hooded gaze to mine, and fuck he’s beautiful.

He could have anyone, and he has. Yet he is looking at me like I am the only person in the fucking world. Like he would die if I wasn’t fucking him right now, and even as his eyes dance across my chest, and down my stomach, he doesn’t recoil. There is no disgust or pity in his stare as they trail over my scars. Only pure, unfiltered desire, that makes me wish I could keep him forever.

His ass strangles my cock, and it’s better than any fucking high, especially when he begs in that needy little voice of his. “Harder, Daemon, please,” he pleads, with no true understanding of what it does to me.

“You think you can take me,” I taunt, pulling out to my tip, knowing no one has ever felt so good wrapped around me, before slamming back inside of him with a hard snap of my hips that has him groaning in delight. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll forget everyone else,” I warn, wanting to erase anyone who came before me, yet instead of looking afraid, he looks delighted. A thought that makes me sick and excited at the same time, his pulse strumming against my fingertips, as I squeeze his throat even tighter. “My cock owns you now, baby, and I’m going to make it hurt so fucking good for you,” I grunt, another warning, but my words only have him smiling up at me, like I just hung the damn moon.

“Then you can kiss it better for me when you’re done,” he grunts, leaning into my hold on him, nipping at my lip and sucking on my tongue, until something inside of me snaps.

Then I am fucking him. There are no slow rolls of my hips, or gentle thrusts, I am fucking him hard and deep and fast, slamming into him again and again, until the words and noises falling from his mouth are complete gibberish, spurring me on. It’s like I have lost my mind and he is the only solution, as I grip both his thighs around me and rut into him like a man gone insane.

Archer fucking Gray, a whore for all intents and purposes, one I have shared a threesome with, and seen fuck his way through most of the girls on campus. Yet here he is, falling apart around my cock, and moaning my name like I am the only person in the world. His ass is hot and tight, and I fuck him with every inch of me, and it still isn’t enough. Not even when I find that sweet spot inside of him, and his body practically leaps off the bed.

“Oh my fucking god,” he screams, and I bend my arm around his back, holding his tight little hole in place for me to use and abuse. Fucking him harder and rougher than I have anyone else before, and he takes every snap of my hips, as my bed frame starts to slam into the wall.

“That’s it, Gray, you take me so fucking well, and the whole house is going to hear you fall apart for me,” I spit, reaching for his cock and jerking it roughly with my hand, pre-cum already soaking every inch of him, and still I need more. “I want to hear you scream my name when you come for me,” I demand, fucking him with brute force, as the hand around his cock swivels over his crown, making him moan loud, wanton, and fucking desperate. “That’s it, Golden Boy, let them hear what I do to you, what only I can do to you.”

I hit that spot inside of him again and his body begins to shake, tightening around me like a fucking vice, one I never want to escape. “Yes, Daemon, fuck, yes, don’t stop, please,” he splutters, meeting me thrust for thrust, and the sounds of the wet slaps of our skin have my back tingling, and I know I’m not going to last much longer.

“Come for me, Archer, come with my cock buried deep inside of you, please,” I grunt, and that’s all it takes, just those words, and he is exploding. A euphoric scream tears from the back of his throat, as cum spills onto his stomach and hand, but still I don’t stop.

I thrust one, two, three more times, until I feel myself fall, drowning so completely in him that I’m not sure I will ever be able to breathe again. I spill inside of him, not stopping until he has milked every last drop from my cock, then I am collapsing on top of him in a heap, not a feeling of panic or despair in sight.

His arms instantly band around me, holding me against him, like he’s afraid if he lets go I might run, but where would I run to, when the only thing I need is right here beneath me?

“Daemon,” he gasps, his breath hot and heavy against my neck, and I take comfort in its warmth. “That was,” he trails off, looking for the right word, but he doesn’t find it, or at least he doesn’t say it if he does.

Lifting my head up I meet his stare, brushing his golden hair back from his forehead. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” I ask again desperately, and his smile only widens.

“Hurt me? Daemon that was fucking incredible,” he laughs, until he takes in my serious face, and his smile finally drops. “Was it okay for you?” I hate the way he sounds unsure of himself all of a sudden, and I am already pressing my forehead back to his, breathing him in once more.

“Baby, I feel like I’ve died and gone to Heaven,” I tell him truthfully, or as close to Heaven as someone like me would ever be allowed, and that damn smile is back, as his hands begin to stroke up and down my back in gentle touches.

“I thought we were destined for hell?” He asks, and I smirk, as I kiss him once more, already too addicted to having him beneath me, yet he returns it without pause.

When I pull back, I flick my stare down our bodies to where his cum is now spread across both our stomachs, and laugh a little. “Looks like we need another shower,” I tell him, glancing back up, and even though we both just came, the heat in his eyes is palpable.

“I think where you’re concerned, showering might be my new favorite activity,” he grunts, wincing a little as I pull out of him, discarding the condom, and still his stare doesn’t linger anywhere but on me as a whole.

“Then let’s go, Golden Boy, and I’ll introduce you to some aftercare.”

Archer practically sprints to the shower, and once again we both rinse off. Then the only aftercare I provide is my tongue in his ass, massaging his taint and hole until he is spraying his cum against the shower wall, and I am spilling into my hand and down the drain.

Thirty-minutes later we are both dressed in my clothes and in the kitchen, Archer lingering by the island, as I rustle us up a late dinner. It’s almost midnight, and the rest of the house is so quiet that I’m not sure if the others are even here. Not that I’d care if they were, but I’m still not exactly sure where Archer stands on all of this. He looks comfortable enough, especially in my black hoodie and sweats, as he asks question after question about what I’m doing, until he knows he is pissing me off.

“For fuck sake, have you never seen anyone cook before?” I finally snap, and the insufferable prick only smirks wider than usual.

“Nope,” he pops the p, stealing one of the tomatoes I have chopped and tosses it into his mouth as I stir the pasta. “My mom used to throw me out, something about me being annoying apparently,” he replies sweetly, and I roll my eyes.

“You don’t say,” I drawl sarcastically, addicted to the grin across his mouth as he watches me.

“So grumpy when you cook,” he observes, and I wonder if he is remembering our talk from earlier, about why I enjoy being in the kitchen. A thought that’s only heightened when he pulls out his phone and taps away, until Tina Turner’s The Best starts playing from the speaker, and he is stealing the wooden spoon from my hand.

Then I watch in shock, as he jumps on top of the counter, his bare feet touching the marble, before he brings the spoon to his mouth and starts belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

“What the fuck are you doing, Gray?” I ask in complete horror, especially when he starts gyrating, staring at me knowingly, and when I continue to watch him in confusion, he pauses.

“ Schitt’s Creek ,” he tells me, as if I am supposed to know what those two words mean, and when I shake my head, his mouth drops open, jumping back down to the floor and pausing the music. “You don’t know David?”

“David?” I ask, completely and utterly lost. “Does he go to Fairfield? And what's a Schitt’s Creek ?” I add, pulling a laugh from him, and I mean a deep and full belly laugh, that has him bending over and leaning on his knees, as if he can’t quite take it.

“Oh my god, are you even human?” he chokes out, rising back up and wiping tears from his cheeks. “Six copies of The Great Gatsby , and still you know nothing,” he shakes his head and I frown, snatching the spoon back from him.

“Only five copies now,” I tell him with a glare, adding the tomatoes to the pan and giving them a stir. “And Gatsby is a classic.”

Archer rolls his eyes, stealing the spoon from me once again and slamming it back to the counter. “You know what else is a classic? Schitt’s Creek ,” he teases, wiggling his brows, before pressing play on his phone again, and jumping back on that damned counter, belting out the lyrics once more.

“You look ridiculous,” I tell him truthfully, yet still I can’t stop the smile from crossing my face, and when he sees it, he looks as if he has won something.

“Maybe, but you still want to fuck me, so what does that say about you?” he beams, and I shrug.

“That we are both fucked in the head,” I reply, and he laughs, continuing to perform the whole song without shame.

It’s only when he’s done, and he jumps back to the floor, claiming me with a kiss while still laughing at himself, that I realize he made me laugh too. And that’s why he did it, not because he loves the song, or wanted to go crazy and dance, but just because he knew it would make me smile. Something I haven’t done in the kitchen since my mom was still alive, and when I look at him and he winks, an unfamiliar warmth spreads across my chest.

I finish making us dinner, and as we eat he fills the silence with story after story about his family, and by the time he helps me clean up and we collapse into bed, I am feeling lighter than I have in years. So much so, that as I drift off to sleep with my arms wrapped around him, I feel something akin to hope.

Maybe things can be better. Maybe I can find light in the dark, but only if that light is shining out of Archer Gray.