11. Jason

CHAPTER 11

JASON

The power's been out for over an hour. After what happened, I packed my stuff, deciding I should probably go stay with my parents instead of leading myself into temptation and doing something completely idiotic. Trying to pass the time, I jerked off to porn while pretending I wasn't thinking about Mik and scrolled the internet for so long my phone died. I want to go downstairs to get my e-reader, but I'm afraid to run into Mik. I left it in the basement the other day when I went down to help clean up after the party. I'm praying it has enough charge to distract me through the worst of this impromptu lock-in.

Mik left me in the utility room at the edge of unloading in my briefs again. My brain was scrambled after our moment of weakness, and I followed him upstairs. At this point I probably can't even label them moments. They're not premeditated by any means, but I swear as soon as I get around him, my brain shuts down. The sound of his muffled cries of distress snapped me out of it before I could knock down the door and demand more.

No matter how much I let my anger get to me, I don't want to hurt him. Not really. I mean, part of me wants to wreck him, to bring him to his knees and make him sorry for the fucking agony I've been in since the day I made the mistake of professing my love to him. To remind him of what we almost had. But hearing him pace the room and mutter to himself made me realize that would break him, and I don't want that.

My lust and anger aren't worth tearing him apart. It's not worth tearing their family apart.

There's a lot my sister does that makes me want to shake the living daylights out of her, and I've never agreed with the way she wanted to change Mik. We disagree on a lot, always have. But she's my little sister. I've always been incredibly protective of her, and I'd never want her to get hurt. I'd never purposefully hurt either of them.

And okay, maybe there's an itty-bitty sick part of me that derives the tiniest bit of pleasure from how miserable Mik must have been over the past eighteen years, being forced into this picture-perfect American dream life that doesn't at all fit the man I knew so long ago. I've seen the evidence of how hard he's had to hold on to the pieces of himself that never fit into the box he forced himself into for my sister's sake.

But isn't that what he gets? Isn't that just a fucking motivational poster worthy prime example of lying in the bed you made?

He told me he loved me. That he always had, and always would. And then he chose her.

Maybe it was never really a choice. Maybe he was doing the right thing. But fuck, it hurt. It still hurts.

I overheard Mik in the hallway earlier, bickering with my sister as he made his way downstairs to get a generator ready. She texted me after, said the roads are flooded in town. She's staying the night, if not longer, with our parents. And Jase is staying at his friend's house. We're stuck in this house, alone .

I'm stuck here, with a hard-on for my sister's husband and nothing to do. The walls are closing in on me faster than the humidity. I'm going stir crazy already.

Which means that I'm going to have to grow a pair and deal with this head-on. Like a man. No, not like a man, because I already have a problem caused by thinking with my dick. Think like an adult. A mature adult that understands the consequences of his actions and doesn't want to implode his own family over a crush I had eighteen years ago.

That's all it was. A teenaged crush that ended too abruptly for me to properly process, never mind the years of therapy I've attempted off and on over the past two decades. I'm only attracted to him now because I know I can't have him. Forbidden fruit seems sweet, but it's overripe and will make you sick. Sick to your stomach. Heartsick. Sick in the head. All the things I've been since I first had a taste of Mikel fucking Sanders.

Sick, sick, sick.

I can act like a normal human being around my sister's husband.

I can act like a normal human being around my sister's husband.

I will act like a normal human being around my sister's husband.

I can. I can . I will.

I repeat this mantra to myself until I gather the balls to head downstairs. I'm assuming Mik went to bed after dealing with the fridge. Maybe I can plug my phone into the generator and charge it up, grab my e-reader, and get back upstairs before he needs to emerge again. We can just quietly tiptoe around each other and pretend nothing is happening. I don't want my brother-in-law's dick in my throat. I don't. I don't. I can do this.

I can. I can . I will .

It's quiet downstairs, other than the hum of the small generator that's powering the refrigerator. I find a small outlet on the side of the generator. I have no idea if it's going to work, but I'm quickly distracted by an open bottle of whiskey on the counter. I pour myself a small measure and swallow it in one gulp, then pour a second. I should probably have eaten something first, but I can feel the alcohol heating my stomach and melting away some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. Maybe I should have been drinking this whole time instead of jerking off in the shower like a fucking tween. There's a thought.

I feel my way slowly down the stairs, only realizing once I reach the bottom that it's pitch black down here. Upstairs, I at least had a sliver of light from the generator and flashes of lightning through the windows. Down here, there's nothing for my eyes to adjust to. Arms out in front of me, I feel my way blindly until I hit the couch. Bending low, I feel my way across the cushions and the floor, knowing I left it somewhere around here. I find it on the ground, leaning against the end of the couch, noticing a slight flicker of light coming from beneath a door when I pick it up.

I crawl towards it. I'm not ridiculous enough to peek under the door, besides I doubt I'd see anything. But I am nosey enough to press my ear to the door. Lust and two large pours on an empty stomach encourage me to lean in when I think I hear a moan, and the pressure on the door makes it click open. Either someone was being thoughtless, or he wanted me to find him, because this door was not latched properly. I stand quickly, holding my breath, expecting Mik to rush over and slam the door, but all I hear is another low moan.

Slowly and quietly, I push the door open. Through the gap in the door, all I can see is a desk and some bookshelves, a candle casting the flickering light around the small room. The sounds I heard are coming from the other side of the room. I peek my head through the door and nearly pass out .

Mik is stark naked, sitting with his legs spread over either arm of an overstuffed armchair. His head is thrown back, eyes screwed tight, mouth parted on a long, low, guttural moan. He's digging his fingers into the sides of the chair, muscles tightening and releasing. His cock jerks with his muscle movements, leaking all over his stomach. My tongue darts out to lick my lips, salivating at the sight of pre-cum glistening and dripping down his long shaft. He's not even touching himself, but it looks like he's close to coming all over himself. By the mess on his thighs and stomach, I'd assume he already has.

His legs open wider, one hand reaching between them to touch–

Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck me.

Either God hates me or loves me very much and wants me to have this man, because the sexiest, most erotic thing I have ever seen—in porn or in real life—is playing out like a fantasy reel right in front of me. I can't fucking breathe.

Is this penance for my wrongdoings, or a reward for some good deed I don't remember? Helping an old lady cross the street perhaps, or giving all that signed swag to the flight attendant's nephew? I don't know, but damn …

Mik's long fingers press against a black disk that sits flush against his ass, and he hisses and lets out a shaky groan. Those same long fingers wrap around his shaft and pump languidly. His foreskin moves with his hand, and on the downstroke, I see it. I see that glint of light again. I absentmindedly move closer. Is that a…

Mik hears my sharp intake of breath. His eyes pop open, and there's a moment of panic when he finally notices me standing not five feet from him. He pulls his legs down, his body tensing as he moves.

"Ah, fuck," he whines, reaching down to touch the plug again. His ass must be clenching down so tight. The muscles in his abs and thighs are still jumping .

Oh, kill me now. It's fucking vibrating.

I swallow hard and try to think of something to say. As if I could make conversation like this is normal. Walking in on your own personal wet dream, in the form of your brother-in-law spread out like an erotic all you can eat buffet, is totally normal. I can control myself. I can. I can. I will.

This is fine. I'm fine. Everything is fucking fine and not at all burning down around me in a haze of fiery lust that has my balls ready to unleash a release that would rival the fucking hurricane outside. FUCK!

"You're… pierced?" I say awkwardly, trying and failing to keep my voice even.

Mik clears his throat. "Can you go?" he chokes out. "Please?"

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa… Let's not be hasty. We can handle this like adults. Rationally.

"Wait!" I say, desperation in my raspy tone. "I—I want to see." I need to see.

He can't just put it away when I haven't seen it closely enough. That's just unfair. It'd be rude.

With concerted effort, I pull my eyes away from his hands and crossed legs, trying to hide his cock, and drag them up his body. He eyes me warily, his gaze falling on the front of my light blue shorts that are doing nothing to hide my very obvious reaction to the scene I just walked in on. There's a wet spot bleeding through the fabric, betraying just how far gone I am.

He stands, but doesn't move away. Instead of running like I expected him to, he stands a little behind the chair, keeping the bottom half of his body away from my prying eyes while he covertly reaches behind him. Silence permeates the air. He turned the vibration off, but it's still inside him. Oh, Jesus Christ, that's so fucking hot.

The panicked look in his eyes turns pained as I step closer. But he doesn't push me away, or tell me to fuck off, or so much as move a muscle to leave. He only watches me warily as I approach, stopping about a foot from him. I keep my eyes locked on his, reaching out tentatively, placing a hand on his waist. The heat of his bare skin singes me, a tremor making its way up my arm and down my spine.

He hisses a breath through his teeth when, knees weak, I lower myself to kneel in front of him. My fingertips trace the intricate swirls of ink along his thighs, the corded muscles jumping beneath my touch. His cock bobs out in front of me, fully erect and fucking dripping. This close, I can make out the two metal studs on the underside of his cockhead.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

I lean forward and press my lips to the piercing, feeling the barbell connecting the two studs beneath the hot, smooth skin.

Mik's sharp intake of breath does nothing to stop me from opening my lips and flicking my tongue out over the piercing. His intoxicating clean smell and the sweet remnants of his orgasm make me dizzy with need. My mouth opens wider, taking the full head of his cock inside and swirling my tongue to gather more of the addictive taste of his orgasm.

" Jason ," he whispers hoarsely. My eyes roll back at hearing him say my name like that, needy and wanting.

I'd like to pretend it's the whiskey making choices for me, that I'm not in control of my faculties. The truth is, I'm fully aware what I'm doing is wrong. That I'm hurting him and our family. Hell, I'm hurting myself. But I can't help myself. I can't stop.

I don't want to stop .

Pressing forward, I slowly engulf his entire length, drawing out a low moan from deep in his throat. The sound breaks me, and suddenly the only thing in the entire world I care about is making him mine in even the smallest way. I'm desperate to show him what he's been missing all these years because I know no one else can make him come like I can.

I take him all the way into the back of my throat and swallow, feeling him twitch when my throat contracts around him. His posture is stiff, and he holds his hands in midair, like he isn't sure what to do. He gasps and moans but doesn't move a muscle as I hollow out my cheeks and slide my mouth up and down his shaft, taking him deep again without gagging. Tears pour from my eyes, but I can't be sure if they're from taking him so deep, or if they're the overwhelming emotions from having him like this, and the fact that I absolutely shouldn't be doing this right now. Or ever. I don't make eye contact; too afraid I'll see the fear I can feel in the tension in his body.

I want him to grip my hair and take control, take some responsibility for what's happening between us because I don't want to be alone in this. In our interactions thus far, I've been the aggressor, and he may as well be a fly caught in a web, powerless. I'm the terrible one here, taking advantage of a man with a wife and family—my sister's husband. I couldn't hate myself more for it, and yet it doesn't stop me from doubling down. With one hand around the base of his long cock, I hold him steady while I pull him out to just the tip and shove my tongue inside his foreskin, while my other hand cups his balls and rolls them.

" Mmphh– Oh, God," Mik groans, and his hips flex, pushing a little further into my mouth.

Yesss, come on Mik, let go.

Two fingers slide behind his balls, and I freeze when I feel another set of metal studs. What the fuck ?

My head lurches back, and I release his cock. It slides against my cheek, spreading spit and pre-cum over my face, as I look up at Mik in surprise. Oh, fuck. Is that another piercing?

I have to see this.

All traces of apprehension, shame, or guilt fade away, overtaken by pure lust and curiosity. I stand again and force Mik back around the chair, turning him and pushing against his shoulder blades. His arms fly out to steady himself on the back of the chair while I kick his legs wider. He doesn't resist, but I keep my hand firmly on his back to convey that he should stay put before sinking to my knees again. I come face to face with the ass that has haunted my dreams for half my life. It's fucking glorious, round and firm, with ink covering half of the left side. I make a mental note that I need to see and map out every inch of ink on his body. There is a hell of a lot more than I could have ever imagined, but right now I'm distracted by his hole stretched out around black silicone, and his perfect cock and balls that hang heavily between his thighs.

The plug is hard to pull my attention from, but my fingers brush lightly over the balls of metal again, and I then I see them. The two little metal studs that I felt with my fingers stare back at me, reflecting the faint flicker of candlelight. I touch them again, pressing into the flat, sensitive spot just behind his balls. I've never seen anything like this. To say I'm intrigued would be an understatement. Especially when Mik lets out a whimper that I feel in my own balls.

Without an ounce of hesitation, I shove my face against his ass and wrap my lips around the little studs. I suck them into my mouth, flick and massage them with my tongue. Mik writhes and flinches forward, but I grip onto his thighs and keep him in place while I explore. He's trembling, white knuckling the top of the chair while saliva drips down his balls and down his hanging shaft. Fuck, I just want to consume him .

I move my mouth up, licking from the base of his balls to the flat base of the butt plug. I lick around it, tasting the sweet, slippery lube. Opening my mouth wide, I graze my teeth around the edge of the plug, gripping onto it and using my mouth to push and pull it. My tongue presses against a button, and a light vibration jars my teeth.

"Fuck," he cries, his trembling becoming full on shaking. I let him get close to coming before I pull the plug out and throw it on the floor.

Mik's hole gapes and winks for me, contracting on air as it slowly closes. I press open-mouthed kisses against it, flicking my tongue against him. Mik makes unintelligible sounds, gasping for air and twitching his hips, tense with the effort to not push back against my face. I could exist solely on the sounds he makes when he's trying so hard to hold back, but I want him to lose control, to give me his unrestrained need.

I force my tongue into his hole, and he hisses my name. It angers and turns me on in equal measures.

He was supposed to always be mine. This was supposed to be mine.

Gripping his dick harshly, I pump his spit covered cock hard and fast while working my tongue in and out of his tight hole. My other hand pulls my leaking cock from my shorts and squeezes hard. Mik resists rocking back on me right until his climax hits, then he's crying out my name, fucking his ass on my mouth. His cum coats my hand, and I keep stroking and tonguing him until his cock stops spurting and his cries die down to pained whimpers.

Standing, I switch hands, holding him in position with my clean hand while the other spreads his cum down my shaft. I use it to pump myself, placing the tip of my cock right against his hole. He flinches, but doesn't move to get away from me.

"I'm not going to fuck you, Mik. I'm just going to remind you who you belong to. Who you've always fucking belonged to," I grunt, spraying my release against his asshole. It drips down his crack, over that tantalizing little piercing. I coat him in my orgasm, then step back, taking a moment to appreciate how he looks dripping in my cum.

Like fucking mine.