14. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Viktor

Scrubbing my face, I stretch my legs and toes as I roll onto my back. My body is deliciously sore, burning in all the right places. Can't recall the last time I've been fucked like that. Actually, I don't think I ever have been.

Used yes.

But where my own pleasure was taken into consideration . . . no, no one ever put in the effort. Or maybe I never let them, too focused on what they wanted in order to keep them around.

As my eyelids flutter open and my brain starts coming online, I register the weight of an arm across my abdomen and the sleepy grumbling.

Oh, fuck me.

Beckett.

I'm still at his place, tucked into his bed. He didn't kick me out after we fucked. He . . . he let me stay.

Another thing that's never happened. Usually, I'm out the door before the sweat even dries, a hasty "Thanks" thrown over my shoulder as I leave.

Except for those few times I tried my hand at relationships.

Being discarded like a sex toy didn't compare to being told I was, "too much" and "too intense."

My muscles tense.

Of all the things I've been called, those two are the ones that cut the deepest—triggers, as my former therapist once said.

The others—psychopath, unhinged, lunatic, crazy—I own, made them a part of who I am.

I blink rapidly, swallowing past the lump in my throat. It's only a matter of time before I overwhelm Becks and he leaves.

Except, he's mine, so I need to figure out a way to make him stay, to accept I'm worth the headache I give.

I slip out of bed, grabbing my boxers from the floor. They're the only piece of clothing Beckett didn't absolutely destroy last night. The memory of him ripping my shirt, the feral look in his eyes . . . it makes me shiver, my dick twitching and wanting more.

Down, boy. We've got work to do.

I pad quietly toward my pants on the floor by the front door, then grab my phone. Nothing like an internet search to spark some ideas on how to prove my worth as a boyfriend.

Wait, boyfriend?

Slow your roll, Novotny. One night of mind-blowing sex does not a relationship make.

I flop onto the couch and unlock the screen. "Holy shit."

My hand flies up over my mouth, worried I was too loud.

Forty text messages.

What the hell did I miss? My stomach knots up. Did my friends need me and I wasn't there? Quickly, I open the Bottoms Up group chat, hoping Eli is okay, especially considering the number of notifications.

Feisty Mouse: Made it home.

Jackson: Novy, Let us know you're okay.

Feisty Mouse: He's fine. Did you see your coach spank him?

Jackson: Don't start Mr. Likes-a-Red-Bottom.

Killian: He's not the only one.

Jackson: Shut it before I get my belt.

Feisty Mouse: Stop. That's not fair. Especially when my boyfriend is away.

Feisty Mouse: Viktor, just let us know you're ok. That he didn't hurt you.

Jackson: ??????

Feisty Mouse: Sorry, Jackson. But I'm worried.

Killian: He's fine. But why is Jackson getting a shit ton of messages from Alexei. Do I really need to worry about Alexei skinning me alive?

Feisty Mouse: Ignore my dumbass boyfriend.

Oh, Eli is dead. He invited them both to the chat. And they both accepted, even knowing the rule was only one of them could join.

Fucktards.

My ass got thoroughly wrecked but the rest of me is fine.

And one of you better be leaving. You know the rule.

I tap on the string of messages from my cousin, knowing automatically he's like an angry bull right now.

Alexei: You left him at the club alone. You're dead.

Alexei: Who the fuck lives at 106 Cherry Hill Lane?

Alexei: I'm going to cut your dick off with a butter knife.

He goes on and on, but I don't bother responding. I get it, he's too far in case anything goes wrong. And he's right. He entrusted me to keep Eli safe. But I'm not his bodyguard and I know my cousin set up a shit ton of cameras in Feisty Mouse's dorm room.

Closing the app, I open the web browser and start searching for ideas on how to prove I'm worthy to Beckett: make breakfast, surprise picnic dates, blah, blah, and boring blah. But then I vaguely remember him yelling something about a mouse last night.

Now, getting rid of a little rodent fucker would definitely help make my assistant coach fall head over heels in love with me.

I start researching how to go about catching this pest. According to some top sites, the best places to start are at the bases of kitchen cabinets, voids in and behind large kitchen appliances, and voids near heat sources.

Getting off the couch, I head to the kitchen, because I'm going to catch this furry little shit if it's the last thing I do.

Nothing near the radiator, not even a tiny hole. Bases of the cabinets are next. I groan as I drop to my hands and knees, crawling around. If my friends could see me now.

No evidence so far.

But when I sit back on my heels, a pair of mismatched eyes stare down at me, one green, one blue. Just like Beckett's. "Jesus, fuck!"

The white furball starts yowling like the mother of all angry cats.

Didn't know Becks had a pet, one that's not supposed to be here. The building owner—a by-the-rules, animal-hating dictator—would flip if he knew. Yeah, I made it my business to know every detail about this place from the layout to obtaining a copy of the lease.

Which has a strict no-pet policy.

I narrow my eyes and stare at it. "Make some noise next time, would you?"

It hisses, tail lashing.

Oh, this one sure has some attitude.

I lean in closer, my nose scrunching. "Why does he even have you? What kind of cat are you letting a mouse run around? Isn't that what you're bred for?"

The cat growls, then bats me in the face three times.

Note to self: do not challenge a cat face to face. I should've known better, but most of the time I've learned every lesson the hard way because I do in fact fuck around and find out.

I roll my eyes, getting to my feet. "Some hunter you are, letting rodents run around like they pay rent."

The white furball looks thoroughly unimpressed. With a disdainful sniff, it turns its back on me, tail held high.

"Fine. Be that way. But don't come crying to me when the mice take over."

I resume searching again, grumbling under my breath. Stupid cat, stupid mouse, stupid Beckett and his stupidly perfect dick that's turned my brain to mush.

After a few fruitless minutes, I sit back against the cabinets, sighing. The cat's now lounging on the counter, watching me with a bored expression.

"You could help, you know." I point an accusing finger. "But no, you just want to sit there and judge me. Lazy ass."

She yawns, showing off her sharp little teeth. I swear she's laughing at me.

"Guess the supervisor's supervising, huh?"

A snort from behind makes me twist around. Beckett's leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his bare chest—his very muscular, very bite-able chest. "What are you doing?"

"I was, uh . . . looking for the mouse?" It comes out as a question, my confidence wilting under his gaze.

His eyebrows shoot up, a smirk tugging at his lips. "The mouse?"

I nod, gesturing to the cat as I get to my feet. "Yeah, but this one's not being very helpful."

Beckett laughs, a rich, warm sound that makes my toes curl. He pushes off the doorframe, coming over to scoop the cat into his arms.

"Viktor, meet Mouse." He scratches the cat under its chin. "Mouse, meet Viktor."

I stare at him. Blink. Stare some more. "I'm sorry, what? You named your cat . . . Mouse ?"

He shrugs, still grinning.

I shake my head slowly, my lips twitching. "And they call me unhinged. Seriously, Beckett, what is wrong with you?"

He sets Mouse down, stepping closer to me. His hands find my hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles into my skin. "You know, if I actually had a rodent in here I'd just call an exterminator."

"Was just trying to be helpful."

Beckett chuckles and shakes his head. "Sometimes you're just too much."

My body stiffens, muscles tensing, and I force a smile that feels fake even to me. "You know I like the accolades."

But my act doesn't work. His brows furrow as he studies my face. "What was that? What happened?"

I blink a few times, trying to figure out what to say, but the words just won't come.

"Viktor?"

"It's nothing."

"Bullshit." He backs me up against the kitchen table, then lifts me to sit on it and steps between my legs. "Talk to me."

I shrug, looking down at nothing in particular. "Just kinda tired of being told I'm too much. Too intense. Too overwhelming ."

He tilts my chin up until our gazes meet. "Chaos, you just shine too brightly for most people. Don't dim your light because they can't handle it."

I snort. "Yeah, well . . . What about you?"

"I'm perfectly fine wearing a pair of sunglasses."

Not the response I was expecting. At all. And when he smiles so big his eyes crinkle at the sides, my smart mouth has to get in the way. "Is that what they're calling cataracts these days?"

Beckett grips behind my knees and pulls me flush against him. "You calling me old?"

I smirk. "If the shoe fits."

His fingers trail up to my waist, then dip into the waistband of my boxer briefs. "Take these off."

I lift my hips and remove my underwear, my dick already hard and leaking.

"Now, turn around, chest and knees on the table. Ass up."

Oh, this sounds like fun. "Going to fuck me before school, Becks? Make me so sore I'll be thinking about you during all my classes?"

He doesn't answer, only stands there with a steady gaze and a slight smirk, his arms relaxed at his sides as he waits, so I get into position. Although, I'm not sure how he intends to fuck me like this. I'm up too high.

"Reach back and spread your cheeks for me."

The whimper that erupts cracks at the end, all high pitched and filthy. I swallow hard as I turn my head to the side, then reach back and grab my ass, spreading myself wide.

"So fucking pretty. Can't wait to feast on you and make you all sloppy."

Before I can respond, he buries his face in me, his beard scraping against my sensitive skin in a way that adds to the intensity of his warm, wet tongue pressing against my hole.

"God, fuck. Oh, fuck." My voice sounds so filthy and needy, my fingers digging into my skin so hard as I spread myself wider that it'll probably leave bruises.

Beckett chuckles as he continues to lap at my hole, short, soft licks across before plunging with the tip of his tongue, dipping inside until I push back against him.

"Such a needy brat." He pulls away, then sucks my balls before tracing his tongue back up my crack. "Look at you shaking already, making such a mess on my table."

"More. Now."

And he obliges, sucking my hole and plunging his firm tongue back inside, fucking me with it over and over until I'm writhing against his face. Beckett's eating me out like I'm his last fucking meal . . . or his first.

"I'm gonna come. Beckett, oh, fuck. I'm gonna blow."

He instantly pulls away and I wail at the loss of contact. But he flips me onto my back, spins me around, then climbs onto the table and straddles my face. I have no idea when he pulled off his pants but his red, angry crown is suddenly pushing into my mouth.

I open without hesitating, tasting his precum and moaning as I take him deeper.

"That's it, Chaos. Suck my cock. Suck it like you need my cum to survive."

And I do, swirling my tongue around his hard, hot length as I hollow out my cheeks. He starts driving into me and when I gag, he moans low.

"Love the way you choke on me. Your fucking mouth is heaven. Take it, baby."

I grab onto the back of his thighs when he pushes into my throat as I gag and sputter around him. Beckett's not taking it easy, getting rougher by the second . . . and I love it.

I arch, my dick aching and hurting, getting harder with each of his grunts and raspy groans, silently begging for him to get me off too.

The table scrapes against the floor, the sound mixing with the sloppy wet gurgles I make trying to relax my throat with each of his thrusts.

"Such a filthy boy. Look at your cock, drooling all over your stomach." His tongue licks across my abs as he pushes himself all the way in until his pelvis is flush against my face. "That's it, Chaos. Fuck, swallow again, contract that throat around my cock. Yes, baby. Just like that."

I squeeze his thighs, my body on fire, but my consciousness grows fuzzy around the edges. He pulls out and I suck in a breath, a thread of saliva connecting my lips to his crown.

"Want more?"

I nod, opening wide.

He fills my mouth once again, but this time he takes me into his. He sucks just as intensely as he thrusts and seconds later I'm flooding his mouth, whining around his dick as my whole body contracts and I come. He doesn't ease up until spurts of his hot cum jet onto my tongue.

The long groan Beckett makes as he orgasms with my dick still in his mouth, vibrates throughout my whole body. He pulls free, then turns to face me, gripping my jaw and forcing my mouth open.

He leans down, feeding me my own cum, then pulls back, running his thumb over my bottom lip. "Swallow."

After I do, he hops off the table. "Time to get ready for class."

I sit up, mind hazy. "I . . . No clothes."

He brushes my hair away from my eyes, then kisses my forehead. "You can wear mine."