The Puck Boys of FU, page 26
Careful not to disturb the paint, he pushes it open, searching my room widely before allowing me inside, and we both sit on the spare bed to wait with the door still open.
It isn’t long before Everest arrives with Harden in tow, both of them storming into the room, only coming to a halt once they see the state of my door.
“What the fuck?” Everest’s words are filled with rage as his eyes snap straight to mine, only darkening when they take in the state of me and Griffin. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He’s across the room and gripping Griff by the shirt before I can even open my mouth, pulling him from his seat beside me, slamming him into the wall near the bottom of the bed. “What the fuck did you do?” he yells in his face, but Griffin doesn’t even flinch.
“You mean besides fuck your girlfriend?” His question is paired with an arched brow, and Everest pulls him away from the wall and slams him into it again, harder this time, making him release a pained grunt.
“Everest, stop!” I’m off the bed and barreling toward them when a hand shoots out around my waist, snatching me up and holding me in place. My eyes flash over my shoulder and collide with Harden, who shakes his head ever so slightly, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.
He’s touching me.
A thought I can’t even let resonate, enjoy, or embrace, because Everest is still right there in Griffin’s face, his hands fisted in his paint-stained shirt. “How the fuck did you let this happen?” he snarls, his anger vibrating off him, as I struggle against Harden’s hold. “Are you so fucking concerned with getting your fucking dick wet that you can’t fucking watch out for her?” He’s yelling now, and I have no doubt that half the hallway can hear every word, but things are too far gone for me to feel any embarrassment right now.
“We weren’t even here, you dick, we were at the fucking art studio, we just came back and found it like this.” Griffin sounds just as pissed as Everest is, more so even, and I need them all to relax.
“This isn’t his fault, it’s just some asshole playing a stupid prank, clearly,” I rush out, desperate for them to listen to me, but it’s no use.
“You fucked her in the art studio?” Everest grits out, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes bouncing between me, Griff, and the door, and they contain a rage like I’ve never seen, as Griffin nods. I can see Ever’s mind working a mile a minute as he tries to fit all the pieces of this together, but I know he won’t, because he doesn’t even have them all.
“Look, Everest,” Griffin starts, but Ever tightens his hold on him in warning.
“Shut the fuck up, I need to fucking think.” His hands remain clenched in the fabric of Griffin’s shirt, as he replays all the information he knows over and over, until his spine snaps straight with even more tension. “Someone fucking saw you.”
Fuck.
“What? They saw us and came here and wrote the word whore on her door? That doesn’t make any fucking sense,” Griff replies.
“They didn’t fucking write it, they painted it.” Ever’s voice is deathly calm now, the kind of calm someone has before they decide to kill someone. He releases Griffin instantly, turning toward me, and in turn Harden releases me, stepping back, as Ever erases the distance between us. “Pack a bag, you’re not fucking staying here.” His words are said with such finality that I know I shouldn’t argue with him, but I’ve always had trouble when it comes to that.
“Everest, I really think you’re overreacting,” I start, making his eyes instantly narrow, especially as they trail over the state of me. He takes in the steaks of paint on my skin and skirt, my swollen and abused lips, and the fresh red bruise on my neck. All of which I’m sure we will discuss later.
“You really don’t want to fucking argue with me right now princess.” Again his words leave no room for arguing, and I glare at him defiantly, not wanting to back down, not when I know it could put them all in danger.
“Come on sweetheart,” Griffin cuts in, stepping up beside Ever, ignoring the harsh glare he sends his way at the sound of his voice. “It’s just until we get to the bottom of this and have someone clean it up.” His hand reaches out and gently trails my jaw, not caring about the audience we have, and even though I know his words are a lie, they still settle something deep inside me.
I don’t have to be alone, I have him and Everest.
My eyes unwillingly flick to Harden, to find him watching us both with a coiled kind of tension, his mask slipping ever so slightly, that he almost looks as pissed as Ever right now, but why?
Is it because of what happened with the door?
Or what I did with Griffin?
My eyes flick back to the man in question, and I find that he was also looking at Harden, and when his stare once again collides with mine there is something I don’t recognize there. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll pack it for you.” He smiles softly, gesturing around the room, but Everest shoves him roughly.
“You’ve done enough,” he seethes, moving toward my closet and grabbing the weekend bag I keep there, before heading over to my dresser.
I remain frozen as Everest packs everything I need, until I have no choice but to leave with them. And all I can think is, what the fuck am I dragging them into?
My heart hammers in my chest the whole way back to the house. It’s so loud I can hear it in my ears, like a deep, thumping bass that just won’t quit. Everest is marching up front, one hand biting into the skin of Aurora’s arm as he pulls her along with him, and the other gripped around her bag. Griffin is barely a step behind them, as if he can’t bear to be too far away from her, and I can’t help but watch them both.
They fucked.
Griffin and Aurora fucked.
My two best friends fucked.
Which shouldn’t make me feel any kind of way considering I listened to her fuck Everest two days ago, but this wasn’t Everest. This was Griffin, my best friend in the entire world, and the one I jerked off with to the sound of her getting fucked. The two of them fucking should be just as hot as that. So why does the thought of it make me sick with jealousy?
Who am I jealous of? Him? Her? Both of them?
I don’t even fucking know, because I’ve never felt like this before.
I’ve spent my entire life feeling nothing but pain, and it suited me just fine. I never searched for something more, knowing it would never change my past, so it felt pointless. I was happy to just exist, to let my trauma control everything and get nothing in return. I could watch Aurora from afar, allowing myself simple pleasures like her letters to get me through. Even after I let myself kiss her, I knew I would never cross that line again, that I would never let myself, because a part of her wasn’t enough.
Truth be told, I was glad that Everest commanded us to stay away from her. It was better to not have any of her, because at least that way it didn’t breed hope. Yes I missed her, of course I missed her, but every day got a little easier, until the night she walked into that party a few weeks ago, demanding an explanation. Still, I knew Everest wouldn’t allow us to give in to our desires, so it didn’t matter, but then just like always, my mother ruined everything.
Her death was welcome, an escape I never thought I’d be granted, but with it, came them. Aurora with her acts of service, doing anything she thought might make me happy, and Griffin with his silent support at my side. They tended to my every need, not realizing they were leaving new ones in their wake, and I should have stayed in my cage. I should have let myself wither back into the silence I protected myself with, but then I kissed him. I kissed Griffin, and it tilted my world upside down, because now it wasn’t just Aurora I coveted, it was him too.
Bishop is sitting at the counter when we push inside the house, and he looks like he’s doing some homework. However, the second his attention trails over us all, taking in the tension and the paint stains, he slams his book closed. “Oh fuck no, I’m not getting in the middle of whatever this is,” he grunts, gathering up his stuff, and I’m half-tempted to beg that he take me with him.
Everest grunts, watching him flee, his hold on Aurora still not relenting as Griffin smirks, and I know he’s about to fan the flames. “We should get cleaned up sweetheart.” His eyes dance with excitement as he turns toward them. “Why don’t you come shower with me?” His voice has that sensual edge to it that I heard the other night, and I fucking hate the way it makes goosebumps rise along my arms.
“Do you have a fucking death wish?” Everest takes a slow, measured step forward, stepping in front of Aurora slightly, and I find myself taking one toward Griffin, in case he tries to put hands on him again.
“What’s the matter, Monroe, is it that mine’s bigger than yours?”
For fuck sake. My best friend really does have a death wish.
Everest’s stare narrows as he takes another step, this time toward Griffin. “Careful, Blake, the complex your parents gave you is showing.”
It’s a cheap shot, we all know it, but Griff just smirks.
“Aurora, I think you better take your boyfriend upstairs, he needs his ego stroked,” he tosses back with a wink. “You might wanna clean me out of you first though, we both know he’s a jealous dick.” He emphasizes the last word, and when Everest takes another step forward, Aurora moves, putting herself between the two of them.
“Guys, just stop, please.” Her words seem to be the only thing that dulls the tension that has clung to Everest ever since Griffin left the gym earlier. Her eyes move between the two of them, studying them both before she sighs. “Come on, Ever, just come upstairs with me while I shower and get changed.” She pushes gently on his chest, offering Griffin a sympathetic look, and I can tell she doesn’t want to leave him, not after what happened between them.
Everest doesn’t say anything else as he lets Aurora drag him away, his hands finding her hips as they make their way upstairs.
Griff and I both watch them leave, before he turns to me and rolls his eyes, as silence settles between us. He opens his mouth to say something, before he sighs and gestures to himself. “I should go and get cleaned up.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond, not that I’d know how to, before he turns his back on me and makes his way up to his room.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, but it’s long enough for indecision to claw its way through my veins, until I feel like I’m bleeding from the inside out. My feet are moving before I can stop them, taking forceful steps as I make my way to his room. When I push inside, it’s empty, but the door to his bathroom is partially open, and the sound of him moving around in there draws me closer.
When I reach the threshold, I push the door all the way open, pulling his attention straight to me, as he reaches behind his head and takes off his shirt. My eyes dance down his torso, taking in the splotches of paint that cover him everywhere, and the fresh red lines now etched in his chest. She must have scratched him. A thought that shouldn’t heat my blood, not after I’ve felt the pain of such injuries, but I’m sure it would be different coming from her.
So you fucked her then. I sign, and it’s not a question, but still he sighs, and I’m not sure if it’s at my statement, or the fact I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.
“Yeah, Haze, I fucked her.” My last name sounds so wrong falling from his lips now, my throat bobbing slightly, and I swear his stare zeros in on the movement. “Why? Are you jealous?” he asks, taking a slow step toward me, and I catch the scent of his sweat still clinging to him. Yes. I nod, unable to bring myself to admit it anymore than that. “Then make your move with her, you already know she wants you.”
I stifle a laugh. As if it’s that fucking simple.
I’m not just jealous of you having her. I sign furiously, shaking my head as I do, because I’m still trying to make sense of all of this myself.
How do I want him? How do I want them both?
The paint on his chest is like a fucking beacon drawing me in, and unable to stop myself, I reach up and trail my fingers along the marks she left on him. He hisses at the contact, leaning into my touch, his eyes never leaving mine, and I feel that connection spark between us. The one that’s always been there, the one I thought meant something else.
“What do you want, Harden? What’s happening here?” This time my name sounds like a fucking dream, so soft and filled with need, that I want to fucking swallow it down.
It feels physically painful to draw my fingers from his skin to respond. I don’t know. And it’s the truth, I don’t know what’s happening here, I only know I don’t want it to stop.
“That’s bullshit and you fucking know it,” he snaps, erasing the last bit of space between us, until we are barely a step apart.
My head is already shaking, my eyes eating up the skin he has on display, as if I haven’t already seen it a thousand times before. I can’t explain it. You're my best friend, Griffin, you always have been, but now… I pause when words begin to fail me, my fingers coming to an abrupt halt.
“Now what?” he pushes, sounding almost desperate for the answer, and it makes me shudder, because it sounds like he wants this. Like he’s thought about this as much as I have.
My voice shakes, as I force myself to whisper, “Now I want more, Griff.”
The words are like dynamite between us, as my fingers reach up to his chest and trail the marks there once more, before my palms flatten against him. I can feel the rapid thumping of his heart as it races, for me. Our chests are heaving with the weight of our breaths, my hands still exploring the planes of his chest, mapping every inch of it. Griffin keeps pressing against my hold, bringing himself closer and closer to me, until we are almost touching everywhere.
“Kiss me,” I gasp against his lips, before sealing my mouth to his without waiting for his response, and the second I do, heat burns through my body, and it’s the sweetest relief.
There is no pain, no trauma.
Just my best friend, and his sweet fucking mouth.
A groan escapes him as I claim him, allowing me to slip my tongue between his lips to massage it with his own. He tastes masculine and husky, with a slither of something else, and it’s only as my tongue battles against his that I realize what it is. Fuck. He tastes like her. Aurora’s sweetness clings to him like a phantom, and nothing has ever tasted better. I kiss him harder, deeper, fucking his mouth with my own, my hands clawing at his shoulders, as I spin us and press him roughly into the sink.
His hands snap to my hips before he remembers himself, pulling them back and fixing them around the edge of the vanity. Except for once, I want his touch, I need it, I fucking crave it. I press myself into him, letting the heat of his chest burn through the fabric of my shirt, wishing I could rip it off, but not wanting to separate myself from him.
I roll my hips and feel his cock hard against mine, pulling another low groan from him, and I swallow it down, lapping my tongue against his like a fucking dog gone wild.
“You fucking taste like her,” I pant against his mouth, licking and sucking at his lips, moaning at the taste of them.
“She tastes good, doesn’t she?” His words are grunted against my mouth as he steals me for another kiss, trying to take control, but I’m not going to yield to him like I’m sure she did.
The thought has me kissing him rougher, rolling my hips against him harder, until a wicked thought burns through my brain.
If his lips taste like her then…
The thought trails off as I pull back, both of us panting with need, and my eyes dance down to the erection beneath his shorts.
One of my hands slides down before I can stop it, palming his dick through the fabric, marveling at the thickness of him. “Harden,” he chokes out my name, sounding so desperate, like he didn’t just fuck his dream girl less than an hour ago. My cock jerks in response, and before I can think about it, I drop to my knees before him, pulling down his shorts and making him splutter my name once more.
“Harden, fuck, you don’t have to,” he starts, but I cut him off, gripping his base roughly in my hand, before stroking him from root to tip. “Oh fucking hell,” he groans, tipping his head back, and it flexes the muscles in his stomach, so much so that I want to reach out and drag my tongue along each one of them.
My throat is dry, itching for something it’s never had, but still I lick my lips in anticipation. My eyes are fixed on the column of his throat, as I lean forward and flick my tongue across his slit, making him hiss. “Eyes on me, Griff, I need to see you for this.” His stare snaps straight to mine, his amber gaze darkening in a way I could surely get used to.
“Go on, please,” he begs, and he’s gone from being the dangerous, cocky asshole I know as my best friend, to a pliant little thing ready to follow my every command. He knows what I need, he knows without even fucking asking, because he knows me, all of me, and it’s that thought that has me smirking.
“Please, what?” I taunt, the two words sounding more powerful than anything I have ever said.
His stare searches mine, and I know the moment he sees it, sees me. Every fucked-up part of me.
“Please, sir.”
“Good boy,” I purr, leaning forward and sucking the tip of him into my mouth, and he whimpers. Fucking whimpers.
Swirling my tongue around his head, I taste him, him and her, and I groan, lapping at his length until I can feel him growing thicker against my tongue. The taste of him is maddening, but mixed with her too, fuck I could get lost in it forever. His hands flex around the edge of the sink, his knuckles white with the restraint of not touching me, and fuck that turns me on more than anything.
How have I reduced the Griffin Blake everyone knows, to obey my every command with just a flick of my tongue?
“Harden,” he gasps, as I take him deeper, the unfamiliar weight of him more than welcome, as it wakes up a deeply hidden part inside of me.
"Let me hear that pretty little gasp again,” I demand, pulling back and sucking on his tip, grazing him with my teeth and making one of his hands fly to my hair.
When I stroke my hand up and down his length again, letting my tongue slip into his slit, his groan is so deep I think the whole house might have heard. “Fuck, Harden, your mouth is deadly,” he gasps, pulling at the ends of my hair, and his words and his touch have my heart thundering.
