Shadowman (Alabaster Penitentiary Book 5), page 36
The rounded curve is nudging and nudging, and I’m rocking and rocking against it, wanting it so bad. But I’m too far up in my head and it’s making things difficult. This position is for detachment, so that I can pretend it’s just a dildo and I’m fucking myself with it from behind.
But I also think if it were a dildo, I’d be wishing it were a real dick, attached to a real, hot guy.
Who’s fucking me from behind, because I’m his good little slut.
Jesus, what’s wrong with me?
I think I want to see his face…
Still, I’m afraid that if I turn around, I’ll see purple eyes and a devilish smirk… And I’ll come, again, before he even makes it inside me.
“Fuck me…” I breathe a plea, closing my eyes. Opening my hole just enough… “Fuck my ass, Leo…”
A soft sound comes from him, and I quake as the smooth head of his dick finally slips in.
“Unngghhh…” I groan, then bite my lip. Because that sound was far too loud and entirely too slutty.
Dropping my ass back, I focus on the burn and stretch, because God, it’s intense, but I think I really like it.
I take another inch. Then another… And another. Whimpering, “Fuuuck, Trevel. Baby, that’s a long dick…”
When my cheeks make it to skin, I release a quavering sigh. Seated on him, full of cock… and goddamn fucking loving every inch of it. Eyes creeping open, I peek down at my own dick, sticking up straight again. Huge, swollen as fuck and dripping everywhere.
Jesus…
Just as I’m about to palm it and just jerk off with him inside me because it feels incredible, hands wrap around my hips. And a smooth, raspy voice with a British accent croons, “Ride me, warrior.”
Oh, no…
Oh God, oh fuck… what am I doing??
He’s awake. Holy fuck, I’m such a slut.
What’s wrong with me?!
I hate myself.
Tightening all over, I’m frozen in sheer awkwardness. The only sliver of positive is that I don’t have to see him looking at me right now.
“Baby… bloody hell,” he croaks. “I didn’t think you could get any tighter…”
“Shh-shut up,” I hiss, eyes falling shut, because as humiliating as this is, Goddamn, it feels fucking euphoric.
“Be hostile if you want, sexy boy.” His hands run up my sides then back down to my ass, treasuring my scorching hot flesh, holding my cheeks open, no doubt to ogle the sight of his body inside mine. “You know you want to ride this big cock… That’s why you’re on it.”
Fuck, I do…
I do want to ride it.
Why do I want to ride it??
Surrendering to the situation I’ve put myself in, and the sensation of being fuller than imaginable, I lift, drawing a jagged groan from my lips. Then I press back down, eliciting a coarse gasp from within him.
I try it again, rising up, then swooping down. Up… then down… Up. Down. Up. Down. Gradually gaining speed until before I know it, I have my hands braced on his thighs and I’m fucking riding him.
Riding his dick.
Trevel’s dick is inside me, and I’m… riding it.
Who am I??
“I’m n-not a bitch,” I grunt.
“Hmm?”
“Just because I’m d-doing this…” I pant. “Doesn’t mean I’m… uhhfuck… I’m not a fucking bitch, okay?”
“God, you’re so cute,” Trevel hums, still cupping my cheeks and holding them apart.
“Ffuck you.” My eyes flutter shut at how stupefyingly good this feels.
Whether I understand it or not.
“There he is,” Trevel croons. “I’ve seen you fight, remember? You’re a fucking beast, baby…” He pushes up into me, and I grunt out a raspy sound, my face still burning red-hot shame.
But I glance down at my cock, biting my lip while I watch it, bobbing and slapping into my abs with my rampant bouncing. The way I’m riding the guy beneath me, hole working on his dick because I want it.
“You’re a warrior,” he goes on, “with a sick body and a big, thick cock… A sweet, tight ass, taking this dick like a champ.”
My jaw clenches. But I gulp as the humiliation fades into what it’s been all along. Deep, longing desire.
Fuck yea… I am taking it like a champ.
My ass is so full of dick right now.
“Am I… doing good for you?”
“So good, baby,” he purrs, one hand slipping around to tease my cock and knead my balls. “Look at you, taking it so deep your first time… Riding slow and steady. You can feel every inch of me, can’t you, beautiful?”
“Fffuck…” I choke when his dick kisses a spot inside me that sends vibrant shocks through my loins. I’ve never felt anything like it… I’m practically crumbling, my own giant erection spilling precum everywhere. “Don’t—uhhfuckyes—don’t tell anyone about this…”
“Please,” he growls. “This is all mine. No one else is getting you, baby. Ever. Not even in their thoughts.”
Something about the possessiveness in his tone, the scary rumble of his words in between his panting and clutching me to him like I’m his… It’s lighting me up just as much as his dick dancing on my prostate.
“Tell me it feels good,” I whisper hoarsely, bouncing a little harder, faster, chasing the good feelings. I can’t believe I’m doing this… Grinding and swiveling, while his dick slides in and out of me. Even more unbelievable is that I can already feel my next orgasm looming. “Tell me I’m fucking you right…”
“Baby, you are owning my cock.” He runs a finger down my spine, the sensation hardening my nipples. “No one’s ever fucked me like you do, sweet fury.”
The motivation of his words—that nickname—has me humping the life out of him. And as crazy as it is, part of me wants to see his face. For some reason, I want to turn around and see those violet eyes shining up at me, dark lashes fanning in his state of lust drunk and about to explode. I want to… kiss his soft mouth and moan into it every time I take his dick as deep in me as it’ll go.
I can’t believe I have a dick inside me… And it doesn’t even hurt.
It burns, but I like it. I love the blazing fullness.
I can’t even comprehend it, but I really love having this sexy British dude’s dick in my ass.
If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll fuck you up.
“Uhh, fuck, I never thought I’d… like this… so much.”
Or I could say it myself, to the sexy British dude in question…
The words just spill out of my mouth as my head spins and spins. I can’t control it.
“You can like it all you want, but as I said… No one else is getting this ass.” He grips my cheeks hard, and I gasp. “Understand?”
I nod fast. “Okay, baby…”
“This sweet, hungry little hole swallows only one cock…” His voice is becoming uneven, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. “Mine. Only mine… Say yes, Byron.”
“Yes… yes yes, only yours,” I mewl, about to collapse and come and cry all at once.
“Say it dirtier…”
“Only your big dick gets to… fill my ass.”
“More,” he hisses.
“Only you get to feel my wet, greedy hole… stretching around your… oh, oh oh fuuuck, Trevel, I’m getting so… close…”
“Come here.” He pulls me backward, reclining me until my back is flush with his chest. Lying on top of him, knees bent, legs wide open. He holds my thighs apart and grips me tight, fucking up into my ass. “You’re so needy, aren’t you, my beautiful warrior? You just couldn’t wait for me to turn you out…”
“Uhh no, I… couldn’t.” I’m digging my feet into the bed so that he can slam his hips up to mine, pumping me full with salacious sounds of wet slapping. “That’s why I… fucked you. Then climbed onto your cock… ’Cause I need it, baby. I need it so bad…”
“Mmm… you do, don’t you? Leaving my ass worn out and gushy before getting yours…”
I hum, dizzy and shaking. “Y-you… like it?”
“I fucking love it,” he groans. “God, you’re filthy perfection, Byron Kang. I’m gonna breed you like the good boy you are. Drain my balls in your sweet ass just like you did to me while I was fucking sleeping…”
“Fuck!”
“Fuck is right. Get me off with this hole, baby.”
“Come in me…” I plead, and he snarls.
“Beg for it.”
“Please… Please fill me with cum. I wanna know how it feels…” I have no control over my words right now. All I am is hot, clenching sensation.
“You’re going to feel it, love. You ready…?” His hand caresses my cock.
“Yes yes yes!”
“Here… it… comes.”
I think I’ve blacked out.
I don’t know where I am, or what’s happening. All I know is that this can’t be real life. It just can’t be. No one has ever made me come this hard… Not even Michelangelo.
Oh, he’s definitely Leo, alright. Only a leader can make you come this good.
Writhing, whining and purring, panting and growling. Coming coming coming.
Trevel is coming in my ass, and I’m coming all over myself. He’s biting me and licking me, palming and rubbing my wet cock while I convulse and he bucks every last drop of his orgasm into the depths of my body.
It’s fucking insane. And all I can think is that this is my first night being openly bisexual.
First. Fucking. Night.
Quite the celebration… Yea, I think it’s clear I’ve been suppressing it for quite some time.
Not sure how we end up like this, but eventually, we’re lying on our sides. In my bed, face to face, just staring at one another. Sweaty, fucked raw and spent, cocks tired, asses wet and used… Fucking high, on all of it.
Trevel is tracing the tattoo on my chest, and I’m watching his eyes. I’ve never felt this before, and I want to tell him that… But I’m afraid.
Coming to terms with my sexuality, and the fact that I really like dick in and around my body, was one thing. But this closeness I feel with him… That’s something entirely different.
This connection… It scares the living shit out of me.
I can’t do it again…
“Sweet fury…” he whispers.
My heart is thumping steadily against my ribcage. Right in his direction. “How… did you…”
“It’s in your book.” He grins. Oh… right. I wrote about Ren giving me this tattoo he’s touching. “I think it’s perfect… Because that’s exactly what you are. The sweetest fury.”
I force myself to huff, despite the out-of-control carnival ride that is my thoughts.
This is too much right now.
Too heavy… getting too deep…
So I shut it down. Shelving it all, I simply yawn and scoot in closer. Future Byron’s problem. “Will you tell me another poem?”
He stares at my mouth, flipping my stomach because I think I really want him to kiss me…
But he gives me lush and tender words instead.
“Him”
By Trevel Fenwick
Counting breaths, and the thumps buried beneath muscle and skin soft like velvet.
Each represents a moment of afterglow I’m basking in.
Could this be a dream? I’ll accept death over waking from it.
Sated, I lie in wait, and watch, and breathe. Gazing, enchanted.
Bound by the way he looks, and our beats like a mirror.
Slowed, we are calm now. Nourished, we’ve been fed. Cool water to the scorching tongue.
The way we moved was a wicked dance. A tango of muscle strain and primal chase. Searing licks of flames laid in the wake of greedy fingertips.
My temple offered as his sanctuary, on a silver platter of tangled sheets. We were consumed, from deep inside. A stretch, a burn. Push, pull. Cry.
Come.
Magic made in a bed of truths set free. On the outside, and within… I see. I feel, everywhere. I fall prisoner to that body and those eyes and this draw, while the tempo of my heart echoes but one word…
Him. Him. Him.
Him.
There’s this phrase I heard once, from a colleague of mine when I was a teen working on the street.
I always worked alone, but I was aware that many of the kids my age were under the wing of someone—or an organization of someones. A union of sorts, I suppose… Still, I knew better than to ask questions, or get involved.
You tend to look out for one another on the streets; a bond formed in similar circumstances. To this day, I consider those kids the only real friends I’ve ever had, despite barely knowing anything about them.
One of them, a boy who went by Stitch, used to say this thing… “Check yourself before you wreck yourself.”
At the time, I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew I liked it, mainly because it rhymed. Rhyming has always entertained me, hence my love of poetry—and no, poetry doesn’t always have to rhyme, but it’s fun when it does. I like music with rhyming lyrics, rhyming jokes and limericks. I remember loving the Mother Goose stories as a child.
Anyway, I was thoroughly entertained by Stitch’s words of rhyming wisdom. And it didn’t take much thought to figure out the premise…
Check yourself before you wreck yourself.
Stop and think about what you’re about to do, lest your actions become your ultimate undoing.
Over the years, this advice has popped into my head many times. I’m a reckless person, always have been. It’s rather difficult for me to see consequence as a reason not to do something, and I’m quite stubborn. Once my heart is set, it’s virtually impossible to talk myself out of it, no matter how glaringly obvious the inevitable downfall.
So you see, whether or not I check myself… I still manage to wreck myself.
Right now is one of those moments.
Without a doubt, I should slow down and think about what I’m getting myself into before I wind up destroying myself, or more than likely someone else. But I just love the feeling of diving in headfirst, far too much to worry that there are jagged rocks beneath the surface.
Last night with Byron was single-handedly the best experience of my entire life, and that’s not an exaggeration. Good stuff has been in short supply in my life…
There are no words to adequately describe what occurred. Here I’d thought I was dreaming; having one of those vivid unconscious dalliances I experience often, wherein my terrible memories merge with my deepest desires, and I wake up sweaty and sticky and flustered. But as it would happen, I was actually being fucked by my hot newly-out bisexual friend I’ve been obsessing over since my arrival in the Pen.
Byron Kang fucked me in my sleep and was apparently so hungry for more that he immediately climbed onto my cock and humped the living daylights out of me. That’s right. I got to be the first person he’s ever come out to, and I took his bottom virginity! In the same night!
Check myself? After that??
No, sir. I’ll be accepting every single bit of this wreckage, thank you very much.
I expected Byron to pull his usual denial act—that whole, “I’m not gay, it just feels good” rigamarole. But on the contrary! He’s good. A bit quiet, sure, but that’s his default setting. Much less hostile and skittish than after the mattress-hole blowjob. In fact, the only thing he seemed worried about was penetrating me while I was unconscious.
Naturally, I shut it down posthaste.
“Byron, there aren’t many things you could do to me with your dick that would upset me,” I told him while we drifted last night. “If anything, I’m mad I didn’t get to fully experience getting that dick for the first time. Being that I was asleep and all.”
He grinned with his eyes closed, face nestling into the crook of my neck. My heart felt like a hot-air balloon.
“Well, then… I guess we’ll just have to do it again when you’re awake, won’t we?” He said with sleepy movements and kisses on my pulse.
I was prepared to drag my reluctant self back up to my own bed. But then he whispered, “You can stay… if you want.”
I know. I’m fucking doomed.
Usually, Leo reminds me to check myself before I wreck myself. He’s the voice of reason in situations like these, where I find myself ready to throw all caution to the wind in a way that could potentially ruin lives. Then again, he also disappears during my most trying times, further proof that he’s a manifestation of my inner responsible voice.
I’m an impulsive, self-destructive lunatic when he’s not around, which is why I don’t stand a chance of playing it safe here. When it comes to Byron, I have zero bloody chill.
No clue where it’s gone, but it must be far away.
I like Byron too much, and it’s beginning to feel reminiscent of Alice…
There’s just so much about him that draws me in. Yes, his emotional makeup may be a bit wonky, but when he’s being honest, he’s actually rather emotionally stable. Just like Alice. He’s broken, but not more broken than me. That’s my sweet spot.
Depression is sexy, especially on Byron. And past trauma? Rawr.
There’s something so irresistible about a hot boy with baggage.
Something about him has been calling out to me since the moment we locked eyes in the showers. He makes me feel like a Leo, and I both love it and fear it.
What are the chances I don’t screw this up?
Rhetorical.
Waking up in Byron’s bed isn’t new, since apparently my sleep issues have been bringing me down here almost every night, one way or another. But this time is different. Because this time, he doesn’t seem appalled by me being here. Since he invited me and all.
“Good morning,” I say to his back as my eyes flutter open, but he doesn’t respond. Stretching out my sore muscles, I hum, “Fucking hell… Did last night really happen?”
Byron is still quiet, and it puts me into an abrupt and immediate tailspin of dread. Grabbing his arm, a gust of relief breaks from my lips.
He’s warm. Thank God.
Rolling over, he faces me, his drowsy expression inquisitive. “What’s wrong?”
“You weren’t answering…” I mutter, swallowing the lump of bad memories in my throat. “And I just… I thought…”
