Page 37 of Antidote

“I don’t want to get laid right now.”

“Do you ever?” She asks, “It’s like your dick stopped working.”

“Working?” I choke out. “Maybe you’re the fucking problem, Malia.” If you can’t make me come, then who can? Wait—don’t answer that.

“You know what?—”

“No.” I shake my head with a loud laugh. “I’m not doing this. We’re done, Malia. You’re right. Maybe my dick doesn’t work anymore. But I think it’s because of you.”

I’m officially a bigger asshole than I was five minutes ago.

“Fuck.” She seethes. “You.”

I give her a sad look.

But it doesn’t last long, because I turn around and?—

Someone is tugging me toward the beer pong table in the middle of my living room, but I don’t want to play. So I shake my head, rip my arm from his grasp, and head toward the hallway. It’s loud between the party and the music, and I try my hardest to strain my ears the closer I get to the door, but it’s useless. I can’t tell what’s happening behind the closed door—though it doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure it out.

I take a deep breath and push past some bodies in front of the bedroom door, shielding it with my body as I open it, then quickly closing it behind me. They don’t even startle. In fact, they don’t stop at all. It takes me a moment to process what I’m seeing. But when I do, my fists clench at my sides, and I have the urge to fucking kill someone.

Oliver is lying on his back, his legs spread wide open for Dylan as he fucks his ass. Oliver’s hand is wrapped around his own cock, stroking quickly, and he fucking moans?—

I shake my head, eyes zeroed in on the Prince Albert piercing that is attached to my boy’s cock. Then, suddenly, Ollie’s moans get louder, and Dylan groans and grips his thighs and I?—

Fuck this.

“Oh, fuck,” Ollie groans. “Right?—”

I grab Dylan’s hair and pull him off Ollie, throwing him on the ground. He scrambles to get back up, and I notice that, thankfully, he’s wearing a condom. At least Oliver has half a fucking brain.

“Bro, what the fuck?” Dylan growls, getting up from the floor and squaring up to me.

“Don’t fucking touch him,” I reply in a low tone as I back him up toward the door until his back is flush against it. “Or I’m going to have to ruin your face. And I bet you won’t like that.”

“Why not?” He frowns. “He was liking it just fine.”

“I don’t give a fuck what he likes. He’s—” Mine. “Done with you.”

Ollie seems to snap out of whatever he’s doing, then growls, “You have no fucking right!”

“I have every right.” I snap, then look at Dylan. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to see your stupid face again tonight.”

Dylan nods, “I’ll see you later, Ollie.”

“Don’t get any more ideas about fucking my baby brother.”

“I’m not your baby anything,” Ollie says, but he’s cut off by the sound of the door slamming. “What is your damn problem? You don’t want me yet won’t let anyone else have me either? How pathetic of you and?—”

“Get up,” I tell him, grabbing his boxer briefs from the ground and throwing them right at his face. “Put them back on.”

“No.”

“Put your fucking clothes on.” I take a deep breath in, my nostrils flaring with the effort. I do my best to keep myself in check, but Ollie’s cock is still hard and standing long and proud against his abdomen. I lick my lips and glance away, trying not to focus too much on the curved barbell running through the head of it. “Now.”

“Or what?” Ollie taunts and my eyes snap back to his icy blue ones. He raises an eyebrow at me and spreads his legs, running his fingers over his hole, and my eyes trail the movement. Motherfucker. He’s such a brat.

“Or I swear to fucking God I’ll take you over my knee right now.”

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