Page 64 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

His words are all the comfort I need. They wrap around me, clinging tightly, just like I want to cling to him.

I stroke myself while he watches before offering a nod. “I’m ready.”

With the words out, Abi slips to the side and walks toward the stage’s side entrance, leaving me alone, just like he said he wouldn’t. I start to panic because every jaw in the audience has hit the floor, and everyone’s staring at my fully exposed cock. It makes me leak a little, but I’m too worried about Abi’s absence to pay my pre-cum much mind.

“Continue,” he commands, his voice booming from the side of the stage. “Stroke it.”

I wrap a nervous hand around my shaft and give an exploratory tug, my nervousness fading when it earns me applause and a few thumbs up. While he’s doing Goddess knows what, I continue to pleasure myself for their viewing pleasure. The crowd’s applause flips a switch inside me, and the shame I was just feeling has evaporated, leaving me dazed and unbearably erect. The way they stare at it, almost enthralled by the mere sight of my dick, makes me feel like a god in my own right.

Someone moves behind me, and when I look over my shoulder, Abi’s setting the wooden stool in place. He sits on the stool and opens his arms, welcoming me in. I back up until my back is against his chest, and he wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. Gently, he brushes my hand away from my cock and assumes responsibility for my unwavering erection. I’m already close. His grip is relentless. An almost unbearable pressure that has me seeing stars as I dig my nails into his thighs.

My eyes catch sight of Scotty. He’s staring right at me with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Make him come,” he shouts, then he shouts it again. I don’t realize what’s happening until everyonein the audience is chanting, “Make him come. Make him come,” like fucking fratboys.

“You’re close,” Abi whispers into my ear.

“You don’t know that,” I answer, but my voice sounds a bit breathless, so I don’t think I’ve got him convinced.

“If there is one thing in this world I know, little one, it is your body. I know how it ticks.” He licks my earlobe, making me cry out. “You make this little noise when you’re close. Did you know that? This tiny clicking sound in the back of your throat.”

“Do not,” I argue.

He kisses my neck. “Do so. I can hear it right now. Click-click-click. That is good. I want you to come for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

“Fuck. Abi.”

He’s stroking me faster than before, each tug done with purpose. This is the moment where ejaculation and heart palpitations mix in concert, and it’s when I feel most alive. Every lurid want and desire rises to the surface like milk boiling on a stove. It makes way for dangerous choices that I’ll never be able to take back. Choices I’ll surely regret once I’m recoiling in post-nut clarity. Oh-fucking-well. That’s something I can worry about later.

I reach for the mask, wanting nothing hiding me away. With Abi behind me, dragging me kicking and screaming toward completion, I lose any semblance of decorum, and I pull the fabric up and away from my face, tossing it over my shoulder. It takes me a moment to realize no one in the crowd seems shocked by the big reveal. Have they known all this time? And why does that realization have my hips arching forward into Abi’s hand, and my lungs gasping for air.

“I’m so close,” I say, meaning it just for Abi, but apparently, I’ve failed to control the volume of my voice, because everyone in front of me is clapping their hands and cheering me on. It honestly doesn’t even feel sexual. It feels like acceptance. All my friends know I need this, and they want me to have it, becausethat’s what love is about. Supporting your rainbow-wearing brothers and sisters, no matter how ridiculous their kinks.

“Get in front of me,” I urge Abi. “Let me come on your face.” His head pops around my side like a cartoon character with his wide, puppy-dog eyes. “If that’s something you want.”

He nods emphatically. “I would like that very much.” He hobbles around on his knees, and I turn to meet him halfway. With him in front of me, the audience is at our sides, leaving no inch of me unseen. I have to use my left hand so as not to obstruct their view. It’s less than ideal, because I’m right-handed, but I push past the unfamiliar grip. Fuck it. Righty Tighty can have the next round, because Lefty Loosey has this load covered.

Abi’s staring at me, his mouth open, awaiting his prize. Each stroke brings me closer to him, and I can feel my balls draw closer to my body. “I’m gonna come,” I announce to the room, only to be met with a standing ovation. I turn, watching them as they watch me, every eye locked on my rapidly moving hand.

In the crowd, Scotty is beaming brightly at me, and the sight of my biffle without an ounce of shade or sass on his face feels like total acceptance. He nods, shouting, “You’ve got this, Tater Tot!” at the top of his lungs. Next to him Brody’s looking everywhere except at me. Beside him, Benji and Bennet are holding hands, Benji’s head on his friend’s shoulder, watching me supportively.

“Little one?” Abi says. He waits for me to look at him before saying, “Come.”

It’s like a nuclear bomb detonates inside me, and my hand rises one final time before shot after shot jets out, coating Abi’s face. A spurt lands on his cheeks. Another against his forehead. I press the tip of my dick on top of his closed lips, moaning obscenely when my load drizzles out across them like lip gloss.

I fall forward, too lost in pleasure to hold myself upright. As expected, Abi’s there to catch me, letting me borrow a bit of his strength while my reserves have been depleted. As I struggle tocatch my breath, he catches me and pulls me down to the stage, cradling me in his arms like a newborn being swaddled.

It hits me all at once. What I’ve just done. What everyone just saw me do. The applause hasn’t even died down, and I’m already flooded with regret. The way I’ve just behaved is positively shameless, but there’s no shame in Abi’s eyes. Only love. There’s something touching my cock, and when I look down, Abi’s shielding it from sight with his hand.

“You know what to do,” Abi announces to the crowd. I have no idea what he’s talking about at first. Behind me, there’s the sound of glass shattering and metal clanging, and when I look over my shoulder, I see them.

Brody is gunning down unsuspecting bottles of liquor on the shelf behind the bar. Scotty has a hammer in his hand, and he’s using it to smash picture frames. Fee—who I didn’t even realize was here—is standing at the entry door, her arms folded over her chest, silently daring any of the partygoers to attempt to flee. The rest of the group seems on edge, and they’re huddled around a large selection of blunt objects piled on one of the tables.

“Grab a hammer and start smashing shit,” Brody shouts. Slowly, each man at the party picks up a hammer, pipe, or wrench, and scatters throughout the bar. I watch as a twink takes a wooden doorstop and uses it to break a strobe light on the wall. Another man has a razor blade, and he’s using it to tear through various signage. Bennet and Benji are huddled together in a booth near the back, looking extremely uncomfortable—but I don’t miss the sly smile on Bennet’s face. Through it all, Abi’s right in front of me, refusing to look away from me.

As the crowd destroys Benito’s cherished bar, Scotty tosses his hammer over his shoulder and skips toward us, grinning like a kid on Christmas. He doesn’t stop at the stage, just hoists himself up despite the fact there are stairs literally three steps away from him. Once he’s on stage, he shoves Abi, sending himtoppling onto his back. Scotty’s arms open before pulling me tight against his chest.

“I’m so proud of you, Tatum,” he says, and he sounds like he meant it. “I’ve been waiting for you to let out your inner freak for years.” Pulling away, he stands on his tiptoes and kisses my forehead. “Love you, biffle.”

I flash a nervous smile at him. “Love you, too.”

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