Page 58 of Breaking You Open

“Let’s clean you up.” Louis leads me into the kitchen. With a wet towel, he gently wipes the blood off my face.

I lean into him, melting into his touch. So warm. So safe. Louis. My Louis. I rub my face into his torso, inhaling his sweat and lingering adrenaline.

“You liked that, did you?” he mumbles, sliding my bloodstained shirt off. “You liked what we did?”

“Yeah.” I tug at his belt, palming the crotch of his jeans, my pent-up tension desperate for a way out of me. “I liked it.”

Louis cocks an eyebrow, and I don’t know if he’s surprised, disturbed, or turned on, like me. “That’s how it is, huh?” With a grip on my hips, he lifts me effortlessly up onto the counter. “This got you all hot and needy?”

Turned on it is, then.

I nod wordlessly, grabbing at his shoulders and pressing him tighter against me.

“Okay, baby. I’ve got you.” He makes quick work of my underwear, and my cock springs free, achingly hard and hot against the cold air flowing in from the shattered patio door.

“Louis.” I arch my back, trying to show him what I want, what I’m aching for. “Want you now. Now.”

He grits his teeth, gaze searching the counter, and his hand shoots out to grab a jar of coconut oil by the stove. The lid clatters to the ground as he coats his fingers in the oil, shoves his pants down in one go, and slathers his cock up.

“Want you inside,” I gasp, and he lifts my knees up high and fits himself to my hole.

“You’ll have me.”

“Now,” I whine.

“Wait a bit, baby boy. Don’t want to hurt you.” He presses into me slowly, and the tight ring of my hole burns from his girth.

“Ngh…just…just…ah!” The head pops inside, and I arch my neck to watch where he’s entering me. Slowly, his thick length pushes further and further, and the sight and sensations send my head spinning, my cock twitching, and my hole aching.

“That’s what you wanted?” Louis grunts. The sharp edge of the counter cuts into my lower back, but I don’t care. I’ve got him inside me now, and everything is as it should be. “Such a needy little boy. So desperate to get your hole filled.”

All I can get out is a half-strangled “mmh” as he starts to fuck me in earnest, and my hips move on their own to meet his thrusts. My back bends uncomfortably, and my skin burns where it cuts into the edge of the counter, but Louis helps by holding my hips, almost lifting me into the air as his cock punches in and out of me. It’s so thick, so perfect. I feel myself clutching him back inside every time he pulls back. Sweat drips from his forehead, and his breaths come in quick, sharp bursts.

“Isn’t that right?” He lets go of my hips and grasps my jaw, and his eyes bore into mine. “Aren’t you a needy little boy?”

“Y-Yes,” I gasp, and I’m so close, I’m so insanely close—

Louis flips me over, and I barely have the presence of mind to grab onto the counter as he enters me again, his cock sliding even deeper, so deep it almost hurts.

“I’ll give you what you want, always,” he grunts. “My needy boy. My needy, beautiful boy.”

His heavy balls slam against my buttocks, and he grabs hold of my hair, twisting my body so our lips can meet.

“Want to watch you come,” he growls into my mouth. “Want that ass to squeeze my cum out.”

He reaches down and closes his fist around my aching dick. His hand is so big that he can envelop the whole thing, and it feels incredible every time. I cry out with my orgasm as I shoot into his fist, and his grip loosens as release flows through him as well.

“Don’t pull out,” I plead. “Just hold me. Hold me like this for a bit.”

He sighs into my shoulder, his sweaty forehead slick against my skin as our heartbeats slow. He holds me, tight and unrelenting, providing me with the warmth and safety I need. The attention. The love.

Maybe not that last thing though. Maybe he doesn’t ache for me the same way I ache for him. Probably not. Who would?

Who would?Aaron used to come at me with these exact words whenever I protested or complained about his cruelty.Who would ever love you but me, huh? You’re helpless without me.

I shake my head to rid myself of his incessant voice, and before I have time to change my mind, I ask the question I so desperately want an answer to.

“Would you have killed them for me, Louis? If I’d asked?”

---