Page 33 of Mayfly

His mouth is open, his tongue is lolling out, his throat is making noises that my ears have never heard, and the power I’m feeling is like adrenaline.

I’m invincible.

A sadistic monster.

The facilitator of his greatest fantasy, but this still doesn’t compare to the wretched shit I wish of him.

“Fuck, you’re disgusting,” I spit on him when I’ve nothing left to give—swearing at myself, at my desires, at the fact I never tried to track him down, either. “Do you think I want to fuck you now?”

“Probably not. I’m sorr—”

“Shut the fuck up!” I yell, kicking him so hard that he topples to the side and onto the piss-soaked bath mat. Still using my foot, I force him onto his back and stand over him. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing?”

Curren’s mouth opens impulsively to repeat the words, but he stops himself and stares up at me with red, tear-stained eyes.

“There’snothingthat could stop me from fucking you right now.”

Slowly, his hands move from protectively guarding his chest, and reach out to me.

Dropping the coconut oil, I fall to my knees then take his hands and hold them above his head. “I’ve been waiting for you since the day you walked away from me. I just didn’t know it till now.”

Curren separates his legs beneath me, lifts his head, and whispers against my lips, “So please, don’t wait any longer.”

The force of my kiss sends his head back to the tiles.

I grab one of his legs and pull it up to the side; desperate to be inside him, but reluctant to pull away.

He tries to follow my lips, but I hold him down with a hand on the middle of his chest, then I slide it down his torso before grabbing the coconut oil. Twisting off the lid, I scoop some out then toss the jar away.

I coat my dick with the melting oil.

I grip the back of his other leg and bring it to his chest so his ass tilts up and I can spread the remainder on him.

He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth when a thick wad of spit falls from my lips to his rim. Then he watches as I rub the underside of my slick cock back and forth over his hole.

“Please stop teasing me. I need you, now.”

“Say it again.”

“I need you. I need you to fuck everything bad out of me until the only thing left is you.”

“You’re so perfect,” I tell him as I press against his hole.

Curren's hands reach for me again, but as my cock head slips inside him, his arms pull back to cover his face. I want to tell him to stop, but the grip his ass has on me, and the way it feels like it’s trying to draw me in deeper, has my back hunching and my hands falling to his sides so I don’t collapse on top of him.

It’s all-consuming.

Like home.

Like where I was always meant to be. Too far gone and lost in the depths of the man beneath me.

“P—please try to relax—ah—shit. You’re so fucking tight.”

It’s literal insanity, how good he feels. So warm. So suffocating. Like the kid who had yearned for Curren at the fence doesn’t exist anymore.

Milliseconds turn into an eternity as I remain halfway inside him, terrified that the clamp he has on me will make me come if he so much as breathes too deeply.

One hand falls from his face and he looks up at me. His eyes are begging me to keep going, but his body is shaking as he attempts to muffle the pain beneath his forearm.

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