Page 47 of Mayfly

“I won’t. I—holy fuck!”

Jude throws his legs around me, clings to my neck with both arms, and tightens every muscle in his body.

When I draw back, I gasp at the squeeze he has on me.

“Up… Up…”

I do my best to drive up into him.

“More… Please… You’re so close.”

Bending my knees, I ram my cock as high and deep into him as I can.

“Yes! Fuck! Don’t stop… Don’t stop.”

The look on his face is tortured bliss. His eyes have lost focus and his neck is weak.

“Beat me.” It’s so soft, like a cloud, and I pretend I didn’t hear it. “Please… I need it.”

Any normal person would refuse. But that's just the thing. We aren’t normal. We’re fucked up kindred spirits made for each other.

My first punch lands on his ribs. Then I rain my fist down all over his back—wherever I can reach.

Jude cries out, thanking me with every blow.

Silent weeps wrack his body in between the screams.

I'm honored to do it.

He deserves this.

I’m going to hunt down his parents and bring back their heads.

“I’m close.” Jude’s body tenses again. I stop hitting him and hold the back of his head. “I need you to fuck me as hard as you can.”

I slam him on the table—our arms still around each other; his legs like a vise.

“Fuck… Curren… Fill me up.”

“Let go, baby. Close your eyes and let me take you away.”

He relaxes, convulses, then goes limp.

A new wetness marks our stomachs.

I can feel his dick pulsing against my abs.

I reposition; stand, and hold up his legs.

I pull him towards me with each thrust.

I am all powerful.

I hate myself.

I love Jude.

Only he can understand.

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