Page 24 of Worthy

My verity has been set in stone since the moment my mother decided drugs were better than keeping me.

A sharp inhale pulls me from my musings. My own skin feels flushed and tepid as I blink warily. The red glow of the clock washes over Peris’s skin, pink in appearance as it refracts off the beads of perspiration.

I swing my leg over Peris’s waist, settling down on top of his groin. He shifts beneath me, his hard dick gliding between my cheeks through the thin fabric of my boxers.

I lean down on top of him, resting my chin against his chest, my crooked nose bumping his chin.

The dude is a heavy fucking sleeper. I would’ve woken up the second I heard the creak of the door. Maybe it’s my environment that has shaped that part of me—most of me—but I truly do not understand the depth to which people fall when they are unconscious.

“I know whatever you’re dreaming about hurts,” I whisper lightly, fingertip pressing against his throat, on his pulse point, “but it doesn’t have to. You can accept who you are.” It’s all I’ve ever wanted him to do.

I’ve gone about it the worst possible way—because it’s more fun that way—but the end goal has always been for him to reach his peak and pull me down with him. To feel the wind rushing against our faces as we plummet our way into Hell.

“Make the hurt feel better.” It’s a truth I etch into his skin as my mouth finds his pec, tongue darting out to skim over his damp flesh. Salt and musk explode on my tastebuds, making my mouth water. I hurriedly make my way down his body, and catching his waistband, I drag his briefs to his knees, leaving them there as I settle on top of his thighs.

It’s so dark, I can only make out the shadowed outline of his cock, but damn, I’m already salivating, remembering the taste of his cum stuck in the back of my throat. How pretty it looked smeared across my skin.

I let my head hang forward, lips forming an “O” as saliva drips from between them, right onto Peris’s dick. I wrap my hand around him to smear it around, repeating the process again and again until it drips down steadily, smearing across his groin, down his balls, and onto the sheets below.

The sounds filling the room are obscene, the noises coming from his throat even more so. They’re tortured, needy. Broken.

I know the feeling all too well. I just hope he doesn’t actually kill me when he wakes up.

It would be a shame to end the game when we’ve only just begun.

Keeping one knee planted on the bed, I raise the other, digging my toes into the mattress so I can hover over Peris’s length. It’s easy to pull my boxers to the side, to sink down, letting his slick cock slide through my cleft.

My eyes roll back at the sensation. It’s been a long time since I’ve been fucked. The plan that night was to fuck Brian in the choir room, but Peris’s unexpected arrival changed things—and since then, I’ve been fixated solely on him.

Him touching me, fucking me, taking all of his anger and pain outon me.

And now…

Fuck, I finally get to have it.

My mind is warring between two vastly different emotions and desires, as my fingers delve into my mouth, and I lather them in spit. Reaching back, I swipe them over my hole, wiping off as much excess as I can before wrapping my fingers around Peris’s girth. I line him up to my entrance, breath hitching in trepidation at the feel of his bulbous head nudging against me.

Peris moans, thighs bunching underneath me. I still, chest heaving as I wait for him to settle. How fucked up this is should affect me in some way. The non-consent of it all, but sometimes, we have to be forced to see the truth we’ve vehemently refused.

And I know this is what Peris needs. To not feel disgusted with himself for wanting what he wants. No guilt, no trepidation. No lies. No matter what, orwho,it is—without shame. Because, even with the trauma we’ve suffered, we’re fucking allowed to take what we need.Bewho we need.

And I wanna give him this amidst his nightmare, shift the pain into something better. Something hecancontrol.

Fire bursts at my hole as I press down, letting Peris’s cockhead breach me, but the stretch is infinitesimal in comparison to the unwavering elation. “Fuck,” I groan, legs shaking, stomach tensing as I keep myself perched in one place, so I don’t rip myself open completely.

I want the pain of this. I want it to hurt, but I also don’t want to fucking tear and bleed. It’d ruin the mood, just a bit.

Peris’s hands flex, fingers clawing into the sheets. The scratching sound is loud in succession with my pants. I watch his veins bulge and dance, his head rolling back and forth, tendons straining.

I press down further. His hips buck, forcing more inside me. I cry out, clenching around him and making the ache worse.

His hands find my hips, just above the waistband of my underwear, and I whimper as he digs in deep, bruising me. I use his touch as an anchor, forcing my muscles to relax. I slide down, eyes rolling at how full I feel.

I’m suffocating in the feeling, water bubbling up around me in heavy waves crashing against my face, flowing higher and higher with every breath, every movement until it cascades over and I’m drowning, choking on the ecstasy of asphyxiation.

“Peris.”

A gasp.

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