Page 31 of Fragmented Illusions
I stay where I am, my chest heaving as I turn my face to the side to glance at Sol. He’s staring at me, his signature vacant expression on his face, except… except there is the tiniest smirk pulling at the right side of his lips, making his small dimple pop out.
My breath catches as I stare at him, but he doesn’t speak a word. He leans forward, over me, and presses his right hand to the back of my head. He shoves the fingers of his left hand into my mouth, stuffing it full. I get the hint and roll my tongue over the digits, coating them in my saliva.
He pulls his fingers out of my mouth and reaches into the waistband of my jeans over my ass. His wet fingertips skim over my tailbone before he shoves his hand down my pants, pushing his fingers between my cheeks.
My jeans dig into my skin painfully from being stretched, but I welcome the sting because Sol’s hands are on me. His hands are onme.
My crack becomes slippery from my saliva as Sol works his fingers up and down my crease, and I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I feel one of his fingers press against my hole.
“You need to practice your control, Spencer. I’m not going to be able to take care of you whenever you let yourself go overboard. I will help you today because I need it as much as you do but fix it.” With those words, he presses into me, and I tense, arching my spine at the painfully good intrusion.
“Relax, Spence.” Sol’s words soothe me, and my body instantly melts into the mattress. The second he feels my body relax, he pushes his finger further into me, all the way to the knuckle. I can feel his other fingers against my crease as he curls his finger inside of me and I cry out as white hot pleasure bolts through me when he presses that spot inside of me.
“Shh, Spence. Take it quietly,” Solomon leans down and whispers in my ear as he stretches me with his finger. My blood heats to painfully hot levels in my veins with him inside of me. It’s unlike anything I have ever felt before and I never want it to end.
I want more.
“More,” I beg, unashamed of what I need.
“You want more already?” he asks, sounding almost surprised. I can’t answer, the words not forming on my tongue, so I nod, my scruffy cheek scratching the blanket I’m pressed on top of.
He doesn’t wait to push another finger into me, working me over faster. Harder. He picks up the movement of his hand the best he can in the confines of my jeans, but I don’t need much. I start rotating my hips, the friction and pressure almost too much.
His hand on my head, pressing me down. His breath fanning across my cheek, smelling like mint and coffee. His fingers inside of me, igniting me from the inside out.
I cry out as my release hits me. Rapid and so intense, it’s almost painful. My dick jerks inside of my jeans as hot spurts of cum soak my underwear. My hole clenches around Sol’s fingers as the waves wrack me, but he doesn’t stop moving them. Instead, he pushes them impossibly deeper, pressing painfully on the button inside of me. His other fingers that aren’t inside of me dig into the flesh of my ass as he does, and it does nothing but prolong my release.
Tremors continue to work through me, and my dick keeps twitching like it wants to expel more cum, but I’m spent. Wrung fucking dry.
Suddenly, he pulls his fingers from me, and my hole automatically clenches around nothing at their absence. I already miss them inside of me, feeling uncomfortably hollow.
“Go get cleaned up. I’ll wait for you. We have things we have to do.”
I stand on shaky legs and turn around to meet Solomon’s gaze. He’s staring at me, his eyes boring into mine, though his expression is anything but blank. His eyes fall to my crotch before slowly trailing up my body and landing on my face.
I swallow under his scrutiny but keep my eyes on his face, searching for… something. But as quickly as it came, it’s gone again and back is his mask—much like the ones we wear. Blank. Lifeless.
Taking a deep breath, I walk to my dresser and grab new boxers and jeans.
“Spence,” Sol calls out, and I stop. I twist my upper half to peer back at him. His sharp jaw is clenched tight, appearing even more angular than it already is. His eyes are squinted, and his hands are by his sides as he stands next to the bed, appearing almost lost. Unsure. Unlike him.
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice quiet. I’ve never felt this between us before—this tension suffocating the room. It’s a foreign feeling, but it’s one I wouldn’t mind keeping me company.
“I want to do that again. With her,” he says quietly, his words seemingly uncertain, and my eyes widen briefly at his honesty before a smirk pulls at my lips.
“Me too, brother. Me too.”
Chapter Nine
Fallon
I have never felt so paranoid in my entire fucking life.
Everywhere I turn, I think I see their faces. Well, their masks, but still.
I know it’s irrational. Unlikely. They aren’t going to be walking around wearing doll-like masks in the middle of the day, but the rational part of my brain is beyond functioning.
My phone is held tightly in my grip as I walk across campus to my next class. My body is moving on autopilot and all I want to do is go home, crawl into my bed and lie in a heap of blankets and despair.
