Page 89 of Fragile Facade
“Fine.” I grab his wrist and twist, locking his arm behind his back and spinning him to face the mirror. “Then look at your fucking self. Look, Killian! Look at who you fucking are.” I shove his face forward, almost nose to nose with the mirror. “Ruthless Vile Boy who wears the white mask and goes by Riot. The master manipulator. A protector of Moros because of the power you hold and the authority you demand. Killian Hallows, the man who helped his brother kill his parents to protect him.” I lean in, lips brushing his hair. “The one and only man to ever fuck me.”
He growls. The sound starts as a rumble that builds into a scream of freedom. He looks in the mirror, trying to see himself as I see him. He blinks and yells even more, choking fire straight from the depths of his throat, struggling in my grip.
“And when you need the visual reminder, you put this on.” I release his arm but pin him with my body as I strap his mask over his face, securing it at the back of his head. “Because this is who you are. Doesn’t fucking matter what your skin looks like. I. Fucking. See you.”
He’s trembling, but he doesn’t stop me from grabbing the razor and slicing one fine line down his inner bicep. He needs a purging, and I’m the only one strong enough to handle the demons that leave him.
He pauses, time stopping as he lets the force of everything he is sink into his bones. I think all he’s ever wanted was to be seen without all his masks. The moment is full, pregnant with purpose and painful because of it. And when it ends, Killian explodes.
His eruption is gorgeous.
His teeth snap beneath the mask, audibly setting us off the starting blocks. He spins, both hands coming out to pound against my chest. With the force of his shove, I fly backwards, slamming into his bed, and he keeps coming at me.
Ah, fuck yeah. Here he is. I grin beneath my mask and revel in the force he projects. When his hands slam against my chest again, I brace myself on the edge of his bed and kick out with my legs, making him buckle forward. I laugh loudly as he falls, head tilted back and throat bared, ready to go mad with him.
Killian screams louder when his sore back hits the hard floor, and I take the chance to kneel at his feet. When he kicks out, I grab his foot and rip his boots off, tossing them aside. Before I can tear his pants away, he tries to sit up and throw me onto my back. I don’t let him. Pressing on his chest, I lean over him and push him back down. My hips open his legs, and my groin rubs against his.
“Who are you?” I ask, voice muffled behind my mask.
“Me,” he says. “In fucking charge. Stronger than you.”
Good story. I laugh, grinding against him to draw a groan from his lips. “Feel that?”
“Your cock? Yeah, always fucking ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Your back,” I correct. “Burned and broken against the floor. Feel it, Riot. Feel those burns and stop letting them control you.”
He snarls, gaining strength. He sits up, making me fall backwards to my ass. When he stands, he grabs the back of my head and forces my face against the hardness in his pants. “Oh, I fucking feel it. Nothing controls me but myself.”
I suffocate in his groin, not even mad about it because he’s coming back to life. His shoulders are tense and straight, not slumped and sad, and his authority over absolutely every situation is rising to the surface. He’s a master manipulator, and this time, I’m going to let him manipulate me for my own personal gain—him at his best.
I bite down on my lip, groaning against him. He smacks me, twisting my mask sideways with the force of it. When I reach up to straighten it, he grabs my wrists and pins them to the bed behind me, making my back press into the frame. Killian kneels, shirtless and masculine, empowered because of himself. He rights my mask and squeezes my wrists.
“Admit you want me. Fucking blink, Soren.”
I do blink, but only because he can’t see it. “There you are, you egotistical prick. Knew you’d rely on me to bring you back.”
“I never fucking went anywhere.” He unzips my hoodie, letting it hang open. “Admit I’m winning.”
“Are you stalling?”
He groans, hauling me to my feet. Killian rips my clothes off angrily until I’m wearing nothing but my mask and a pair of black socks. On my own, I sit on the edge of his bed, stroking my cock to entice him. I track his nimble, still-bandaged fingers as they undo his pants and push them down his thighs. His boxers go next, and then I zero in on his hand wrapped around his cock, precum already pearling on the tip. This is a dick-measuring contest if I’ve ever seen one, but instead of it being about size, it’s about who’s going to reign as the dominant one.
Simply because he’s having a shitty day, and I admittedly enjoyed his dick in my ass, I push back onto his bed and bring my feet flat to the mattress as an invitation to goddamn take what he wants. Look at me being selfless. And still dominant, because I’m the one in control of this.
His throat rolls with a swallow as he prowls towards me, grabbing lube from the bedside table on his way. The white face of his mask is glowing, so stark against the black, and I’ve never seen something fit him so well. He’s every shade of grey there is, and between white and black is where he thrives.
Instead of popping the top, he drops the lube and pushes on my knees, folding me back to expose my ass to him. He pushes his mask up to free his mouth, and I gasp, ready to fight him off…
But then my asshole vibrates as he growls against it, his tongue pressing inside me. “Oh, holy fuck.” I grip the sheets to avoid touching him, but I don’t last. When he licks all around my hole, I go wild with a level of pleasure I’ve never experienced before. My hands end up on his shoulders, and I can’t even look at him because it’s too much.
I’m the one on my back, but he’s the one servicing me, and I’ve never felt more conflicted about our power dynamic.
The inside of my mask dampens with my laboured breaths, and I sink into his bed without a clear thought. I’m not fighting for or against anything, and I’m not proving a point to shine in the spotlight. I’m just rendered useless because of pleasure. My cock is so hard that I reach for it, but Killian bats my hand away and lifts his mouth from my ass to glare at me.
I don’t know where it comes from, and I hate that I say it, but I whisper, “Don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t.
