Page 73 of Chokehold
The outline of him stops, a slow glance over his shoulder in my direction, making me slink behind a thick tree.
“I know you’re there,” he calls out. “I’m not in the fucking mood for your shit.”
He knows it’s me or…?
My burner buzzes in my pocket, the faint glow giving my position away. I pull it out, seeing a message on the screen.
Make me forget about him, it reads, and I gulp down the lump in my throat, my hand shaking as I grit my teeth and turn off my screen.
So he wants to play dirty. Go from me to Jackson to this version of myself he doesn’t know.
My eyes close as I inhale deeply.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I pick up a thick branch, moving from behind the tree to see him turning and running.
“Fuck,” I blurt and shoot after him, gripping the branch in my hand and dodging smaller branches, nearly tripping over a fallen trunk.
I can hear him running.
I can hear him breathing heavily.
My cock is too fucking responsive to the chase. It’s aching and hard and my balls need to be emptied, preferably down his throat like that first time.
Blaise goes left, jumping over an abandoned, burned-out car, letting out a chain of curse words as he hits the forest floor and pushes himself back to his feet.
I smirk to myself as I slow down, my lungs burning as my chest rises and falls, watching him hopping along and struggling to walk on his twisted ankle.
“Pathetic,” I say under my breath.
“Who the fuck are you?” he says through gritted teeth, going onto his back and shuffling away from me, as if that’ll stop me.
I tilt my head, lifting the branch and slamming it down on his sore ankle, making him shout out a “fuck” and grab at his foot.
I want to snap his neck. I want to drain every drop of his blood and blind him. To make him feel an ounce of betrayal I feel that he not only went to one of my best friends, but also decided it would be a good idea to have me, the masked guy with no name, chase him.
He’s a fucking slut, and I mean nothing to him.
The anger drives me to swing the branch, grazing his cheek and slicing the skin. But before he can fight back, or even blurt some sort of retort, or register the injury, I rush for him, dropping a knee on his chest and forcing his head into the dirt by the throat.
I rob him of breath, cutting off his airways and making sure his lungs feel more suffocated than I’ve felt my entire life. I want it to hurt, to see him begging with his eyes.
With my free hand, I slide the black material from my pocket, ripped from my shirt, and shove him into the dirt more.
“You gonna fight me?” I mutter, dangling the material in front of him. Even with only the moon lighting up inside the woods, I can see the black of his pupils taking over the green, and my cock gets even harder as he tries to push me off.
I dig my thumb into his neck, and he lets out a painful, barely-there hiss before I yank him up by the throat. He doesn’t do shit when I blindfold him with the material, or when I push him back down and slap his cheek hard enough to redden the skin.
Not needing to wait, I rip open his jeans and force my hand under his waistband, groaning under my breath when I feel the hard muscle waiting for me. I fist his cock, my pulse thrashing in my neck when he arches his back ever-so slightly. He wants the release, but hates that he does.
For someone who had his fun not hours ago, he’s silently begging for my touch, especially when I free his cock completely and wrap my fingers around it, stroking him while he stays in the mud, his lips parting on little breaths.
Blaise whimpers when I stop touching him and undo the lace of one of my sneakers. I pull one free and move to his side, grabbing his wrists to tie them together.
He’d be able to easily get out of this and fight me off, or at least pull off his blindfold, but I know he won’t.
Sliding off my mask, my hoodie follows, and I drop them both on the ground beside him. I yank his pants off completely, then his briefs, and toss them aside, watching his cock pointing to the canopy of the trees, thick and long and fucking…
My mouth waters to taste the precum on the tip.
