Page 6 of Make Me Bleed
I lose myself to the burn, so similar yet too fucking different to my lighters, and before I know it, my dick is red for an entirely different reason and throbbing, and Lars is panting heavily on the line, his arm shaking as he jerks himself rhythmically.
“Didn’t think you were into pain like that, baby,” I pant, unable to control my breath while I stoke myself a bit faster as I slump against the wall. Thank fuck my phone is propped up on the counter.
“I didn’t either, but…damn, honey…just watching you in your element like this…” He grunts, and then, the chorded muscles of his throat are exposed as he drops his head back in silent rapture. I watch as he comes for me, and then, as soon as he finishes, a dopey smile on his face, I rush to hit the red button, a hurried goodbye on my lips.
My hand is already back around my cock, the other around my throat with the ridges of barbed wire pressed into my skin, making me harder than I’ve felt in years.
I usually don’t succumb to it… to his pull on me… but right now with the burn on my cock and the thoughts of him swarming in my head like wasps in a hive, I can’t control it.
I need to feel him in any way I can.
My fingers clamp tighter around my throat, restricting my air flow. My eyes roll into the back of my head as my vision whites out. I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t focus on anything other than the heat burning its way through my body as my cock spasms and I come all over myself and the bathroom floor. My hand moves of its own volition, continuing to slide over my length, even after every last drop of cum has oozed from my hole.
I shudder from overstimulation, my body twitching uncontrollably as I slide to the floor. My hand drops from my throat to catch myself as I fall in a tangle of limbs, chest heaving as I work to catch my breath.
My eyes wander around the bathroom, to the plain white misshapen walls, to the waterlogged sink basin, to the four holes in the wall next to the towel rack because it took me that many times to find the stud… but I got it. All on my fucking own.
And as shitty as this place may be, it’s all mine. I pay for it with the money I fucking earn, and I don’t have to worry about anyone taking it away from me.
Finally.
With a deep breath, I reach forward and yank a towel down and roughly wipe myself down before standing on shaky legs. I yank my briefs back on and stumble my way out and to the coffee table, where a half-smoked blunt rests in the ashtray that I left earlier before I went to Jason’s.
Grabbing the blunt and the pink lighter beside it, I make my way onto the balcony, shivering as the cool autumn air washes over my bare skin. I pull out the metal chair, wincing when it scrapes across the stone, and drop down into it with a hiss, but as soon as the blunt hits my lips and I light it, everything else ceases to matter.
The smoke fills my lungs, making me dizzy, but I don’t stop taking hits until my entire body is fuzzy and numb—which fortunately doesn’t take long. I drop my head back against the chair to stare up at the stars, taking in their striking depth.
How close they seem, close enough to touch as they illuminate the night sky above so brightly, yet so painfully far away I can never dream of coming close to one—in a metaphorical sense of course, but still.
Stars are for those who deserve to wish upon them.
They’re not meant for people like me. The dark and depraved and unorthodox.
The ones who fuck people for money.
The ones who leave the people they love behind to survive because it’s all they know how to do.
And the worst part is… I could’ve gone back. I still can. I’ve got more than enough money now. I can go back to Elise. I know where Peris is… he’s right where he should be. At college playing ball as he was always meant to… but that’s why I didn’t. Why Ican’t.
Why would I ruin them all over again when they’ve finally gotten their shit together? When they’ve finally healed from the mess I left them in… the stain I put on their lives…
I can’t do that. Not after the way I left and what I did.
I’m not ashamed. I did what I had to do to survive. I can’t regret that, but I do regret doing it the way I did. Hurting them the way I did… or at least the way IthinkI did… I don’t really know.
I haven’t spoken to them since then, and I never will again, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t kept my tabs on Peris. He’s been kind of hard not to, to be honest, with the way he’s been making the sports news practically every fucking week since he started at college.
Seeing his face plastered on the screen makes me sick, and yet… I never look away.
He’s grown up. And fuck, did he get even hotter.
His hair is a bit more wavy now, but he keeps it pushed back from his face with product. He has his fucking nose pierced, and he’s covered in tattoos, for fuck’s sake. He’s my wet dream, and it’s my secret indulgence to watch him on the screen whenever he’s on it. To see him succeeding, living his dream. As he fucking should be.
Without me.
Because I would’ve just dragged him down.
My eyes prick unexpectedly as I stare up at the night sky, and I blink rapidly a few times to dispel the tears that threaten to spill.
