Page 136 of Inevitable Destruction

My face radiates heat as Dominik’s palm connects with my already stinging cheek. My head snaps to the side before my eyes find his. He’s kneeling in front of me, naked and worried, his hands clasping my head between them.

The deep crease between his brows and the downward angle of his lips tells me he’s worried. “You were panicking, I think. Which is weird, and I didn’t know what to do…”

“So you slapped me,” I add for him, and he nods with a sheepish lift of his shoulder. His cheeks bloom a bright red, and for a moment, it feels like my beauty boy is back with me.

“It’s not like I didn’t deserve it,” I say out loud, to no one in particular, but maybe as a reminder to myself.

“If this is going to work, you can’t keep thinking like that. It’s not good for either of us, and it will just hinder any healing we both still need to do.”

“What are you—a motivational handbook?” I mumble into his skin as he hugs me to him. The roles are reversed, and it feels… odd. But comfortable.

“Pretty much.” I laugh into his neck and tighten my grip, never wanting to let go.

“You said ‘if this is going to work.’” I don’t say anything more than that, wanting—needing—him to take the lead. I’ve never had the urge to hand over control, and while I want to control his body, his mouth, anyway I can, I need him to tell me where to go from here—what he needs from me, how I can be a better man for him.

“I did.” He doesn’t elaborate, and I pull back to shoot him a glare. He laughs and presses his lips to mine. The moment our tongues glide together, all apprehension slides from my body and into his. I can feel the transfer of pain as we swap, taking each other’s and healing it ourselves.

It’s such a visceral sensation, one that’s completely unexplainable, but it’s there, just as it has been since the first time when I hit him, right here in this cemetery, when I felt his lips on mine for the first time.

“I need you to tell me what you need from me, Dominik. I’ve never felt this lost before, and I can’t—fuck. I can’t fucking hurt you again, okay? I won’t survive it. You’re not the only one with an addiction.

“You’re mine and having you again after so long is like a hit straight to my fucking brain. Which, shit,” I mumble, “is probably not the right thing to say right now after… goddamnit.”

“Stop, baby, shh.” Dominik hushes me with his lips, firm and sure and just so fucking good.

“First, let’s get some clothes on. It’s the middle of the night, but we’re still outside.” He lifts himself off of me, and the loss of his touch makes me panic. I dart my hand out and wrap it around the back of his rock hard thigh. I pull him toward me until my forehead rests against his skin.

“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, hating the way my voice breaks, the irony of my words not lost on me. I have no right to ask anything of him, especially this, but I can’t survive losing him again.

“I’m not, Rhett. I promise.” He brushes my hair away from my face as it tumbles forward. He tucks it behind my ears and steps back, reaching a hand out to help me up. I stumble as my jeans stretch taut over my lower thighs, and Dominik’s there to steady me with a hand on my bicep.

I tug my jeans up, hating the layers between us as he pulls his clothes on. “Come on,” he says, locking our fingers together as he pulls me to my Pops’s headstone. After grabbing his hat and putting it on backwards, he leans down and grabs the pack of cigarettes that must’ve fallen earlier, along with his own lighter and pulls two out. He places both between his lips and lights the ends, puffing on both. My mouth dries as my cock stirs. He’s so fucking hot.

He holds out one for me, and I grab it, never taking my eyes off of him. He plays with the lighter as he puffs on the end, the smoke polluting the air around us in a thick cloud.

“I don’t really remember your father. These last few months, I’ve thought a lot about him, but he’s just a face in the background of my addiction. Frankly, everything is except for you.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, and I nod, encouraging him to keep going, ready to hear what he has to say. The moonlight trickles over his skin, making him appear ghastly, and I ache to sink my teeth into his skin again, to grab his hips, shove him down over the headstone, and fuck into him so hard, his hips bruise.

“I was raped.” His words slice through the air, their effect immediately killing every trace of my lust and replacing it with fury. My hands fist at my sides, the cigarette’s smoke curling up and burning my eyes. I keep my gaze locked on the ground, on upturned dirt and sticks because if I look away for just one second, I’ll go on a fucking killing spree.

Fingers dig into my forearm before wrapping around my wrist. I focus on his cool touch, letting it center me. Neither of us speak of the tears cascading between us, and for that, I’m grateful.

“I didn’t say that to hurt you, but part of this involves honesty—which is something we both deserve after all the lies we’ve buried between us.” I look up through my lashes, finding him peering at me, his eyes darting back and forth between mine as he tries to read my expression—which shouldn’t be hard since I haven’t been able to mask a single emotion I’ve been feeling since he pulled down this road.

“That was my low. Last time, it was overdosing, which you’d think would be the worst it could get.” He chuckles, but it’s dry and humorless. I flex my wrist and twist my hand around to clasp his fingers, needing him to ground us. Our fingers fumble together as we play and dance along each other’s skin, never able to get enough.

“But being ripped open from the inside out killed something inside of me. That, on top of losing you… It was too much, and I wanted to die. But then I opened my eyes and saw Essa. And damn, was she a trigger—it seems I have a lot of those.” He laughs and puffs on his cigarette, nearing the end. He leans his head back between his shoulders, arching his stubble covered neck as he stares up at the dense, black sky.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a weak squeak before I snap my jaw closed and grind my molars together, hating the feelings of inadequacy rushing to the surface in face of the reality of our situation.

“Anyway.” He flicks the cigarette out and faces me, shoving his free hand in his pocket. His shoulders curl in as he lowers his head, and I suddenly have the overwhelming urge to wrap my arms around him, so that’s what I fucking do.

I’m done fighting what feels right. His touch, him in my fucking arms—that’s what feels right. Like home.

“We have lots of time to discuss all of this,” he mumbles into my neck as I constrict my arms around him, his own arms latching around my waist. “But this time, it has to be different.”

“It already is, beauty,” I tell him, honesty never tasting so good as it flees from my tongue. “I’ve never been so fucking terrified in my life—mainly of hurting you. It once brought me so much gratification seeing you in pain, seeing you slowly kill yourself at my hand, and now, the mere thought makes me want to drive my Harley off a fucking cliff.

“I’ve never even considered death was an option until you left me. Because that’s what you did,” I say, needing to get some things off my chest, too. “I know it’s selfish and five hundred different kinds of fucked up, but it’s true.

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