I just watch.
In complete, utter fascination.
He pulls out my painfully hard cock and I hiss at the sensation of his rough hand against the sensitive skin.
“Fuck. You do have a huge dick and it’s weeping for me. Mmm. Uncut. Fucking perfect.” He flashes me a charming grin as he strokes me from the base to the foreskin and presses his thumb at the tip.
I think I’ll make a massive joke out of myself and come right then and there, drowning in his gaze and the hair that’s framing his sharp face.
Is it supposed to feel this fucking good?
“Why, hello, Straight Brandon’s dick. You look pretty gay to me.” He strokes again, harsher this time, eliciting a shudder from me.
Somewhere in my mind, I know that I should stop him. I need to stop him.
But I don’t want to.
I have no will whatsoever.
None of my bodily functions are in tune with the logical part of my brain. Not when he’s jerking me off with a level of control that leaves me panting.
My ears ring and my vision blurs, but he remains in focus right in the middle, his hard strokes grounding me to the moment.
To him.
Tingles creep up my spine and all my blood rushes to where he’s touching me.
“Get my cock out,” he orders in a low, growly voice.
My heavy lids lift for a fraction of a second and I stare at him, dumbfounded.
What was he saying again?
“Now,” he says, firmer this time, and I don’t know what’s come over me.
There’s something about the way he orders me around that works me into an inexplicable frenzy.
I grab onto his jeans, fingers unsteady and completely awkward as I undo his button and then slide down his zipper over his enormous erection.
Every now and then, I have to stop and suppress a groan when he jerks me faster with skin-tingling control.
My hand is definitely less sure when I reach into his boxer briefs and then pause, my mind going blank.
What the hell am I supposed to do now? I don’t want to make an awkward move.
“Wrap your hand around my cock and pull it out, baby.” His voice is deep but authoritarian and I find myself doing just that.
It’s the first time I’ve touched a dick other than my own, and bloody fucking hell.
The moment I bring it out, I can’t resist staring at how both thick and long he is. I’m not small by any means, but Nikolai is a tad bigger and slightly curved. Four piercings protrude from the crown, shining under the dim streetlight.
“Your hands are so soft.” He nibbles on my lip, my jaw, and my Adam’s apple.
A groan slips out of me and he grins against it, licking the assaulted skin, then whispers, “Squeeze me, baby.”
I do, carefully, not wanting to cause him pain. Though he certainly doesn’t seem like he has the same concerns with my own cock since he jerks me as if he has a problem with me.
Not that I’m complaining. No one has ever touched me this roughly. This…deliciously.
“You won’t hurt me, lotus flower. Do it harder.” He laps his tongue at my jaw. “Mmm. Let me get the blood off you.”
He bites down on the spot as if he wants to break the skin and then sucks hard until I’m lightheaded.
My skin tingles when he steps back to leave space between us.
Nikolai releases my cock, and before I can think about it, he presses his hand on mine, opens it, and rubs his cock against mine, then closes my hand on both our girths, barely. I have big hands, but it looks tiny when wrapped around our dicks.
“Let me show you how to properly jerk a man’s soul out of his cock. Relax your hand.”
I do, my eyes following his movements with fascination as he grips my hand and uses it to jerk both our lengths. Roughly. With a firm edge.
The visual of his inked hand on mine turns the lust into a dangerous need.
A dash of pleasure thickens my cock, but it soars into an avalanche when Nikolai thrusts his length against mine and my hand.
Ourhands.
He rolls his hips and slams forward, stabbing my groin with his pierced crown. Once, twice.
On the third time, I’m thrusting as well, matching his rhythm and jerking as hard as he’s directing my hand, refusing to be the recipient. Refusing to be trapped in a role that revolts me to the core.
Wetness slips beneath our fingers and I’m not sure if it’s his precum or mine. I obviously don’t care, because I go faster, harder. Out of the control I excel at so well.
“Your hand is jerking me so good, baby.” Nikolai groans, trapping the corner of his lip between his teeth and I can’t help looking at his face. At the fuck-me expression. The hollowing in his cheek as he releases these fucked-up erotic noises that destroy something inside me.
How can a savage be so…attractive?
It’s the alcohol. Please tell me this is only because I’m hammered.
“Does it feel good when I touch you?” He squeezes my hand on our lengths. “Does it feel intoxicating? Liberating?”
All I can do is stare at him. Caught in a trance. Astonished. As if my soul has left the confines of my physical body.
“You don’t have to answer. Your cock is doing the job so fucking well. You’re leaking for me…fuck…” he breathes. “Come for me, baby. Show me how much you want me.”
Oh fuck.
No, no, no.
“No… Fuck you…” I can’t hold on to my lies anymore. They sound needy to my own ears.
“Correction. I’m the one fucking you.”
My balls fill to the brim and I get no warning as my cum splutters all over Nikolai’s T-shirt and even shoots up his neck and jaw.
A fever-like sensation spreads all over my body as I watch him darting his tongue out and chasing the cum on his lips and chin, licking every droplet clean.
There’s no other expression for what he does next. He uses my hand as he thrusts himself against my slowly depleting cock, faster, harder, until a shiver goes through me.
Until I forget my damn fucking name.
“Ungh…fuck… I’m coming…” His muscles tighten as he does a few more brutal thrusts, and then I feel the wetness on my groin and all over my hand.
“Mmm. Prince Charming is covered in my cum. Yum. I can get used to this view.” He smears the cum on both our lengths, then reaches a hand that’s glistening with evidence of our depravity and coats it all over my lips.
My head swirls and I can feel my ears heating.
No, no…
My lips part and he jams his middle and ring fingers inside, all the way to the back of my throat, forcing me to taste him.
No, it’s not only him. It’s us.
Good grief. This is so sick.
Then why aren’t you fighting?
I must try to release another noise in an attempt to speak, because Nikolai shakes his head, eyes still blazed with intensity and unbound lust.
“Shut the fuck up. Don’t try to ruin this with your fucking mouth. Let me keep that busy for you.” He jams his fingers deeper. “Choke on my fingers instead. I want you to swallow every drop of cum down your throat.”
And then he rubs his fingers on my tongue, the sloppy sound of saliva echoing in the air around us.
He keeps doing that until I start licking him.
Until I talk myself into believing this is a dream.
* * *
It was not a dream.
No matter how much I try to convince myself that I’m imagining things and that I couldn’t possibly have done that in public—where anyone could’ve seen me. The truth remains that I didn’t have a dream.
Not even a little. Not even close.
I pace the length of my bedroom and bathroom, nursing a pounding headache and thoughts so chaotic, they add to the migraine.
My inhales and exhales are fast, fractured, and completely repulsed by the reality I woke up to this morning.
At five a.m. Like clockwork.
Only, nothing makes sense.
I stop pacing and look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my hand gripping my hair tighter the longer I stare at the fucking cunt. The weak bloody wanker who couldn’t stay in control, just because he had a few drinks.
Black ink covers my features, turning it faceless. What stares back at me is unrecognizable.
A monster.