He’s ours…

Sitting in the large, sun-soaked cafeteria with the voices of excited students all around him, Daniel could not look away from Mason Blackthorne. It was a problem, and not a new one. He’d had a thing for the blond for years now, but lately things were getting worse. Dangerous. Something was different about Mason and it was driving him crazy.

Oh, he still looked the same. Mason Blackthorne was one of the hottest sorcerers Daniel had ever met, and that was saying something. With enough magic everyone looked damn sexy. It was just something innate about using the power, like the magic sank into the cells and transformed the wielder with each spell. Daniel was used to being surrounded by beautiful people, was used to being one himself with his dark hair and strange, gold eyes, yet Mason managed to stand out like a glowing flame to his senses.

To call Mason pale would be an understatement. The boy’s skin was pure cream, his hair platinum white. Average height but lithe and toned, Mason was a glint of moonlight most of the time, the only color he revealed being his red lips and maddening cerulean eyes that glowed in certain light. Mason was stunning and Daniel wished that was the reason he couldn’t stop staring at him.

He tried valiantly to focus on what his best friends William and Tiana were saying across from him at the table. The couple was getting an apartment together, both of them having already applied and been accepted as magical regulators in training. He didn’t want to think about the fact that it was his last day at the Academy of Magical Arts and Sorcery. Daniel was giving up magic and hadn’t told anyone yet. It was for the best. It was time to finally let magic and Mason Blackthorne go for good.

It was the only answer. Surely anything else would lead to him destroying the beautiful boy and himself in the process.

Daniel didn’t want to live in a world of magic. After four years of advanced sorcerer training, he no longer had any doubts. It didn’t matter that he had raw talent and even greater power. He had been named an Elite, a title bestowed on only the most illustrious of sorcery students, Daniel being the only one during the last five years to receive the honor. Since the title, he had been interview repeatedly in three different newspapers, offered two internships, one of them into the Council of Esteemed, and had received two dozen offers from Masters around the world hoping he would choose them for formal apprenticeship. Daniel had the magical world in the palm of his hand and he was determined to leave it all behind.

Unfortunately there was a loud, roaring, bloodthirsty beast inside of him that wanted to stay.

Ours… We must make him ours…

It had been a difficult year. Two months ago Daniel had lost his chronically ill grandmother, his only guardian since he was a small child. It had almost been a relief when Sofia Warweaver finally passed away. Even though he was away at what would be considered the equivalent of college in an academic setting, the majority of his attention had been spent dealing with the doctors and nurses keeping the sorceress alive. Her mind had failed in the end, the women a shadow of her former powerful glory as the curse that had been cast on her before Daniel was born took its slow, torturous course of eating her away.

It had been a reminder to him of just what magic did, even to the most powerful. And his Grandmum had been one of the greats. Older than what she claimed, certainly, although she managed to look under forty when Daniel last saw her, she had lost both her son and daughter to terrible warlocks over twenty years ago, that daughter being Daniel’s mother. For all her power, she had not been able to save either of her children and it had broken her more than the curse that struck her down.

Take him… Claim him…

Daniel, eyes having managed to find their way to his breakfast of scrambled eggs and ham, slowly looked back up to where Mason was chatting obliviously with his friends.

You can smell him… He wants us… He’s aching for us…

“Shut the fuck up,” Daniel muttered under his breath. His beast did not, growling lowly in his ear, commenting on all the ways Mason chose to not look in his direction, the boy blatantly ignoring them like the little flirt he was.

Over the table… He won’t fight us… He’s begging for us… Just cross the room, push him down to the table, and take him… He’ll give in… He wants to give in to us…

Daniel was not a crazy person, even if he did have a dark voice rumbling in his ear to fuck Mason Blackthorne senseless. He was a shifter, one of the rare mythical shifters at that. The beast inside of him had never walked the earth in any other form, waking up in the oldest, strongest family bloodlines to experience life with a human host. It was supposed to be a great honor to hold a beast within. Daniel had found out very quickly that it was not, the blood lion within him an absolute menace. The moment it had woken up he had caged the beast to keep it from taking over his body and transforming him into a wild animal. No, Daniel wasn’t a crazy person, but if he had to deal with the beast roaring over Mason Blackthorne for another month, he was going to go out of his fucking mind.

He looks good today…

Mason did, in fact, look fucking hot as hell, the boy dressed in tailored slacks and a collared short-sleeved shirt like the privileged preppy brat he was. His biceps, tight and toned, were looking particularly interesting as the blond leaned his elbows on the table to talk to his neighbor, cerulean eyes lighting ever so subtly on Daniel’s intense stare before looking away with a small grin.

He wants us… We should take him… Have him… Keep him…

“Shut up, you stupid furball,” Daniel muttered, wishing Mason would stop grinning every time he looked his way.

He’ll be tight… Loud… His cries for us will echo off the walls…

Daniel really needed to get the fuck out of there. It was the last day of class. Tomorrow he’d be officially graduated and no longer required to share a cafeteria, hallway, or classroom with Mason. Just one more day to endure, and he’d be free from this insanity.

“Seeing as you’re talking to yourself, I’m going to assume you haven’t been listening?” William broke in, only looking slightly annoyed when Daniel glanced at him blankly. William, tall with light brown hair and dark eyes, had been attempting to draw Daniel into conversation for the last ten minutes. His failure was only mildly disheartening, having grown used to his friend’s strange behavior. “Blackthorne?” He asked when Daniel’s golden gaze began slipping away again. “Has he hexed you again?”

Grunting noncommittally, Daniel forced his attention to William and Tiana’s expectant faces. He hadn’t felt it necessary to reveal to his friends of four years that lately whenever he was fighting with Mason he was also trying to hold back the beast from tearing the boy’s clothes off. The two knew about the Blood King inside him and had accepted a lot of weird behavior from him as the consequence. Still, some things were just a bit too much to share.

“We were asking if you’d like to join us on our vacation, Daniel,” Tiana spoke up. “I hate to think of you all alone in that big house now that your grandmother has passed away.”

Daniel winced, picking up his fork so he could pretend to eat. “I’m going to be really busy this summer. The Estate needs to be settled, things boxed up—That sort of thing.” He didn’t meet Tiana’s eye. Daniel was actually homeless. With the death of his Grandmum, the large Warweaver Estate had been spelled shut to everyone. He couldn’t even get to his own things until the reading of the will, something that wouldn’t occur for another month. “Besides, you two haven’t had a chance to be alone since you started dating. I’d hate to be a third wheel.”

William shot Daniel a grateful look. Tiana worried too much and William was a bit oblivious, but Daniel loved them both and didn’t want to burden them with his own shit.

He had met his Aunt April for the first time at Sophia’s funeral. He knew the woman existed but she had never contacted him after his father’s death. He hadn’t given much thought to why until face to face with his aunt. She was terrified of magic, and more so, the people that wielded it. Her brother and his family had been obliterated in the blink of an eye and she had not been able to take in the nephew that had survived. Until now, when she had demanded Daniel live with her family that summer until the will was settled. Daniel, with no place left to turn, had hesitantly agreed.

April’s only stipulation was that he didn’t perform magic while at the house. And well, that had been more than fine with him. It would be a summer without magic while finally getting to know the only family he had left in the world. And maybe, if things went well, it would be a lot longer than a summer.

“Oh, the Trinity’s here.” Tiana jumped up, her silky red hair flipping over her shoulders as she scraped her chair back to get a copy of the sorcery rag before they were all snatched up. There were a few different newspapers dedicated just to the magical going ons in the world, even though the main papers still had a section for magic users. Daniel had stopped reading them once he started finding his own face staring out at him since named the newest Elite. It was just bizarre.

He’s calling us… Can’t you feel his power? The dragon is calling us to claim him…

Daniel groaned inwardly, hunching into his seat as he tried to pull his beast from its focus on Mason.

He wants us… If we reveal ourselves he will bend to us… Cry for us…

Daniel wasn’t certain that the King was wrong. Something had changed about Mason. About three months ago when he’d been watching the last of his grandmother’s life slip away, Mason Blackthorne had woken up different and his beast had not shut up since about it.

Mason and Daniel didn’t have a traditional relationship to begin with—Well, unless you counted on the playground. Mason loved to annoy the shit out him every chance he got, from casting little hexes on him, to challenging him in class, to outright sabotaging his homework. The blond just couldn’t leave him alone and Daniel had been more than okay with it.

He enjoyed their strange game, forever transfixed on the vicious expression Mason made right before he struck. They had a bizarre interaction, extremely intense and one that Mason seemed quite happy to pretend was nothing more than childish rivalry even as he fueled Daniel’s attraction into a burning flame. And if he’d been fully human, maybe that would have been easy enough to resist. But the beast inside him full of power and terrible, malevolent instincts had different plans for Mason.

The Blood King found the taunting game fascinating. A lion toying with a soft, fragile mouse, his beast had flexed claws while Mason nibbled, twittered, and fluffed his whiskers whenever Daniel walked into the room. And in response to Daniel’s attention, Mason had become outright teasing, his otherworldly eyes flashing in laughter as he stared too long, hands brushing over him in electric moments as they passed too close. Even lips against his ear once, Mason leaning in to whisper something lewd and asinine while he’d been reading. It had become a very riveting game.

Take him now… He’s calling us, wants us… We must have him…

Then it had all gone to shit.

Mason was no longer a mouse. Months ago something had changed in the boy that made the King stare intrigued and possessive. Snapping, caustic energy, luminous and unrestrained had begun to crackle just beneath the blond’s surface. It was deadly, powerful, and awesomely alluring. To the point that Daniel’s beast could no longer concentrate on anything but said power whenever Mason was near. He’d been forced to push back to keep the blond at arm’s length and safe from his beast. He had enough control over himself, his beast still only a caged animal roaring inside him. But sometimes when Mason came too close, snapped his power too loud with clamping jaws and slashing talons, Daniel lost himself, the beast rearing up to… Well.

Screwing Mason Blackthorne into a wall was not an activity Daniel felt healthy, for himself or the obnoxious, rich brat.

It was an extremely complicated issue, seeing as Mason was fucking gorgeous, adorably snarky, and usually fun to be around when not hexing him. Fine, even when hexing. It didn’t really matter. It was a lost cause, one Daniel should never have indulged in. No matter that Mason flirted with him every chance he got, in cruel, cutting ways to shock him. No matter that his beast roared loud and demanding whenever the boy was near, snapping and rattling its cage until Daniel was brooding and ready to break something for want of the blond. They could never be together.

Even if Mason Blackthorne came to him on hands and knees and begged, Daniel would never, ever, touch the boy, no matter how much he wanted to.

Tiana gave a huff when William began to prod her, finally handing the newspaper over to her boyfriend, who always demanded the sports section before she became ensnared in the pages. Daniel’s eyes were across the room again, watching Mason bow his head as he read his own paper. For the life of him, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off the boy.

Mason was biting his lip, thoughtlessly gnawing on the flushed flesh as he flipped through the oversized pages. His hair, shining blond and silvery, was hanging down loose, soft around his shoulders. Slowly a tint of pink began to reach the perfect, creamy skin of his cheeks as he stopped and started reading intently.

The terrible things he would do with Mason Blackthorne’s lips. The things he would make him say, beg… He could make Mason beg. Beg for more, for harder, and faster, and every drop of seed he had to give him…

“Son of a—Phsssh!” William spluttered, spraying orange juice all over the table and the paper he was reading. “Holy hell,” he uttered between coughs. “The fucking… ass… is getting bonded.”

Daniel wasn’t sure who or what he was referring to, but he was grateful for the distraction. It had been enough to draw his attention from Mason and the heated thoughts swirling in his mind once again. God, he really needed to get the fuck out of there.

“What?” Tiana asked, snatching the paper from William when her boyfriend showed more interest in choking on his drink than finishing his thought. “Oh. My. God.” She gaped, jaw falling open and staying open.

Narrowing his eyes at his friends’ display, Daniel grabbed the damp paper from Tiana’s slack grasp. On the third page a large black and white image of Mason stared back at him, looking restrained and cool with mild hints of nervousness around his mouth. There was no fucking escape from the brat. Daniel resisted the urge to crumple the paper up, instead folding the page so he would not have to stare at Mason Blackthorne’s face as he read the article beneath.

Unreal. Fucking bizarre.

“It’s a joke, right?” Tiana asked. “A dragon? He’s looking for suitors because he’s part dragon? I never saw him as having a beast.”

Daniel shrugged distractedly as he read, realizing he had never mentioned it to his friends. He really didn’t need them to know just how crazy he was about the kid. His eyes followed down to where Selina, Mason’s mother, was said to have passed down strong dragon ancestry to her son when conceived. Dragon genes were prominent in the Rowe family bloodline and woke up during the early twenties.

William shook his head, finally able to get his coughing under control. “Being part dragon isn’t the issue. He’s a conduit. Anyone looking for a hit of power will be running him down to force a bond.”

Daniel then got to that part; the very special ability Mason had locked inside him. Unimaginable power that the boy couldn’t access alone but his bondmate could, the sorcerer of choice capable of wielding it however he so desired.

Daniel paused, taking a slow breath as his blood lion gave a rattle to its cage. That would be the wild power that had been driving his beast insane lately. It wasn’t unique… it wasn’t just him. Every beast that got a look at Mason would sense it too. They would all want him.

He is ours…

Daniel ignored the creature and turned back to the paper. Mason needed a bondmate, soon, before some power hungry jackass decided that they’d have that power no matter how the boy felt about it. And the mate had to be powerful and fierce because those power hungry madmen would have no issue in killing Mason’s chosen just to chain the dragon and have it at beck and call exclusively.

It was a chilling situation, Daniel’s mind wandering to his dead parents and sister, their lives cut down because of insane men that had wanted power so much they had drained it from the living. It was the seedy dark side to sorcery no one talked about; insatiable greed in the hands of powerful men. Mason wouldn’t be killed, but he would be enslaved for the rest of his life, some monster draining him dry whenever he wished if the boy were captured.

Mason would be seeing suitors that summer, going through a selection process to find an acceptable bondmate. Until then, the boy would be locked in his house, protected from any maniac that would try to kidnap and force a bond on him.

Daniel threw the paper into Tiana’s waiting hands, scowling darkly at the table top. Suitors. How many fucking sorcerers wanted into Mason’s pants? Probably a shit ton if they only had a look at the gorgeous boy. Fucking absurd. With furious restraint, Daniel raised his eyes and sought out Mason’s face across the room.

The blond was in full out angry blush, pink having turned to red as he ripped his paper in half right down the middle of his photo. His parents must have had the article published in the hopes of attracting eligible suitors. Mason’s handsomeness, wealth, and many talents had been listed at the end, most with glaring tones of innuendo.

“I don’t understand,” Tiana mused aloud, reading through the article again. “Why are they calling for powerful sorcerers? Wouldn’t Blackthorne want to be bonded to a sorceress? I mean, bonding is like some antiquated form of marriage, but with magic.”

“He’s gay,” Daniel said darkly, eyes fixed on Mason, who was taking the torn pieces and ripping them again, slowly turning the paper into a mess of long strips. Gay, containing a dragon, and apparently a conduit. How many fucking sorcerers would be chasing after the boy now?

“Oh… Ohhh.” Tiana blinked up, looking at Daniel. “Is that something… Like, you can tell your own kind?”

He glanced her way, the corners of his mouth curling in a grim smirk. “As in beast, or as in fag? Both seem to apply.”

Tiana nodded mutely, then turned back to the article. Only to look up again, eyebrows raised inquiringly. “So are you going to…?”

Slowly and deliberately, Daniel turned his full attention to Tiana while William spluttered again on his juice beside her. “Tia, I want you to finish that sentence. And then I want you to stop and realize just how fucking halfwitted you are.”

Tiana glared, staring Daniel down as her ill-tempered friend tried to intimidate her. She had grown used to his foul moods and dark power years ago and never allowed it to get the best of her. “You are both gay. You both apparently have powerful beasts. And you are both absolutely and madly obsessed with each other,” she hissed lowly. “It is not an unreasonable thought that you might want to date him.”

“You are out of your goddamn mind,” Daniel growled, hands biting into the wood of the table as he gripped hard. It didn’t matter that his beast was agreeing with the girl, very much wanting to claim Mason, and preferably before any competition showed up.

“Yeah? Then why are you so angry?” Tiana shot back, picking up the paper and unfurling so he was forced to stare at Mason’s obnoxiously attractive face. She knew Daniel wanted Blackthorne, for years now. She just couldn’t figure out why he refused to admit it, especially since he’d apparently known the kid was gay the whole time.

William, once again gaining control of his coughing, crushed the paper down, grabbed Tiana around the waist, and pulled her against his tall form so that she fell away from Daniel’s menacing glare. “Tia, you’re sticking your nose in it.”

“He called me a halfwit!” She muttered with a petulant huff.

“He’s going to do a hell of a lot worse if you don’t stop pissing him off about the pain in the ass. Daniel, calm down!” William ordered, slamming his fist loudly on the table to break Daniel from his angry, low growl.

Daniel blinked out of his glower, looking up and around while the other students sitting at the table gave him wary glares. He had become rather dangerous lately, prone to moods and violent outbursts at the slightest of provocation since Mason’s energy had started sparking. He hadn’t hurt anyone yet, that they knew of, but it seemed to be only a matter of time.

Scowling darkly, Daniel’s gaze once again trailed over to where Mason was sitting, only to meet an answering blue glare. Fucking Blackthorne.

He flipped the blond off, rewarded with a vicious snarl and a returning rude hand gesture. Then the fucker blew him a kiss, his beast practically salivating at the sight, and Daniel got up and stormed out of the cafeteria.

***

Glare following as Daniel left, Mason turned to Jackson. “Fucking Cross.”

Jackson Falkner just rolled his ice-blue eyes, ducking beneath long black hair and reading the paper he had refused to let Mason tear up. His friend had issues with Daniel Cross, usually resulting in endless, drawn out monologues filled with more obscenities than usable words. Not commenting was the only way to keep from encouraging Mason into said rants.

Unfortunately, Mason rarely needed the encouragement, and this was one of those times.

“Fucking headcase, probably making fun of me with his fucktard friends. Like I wanted my fucking life put in the damn paper like a damn fucking fool. Now the whole fucking school knows I’m not only a fucking conduit beast, but that I also like cock. Fucking shithead, crazy ass, Cross.”

Jackson didn’t bother pointing out that Cross had actually no fault in Mason’s life being dragged out in the paper. It was exclusively his friend’s terrible, manipulative parents. Mason’s parents were always doing things to embarrass the boy, to the point that Jackson wondered if it wasn’t intentional. Really, a call for a bondmate didn’t need such details. Those were normally given later in privacy once an interested suitor had approached.

“What exactly makes your parents think you can blow as good as you get?” Suzy drawled, her long blond hair sparkling in the light, brown eyes flashing teasingly as Mason turned his glare to her. “Is this something they’ve seen first hand? Or do you just share far too much information?”

“Fuck off,” Mason grumbled, trying to grab her paper so he could destroy it, only to have her hold it out of reach.

“Oh no, I’m framing this. And did you see Cross? He was pissed. Must be jealous he has competition for your special, freakish affection.”

Mason rolled his eyes, stabbing his fork into the table until it stood vertically into the wood. Suzy had a theory, the miserable bitch, and insisted on trotting it out every time Cross showed any emotion towards him. Of course, most Cross ever showed towards him was anger, even more explosive recently than before. Mason didn’t know what the asshole’s problem was and he didn’t fucking care. It just made things more fun when he sabotaged his spellwork.

“They’ve gone too far,” Jackson interjected before Suzy could once again run down her many reasons she was certain Cross was gagging for Mason’s dick. “Mentioning you were a conduit before you’re bonded—They’ve put you in serious danger. You’re not even safely hidden within your ancestry walls yet.”

Mason bit his lip, well aware. His parents meant well, in their overbearing arrogant need to show him off, and themselves as a result. But letting the whole fucking world know that he was a conduit was asking for every crazy warlock in the vicinity to come knocking on the Academy’s front door to kidnap and rape him. It was concerning, to say the least.

“Stupid fucking Cross and his fucking show off Elite power. Couldn’t get a goddamn article on that championship duel he won to bump this fucking disaster my fucking parents put out. Fuck, fuck, fuck… fuck… fuck…” Mason started dropping his head on the table, clunking repeatedly to every muttered curse. It helped a little.

Jackson reached over and placed his dark hand beneath his friend’s forehead before he could smash his brains out. “This needs a strategy. What the fuck are you going to do? You’re putting everyone at risk as long as you’re here.”

Mason glared, resting his face in Jackson’s palm. “I suppose I’ll find the biggest, baddest motherfucker in the school and have him make me his bitch.”

Jackson raised a brow while Suzy cackled happily and clapped. It was difficult to argue with the girl when Mason kept saying things that clearly showed an interest in the Elite sorcerer. He might not have been particularly tall or muscular, but Cross was the most powerful sorcerer to come out of the Academy in years. The kid had become damn near beastly in attitude, and no one could match him in fighting or much anything else for that matter. “Or instead of letting Cross fuck you, you could, you know, take a portal home.”

“Whatever,” Mason muttered, shutting his eyes.

It was bad enough he had to go through finding a suitable bondmate while so young and for such dire reasons. But now he had to do it while all his fucking classmates knew. He’d been able to get away with the other aspects that had arisen when his beast had woken up and started prowling. This was apparently the end of that.

No one had seen his physical changes associated with it, at least, not the weird ones. He had grown, his already toned body lengthening and strengthening to manifest the dragon now curled within him. But no one had seen the horns, or the scales, or even the claws, fangs, and wings. Even though power buzzed inside him, no one had noticed his spells becoming more powerful and explosive.

If he craved raw red meat once in a while, no one called him on it. Nor when he started sniffing people as they passed, seeking out information and potential suitors. So he was a little more surly, a little more cutting and vicious; not really anything to write home about. Mason had never actually been nice before.

But this. This fucking article business. This was nearly everything laid out in black and white. This was mortifying, not to mention dangerous. As strong as he had become when his beast awoke, he was not invincible. Part of his existence was to empower another, not wield such power himself. His dragon craved desperately for a companion to help ensure his survival. A protector. A lover.

Very much the last one.

The beast was preposterously horny. Like, fucking on your knees, begging for dick, horny. It was embarrassing. He had a permanent spell on all his underwear just to keep from looking like a degenerate around the academy. Thankfully no one noticed his constant tang of sex scent, no other beasts in the school to respond.

Well, except for fucking Cross. Daniel had never said a word to anyone, had never even suggested that he was more than human, but the day Mason’s dragon had woken, every telltale sign of the beast was suddenly blaring loud to his senses and impossible to ignore. Daniel was something, something powerful, and he wouldn’t let it out. Which was just like stupid, noble Cross. The kid had a stick up his ass that had only lodged in deeper since he’d been named an Elite. Always going on about not abusing magic, that the dark arts were the killer of the soul, blah, fucking blah. Daniel was a moralistic bore that wouldn’t cast a dark spell to save his own fucking life.

The jackass had also outright ignored everything Mason had thrown at him. Even when he’d managed to look like he’d accidentally fallen right into the Elite’s lap yesterday. The fucker had lifted him up like he weighed nothing at all, placed him on his feet, and left the class they were sharing even though there had been a half hour left. Daniel had started ignoring him, not responding to his pranks or taunts like he used to, and it was getting really fucking annoying.

Not that he wanted Cross, with his brooding moods, and fucking wild gold eyes, and sexy mouth… His inky black hair always mussed up in a stylish, freshly fucked look, his skin a warm, golden tan with that fit, toned body that just begged to be touched and kissed and licked… Damn it.

Fuck Cross, the fucking asshole. Fuck him hard, and deep, and on his fucking knees like the fucking slut he was.

“Mason, stop drooling on my hand,” Jackson complained, wrenching his hand out from beneath his head to let the blond clunk on the table.

Mason blinked up, not certain when his thoughts had once again strayed. The fucking dragon was misery; horny, powerful, and a glowing damn target for every eligible psycho in the area. It had also fixated on Cross like the boy was catnip, trying to get Mason to do things—Really messed up things that involved stripping naked and crawling on his knees, even in rooms as busy and full as the cafeteria. Seeing as he was only just starting to get to know his dragon, Mason still wasn’t sure if this was because Cross was hiding a beast, or if it was just because it was Cross. Either way, it was too fucking embarrassing for words.

Thank god he was going home in less than a week. He would be safe in the mansion. Safe from asshole students giggling behind their hands about him looking for a bondmate. Safe from rapist, power hungry madmen wanting to force a bond to steal his power. Safe to jerk at the ridiculous level needed to finally find some peace.

He couldn’t wait to go home and never have to see Daniel fucking Cross again.

Mitch is a total pervert. Hardcore. Seriously, it’s the second time he’s dared someone to suck his fingers, and if the first time watching Jenna do it wasn’t awkward enough, now he’s looking at my lips while smirking like a total jackass. I know I have a pretty face, but fuck, I’m sick and tired of guys treating me like some fucking girl.

“You can always pick truth,” Jenna offers, looking at me sympathetically.

I can’t. There’s no way I can pick truth. Every time Mitch has gotten a truth he’s asked if the person was a virgin, and there’s no way in hell I’m admitting to that. At least Jake and Dave stepped out to get some soda. The last thing I need is my best friend seeing me sucking Mitch’s fingers like I’m some sort of slut. Bad enough Jenna and Chris are here.

“You chicken, Sullivan?” Mitch asks, his grin only growing as I glare at him. What an asshole.

“You just better have washed your hands,” I mutter, glaring at the offending digits. They look clean enough, nails short with no dirt underneath. Might have some potato chips on them, but that won’t be the end of the world. I just really wish he’d stop looking at me like I’m about to suck his dick.

“Ask Jenna; my fingers are nice and clean.”

I glance over to Jenna, who just shrugs at me. Considering how she’d been grinning the entire time she was sucking on his fingers, I have a feeling she’s too slutty to actually care. This is what I get for hanging with the college kids. They’re Dave’s friends, and Dave is Jake’s brother, so I really can’t make an ass of myself chickening out.

“And hey, if my fingers are dirty, I’m sure you can clean them off real nice,” Mitch adds casually, his brown eyes glinting wickedly from beneath his shaggy blond hair.

I’ve only just met Mitch tonight and I’m pretty sure I hate him.

I’m running out of time. Jake’s going to be back, and I really don’t want him to see this. I hold my hand out, expecting Mitch to give me his fingers so I can lick the stupid things. But the asshole just shakes his head, raising two up in front of my face.

“Open.”

I glare him down, then look over to Chris who has the stopwatch. “Not a second over three minutes. I’m not falling for that again.”

Chris just holds his hands up with an apologetic grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. Yeah, he’s an ass too.

“I think you’re stalling,” Mitch whispers, ducking his head closer to mine until he’s in my ear. “It’s just fingers, Sullivan. Not like I’m asking you to suck my cock.”

Fire rushing to my face, I grit my teeth. I totally hate him. He’s just saying that because he wants me to think about his dick while I’m doing this. The kid fucks anything on legs, guys and girls, and he’s just trying to freak me out because he knows I’m a virgin. Fuck him.

Letting out a soft breath, I reach forward, opening my mouth to quickly wrap around his stupid fingers so I can get this done already. He stops me with two words.

“Go slow.”

Glaring at his hand, I part my lips, slowly leaning the last inch forward and praying I manage to give him the plague in some magical fluke of cosmic retribution.

My mouth is really wet by the time I actually feel the two fingers. He’s halfway in my mouth when he touches my tongue. I can’t help but gasp from the feel of the firm pads of his fingertips, my tongue hollowing as I flinch away. Staring down resolutely at the holes in his jeans, I try not to make a noise as he rubs down the rough texture of my flesh, pushing into my building saliva and drawing forward to my wavering tip.

“Suck,” he orders lowly in my ear, his breath burning hot on my cheek.

I want to punch him. He’s trying to make me think about dick, I can tell just by the way he said it. Glaring straight ahead, I tighten my lips reluctantly, doing my best not to feel just how hot and damp his fingers are getting while in my mouth. Tentatively I try to suck around his fingers, my tongue hollowing again and inadvertently caressing against the digits. God, I hate him.

“Harder than that… Good. You’re not bad, Sullivan.” Smirking against my ear, he adds mockingly. “You do this a lot?”

He’s an absolute asshole. Like I go around sucking fingers, or dick—Cus he’s totally really saying that. What a total sick perv, and I can’t even tell him off because he has his fingers in my mouth.

My saliva is building too much, flooding the back of my throat, and I have to swallow or something even more embarrassing will happen. I try to do it in a way he won’t notice, moving my mouth as little as possible. But he still grunts, still pushes his fingers deeper when my throat and tongue convulse. I refuse to meet his eyes. I’m not Jenna. I’m not some slutty chick that just smiles and sucks fingers like I really want it to be dick. I’m a guy, and I just have to wait this fucking dare out.

Mitch isn’t content to let me just sit with his fingers in my mouth. He starts moving, sliding them in and out between my clinging lips, his knuckles rough and tugging at my flesh. Brows furrowed, I breathe heavier out my nose, refusing to acknowledge what he’s doing. It’s not the same. They’re just fingers. I have no plans on sucking a dick anytime in the future, and this is not like sucking dick, no matter how much he’s panting in my ear like a dog right now.

“Fuck, you’re really tight.” His other hand suddenly tangles in my shoulder length blond hair, pushing my head back roughly. I almost open my mouth to complain, but just manage to stop myself. There can’t be more than a minute left, right? Two, tops. Just got to endure the salty taste of his fingers, the firm, rough feel of his flesh a little longer, and it’ll be done.

He pulls my hair harder, and I can’t help it, I whimper. He sighs in my ear like I’m doing it for him, the creep, and pushes his fingers even deeper, moving down my tongue and reaching into my throat.

“That’s it… Fuck, you’re not even gagging. I think you’re a natural.”

Fucking pervert. It’s uncomfortable, my lips stretching wide over his knuckles, my throat convulsing as I fight not to cough. I struggle harder to pull air in, hating how hot his breath is as he suffocates me inside and out.

“Can you take it deeper?” Fuck, I should bite him. “Open your mouth nice and wide, and take me deeper, cutie.”

His fingers scrape the back of my throat and my mouth opens wide as I gasp and choke, spilling hot fluid down my lips and chin. He grabs the nape of my neck, groaning in my ear. When I’m done coughing, his fingers are going deeper before I can protest, his hand keeping me from moving away.

“Fuck, you can really take it deep. We should talk, Sullivan. For real. I think we could be good fucking friends.”

I’d give anything to be able to tell him to fuck off right now. But he’s rubbing my tongue again, trying to make me choke. Saliva is running down my chin, tickling cold on my throat, and I can’t even wipe it away as he thrusts his fingers, making sure to push into my bottom lip each time.

It’s suffocating, and hot, and I can’t help but wonder if this is what it actually feels like to have a dick in your mouth. But a dick is totally bigger, with that slick, swollen head. It would probably fill my entire mouth, probably wouldn’t get so deep. No, this is nothing like that, and he needs to stop grunting in my fucking ear.

“Thirty seconds. Better make them count,” Chris says cheerfully.

I fucking hate Chris; all of Dave’s friends suck. I wish Jake didn’t hang out with his older brother so much. Dave’s a jerk most of the time to me, and apparently his friends are too.

“You’re doing real good. Damn, you’ve got some really red lips, Sullivan. I think I know what my next dare is going to be.” His hand clutching the base of my skull, I can only groan in protest when Mitch’s tongue suddenly licks over my lips. Sick fucking perv.

God, it’s almost over. I know I’m gasping to breathe and everyone can see how red my face is. I close my eyes, hoping to block out Mitch’s cruel grin, trying to ignore his tongue following his fingers as he pushes into my mouth. I can’t help it. I groan again, louder, trying to turn away.

“Mitch, leave the kid alone,” Jenna snaps.

“Make me.” Humming, his tongue moves up the side of my face as he pushes his fingers deep into my throat again. I’m a mess, mortified and can’t breathe around his fingers like I could earlier. He likes it, grunting as he pushed deep in small thrusts. I choke around him, hot tears slipping from beneath my lashes.

“Yeah, we should have some fun, Sullivan,” he rasps into my ear. “I think you’ll like it. I can show you how to swallow something down much thicker than just fingers.”

My groan sounds like a gurgle as he pulls me close and takes my slick bottom lip and holds it tight between his teeth. He bites down, hard, and I gasp, coughing the same moment Chris calls the time and Mitch pulls his fingers from my mouth. I immediately shove him away, hunching forward when I can’t stop hacking.

Asshole. He’s an absolute asshole and I totally hate him.

“What do you say, Sullivan? Wanna meet me in the backyard for a few minutes?” He asks with a shit-eating grin.

Wiping my chin dry with my wrist, I stumble to my feet. “Go fuck yourself.”

I turn, determined to go home and never visit Jake’s again when his brother has friends over, only to stop short. Jake and Dave are standing in the doorway, both of them staring at me with stunned expressions.

How long have they been there? I hadn’t heard anything, but once Mitch had his fingers down my throat I really couldn’t notice much of anything else. I duck my head, hating how flushed I feel with Jake staring at me like that.

“Get out of the way,” I mutter, wincing from how hoarse my voice sounds.

Jake quickly steps back like he’s terrified I’m going to hit him. Good. He should be. I hate Mitch and I hate Jake for inviting me over here. I push past Dave, who’s still staring at me slack-jawed as his eyes move down my body. Fuck him.

“Wait—He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Jake follows after me. “I’ll have Dave beat the crap out of him, swear. Shit, just wait.”

Stopping short at the outer door, I turn, glaring at him in exasperation. “I’m fine. I just want to go home.”

“Oh… Well, let me walk you, at least,” Jake offers hesitantly.

He’s staring at my mouth. My best friend of eight years is just standing there, staring at my mouth, and I know he’s thinking of what it would look like if his dick was in it. I fucking hate Mitch.

“I don’t suck dick.”

Blinking, red rushes to his cheeks. “I-I never said…”

“You’re staring at my mouth the same way that asshole was,” I snap, flinching as my voice cracks. Fuck. Turning, I push outside into the night air. Jake eventually follows, catching up to my fast pace to walk beside me.

“I’m sorry. I just—Shit, you didn’t see what you looked like.” I glare at him from the corner of my eye. He’s so not fucking helping himself here.

“I don’t suck dick.”

He grabs my arm, holding it tight until I stop walking and glare at him properly. “Yeah, but maybe you really should.”

My hands tighten into fists. I’m two seconds from slugging him. “I will fucking kill you if you ever say something like that to me again.”

“You looked hot. Really fucking hot.” The fucker didn’t even have the decency to blush.

“Fuck you.” I go to leave, but he holds onto my arm. He’s taller than me, stronger, and when I try to wrench free, Jake pulls me back hard enough that I stumble and crash against his chest.

“Come on, B. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He’s got to be out of his fucking mind. I’m so stunned, I stop trying to elbow him. “What, are you telling me you’ve… you’ve sucked dick?”

Blushing, he looks away. “Not exactly.”

“Because if you’re talking about Mitch’s fingers, it’s not the same fucking thing, you asshole. I don’t do that—And don’t you dare fucking say I should,” I add warningly.

He’s quiet for a long moment, but he won’t let go of my arm. I never really noticed just how blue his eyes are. Even in the dark, they damn near glow.

“Just try it, B. Just once… Just me.” Staring me right in the eye, he grabs me by the chin, his thumb moving over my bruised bottom lip. “You looked really good.”

“Don’t,” I whisper weakly, trying to step back and get away from the crazy heat that seems to be coming from every spot he’s touching me. “I don’t…” He has my chin caught and I have this heart pounding, almost certain feeling he’s going to kiss me.

His other hand moves to my wrist, pulling my arm down until it’s trapped hot between our bodies. “Just a little. Just to see if you like it.”

He’s been hanging out with his asshole brother too much. “There is no way in fuck—Oh.”

He’s hard. His hips move again, his hand holding my palm steady so he can rub his erection into it. Holy fuck.

“You might like it,” he murmurs, pulling me closer, his lips brushing my mouth ever so lightly. “I’ll be nice about it… Let you go at your own pace. I would never hurt you, B.”

I exhale unsteadily, my mouth feeling really wet again, like right before Mitch’s fingers touched my tongue. “Jake… This is fucking weird.”

I should tell him to fuck off. I should hit him, and tell him to fuck off, and never, ever, ever talk to him again. But I can’t stop looking at the way his jeans are tented. And when he lets my palm go so he can pull his zipper down, I don’t step away.

“Get on your knees, B.”

I swallow hard, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “Why?” I manage to croak out.

“You know why.” His hand moves from my chin to the side of my face, raking through my long hair. “Seeing you like that got me so hot. It won’t take long. You don’t even have to swallow if you don’t want.”

He’s crazy. Absolutely crazy. But my feet just won’t fucking move. I hear a rustle of fabric and my gaze falls again. Yeah, so that’s what he looks like hard. Bigger than I thought. Really nothing at all like fingers.

“Get on your knees.”

It’ll be fast, right? I mean, he’s really hard, and… And fuck, it might not be that bad. It’s Jake, and he’s hard over me… And he’s big. Probably wouldn’t get as deep as Mitch’s nasty fingers.

Eyes caught on the way his hand is moving over the underside of his shaft, I don’t notice right away when he pushes down my shoulder. It’s not until he puts more pressure on me, my knees swaying, that I realize what I’m doing. My breath stuck somewhere in my throat, I slowly sink to the ground.

“Now look; you’ve woken him.” Bare feet padded softly on the floor. Lovely knelt on the bed to bend over Ky and gently trace his features. “Go back to sleep, sweet boy. You need to rest.”

“Lovely. Lovely, the basement,” Ky mumbled as he finally got his eyes to open. “There’s someone trapped down there.”

Lovely shook his head, his brows furrowed. “No, Ky.”

“What does the little whelp want?” Feral grumbled. He glared down from behind Lovely’s shoulder.

“He thinks there’s someone in the basement.” Lovely shrugged dismissively. He combed through Ky’s dark hair while Ky fought to keep his eyes open. “He’s muddled. He needs to rest.”

Ky was certain. He knew when Lovely and Feral were there hiding in the dark even though his rational mind told him otherwise. He knew there was someone in the basement. Under the rot, under the blood, there was someone sad and afraid. “Please. Please, help me up. I need… I need to get to them.”

Feral snarled and his ears flattened back. “Like I’d ever leave this frrrling room? He must think we’re as dumb as he is.”

“Shut up,” Lovely hissed and shoved Feral away. “Ky, no. They’re dead.”

“Thornes, leave the boy. You’re wasting…”

“Thornes?” Ky’s eyelids were heavy as he looked up into Lovely’s mismatched gaze of violet and blue. “Is that your name?”

Feral slipped up and growled down at him. His golden eyes pierced into Ky’s inches away. “Can he understand us? Can this blasted frrling understand us now?”

Lovely grabbed Feral by his thick, golden hair and pulled him away roughly. With a wary look, he bent closer to Ky and spoke slowly but steadily. “Thornes is a nickname of my given name. Where I’m from, our names have three parts to indicate our lineage.”

“Oh.” Ky licked his lips and blinked dazedly. “Where are you from?”

Feral, who was listening, made to grab Lovely, only to have the pale catboy stop him with a glare. “He understands us, Thornes! He’s some sort of… Rrrl! You just bonded to a damn, a damn abomination!”

“So help me, Redeless, you will shut your mouth or I will throw you out that bedroom door and finally be done with you for good!” Lovely promised with a low growl. Feral glared back but closed his mouth. A growl rumbled in his chest defiantly.

“Lovely, don’t fight,” Ky whispered. The darkness stole the energy he was desperately holding onto. “I need to help the other. The one in the basement.”

“He’s dead, kid. They’re all dead. Damn, the boy is frrrling annoying,” Feral snapped.

“No. No, he’s alive. Could hear him move. I’m so tired.” Ky’s eyes closed in a blink which threatened to never end. “Why so tired?”

“Hush.” With a final warning glare at Feral, Lovely leaned down and pushed Ky’s hair from his face with a soft smile. “Your magic is waking, that’s all. You’ve been bonded to a demon, a very strong one. It’s a deep bond and it will tie magic into your flesh in ways most humans don’t get to experience. It will make you tired now, but soon you will feel stronger. Powerful. I would never do anything to hurt you, Ky. I promise.”

Ky nodded. He knew all along; Lovely was wonderful and would never hurt him. “You’re very beautiful for a demon. Very nice. I didn’t know demons were nice.”

“It’s what they call us, sweet boy, the humans and the sorcerers. We can do things they can’t, so they call us demons and monsters.”

“But you’re not,” Ky insisted quietly as his eyes finally opened again.

“No, we’re not. We’re Relics,” Lovely explained with a distant gaze. “We come from a place far away from here. We used to live with our families, with our tribes and clans in our realm. We’re just people who can do things you humans can’t. Some humans figured out how to summon us from our homes. The sorcerers used a spell to tie us to them so they could live long and use magic as we do.”

“Oh.” Ky was extremely tired. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to listen to everything Lovely was saying, but it was just so hard to focus. “Don’t you… Wouldn’t you rather go back home? It’s an okay room, but… but you’ve been here for years. You eat rats. Why don’t you go home, Lovely?”

Lovely smiled wanly, leaned down and gently kissed Ky on the mouth. “You are a very sweet boy, and I’m glad I met you.” He sat back and covered his hand over Ky’s brow. “Close your eyes. I will teach you a spell, a vital one, when you wake up. You’re going to need all your strength, Ky. The new moon is approaching, and I need you strong.”

Ky nodded sleepily. “I’d do anything for you, Lovely. Anything.”

“Then rest. Let your magic grow strong.” Lovely sighed as his fingers moved over the heavy black collar secured around his neck. “I’m a very strong Relic. I was one of the jewels of Anselm’s collection. If… If I bonded with him the way I did you, perhaps he would be here now.”

Something niggled in the back of Ky’s mind and pushed through the sleep pulling him down. “The basement. There’s someone who needs help.”

Lovely shook his head. “They’re all dead. We are the only two left of Anselm’s collection. There was one who held out for the longest time. He was much older and stronger than I, maybe stronger than the demented creature who hunted us down. We were all weakened when our master fell, confused and afraid. She drained him dead last month. His life force is gone.”

“Drained.” Ky knew he was wrong. He just needed to be able to move to prove it. “Are you hungry? I need… I need to feed you so you don’t… don’t eat all the rats.”

Feral snorted behind Lovely, but didn’t comment otherwise. “We don’t need to eat, Ky. Demons feed off of energy. Food tastes fine enough, but it’s the life force of our food that strengthens us. We prefer living food; blood, saliva, semen, sweat. Every time I kiss you, I grow stronger, my sweet. Now please, you must sleep.” A thrumming purr filled the air as Lovely bent down to press lips to Ky’s forehead.

Ky nodded weakly and his body relaxed further into the mattress. “He was scared. So afraid.”

Feral huffed and grumbled under his breath. “Worry about yourself, whelp. The wards in this room have kept the bitch out for years, but there’s no blocking the wardrobe. When she returns, she’s going to kill us all, likely starting with your defenseless parents.”

The words filled the darkness of his mind. Ky was asleep before he could feel them fully, lulled by Lovely’s calming purr.

Sage had managed to get to school without Corey waking up, his brother having stumbled in drunk some time around dawn and promptly falling asleep. School had been difficult, impossible to concentrate with so many thoughts running through his head never mind feelings through his body. The shifter had not been in the alley. Sage had checked. He wasn’t even sure why just that he had to know that Heller was really gone. Whether he wanted the man to still be there or not, Sage still wasn’t sure. His body was aching and he couldn’t stop thinking about the night before.

Taylor was waiting for him after school, soft ash blond hair and bright blue eyes setting him apart from the others. Taylor was a really odd kid, looking very much sweet and weak and even shorter than Sage was. But the boy was vicious when he needed to be, a switch inside his friend that turned Taylor into a wild, angry thing that would defend himself and friends at any cost. That was how they had become friends to begin with.

Sage had seen the boy being picked on and gone to help, only to be as surprised as the bullies to find that Taylor was plain crazy, biting and punching back with a rock in his fist. He had burst out laughing, seeing such a sweet looking kid go nuts and win. Bullies always underestimated him too, and it just seemed right to hang with Taylor after that.

“You get home alright last night?” Taylor asked, slipping in step with Sage, hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. “I wish you had let me go with you. You know how I worry.”

Sage nodded mutely, not sure what he wanted to tell his friend just yet. He was in trouble, he knew that much. His body was aching, each step he took making his hole throb in memory and unceasing want.

“Sage… you kinda smell, man,” Taylor said, glancing over at him. “And not a garbage smell from the Wastes. Something musky, almost.” He stopped, grabbing the brunette’s hand when the boy tried to walk by him. “What are those marks on your neck?”

Sage ducked away, covering his neck. His flesh had only gotten darker as he slept, bruises blossoming purple in the morning light. “Shit, is it really noticeable?”

“That someone’s been sucking on your neck? Yeah, it fucking is. What the hell happened last night?”

“Oh god, Corey’s going to kill me,” Sage gasped frantically, eyes wide in fear. “Literally kill me. Tayls, I need makeup or some shit. I need to hide this. You know how he gets—He’s going to slice me up so bad, I’ll never move again!”

“Calm down, Sage. Just stop and breathe.” Looking around at the students in the distance, Taylor pulled his friend down the street, heading for his neighborhood. “Start at the beginning and we’ll figure out how to fix it.”

Sage nodded weakly, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Tayls… do werewolves ever… fuck people on the full moon?” He asked quietly, staring at his sneakers.

Taylor stopped walking, scratching the back of his head. “Umm… why do you…?”

Sage ducked his head, edging closer to whisper into the blond’s ear. “When they’re transformed, do they ever… fuck people?” He asked again, blushing brightly.

“I don’t…” Taylor glanced around, speaking quietly. “Yeah, I think so. Not something I’ve seen firsthand, or anything, but they talk about it sometimes. I guess there are some people that really, er, like it.”

“What about shifters?” Sage asked, fidgeting under his friend’s stare.

“Do werewolves fuck shifters?” Taylor asked, looking confused.

“No… damn it.” Sage got right into Taylor’s ear, feeling the blond shiver from his breath. “Do transformed shifters screw a lot of people?”

“Um… maybe? There was this girl once, sister to one of the shifters. The gang had said things about her. About her letting dogs do her and stuff. Why? Did you see something last night?” Taylor stepped back, looking Sage over cautiously. His friend looked different, his already pale skin nearly translucent, lips flushed a deep red, green eyes bright and glowing.

Sage had always been kind of pretty, singled out for his delicate features and slender form. The kid was tough with a terrible brother that kept most bullies away just by existing, but Taylor had taken it on himself to protect Sage as much as he could. The boy was just so nice, stuck in a bad situation with his brother and was the most loyal friend a guy could want. Seeing the brunette now, he had to wonder if maybe Sage might have been getting a different sort of attention looking the way he did.

Glancing around nervously, Sage pulled Taylor into a blind alley, making sure no one was walking by or that any windows were open. “I… I don’t know how to say this,” he mumbled, rocking from foot to foot. “It’s really, really fucked up and… and I don’t know if…”

“Just say it,” Taylor demanded, grabbing Sage by the shoulders. “I don’t care, just tell me. Was it Corey? Did he kill one of them?”

Sage shook his head, fingers tangling in his hair as he tugged his chocolate locks in frustration. “I met a shifter.”

Eyes widening, Taylor pressed his hand over the brunette’s mouth, looking around the alley to make sure that no one was definitely there. “Are you fucking serious? Did he hurt you?”

Sage bit his lip, unable to meet his friend’s concerned gaze. “A little… I don’t think he meant to. There’s something wrong with me, Tayls. I think someone might have, have cursed me or something.”

“Why would you…? Just tell me what happened,” Taylor muttered, ducking his head so his friend could whisper in his ear. Blue eyes widening in shock, Taylor began to curse under his breath as Sage poured out the events of the last night in halting sentences. “Holy fuck, Sage. Shit… Shit! How did you even go to school after that? How are you just fucking standing there and not fucking freaking out or something? He—Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t yell.” Taylor stepped away, kicking the nearest thing he could find, a soda can clattering loudly down the pavement.

Sage continued to tug at his hair agitatedly, watching Taylor’s sneakers as the blond paced. “I gotta find a way to hide the marks, Tayls,” he whispered, flinching when the blond reeled and turned on him.

“You’ve just been fucking raped!” Taylor covered his mouth, glaring at the entrance to the alley. Ducking his head, he whispered furiously into Sage’s ear. “You should go to a doctor. Make sure he didn’t give you something. Who the fuck knows what kinds of diseases shifters have?”

Sage just shook his head, his anxiety growing. “If I go to a doctor, they’ll want to talk to Corey. The shifter is not the issue right now. If Corey finds out, I’m fucking dead!”

“He wouldn’t—Would he? Is he that fucked up that…” Taylor trailed off, eyes closing. Corey was that fucked up. He wouldn’t care how or why, just that Sage had been tainted by a shifter.

“Please, Tayls, I don’t know what to do,” Sage pleaded softly, watching the emotions swirl on his friend’s face. “There’s something wrong with me. The shifter said I had a scent that made him that way. And Corey smelled me last night and you just did now. I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay. Okay, we’re going to fix this. I just… just have to ask for help.” Taylor looked at his friend warily, again taking in the brunette’s strangely beautiful features. Whatever had changed in his friend, it wasn’t just the odd, musky scent. He looked different too, possibly magically different. “First we’re going to get you a hoodie to cover you up. I got something big at home you can wear. And then… then I’m going to call Jared,” he added under his breath.

“But Jared’s a werewolf,” Sage said fretfully.

“Yes, and werewolves know magic,” Taylor replied as evenly as possible, trying to ignore the feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. “So if you’ve really been cursed to… to make shifters want to do that… Well, he’ll be able to help.”

Fidgeting, Sage eventually nodded, letting Taylor grasp his arm and lead him towards his house. “Just… we can’t tell Corey. If he finds out that I’m talking to a werewolf… I already get in trouble because you talk to them.”

“I know, Sage, and I’m sorry about that. We’re going to disguise you so no one will know it’s you.”

Taylor’s mom had once had a fling with a werewolf, the man passing through their lives very briefly. But Taylor had been drawn to the lifestyle the werewolves had led while they were dating, never having to worry about anyone preying on his family or trying to cheat his mom out of her hard earned money and house. Taylor had figured if he were a werewolf, maybe he could protect his family the same way.

“He won’t… he won’t think I want to be one, right?” Sage whispered, Taylor unlocking the door to the small house he lived in and quickly jostling the brunette inside.

“I’ll let him know, not that it matters. They have so many damn hoops you have to jump through,” Taylor said bitterly. “Jared says they won’t even consider me until I’m twenty-five—Which is fucking bullshit because I’ve seen way younger than me. But that’s Frey for you. He’s one of the better pack leaders and has rules like that to keep from being totally terrible like the other gangs.”

Taylor left Sage drinking a glass of orange juice in the kitchen while he rustled up a large, black sweatshirt out of his closet. Grabbing a toothpick, he chewed on it mindlessly while looking around his room. His eyes fell on a pair of sunglasses on his bureau and he quickly snatched them, bringing both downstairs to his friend.

Sage dressed while Taylor used his special cellphone to contact Jared. There would be no way the werewolf would come to his house. It just wasn’t smart, even with Ms. Hunt out and working at the hospital. Taylor’s mom was not a fan of what her son had been slowly getting into, having seen firsthand the consequences of the werewolf gangs and the people that tried to cross them.

“Come on. He says he’ll meet us at The Den,” Taylor said abruptly, pocketing his phone. Sighing, he pulled the hood over Sage’s hair. “I know it’s hot out, but you have to stay covered so you won’t be recognized.” Taylor didn’t bother mentioning that he’d run across way too many fucked up werewolves that would think someone as pretty as Sage was fair game. Jared was his sponsor, protecting him from any ill attention even though he wasn’t officially in with Frey’s pack yet. Another perk with joining a proper werewolf pack and not some bunch of fucked up creeps that thought just because they could transform on the full moon they could hurt anyone they liked.

Sage let Taylor pull him out of the house, his head spinning, stomach tight with anxiety as they headed for the bus. He had made a point to avoid the werewolves; after nearly being murdered by one as a child, Sage really didn’t trust any of them. Taylor was the only reason he was even considering this, and mostly because his friend was as street smart as they came. If Taylor thought the werewolves were his only chance to fix whatever had happened to him, then Sage was willing to give it a shot.

Face pressed up tight to the dingy bathroom mirror of his small apartment, eyes slit open so he could just make out his own dazed blue orbs, Beau forced another soap lubed finger into his aching hole. Gasping loudly, he pushed it as deep as he could get, not caring that it stung, that his flesh felt so raw and sore already. He couldn’t stop. It was Friday, he had woken up after dreaming of everything Darien had done to him last Tuesday, and his entire body was crying for more.

“Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, driving his two fingers in deep, gaping when his hole was stretched wider as he spread them. “Fuck, please… Please…”

He was losing his mind.

Whimpering lowly, he began thrusting in and out of his clenching passage, hissing from the feel of his fingers scraping his burning hot flesh. He couldn’t stop. Had been wanting it so bad. Needing it so much. He had tried to hold back, had tried to not be this way, but every time he was alone too long, Beau remembered. And when he remembered, he needed to feel it again. Needed to be taken. Owned. Exposed and humiliated. It was wrong, and so fucked up, and it was making him so unbearably hard.

Pulling his head off the mirror, he panted loudly, his breath bouncing back hot on his face as he took in his creamy skin flushed red, brilliant blue eyes and golden shoulder length hair. His brows were furrowed, mouth open wide, tongue tip brushing his bottom lip as he groaned. He looked like a slut. Like some sort of man whore just begging to be fucked. And he was. He was secretly begging for his muscular, young student to walk into his bathroom and replace his fingers with his own thick ones. Maybe even that big dick of his.

Slamming his fingers deeper into his hole, Beau jerked his hips against the wall, rubbing his aching dick against the cool surface. He released a weak cry, then another as his body clamped down so tight on his digits. Close. God, he was so close. Just thinking about Darien got him so hard, so ready. How the tall boy had pushed him down over his desk, fingered him in front of his students. Humiliated him. Degraded him. Got him off so fucking good.

Beau came with a cry, his cum streaking the wall in long streams as he bucked on his fingers buried deep inside him. Fuck. Fuck, he was losing it.

Panting heavily, he ran his tongue out, licking up the mirror, moaning from the smooth feel of cool glass on his hot flesh. Before he knew it he was sliding down the wall, seeking out his dripping cum, licking it off the surface while remembering how Darien had held him by his hair and forced him to lick his desk clean. Beau didn’t stop until he got every drop of his seed, and even then he couldn’t seem to pull away, lapping slow touches until his tongue was sore and his breathing had finally calmed.

***

It was Friday.

Beau had told himself to call out. He had stood in front of his bathroom mirror and told himself out loud that he was going to call out of work that day. Then he had gotten so hard he had stripped his pants off and fucked himself on his fingers. He had already come once that morning when he first woke, his dick so hard from dreams of his student that he barely touched it before he’d orgasmed.

It was crazy just how much he needed sex lately, how hot he got just thinking about Darien. It was wrong, he knew it because he wasn’t thinking about things like how nice the boy was, or how sweet he treated him. No, Beau was getting off on how possessive, rough, and brutal his controlling student was. How Darien had been able to push him up against a wall and grope him so thoroughly that he couldn’t escape, had not wanted to by the time the boy had his hands down his pants. And when he had fingered him, forcing him to bend over in front of his other students and the open classroom door, Beau had gotten so hot, so crazy he hadn’t been able to do anything but let the boy take whatever he wanted from his body.

He was in trouble. He couldn’t keep a straight head, couldn’t seem to find the moral ground that had been so solid before. To the best of his knowledge, he didn’t even like men. But he got hard for Darien. Every time the student looked at him—God, touched him. Beau wanted him to touch him. Needed him to make him feel that way again.

What he really needed was to not go to school that day. It was a prestigious college, he was the newest, youngest teacher there, and if he went into work he knew he was going to do something completely inappropriate with a young man that could have him fired in an instant. He should have been fired. After what had happened, he should have been escorted off the grounds and possibly straight into a police cruiser.

But no one had said anything. Beau hadn’t reported the three hooligans that had destroyed his classroom, and the three punks hadn’t said a word to the Dean or authorities about how he’d then gotten on his knees and sucked the dick of the student that had stopped them. He had a strong suspicion Darien Castello was to blame for that as well. Not only was the boy as aggressive as they came, but he also had a senator for a father. Whatever Darien had said to his classmates after the incident had apparently been followed.

Or so, Beau hoped. He was still waiting for the axe to drop. Three days later, he was still unsure just what the hell had happened and if he was going to be able to handle what was coming next.

He still had the bruises on his hips where Darien’s fingers had dug in, the muscular twenty-two-year-old having ground him so tight against his desk it had left marks. He still had the cuts and slashes from the angry boys that had tried to beat him into giving them a passing grade. His hole still ached, still throbbed every time he thought of how Darien had pushed him over his desk and fingered him roughly until he came. All while claiming his teacher belonged to him.

“Fuck,” Beau groaned, hitting the brakes abruptly as the car in front of him stopped. He was hard again. He kept getting hard every time he thought about what had happened. Especially when he heard Darien still in his ear, whispering that he was a nasty, bad slut—his bad teacher, and he needed to be treated like it.

Beau didn’t think he was a bad teacher, not the way Darien had said it. Not really. In his early thirties, he’d only had a short string of respectable, if not extremely tepid relationships, all of them with women willing to overlook his feminine good looks with his silky blond hair, bright blue eyes, and slender form. He had never thought of himself as gay. He had certainly never thought to look at a student in any way that was inappropriate, male or female. But then, he had never met a young man like Darien Castello before.

Tall, black hair streaked with red, green eyes and pure muscular confidence, Darien was everything Beau had hated when he was in college. Mostly because Darien was the type of boy that liked to bully him. Now an established teacher, that had not changed. Even though Darien had been very interested in getting Beau off, he had also done it while extorting his teacher for money with the promise he’d hurt him if he didn’t pay up. And if money wasn’t available, Darien would be more than happy to take it out of his flesh with a good fucking.

His breath speeding up, Beau licked his lips, trying to will his erection away. He could still call out. He could turn the car around, call from his cellphone and pretend to be sick. Sure it was hardly a month into the term but it was just one day. One day to keep from doing something extremely stupid.

What that stupid thing was, he wasn’t a hundred percent certain. He had the money. Darien had said he’d accept $50 a week to protect him from the sort of punks that would destroy his classroom and beat him bloody… But only if Beau offered something else in trade. Something sexual. $450 worth of sexual.

Beau had never thought to hire a prostitute, the idea too off-putting and crass. Now he wished he knew someone who had, only so he could get an idea of just what $450 would get with a person like that. Because when Darien’s eyes burned over him, he was pretty sure the young man saw him the same way most men looked at a hooker. Someone with a price that once reached would give them anything and everything.

Except Beau was the one paying Darien. To protect him. Maybe… maybe to look at him the way the boy kept doing. Maybe even to touch him, if he could face that thought as well. Maybe to make him do the many dirty, messed up things Darien wanted to do to him and a secret, naughty part of Beau desired to do. Like suck the boy’s thick cock as thanks for beating up his attackers.

“Go home,” Beau whispered, biting his lip and staring down the street where he could just make out the clock tower of the college administrative building. “Call out sick, and go home.” He ran his hand down the front of his pants, hissing softly as he pressed against his hard erection.

He had managed to not be fired for the incident. He had managed to not have his name dragged through the papers in some huge scandal over his cocky, handsome extortionist of a student. He wouldn’t be so lucky this time. It was tempting fate. Tempting the little good left in him.

Would you like that, Mr. Ashford? Do you want everyone to know you belong to me? Do you want to belong to me?

Darien’s voice again taunting in his ear, Beau took the turn into the college gates, driving to the faculty parking lot. He kept his mind blank, kept his expression flat, his mouth grim. It was just a day like any other day. Just a Friday. Just the day he decided if he was going to let Darien Castello bully him back onto his knees, maybe over his desk again, and give the boy everything he wanted.

Darien Castello could not take his eyes off of Mr. Ashford. The guy had the face of a model; a really naughty one that wanted so badly to be pushed down and messed up. Damn, he had never really gotten off on just a face, but with his soft blond locks, bright blue eyes, and pouting red lips, Darien was totally hooked on his new teacher. Unfortunately, so were his classmates.

Mr. Ashford looked like prey, plain and simple. He was average height, slender, and had a way to his shoulders and walk that just screamed ‘jump me.’ Currently Tony and Radford were doing just that. They had cornered the new science teacher by the lockers and looked ready to start punching and maybe even stuffing if they didn’t get some cash off the cutie.

Darien took his time, dragging on his cigarette as he approached. No one had noticed him yet, which was fine by him. He wanted to take the opportunity to look at Mr. Ashford up close. The guy was hot. Really fucking hot. Pale skin, golden hair, and damn those lips. The nasty things he would do to those lips. Radford better not punch the man’s face or he’d have to beat the fuck out of him for ruining perfection.

“What’s going on, guys?” Darien casually slung his arms over Tony and Radford’s shoulders. Both of his classmates immediately froze. Darien was top dog for a reason. He was the tallest kid in school, the strongest, and when the mood struck him, the meanest motherfucker there was. Everyone knew. The ones that didn’t, figured it fast. Mr. Ashford would be getting that privilege soon enough.

“Fuck, hey Darien,” Tony said hesitantly. He glanced sideways at the tall brunette who had crept up behind them. When his eyes fell on Darien’s bicep right next to his face—the flesh hard and tattooed—he swallowed. “We were just having a chat with the new teacher. Nothing to get involved in.”

Darien’s gaze traveled over the blushing teacher who was currently glaring holes at the three students as he tried to straighten his rumpled shirt. Darien took his cigarette from his mouth. “Ah, well that’s where you’re wrong. I happen to have Mr. Ashford for fourth period. And if you’re messing him up, well, that’s going to mess up my grade.” Darien fixed on Tony again. “You wouldn’t want me to fail, would you?”

Radford immediately took a step back and ducked from his heavy arm. “Right, so I’m getting the fuck out. Sorry ’bout that, Mr. Ashford.”

Darien smirked at the incredulous expression on the man’s face when Radford apologized. “Um, don’t think anything of it,” Beau mumbled as he straightening his tie.

“What about you, Tony?” Darien asked, his voice full of implication.

Starting, Tony winced. “Hey, I got the message loud and clear. You wanna be teacher’s pet? By all means.” He went to duck away, but Darien grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled Tony sideways while he hissed.

“Wallet.”

Glaring, Tony reached into his back pocket and slammed the leather into Darien’s hand. Flipping it open, Darien raised his brow at his ever watching teacher. “This all of it?”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Beau answered, expression full of surprise and gratitude.

Damn, he had amazing eyes. Sexy, wide, glowing blue eyes. Not bothering to look at Tony, Darien shoved the punk aside and listened to him huff away. He used the time to study his new teacher, one he hadn’t met until that moment. That was definitely going to change.

Darien let his gaze move from Beau’s handsome face, sturdy shoulders, and down his lithe body still trembling in aftershock. Sexy. Sexy, and sleek, and in desperate need of a very hard fucking.

There was no way he was letting things end here.

“You’re Darien Castello?” Voice quiet, Beau combed shaking fingers through his shoulder length locks. His gaze had strayed to where the other two had dissapeared, as if just waiting for them to turn around and come at him.

“That would be me, teach.” Tilting his head, Darien offered the man a drag on his cigarette. When Mr. Ashford shook his head, Darien finished it off, then dropped it to the hallway floor. He crushed it carelessly with his heel.

“You really shouldn’t…” Mr. Ashford’s eyes widened when Darien pushed him back and blocked him in with his taller, stronger form.

“You saw how easy that was for me, right teach? I just showed up, and those losers walked away.”

“Y-Yes, I was meaning to thank you.”

Darien smirked. The guy had the cutest fucking stutter too. “You might want to hold off on that.”

He opened up the wallet again, pulled out the cash and counted it while Mr. Ashford watched him with growing trepidation. “I’m going to take this… $300, and you’re going to bring me another $200 by Friday.”

“I am?” Mr. Ashford’s eyes narrowed even as his voice broke.

“It’s a good deal.” Cash now free of the wallet, Darien slowly snaked his hand around until he found his teacher’s back pocket. Ducking closer, he slowly pushed his hand into the man’s pants, watching intently as Mr. Ashford blushed and refused to meet his eyes.

Yeah, the guy was smoking hot and definitely interested. What it would take to get him to admit that interest, Darien was looking forward to figuring out.

He left the wallet but not before stealing a small squeeze of that tight, firm ass. “You pay me $500 a week, and I’ll make sure guys like that don’t mess up your pretty face.”

“You’re out of your mind—Ah.” His eyes closed as Darien’s arm suddenly pressed across his throat and he fell silent, head forced back against the locker.

“Mr. Ashford, it would be really easy for me to hurt you. And believe me, I wouldn’t feel bad about it in the slightest.” No, Darien would love every moment of covering this hot man with as many bruises as he could handle. Moving his head so that he was pressing his mouth to his ear, he added softly, “But if you’re a good boy and you do as I say, I’ll take care of you. No one will hurt you as long as I’m here to protect you.” Mr. Ashford gave the slightest of tremors and Darien fought back a smile. “It’s not a free service, teach. If you don’t want to pay me in cash, I might be willing to accept a trade.”

He slowly pulled a lock of Mr. Ashford’s hair aside, letting the silky strands run through his fingers. “I can think of a lot of things a sexy guy like you could do for me, teach.” His eyes locked with stunning blue, Darien pushed a thumb against those damn enticing red lips and smirked when Mr. Ashford gasped and turned his head away.

“Think about it. Next Friday once school gets out. Your room.” He pulled away, eyes lingering on the man’s lithe form. Mr. Ashford’s face was flushed with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and shame. It was sexy as hell, and Darien could think of a million ways to make him look like that all the time—starting with forcing him to his knees.

Fuck, it was his teacher’s fault for having such a damn sexy face. He might as well be begging for it.

Darien walked away whistling, hands folded behind his head. Breathing heavily, Mr. Ashford leaned weakly on the wall and watched him go.

It’s the last Valentine’s Day I’m going to have to endure at school. Somehow it seems to be mocking me, starting from the horrible amount of red and pink everyone’s wearing. Even the other guys are wearing the garish colors while I’ve resolutely dressed in my normal black.

I can’t stand the holidays, Valentine’s Day especially. It has nothing to do with the forgotten religious saint or the fertility festival the damn thing originally represented. No, it’s the way couples just disregard all decency and once again shove their happiness in my face. Like being single means I should automatically be miserable? Like a relationship is the end-all of being a satisfied human being? Fuck them. At least I’ve never had to listen to some girl tell me off for not calling her every hour.

I have no interest in being in a relationship. Seeing everyone acting like it’s the only thing a guy could want is really annoying as fuck.

Dropping my book bag on the floor, I take a seat for my first class of the day, trying to ignore the obnoxious amount of snuggling going around. When exactly did Valentine’s Day become an excuse to ignore all acceptable forms of public displays of affection? I might be running to the bathroom soon to vomit if this keeps up.

“Aiden, you look like someone pissed in your cereal this morning.” Ben, my best friend, sits down next to me, his hands smacking on his desk. He flashes me a toothy grin, clearly not actually caring that I hate today with a passion.

“What are you so happy about?” I finally ask when he insists on smiling at me.

“I got Vanessa a rose. I even wrote her a bitchin love poem.” His smile somehow manages to grow. “If that doesn’t get her to agree to go out with me, nothing will.”

Scowling at my terribly happy friend—Seriously, it’s Valentine’s Day; happiness is not welcome today—I pull out my math book and notebook. “What exactly do you mean by ‘bitchin love poem?’ Is this like some modern art thing?”

“Nope, even better. I wrote it myself.”

Nodding slowly, I duck my head so he can’t see me wince. “That sounds… um, bitchin.” Hideous. Seriously repulsive. God, I hate Valentine’s Day.

“Wanna read it?”

I bite my lip, knowing if he so much as shows me anything he’s written that’s supposed to convince anyone he’s in love with Vanessa, I’m going to laugh my ass off. “I’m good. For real.”

Ben smiles obliviously, his hair brushing into his eyes. “So?”

“So?” I repeat, folding my notebook open and wondering when the hell Mr. Jacobs is going to get here so the idiots will finally sit their asses down and stop making out around me.

“So, who did you get a rose for?” Ben asks, sounding even chipper than when he first sat down.

I glare at him sideways. He looks ridiculously young and happy and I sort of hate him right now. “No one. You know I don’t buy into this stupid holiday.”

“Pssh. You’re just mad because you haven’t found your ‘one’ yet,” Ben says with all the conviction of a hormonal eighteen-year-old that hasn’t had a relationship last more than three months. “When you fall in love, you’ll totally love Valentine’s Day.”

I debate whether I want to tear his love theory apart verbally to pass the time. I’m in a terrible mood, but I don’t know if I want to take him with me. He’s got that hopeful puppy-dog look he gets right before his heart is broken—This time by Vanessa, who has been looking at Ryan H. for the last month. Seeing as Ryan has a car, Ben is so outmatched. I settle for grunting noncommittally and scribbling doodles in my notebook.

There’s a commotion at the door and I sigh. Finally, the teacher is here and we can start. Except it’s not Mr. Jacobs, it’s a ridiculously cheerful girl carrying an armful of roses. I glare, realizing I’m going to have to go through the receiving, squealing, and all around vomit inducing lovey-dovey crap that comes along with girls getting flowers from secret and not so secret admirers. Fuck my life.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Ben says, grabbing my arm before I can get up and go hide out in the bathroom.

“What—Why the fuck should I stay around for this shit?” I mutter but sit down. Most of the girls are swarming the doorway anyways—There’s no getting by them to escape.

“Cheer the fuck up, Aiden. It’s just Valentine’s Day. It’s not like people are going out of their way to make you unhappy.”

“Aren’t they?” I snap, pointing at the group of giggling girls. “If I never have to hear that noise again, I’d be happy.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Nothing makes you happy. Not the many holes in your head, your punk music, or even those funky combat boots. You are determined to be unhappy and you shouldn’t go blaming the rest of the world for your state of being.”

Glowering, I hunch over my desk, deciding to ignore him and the class until the stupidity dies down. Having eyebrow rings and a tattoo on the back of my neck isn’t some statement in being unhappy, it’s just a statement in being me. Ben wouldn’t understand, always wasting his time and energy trying to get with the next pretty, vapid thing he sees instead of figuring out himself.

Something flashes out of the corner of my eye, a red rose landing on my notebook. Blinking, I looked up in disbelief as Callie—super smiley cheerleader—hands me a white card. “Looks like you have a secret admirer, Aiden.”

“What?” I say dumbly, glancing sideways to find nearly everyone in the classroom suddenly looking at me.

She continues as if I hadn’t said anything, the card landing on top of my desk when I refuse to take it from her hand. “You know, you’re the first boy that’s gotten a rose this year. Usually guys send them to girls,” she says with a slightly accusing look.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for a rose now? Or… is she saying a guy sent me a rose?

“Hey, just because Aiden’s a guy, doesn’t mean he can’t get a rose,” Ben speaks up before I can actually ask what she’s implying. Throwing her bleach blond hair over her shoulder, Callie gives a bored huff and just steps away to the next person on her list.

“It’s the fucking twenty-first century. Geez,” Ben mutters before pasting another huge smile on and smacking me on the back. “Well, what does it say? Who sent you the rose?”

“What?” Scratching the back of my head, I look at Ben warily. My friend of forever has been acting weird ever since he spent his summer in New York with his cousins. I’m not sure exactly what he’s got in his head all of a sudden when it comes to me, but he’s been saying a lot of stupid shit like how I don’t need a girlfriend if I don’t want one, and he’d never judge me no matter what. It’s been really getting on my nerves but I don’t know if now is the time to bring it up, especially when half the class is trying to snoop over my shoulder to read the stupid card on my desk.

Shaking my head, I flip the plain white notecard open, glancing briefly at the one line before flipping it shut and pocketing it.

“Well?” Ben asks, curiosity clear in his voice.

“Well, what?” I go back to scribbling in my notebook, pointedly ignoring him.

“What did it say?”

Sighing in annoyance, I glance his way, finding two other people looking at me just as curiously. Fuck this stupid shit. “Nothing.”

“Like fuck—They wouldn’t have given you a card if it was blank.” Ben isn’t going to let it go. Actually, he looks about ready to wrestle me to the ground so he can get the thing and read it himself. That I’m only five foot ten, and slender will not stop my taller friend. That I also fight like a crazy bastard and enjoy biting will probably keep him from trying it.

“It’s just a time and place for a meetup. No name,” I finally grunt out, looking down at my desk. “I’m sure they just got me confused with someone else. There are like seven guys named Aiden in the grade below us.”

“Aiden…” Ben just sighs, something else I choose to ignore. He can tell me till he’s blue in the face and I want to beat the fuck out of him that I’m actually a likeable guy, but I know better. I barely tolerate people and people, well, they keep their distance. I might have a cute face but with the right scowl and mean enough piercings, they back the fuck off. It’s how I like it. I don’t want people in my life—My life is difficult enough.

“When is it?” Ben asks when I relax enough to think he’s dropped the subject.

“When’s what?”

“Stop fucking with me. The meetup?”

Grunting, I pull the note from my pocket and hand it to him. He reads it, his brows furrowed as he gives me the card back. “That’s a weird place to meet someone.”

I shrug. “I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. Someone bothered to write you a card and buy you a rose. You’re fucking going—Stop being such a dick. What if they really like you?”

“Then they’re fucking dumb.” I shove the note back into my pocket, eyes falling on the rose. It’s actually kind of cool looking, the edges of the blood red petals blackened like they’ve been burnt. I reach out, letting my fingers brush over a silky smooth petal. Even the thorns are tipped in black. Do they dye roses now?

I pick it up, pressing my thumb against a thorn. It certainly feels real. Ducking my head, I give it a hesitant sniff, a small smile stealing across my lips.

Fine, it’s a cool rose. Not one of those girly pink ones or I would have tossed it already. But it’s not like you can fuck up a flower. Whoever had the nerve to send me one doesn’t automatically get a meeting with me just because the rose doesn’t suck.

The pack of girls finally leaves the doorway, the sound quieting down as the last of the class trickles in. Observing the way the black edges make a spiral pattern as they wrap around the rose, I’m pulled away by the weight of someone’s stare. It’s the new kid, the foreign transfer that showed up a month ago, currently standing halfway in the room and staring at my rose like he’s never seen one before.

Gavriil Strife is a weird one. He has golden blond hair, weird violet eyes and looks like some fucking model out of a magazine. He’s tall, built, and just has this ease about him with his stylish hair and graceful walk. Every girl in the school is chasing him hardcore, his nickname being ‘the golden prince.’ Annoying enough, but he doesn’t talk, like ever. I think I might have heard him say something once when answering a teacher, and his accent was so thick, I didn’t understand a word. No one can understand him but everyone loves him. It’s bullshit.

That he’s staring at me now, those weird eyes rimmed in black piercing into mine is unsettling as fuck and I find myself biting my lip. But I refuse to back down; he’s staring, and it doesn’t matter where he’s from, it’s still rude. Then the jackass grins at me, his expression turning mischievous like he’s got some fucking secret before he looks away and crosses to his seat. He’s seriously annoying. Weird and annoying, and I’ve caught him staring at me before. Like every class we share.

“What was that about?” Ben leans over to whisper in my ear.

“Fucking weirdo,” I mutter flatly, looking again at the rose and trying to fight the urge to glance over and see if Gavriil’s still staring. Maybe he’s pissed his didn’t get a rose, seeing as he’s a total pretty boy… Hell, maybe his ex sent me the flower? Has the kid actually taken any of the swarms of girls up on a date? He doesn’t speak a word of English yet he’s in my English class. I chance a peek, violet eyes meeting mine for a moment before I look away.

Weirdo.

The idea of Gavriil dating anyone is annoying as fuck too, like the weird boy himself, and I huff and turn to another page of my notebook so I can draw myself a maze. I take small joy in adding spikes and pits filled with vipers for any wanderer to get stuck in. It’s a shit day and only promising to get worse.

***

I’ve dodged Ben’s incessant questions throughout the day about if I’m going to the stupid meetup. The only reason I’m even considering it is just because it’s on my way home. If some idiot wants to wait out in the fucking freezing cold in the middle of February after a damn snowstorm, that’s really their problem, not mine. Throwing a $5 rose in my lap doesn’t mean I’m required to freeze my ass off.

I’m actually pretty angry about the whole thing. Seriously, what stupid idiot got me a fucking rose? Who the hell thought that I’d be into some stupid romantic rendezvous on the sappiest fucking day of the year? I was embarrassed during class, everyone keeps looking at me, and the questions will not stop. If I do go, I’m probably going to do it just to tell the person off for making my Valentine’s Day even worse than normal.

Scowling into my locker, I pull my black jacket on, hunching into the heavy material. It has a few holes but layered with my sweatshirt it does the trick for the fifteen-minute walk home. Tugging my slouchy on over my shaggy dark hair, I glare sideways at Ben who is, of course, waiting for me to tell him if I’m going to meet my ‘secret admirer.’

Fuck, even the name annoys the fuck out of me.

“Well?”

“Fuck off.” I slam my locker shut, ducking around him.

“Stop being an ass, Aiden. It’s just one little meeting. Just give the guy a shot—Shit.” Ben stops short as I whirl, his hands held up defensively.

Guy? Glaring at the cringing brunette, I stomp back. “What the fuck do you know?”

“N-Nothing, it just sort of slipped…” Ben sucks at lying, especially to me. I take a quick look around the hall, way too many of my classmates staring at me. Growling, I grab Ben by his collar and haul him into the empty science room.

“Tell me. Now.”

“Really, it’s nothing. A guess…” Ben coughs awkwardly while I stare him down. I’m not buying it and he knows it. “Fuck… Fuck, stop snarling at me.”

“Tell me, you jackass! Who is it!”

Stumbling back, he ends up sitting heavily on the teacher’s desk. I glare as he smiles at me sheepishly. “I don’t know his name. I just… I’m pretty sure it’s a guy.”

“Why?” I growl when he feels the need to stop at that fucking revelation and not explain. Why the fuck would a guy be looking at me? I’m an asshole to everyone, and I’ve never shown an interest in hooking up with anyone, especially guys.

“Well… um… Someone asked me if you’d… might be interested…”

“Oh my god—Fucking whore, Ben! Why? Why would you tell someone that I’d—Fuck.” I whirl, pacing away before I do something uncalled for, like punch the idiot. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why would he do that? Does he hate me or some shit? He’s like my only friend—Do I have to worry about him spreading fucking rumors about me liking dick or something? Fuck.

“Aiden, you have to understand. I just thought, well… Well, I just thought,” Ben finishes lamely, wincing when I turn and glare his way.

“You think I’m gay?”

Looking uncomfortable, he gives a weak shrug. “It could explain a few things.”

And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? “Like what?” I growl, my hands on my hips as I wait expectantly for whatever stupid is going to come out of his mouth. There is nothing remotely gay about me. Fuck, if I’m anything, it’s asexual, but I hate fucking labels so I wouldn’t even say that. I have no interest in being with anyone, period.

“You don’t date,” Ben points out.

“So? You know my fucking home life. You think I want to bring anyone into that shit?”

“Bullshit,” he says, standing up and glaring back at me. “Do you think I’m blind or something? Like I can’t see when you’re checking a guy out? You spent nearly half of last class staring at Chris.”

“He was cheating off of Duley,” I snap, really not liking where this is turning. I do not check out guys.

“Was his ass cheating? Cus that’s where you were staring.”

“Are you shitting me—Did you just seriously accuse me of…?” There are no words. “Ben, I’m not gay!” I yelp in frustration.

“Whatever, jackass,” he mutters, like I’m fucking lying to him or something. “I’m not the only one who thinks it, man. Ever since Gavriil transferred in, everyone has been talking about it.”

Blinking dumbly, I hold up my hand. “What? What the fuck does that weirdo have to do with anything?”

Ben growls in exasperation. “Dude, you stare at him all the time!”

“Only because he keeps staring at me!” I turn away, my hat coming off in my hands as I grab my hair and tug. Stupid Gavriil Strife—Of course that fucker is to blame for all this. The damn pretty-boy came in here acting weird, and the second I glare at him everyone just assumes I have a thing for him because he’s gorgeous. The fucking bastard.

“Who did you tell?” I ask, spinning back to Ben. “Who fucking asked?”

Huffing, he folds his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure.”

“Like fuck you’re not—”

“I never saw the guy before. It was a couple of weeks ago during that football game you left early from.” He gives me a look and I wonder if he’s going to start accusing me of staring at their asses too. “He came up and asked if you were into guys. He had long black hair, green eyes. Tall. Really good looking.”

“Why the fuck do you feel the need to tell me he’s good looking?” I hate him so much right now. “So you just told this absolute stranger that your best friend is into guys?” I say in frustration.

“No,” he snaps back, his jaw squaring defiantly. “I told him it was a possibility. That you’re not the dating type so there was really only one way to know for sure.”

God, my life sucks so much right now. My mom is probably home drinking our fucking food money away, and here I am standing, listening to my best friend explain how I could be gay.

“Did you ever once think to ask me?” I can’t stop my angry growl. He winces and I feel a mild satisfaction that he at least feels guilty. It’s extremely mild.

“Aiden, I watched you eat half a raw potato before you realized it wasn’t an apple.”

“So—What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“So, you’re fucking oblivious, man. If I was going to ask someone about you, I’d ask me first because, fuck, I know you better than you know you.”

Scoffing, I glance away. “No, you don’t.”

“Oh yeah? Favorite food—Cheeseburger with extra pickles, but on a grill because you like the burn but still pink in the middle. You’re two homework assignments away from failing Mr. Pincer’s class. You spent all of yesterday with a pink barrette in your hair because you didn’t notice I put a fucking barrette in your hair. Dude, you’re a fucking space case,” he says with a wave of his hands.

I pause at that, remembering vaguely something pulling on my hair yesterday when I took my hat off. Fuck. “Pink? You jackass.”

“Do you even know how many people check you out?” he continues sternly. “Like every fucking day? I have chicks asking all the time if you’re, like, not allowed to date or something. I see guys looking at you all the time, and hell, I’m as straight as they come, but even I can admit you’re totally sexy, man.”

I splutter, glaring at him while my tongue refuses to work. I am not sexy. I am angry and unapproachable, and that is how I want to be.

“Aiden, go meet the fucking guy. For once in your life stop wandering around aimlessly after cleaning up your parents’ mess, and just live a second for yourself. People want to get to know you, so give them a fucking chance already.”

It probably would have been more poignant if my best friend wasn’t trying to send me off because he thinks I like dick. As it is, I’m just more annoyed that there are at least two people on the planet determined to make this day as fucking miserable as possible.

“I’ll go,” I finally growl, glaring him down as he beams in reply. “But only to tell this guy that you were mistaken. Bad enough he’s so retarded he thinks I’m dating material to begin with.” Seriously, you’d have to be a fucking idiot to think I was worth hanging around for any amount of time. I’m pretty sure Ben’s an idiot, and he’s well aware of my opinion on the matter.

“Seriously, dude, if it’s the guy from the game, he’s hot. I’d never do you wrong like that.”

I shake my head. There are really no words for how dumb he is today. Fucking Valentine’s Day.

“Did Vanessa like her rose?” I grunt out, feeling spiteful. Ben gives a heartfelt, woeful sigh. Answer enough. Yeah, he’s a fucking idiot and now I have to go let some really confused gay guy down on Valentine’s Day. Fuck my life.

“Hey, Jayce, isn’t that your little brother?”

Glancing over Paul’s large shoulder, Jayce searched to see where his friend was tilting his head. The mall was crowded as usual, but yeah, it wasn’t hard to spot Declan. “Stepbrother,” he muttered darkly. They didn’t look alike. Jayce was tall, muscular, tanned with shaggy, sandy blond hair and dark eyes. Declan was… well, Declan.

All black hair, blue eyes, and gothed out to the gills. The kid looked like he’d been dropped in a vat of black ink. Tight black semi-transparent shirt, long black shorts, black trenchcoat, black boots, black belt, black choker and bracelets; Declan had a very obvious theme going. Even his eyeliner and nail polish were black. Everything about the kid was black except for his skin. No, his skin was so pale, Jayce swore it glowed half the time. Then there were his eyes. Blue. Crazy blue. Manic and fucked up, and it was always so hard for him to look away from his brother’s eyes. Declan was beautiful.

Jayce wanted to fuck his little brother, and it was really starting to be a problem.

“What is he, some sort of vampire now?” Paul snickered, ducking his head when Declan approached.

Jayce kept his mouth shut, trying not to stare at his sexy-ass brother. There was something fucked up in his little brother’s head. Jayce wasn’t sure what it was but ever since they’d started sharing a room, things had gotten awkward. Part of that was on Declan for being an angry freak. The other part was on Jayce for wanting to do a lot of freaky stuff to the kid. It really wasn’t cool but he was behaving, so that was something.

He kind of felt sorry for Declan. Sort of. The kid had to move to a new town, start a new school, and, oh yeah, leave his old life behind. The kids there were total asses about the goth thing. Not all of them, but enough that his little brother hadn’t made many friends yet. Maybe not any. He was a total loner.

“Hey,” Jayce greeted when Declan was in range. The brunette looked him right in the eye, coolly raised a pierced eyebrow, and then kept walking like he hadn’t said a word. Asshole. There might be a reason Declan didn’t have any friends. Jayce sure as fuck didn’t want to be his friend. Still didn’t keep him from staring at his ass as he walked away, though.

“Harsh,” Paul muttered, grinning when Jayce met his gaze. “You two still fighting?”

“I don’t think we are. Hard to fight when we barely say two words to each other.”

It hadn’t always been that way. Their parents had dated for years and he and Declan had spent all their free time together. The kid had been practically tied to his hip. Declan used to idolize him and Jayce had been thrilled to have a brother. Even if the kid was younger and insisted on being nerdy. Declan had been his best friend. Then everything had gone to shit.

Jayce wasn’t sure what had happened exactly. Their parents had gone through a rough patch and took a break. It turned out to be exactly what the two of them needed because fourteen months later his mom, Sarah, married Declan’s dad, Greg, and the Rainers had moved into his house. But something had changed during that break. Declan refused to answer any of Jayce’s texts or calls as if their parents splitting meant that they couldn’t be friends. Jayce had been preoccupied with college at the time and hadn’t really realized just how much his brother had shut him out. After the wedding, Declan moved into his room a completely different guy. Cold. Goth. Fucked up.

Sexy as sin.

The revelation that his brother was beyond hot had been extremely uncomfortable on Jayce, and not just because they were currently fighting. Declan was the kid he had protected and damn near half raised, their parents always at work and leaving them on their own. He had done his best to protect his brother from the assholes that would look at his nerdy clothes and silly books and talk down to him. Now, well, now every time he looked at his little brother in his ridiculous skin tight black clothes and girly makeup, he just wanted to push him up against the nearest sturdy surface and fuck him raw.

He was pretty sure he was going to hell, perving on his little brother. They might not have been related, but Declan was still everything to him even if he couldn’t stand whatever dumbass phase the kid was going through at the moment. Which just made it so much more messed up that he dreamed about fucking D nearly every night now.

He almost wished he had gone out of state for school instead of attending the local university. Seeing Declan acting out sucked. He had lost his brother only to gain some angry, albeit really hot punk. The kid got pissed every time Jayce even said the word goth. Declan had grown his hair out, all sleek and cut spiky, and although Jayce had managed not to say a word yet about it, D sure hated when he hid his hairbrush.

“I heard a rumor about him,” Paul said while they were walking to the food court.

“What, that he’s an ax-murder that’s escaped from an institution?” Jayce had already heard that one. The kids around there were total dicks and had shit for imagination.

Paul looked around, ducking his head so he was talking into the blond’s ear. “Nope. That he sucks cock.”

Jayce snapped his mouth shut, glaring sideways at his giant of a friend. Jesus, why would he tell him something like that? He was fucked up in the head already about D.

“Jason Henley’s, to be precise. So, is it true? You share a house with him. You probably know if he’s—”

“I don’t.”

“Don’t be that way. Vanessa is crushing on him and just wants to know if she has a shot. She thinks he’s hot, even with his girly hair and makeup.”

Another thing Jayce didn’t ever want to hear. He knew Declan was hot. He didn’t want his fucking friends thinking it about his little brother too. Jayce stopped walking, turning on Paul. “Whatever strange my stepbrother is into has nothing to do with me. Definitely nothing to do with you. Now drop it.”

“Touchy.”

Jackass. Glaring straight ahead, Jayce tried to keep his mind from running in circles. Declan was gay? For real? The kid had never talked to him about guys, or girls, for that matter. He’d never met D’s old friends—the few he’d had. For all he knew, Declan used to have a boyfriend. Why the fuck wouldn’t he tell him? Declan knew he was bi. He had to know Jayce wouldn’t have anything bad to say about him if he was gay.

“How certain is this rumor?” He finally asked Paul, frustration clear in his voice. How could Declan have kept such a huge secret from him? Why would he have?

“Ah… pretty certain.” Paul suddenly grabbed Jayce’s arm, pulling him around a pillar and pointing down the line of tables ahead as they stepped into the food court. It was Declan, sitting with his book resting on the table. But he wasn’t alone. Some sleazy looking guy was hovering over his shoulder, talking in his ear. Sure enough, the guy suddenly leaned his head and gave Jayce’s little brother a kiss.

Son of a fucking bitch.

“Whoa, where the fuck are you going?” Paul grabbed the blond’s shoulder and Jayce jerked to a stop. “What, you going to go beat him up or some shit?”

Fuck yes. “It’s fucking Jason Henley,” Jayce hissed, glaring at the two of them as the loser sat his ass down across from his little brother and ran his fingers through Declan’s perfect hair. He was going to fucking kill that asshole!

“Keep it together, big bro,” Paul said in his infuriatingly reasonable tone while refusing to let Jayce go. “If Declan’s as smart as you used to say, he’ll see right through Henley’s crap. He doesn’t need you going in there embarrassing the hell out of him with your macho bullshit.”

Jayce wasn’t so sure. Declan had been messed up lately, acting out, looking for trouble. The kid wouldn’t talk to him for shit and it had been worrying him more and more. Now this. Gay with Jason Henley.

“Henley’s too old for him,” Jayce finally grunted, allowing himself to be pulled away.

“He’s our age,” Paul said with a snort. Jayce and Paul had been on the wrestling team together in high school. Paul might act like a gentle giant but under his flab was enough muscle to keep Jayce from making an ass of himself if he lost his shit.

God, if only it had been anyone other than Jason Henley.

“He’s too old. Old enough to drink. Old enough to get Declan in so much fucking trouble—And that asshole is total trouble. You know his rep.”

“You’ll only make it worse. Keep your mouth shut and let your bro make his own mistakes.”

Jayce growled but didn’t say anything else.

Shit, Henley was such a fucking loser. Like, drugged up half the time, drunk the other half, and all mean spirit. He had also already managed to flunk out of college while Declan was still in his graduating year of high school. Jayce knew it was none of his business, but hell, the idea of that asshole touching his little brother just really pissed him off. The kid could do better.

D was only one summer in Jayce’s town and had already hooked up with the biggest loser around. There really was something fucked in the kid’s head.

***

Jayce had hoped to talk to Declan once he got home later that night but D wasn’t there. Neither were his mom and stepfather, Greg. Not a huge shocker with the last two. They were both doctors at the local hospital and worked the worst hours. Jayce had foolishly expected when his mom finally got married that he’d see her more. Instead he’d been stuck with Declan, which just felt like being extra alone for all the icy distance the kid put between them. Impressive, considering all the shit he had crowded into Jayce’s room.

His mom kept promising they’d move to a larger house soon. Going from a family of two to four overnight had been intense. Declan didn’t get any say in being shoved out of his fancy mansion and into Jayce’s cozy house. The kid was probably hurting about that too—Not that D would tell him.

Jayce made himself a quick snack and then went to his room to get his homework done.

Declan was usually haunting the living room or backyard while reading his horror novels. He read scary shit; weird, dark, bloody stuff that made Jayce wonder if he might be a closet serial killer, as did the kid’s decorating sense. Half of his room was now covered in what he could only assume was vampire paraphernalia, Asian, at that. D had a lot of posters of guys with sleek spiky hair just like Declan’s dressed in elaborate coats, leather, ruffles, and lace. Oh, and they were all in makeup. It was weird. Especially when Jayce spent a day checking a few of them out, only to have Declan tell him they were men. All of them.

That might have been a big clue, now that he thought about it.

Gay. His little brother was gay. And D had never told him. It didn’t make sense. Jayce had told Declan when he was figuring out he was Bi. It had been a big deal to finally tell someone. Declan had been cool about it. Quiet, but hell, he was always quiet. But D hadn’t said shit about liking guys. Had he said something wrong? Did he somehow indicate that there could only be one sexually free brother in the house when he’d moved in? It felt like something he would remember. Fuck.

Maybe Declan knew. Maybe he knew deep inside Jayce’s messed up head he had been checking his little brother out all fucking summer and masturbating to his image. The kid had nothing to worry about. Jayce would only ever look. He knew it was wrong. D was a kid to him—even if he was angry as fuck lately. He was his brother and you just didn’t do that shit. No matter how much he really wanted to.

Jayce honestly didn’t think it was him. There was just something going on with D. Something kinda messed up. Even his bed was black. Black sheets, black bedspread, blood red satin pillows—He must have been feeling rebellious. Declan’s side of the room was covered in candles, all elaborate, drippy looking things in twisted silver holders. The kid kept dead roses in vases with incense smelling up the place. It was really starting to take over the room. Although he did like the incense; it smelled nicer than his gym clothes.

It was like D was living in a fantasy world and Jayce couldn’t figure out why he needed it. All the books, his themed room; he couldn’t imagine being so dedicated to a theme. He just had stuff. Clothes ended up in the bureau, sometimes the floor. He had a few posters, mostly of his favorite video games—And none of them matched. The bedspread was a gift from his grandmother. He could barely put the effort into matching his damn socks. Declan had a theme for his life. It was impressive and fucked up.

Jayce was done with homework and twenty minutes into a very difficult raid in his online game when Declan finally came home. And fuck his life, he wasn’t alone. The kid had finally made some friends. Three very loud, assholic friends that he immediately wanted to beat the shit out of when he realized they were lighting up in his fucking living room.

Seriously, who did that? Just walked into a stranger’s house and started smoking weed? No one had even given a fucking hello.

Jayce wasn’t shocked to discover Jason Henley sucking down a hit, his arm tight around Declan’s waist as they shared the couch. One of Henley’s friends—Jayce had seen him in the parking lot of his school and was pretty sure he was college too—was flipping through the now blaring television. Apparently being high meant also being deaf. The third was laughing about some shit while texting on his phone. Somehow he seemed the least obnoxious of the group, even though Declan was silent and sober.

Ignoring his brother, he focused in on the asshole trying to blow a smoke ring while stinking up his couch. He and Henley had gone through school together. Jayce had managed to not have to talk five words to the loser up until that moment. “Take your pot and get the fuck out of my house.” No, he wasn’t subtle. He was pissed. It was the first time Declan had brought people over and they plain sucked.

“Shit, chill the fuck out, Flint. Or is it Rainer now?”

“Flint,” Declan said in his quiet voice, looking at Jayce nonchalantly. “We kept our last names.”

“Whatever,” Henley snickered, grinning meanly. “Chill the fuck out, Flint.”

Jayce was about five seconds from punching the guy in the face. He could take him, easy. Heat racing through his body, Jayce turned to Declan. “I’m serious, D. Get them the fuck out or I will. You won’t like how I do it.”

Declan was three years younger than Jayce, nearly a head shorter, and his big brother could literally bench him. He knew it, and yet, cool as could be, grabbed the joint from Henley and took a hit. He held it between long fingers, unblinking as he looked at Jayce with his unnerving blue eyes. “Fine. There’s nothing to do in your shit house anyways.”

Motherfucking ass. Jayce waited, his arms folded over his chest to keep from swinging. Henley didn’t want to leave. Too fucking bad. By the time the three stoners were finally through the front door, Jayce was ready to start throwing shit. Namely them. He grabbed Declan before he could go, holding him by the arm while the brunette stared back defiantly.

“You want to bring people over here, that’s fine. But tell them to leave their fucking drugs at home.”

Blowing a strand of ink-black hair out of his eyes, Declan looked completely void of emotion. “Whatever. Not like it’s my house or anything.”

God, he wanted to punch the kid through the fucking wall. He had done everything to make Declan feel welcome. D just kept shutting him out.

“You have shit taste in friends. Normal people don’t get fucked up the second they walk into someone else’s house.”

“Fuck you and your normal.” Declan wrenched his arm free, slamming out the door. Jayce almost followed after, but there was really nothing to say besides a big ‘fuck you,’ and he was trying really hard not to lose his shit. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel slightly satisfied that he had managed to break through his brother’s infuriating icy facade for a moment.

God, the kid pissed him off. Worst brother ever.

Jayce might have been referring to himself. Declan had looked fucking hot. Sexy as hell.

Chapter 2

Jayce received a text around eight to inform him that his mom and Greg weren’t going to be home for the pizza he had already ordered and eaten. Also not a fucking shocker. He spent the rest of the night pissed off, playing video games and then pacing as the clock kept ticking and Declan didn’t return home.

His little brother had just met those guys. He was new to town, new to the school, new to everything, and he was letting some fucked up college stoners drive him around. Jayce couldn’t stop the paranoid fear that Declan had gotten into a car accident. Maybe he shouldn’t have let them go until they had gotten the drugs out of their system first. Fuck him if he’d inadvertently caused D’s death because he couldn’t chill over some pot. It wasn’t like it was ecstasy or meth, or even cocaine. He wasn’t tripping on acid.

God, but it had been so fucking rude. Walking into his house like no one else existed. Like it hadn’t been his home for the last ten years. He had helped his mom pick out the place. He was the one that had chosen the couch in the living room that the losers were stinking up with their smoke. Fuck.

He hoped D was alright.

Jayce knew Declan was only a few years younger than him, but he was such a fucking naïve child at times. The kid just didn’t know the world even if he got straight A’s in school. He was always reading, thinking that was the way shit happened. Like you could plan, like people made sense the way words did. The fucked up kids didn’t make sense. From everything Jayce had heard about Henley, he was a user. A user of drugs and a user of boys. And now Declan was just hanging around, not understanding that just because a guy got hard over him doesn’t mean he was in love. Guys got hard over everything; he knew firsthand.

He was going to kill Henley if he touched his little brother. Should have beaten his face in before they’d even left the house for having the nerve to put his arm around Declan in front of him. Fucking sleaze.

He was just about ready to change out of his pajamas and start driving around looking for his brother when he heard a car pull up. Voices raised in laughter flowed in through the window while Jayce looked at the clock on his phone. 2:25 am. The little fuck. The backdoor opened then shut. Hearing a small crash, Jayce quickly strode down the hall, flipping on lights as he moved.

“Hey… big bro.” Declan smiled lopsidedly from his slump on the wall. Jayce stopped cold, closing his eyes and slowly counting to ten.

For fuck sake, the kid was drunk.

He wanted to yell. He wanted to tell D how fucking stupid he was for hanging out with a bunch of fucking losers and then getting shitfaced with them. But he just bit his tongue. Saying that kind of shit would only make Declan want to do it again.

Jayce crossed the kitchen, grabbing the brunette by the shoulder and pulling him off the wall. Declan swayed, stumbling forward, snorting in laughter. “Oh shit. You’re not going to spank me, are you?”

He really fucking should. “You’re fucked up. Get your ass in bed and I’ll put some coffee on.” Jayce pushed him towards the hall. Declan nearly fell, grabbing onto the kitchen table for dear life. Fuck, he was really messed up. “How much did you drink?”

Staring down at the table, a smile slowly split Declan’s lush lips. “Not much… Couple shots.”

“Declan—Fuck!” It couldn’t have been fucking beer like a normal kid. No, he had to go get fucking hard liquor into him.

“No, it’s okay. It was all very sophis… sophis… sophisticated,” he mumbled, turning his smile Jayce’s way. Declan began to lose his balance, his eyes blinking in alarm as he tilted towards the floor. Jayce grabbed him before he could fall, steadying the brunette and pulling him into the hallway.

“You’re an idiot. What the fuck were you trying to prove to those losers? You think they’re going to like you more if you get just as fucked up as they are?” Damn it, he was nagging like some bitchy mother and he couldn’t seem to stop.

“Mmm… Maybe I want to like me more.” Reaching the bedroom, Declan nearly fell when his brother released him. Jayce directed him to his bed so when the kid’s legs finally gave he’d have something soft to land on.

“Change. I’ll be back after I put the coffee on.” Jayce left him struggling with his coat while he escaped to the kitchen and tried not to punch the wall in frustration. He should never have let D leave with those losers. Should have… What? Tied him up? Seriously, Declan did whatever the fuck he wanted. Jayce just hadn’t realized it was going to include fucking up his life.

Should he tell Greg? Was that the answer for something like this? Jayce tapped his cellphone in his pocket while he put the coffee on, his mind whirling. He didn’t know. He didn’t even know what the hell Declan’s father would do. Greg was a bit of a religious nut. He was always at the hospital, but while Jayce’s mom was there to provide a service doing something she loved, Greg looked at it like it was his calling.

Maybe he should just wait until morning. Talk to the kid when he was sober and he could feel him out to see if he was going to pull this kind of shit again. Jayce wasn’t his father. Hell, he was barely Declan’s brother. It really wasn’t his goddamn responsibility to make sure—

There was a loud crash from the bedroom. Scowling, Jayce jogged down the hall, only to find his lamp was broken. Not Declan’s lamp. No, that would have just been fair. No, the kid had knocked over his lamp with his jacket and was now on Jayce’s bed. One of his tall boots was halfway off his leg and he was staring at his feet blankly like he had forgotten what he was doing. Fuck his life.

Declan blinked up in surprise when Jayce walked into the room. “My boot broke.”

Yeah, just fucking perfect. Growling, Jayce knelt down, pulling at Declan’s boot. It wouldn’t budge and he had the horrible notion that he was going to have to unlace the godawful things. Then he found the zipper on the side. De-booted, he tapped Declan’s arms until the kid lifted them, then pulled his silky shirt up and over his head.

“Whoa, hold on,” Declan mumbled when Jayce reached for his belt. The brunette pushed himself up, trying to stand, only to stumble forward as he tripped over his boots. “Crap.”

“Stop moving,” Jayce ordered exasperatedly as he saved the boy from the ground again. It was hard enough to get him changed while trying not to look at him. Jayce refused to perv out on his little brother no matter how milky white his skin looked. “Where do you keep your pajamas?”

The question taking a moment to sink in, Declan finally pointed to the corner of the room where he kept his clothes’ hamper. Jayce took a step to leave, but Declan grabbed him, his knees wobbling unsteadily. “Wait… Dizzy,” he giggled, nearly falling again just standing still.

“Declan…” He was annoying as fuck, but D’s smile was heartwarming and made his eyes sparkle. The kid really didn’t smile much anymore. Shaking his head, Jayce tried to walk the boy over to his bed again, but the kid’s feet weren’t budging. “Come on. One foot in front of the other.”

Snickering, Declan made an attempt, managing to step on Jayce’s foot and slide down his body as he immediately fell forward.

Jayce inhaled sharply, his senses suddenly on high alert. Declan’s hands were on his hips, his face pressed into his abs, chest grinding firmly against his dick with only his thin pajama pants between them. Awkward. Especially when his brother looked up at him, his stunningly blue eyes gleaming, lush lips twisted in a smile that could only be defined as sexy. Very awkward. Getting hard awkward.

Swallowing, Jayce wrapped an arm under Declan’s shoulders and pulled him up to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that his brother was shirtless and very warm. He was determined to drag the kid to his bed and get the fuck out.

Declan gasped, his eyes wide as he stumbled and fell flush against Jayce, his face tucking into the crook of the taller boy’s neck. God, if he could just get this done before it got any weirder…

And now D was licking his neck.

“You have a very… very nice neck.”

“Please don’t suck my blood. I’m very fond of it remaining in my body.” Jayce dragged him as best he could because his brother had managed to go limp while at the same time clinging to him. It would be easier to just lift him but that would involve grabbing his ass, or thighs… Nope. Not happening. He had to drag him.

Declan snickered into his throat, his breath hot and tickling as he now tried to nip Jayce. Served him right for mentioning vampires. His brother was lithe and sleek in his arms, making it difficult to get a grip. He eventually got Declan across the room and to his bed. He turned, trying to push Declan down, but the kid was wrapped around him like a leech. His teeth kept sending sparks through him Jayce was having a really difficult time not responding to.

“Declan, get off me.” Jayce gripped his shoulders, carefully prying the boy back. Declan growled in protest and grabbed his arm. Jayce froze as their hips shifted. Declan was hard. Fuck. Seriously not cool.

“Ah… Sorry, big bro,” Declan snickered softly, his face again burrowed into Jayce’s neck. “You’re just really… really hunky.” Hands moving down his older brother’s biceps, Declan squeezed hard, fingers fanning and pushing his short sleeves up. “You have the sexiest fucking shoulders I’ve ever seen.”

Right. So apparently Declan was very gay and so horny he didn’t care who he was touching. “Declan, stop grinding your dick into my thigh and get the fuck off me.”

Jayce was having a really difficult time pushing the kid away. It felt so fucking wrong to have his little brother rub up against him. Wrong because it was his brother, but extremely hot because it was Declan, and Declan was really, really hot. Especially when his wet lips kept pressing to his neck, Declan’s hands now pushing under his shirt and touching his back, pulling him closer.

Jayce was a natural, hotblooded guy that could get hard if the wind blew, and he was trying to justify that now. Declan’s hair and makeup made the kid look so different from how he’d looked growing up. He really couldn’t be expected to not think he was hot. He had eyes. But that didn’t mean it was okay to act on it. It was just really difficult to set boundaries at the moment. Declan’s dick was rubbing against his and it was intense, and dirty, and the kid really needed to get the fuck off of him before he lost his mind.

“Declan, stop… Oh fuck,” Jayce groaned, one of Declan’s arms wrapping around his waist and crashing their lower bodies together. He tried to steady himself, his little brother’s weight threatening to knock them over, but it only pulled Declan tighter against him. God, he felt good. He had been dying to touch the kid and it was so hard to keep it together now that he was in his arms.

“Shhh… It doesn’t mean anything.” Declan’s tongue licked over Jayce’s throat, silky hair tickling as he nipped his flesh. “Fuck, you’re hot. Just want to… God, I want you… Want you so much.”

He was drunk. Fucked up, likely stoned, and definitely drunk. And his hand was down the front of Jayce’s pants. “Holy fuck.”

Jayce grabbed the boy’s wrist but couldn’t bring himself to pull him away. Declan’s fingers slowly wrap around his hard cock, brushing up Jayce’s length, teasing over his head. Jayce’s eyes closed, every nerve he had focused on those fingers first taunting and now bolder, wrapping tighter and stroking. “Hell, D. You really shouldn’t be doing that.”

He should stop him. He should really, really stop him.

“That’s it, Jayce… Fuck… Tell me you like it.” Declan licked up his brother’s neck while panting, gripping his other arm around the taller boy’s back. He tried to wrap his leg around Jayce’s, the room tilting from the move. Before he knew it, Jayce was crushing Declan into the bed, the brunette moaning beneath his larger body.

Shit, he had to stop. It was his fucking brother. His naïve, vulnerable, once sweet little brother that was totally messed up.

He tried to untangle himself from Declan’s long limbs, but the brunette was all over him, his knees hooked around the blond’s waist, arms tight on his neck. “Declan, come on… You’re not thinking.” Jayce was stronger, but he was afraid he might hurt him. The kid was just really drunk and fucking confused. He’d hate himself for doing this tomorrow.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Declan gasped, then his mouth was on Jayce’s, his tongue shoving past his lips. Fuck. Oh, fuck.

There was something really fucking wrong with him when it came to his little brother.

Growling, Jayce grabbed Declan by his hair, wrapping the silky locks around his fist and pulling hard. Declan groaned, his head falling back in the harsh grip as he looked up at Jayce. His eyes were burning that crazy blue, his lids heavy, cheeks flushed, lips blood red. God, he so was sexy. Jayce wanted to fuck those lips so bad.

“Bro…” Declan whispered, his dark lashes fluttering as he panted.

Hearing the boy call him that sent a terrible stab of guilt through his chest. He was just a kid. A dumb, naïve, confused kid that had always trusted him to take care of him. But he was also beautiful. Declan had always been, even before he had started wearing all that shit on his eyes. Jayce had noticed more times than he had ever wanted to admit to himself, his sweet brother so hard to look away from.

“Don’t call me that,” Jayce growled, pulling his hair harder, watching Declan’s lips part in a low moan. Wet. His mouth was so fucking red and wet looking. Jayce pressed his thumb to his brother’s bottom lip, listening as Declan’s breath hitched. God, he shouldn’t. Really.

Eyes caught on Jayce’s, Declan licked his tongue out, moving over his knuckle. Jayce pressed harder and the brunette opened, pulling his thumb into his wet heat. Declan sucked firmly then ran his teeth lightly over the pad of his finger. A shudder running through him, Jayce pulled his thumb away, cupped his brother’s face and kissed him.

Groaning, Declan met him eagerly even when Jayce crushed his lips too hard, gripped his face too rough. He needed to taste him. Just once. Just this one time he would taste him. He plunged his tongue into Declan’s mouth, the brunette moaning, clinging weakly to his brother’s shirt, melting into him, giving in. It sparked something dark in Jayce, primitive and raw. He wanted Declan to give in to him. To stop his incessant fighting and icing him out, and just give in.

Rocking his hips down into his little brother’s, Declan’s thighs clenched Jayce’s waist, their erections grinding together. Their noises were loud and slick as Jayce kissed him relentlessly, exploring every plane, rubbing his tongue against Declan’s, biting the boy’s ripe lower lip sore and swollen. Declan didn’t resist, his reactions slow and uncoordinated the longer his brother suffocated him with every touch of his lips and thrust of his tongue.

It was so hard to hold back, so hard to not take all the many things Jayce had tried to not want from his brother. But he did want them. He had wanted them for the longest time. By the way Declan was moaning, Jayce wasn’t so sure he was alone with that crazy need.

“Jayce… Oh fuck, please. Touch me. Dreamed of you… touching me.” Gasping into the hard kiss, Declan grabbed one of Jayce’s hands, pulling it down between the crush of their bodies, knuckles scraping hot, bare flesh. He was sweating, his flat stomach slippery under Jayce’s fingertips.

He shouldn’t. It was definitely crossing the line. Fuck, kissing was bad enough. Grinding him into his stupid black bed was bad. But to touch him while he was drunk… There was no forgiving that. Jayce was supposed to protect Declan from the kind of losers that would try to do that to him, not be one.

“Please, bro… Please.” Declan pulled harder on Jayce’s hand, pushing until he had his older brother’s palm pressed against the bulge in his jean shorts.

Fuck. Oh fuck, he felt good. He was hard, and he was begging, and fuck, it was really wrong. “D, we should stop,” Jayce muttered, even as he rubbed his palm firmer, groaning as Declan bucked into his hand. “Fuck, that’s it.”

He was done thinking. Declan was whimpering soft cries as he humped his hand, and he was done trying to figure out just how wrong it was. Rolling the two of them to the side, Jayce quickly got to Declan’s belt, unclasping it and tearing through his button and fly. He pushed the boy’s shorts down his thighs, then his underwear—yup, even his fucking underwear was black—and pulled them off his brother’s long, toned legs. Fuck, he was breathtaking.

Pale everywhere. Long, slender, but still toned and strong. He was like something out of a fucking painting, perfect milky flesh and hard, flushed red cock. Jayce couldn’t stop looking at it, a question in the back of his mind of just what the hell D was on that he could be hard while so drunk. But he was. Dripping precum from his throbbing tip. God, he was beautiful.

“Jayce…”

“Quiet, D. Just lie there nice and quiet for a sec.”

Silent, Declan just watched, eyes glowing as Jayce began to move his hands over his brother’s body. Declan’s knee bent when his brother’s large palm roughly moved up his leg, his thighs spreading wide. Jayce slid his hand heatedly over the boy’s inner thigh, his smooth flesh trembling when he gave a squeeze.

He wanted D. He wasn’t supposed to, but god, he wanted him. When he kissed Declan’s nipple, the brunette gasped, and when their eyes met, his little brother looked near tears. God, he was fucking up. Fucking up, touching his brother because the kid was drunk and too fucked in the head to stop him.

“Please,” Declan whispered, his eyes caught in Jayce’s. “I’ll let you do anything. I just… I need you to touch me.”

God, he was so fucked up. Jayce could only pray Declan didn’t say that sort of thing to other guys.

“You’re drunk,” Jayce said hoarsely, trying to stop himself. The kid didn’t know what he was saying. He was just horny and drunk.

“You’re hard.”

The little fucker. Jayce ran his wide tongue over Declan’s nipple again, then pulled it into his mouth. Whimpering loudly, Declan’s fingers tangled into his shaggy hair. Jayce nipped at his slick bud and the brunette arched, and fuck, every noise his little brother made was so sexy. Jayce ran his hands down the sides of his taut body, letting his fingers dig in. When he reached Declan’s hips he held harder, sliding back to caress his ass. Damn, he had a nice ass. Tight and perky. Fucking tight.

Declan reached for his wrist again, Jayce letting him move his hand to his dick. “Please.”

He shouldn’t. Fuck, he really, really shouldn’t. Drunk. D was drunk. Don’t touch your little brother when he’s drunk. Don’t touch him at all.

He was heavy in Jayce’s palm, hot, silken flesh. When he wrapped his fingers around Declan’s shaft, the boy groaned, his hands coming up to grasp his brother’s strong biceps. He stroked Declan slowly, feeling his thickness in his palm, his ridges, wanting to memorize every perfect inch of him. When he reached his swollen cockhead, he let his thumb caress over his slit, wetting Declan with his own slick precum while the boy cried out.

God, he was sexy. He had never known just what the fuck his little brother had been hiding under all that fucking black.

“Jerk me… Fuck, please.” Declan’s hand grabbed Jayce’s wrist again, trying to get him to hurry the fuck up. If only he knew how he looked, begging like that. “Jayce, come on.”

Jayce leaned down, pressing his lips to Declan’s ear. “D, shut the fuck up and let me do my thing.” Declan groaned, biting his lower lip hard. “Okay?”

The brunette nodded, eyes meeting Jayce’s intense gaze, full of trust and need. “Do me how you want, big bro. Any way you want. Just do it.”

Jayce had to grip the bed to keep from swaying. Fuck, D really needed to stop saying shit like that. Declan didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what that fucking meant. Because Jayce wanted to be inside him, making him scream, making him sob his name. He wanted Declan to tell him he was going to be fucking good again, and nice, and talk to him like he used to. Jayce was fucked up, and Declan didn’t understand what he was saying.

Pulling his hand away, Jayce ignored his brother’s whimper of protest. He licked his palm while pushing Declan back on the bed, trapping him between his thighs. Jayce was fully dressed. It couldn’t be that bad cus he had clothes on, even if Declan was fucking nude as could be. The kid still had a few bracelets on; that had to count for something, right?

God, he was going to hell.

He was slick in his palm when Jayce wrapped around Declan’s gorgeous cock again, and his moan was fucking perfect. He watched intently as his brother’s flushed tip disappeared into his hand, only to have it reveal again as he moved down his shaft, all the way to his base, Declan’s hips rocking to meet every stroke.

“Bro, look at me.” Declan’s hand tangled in Jayce’s hair as he tried to turn his gaze to his.

Hell, the kid was going to kill him. “Stop calling me that, D.” Jayce met his eyes, his breath catching. Beautiful. He was so fucking beautiful.

Stroking faster, Jayce drank in his brother’s expression. Declan’s head fell back on the bed, his mouth wide as he panted and gasped between toe curling moans. He was dripping saliva, trickling down his chin and jaw. Beneath his broken gasps, Jayce could hear what he was doing to the boy, his hot flesh slick in his fist, slapping wet suction with every pump. Declan grabbed the sheets, fingers clawing, his back arching as he moaned again and again.

God, D. Get there. He wanted to see him come so bad. He was the sexiest fucking thing ever, and Jayce wanted to see his face when he came. For him. Just this moment. Just this one fucked up moment Declan could be his.

Crying out, Declan’s entire body shook with his orgasm, his eyes squeezed shut, muscles rock hard as he held onto the sheets. His dick kept jerking in Jayce’s hand, spurting stream after stream of seed onto his stomach. Groaning, Declan went boneless, his eyes weakly cracking back open to meet his brother’s ever watching gaze.

Jayce couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let himself think. He just needed, and needed bad.

He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under Declan’s head. Watching silently as he caught his breath, Declan’s tongue drifted over his lips when Jayce climbed up his body and straddled his neck with his knees.

“Bro?”

“Quiet, D.” Jayce ran his hand over Declan’s cheek, tilting the boy’s chin back while he pushed his pajama pants down and freed his achingly hard dick. It wasn’t going to take much. Jayce was so fucking hard, and it was Declan, his beautiful kid brother beneath him, staring at his cock like he’d never seen one before, features twisted in want. His blue eyes kept shifting, moving to Jayce’s face and then to his dusky, dripping cock. Then Jayce started stroking and Declan picked his target, his tongue touching his bottom lip as he watched his older brother jerk inches away.

He wasn’t going to touch him. Just this. Jut have him watch. God, he was beautiful. His lips were fucking swollen and too red. Jayce wanted to fuck his mouth so bad, but that was beyond wrong. All of it was wrong, but that was beyond.

Fuck, would D let him?

Exhaling shakily, Jayce pressed the tip of his cock between his brother’s lips. Declan moaned, his tongue sliding out, teasing over his cockhead, probing tentatively into his slit. Fuck. Oh fuck, he really needed to stop.

“Open,” Jayce demanded hoarsely, the world rocking wildly when Declan parted his lips. He gripped the back of the brunette’s neck with his free hand and slowly pushed forward into Declan’s hot, wet mouth, those red lips contouring to his thick flesh.

God. God, he was actually fucking his mouth. Jayce’s balls were so tight, he knew he was going to come any second. He held off as long as possible. One time. Only fucking time this was ever happening, and he needed to remember.

Declan made a choking noise when Jayce’s tip hit his tonsils. But Jayce kept pushing, needing to feel his brother’s tight channel, needing to make sure Declan knew he was his.

“God… God, that’s it… Fuck, fuck take it, D… Open wide and take my cock, bro… Fuck… good boy… you’re so fucking good.” Jayce didn’t even know what he was saying anymore. He was grinding the back of Declan’s throat, his fingers painful in the brunette’s sweaty hair, taking his mouth hard while his little brother whimpered beneath his thighs. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t fucking think with Declan’s mouth so hot, throat so tight, those fucking lips of his so red.

Jayce held the boy still when he pulled out, forcing Declan to feel every dirty, sticky drop of cum as he covered his beautiful face with all his jizz. D’s moans were fucking music; low, raspy, filthy. God, that was it. All over his face. Covered in him. His bro. His.

Declan had tears in his eyes as he gasped to breathe. Jayce had been too rough. Could have hurt him… Could have done a lot of things he didn’t do. Fuck. Fuck.

Jayce rolled off his brother, pulled his pants up and left. Declan called for him and he nearly turned back. Bad idea. Really bad idea. The kid was drunk, covered in cum, and damn fucking easy prey for the many things he wanted to do. Jayce forced himself to walk to the bathroom and splash his face with cold water. He needed to stop the crazy in his head, the maddening heat that had won way too much already.

Declan was asleep when Jayce got the nerve to return with a wet facecloth in hand. He was exactly how he’d left him, sprawled out nude on top of his bedspread. Jayce washed him off, admiring his porcelain flesh, brushing the bruises already starting to bloom on his hips where he had dug in too hard.

Fucked up. He had fucked up big, and he had no clue how the fuck he was going to fix it.

Maybe D wouldn’t remember? He was really drunk, saying stupid shit about dreaming. Maybe he’d just think it was a dream if he remembered anything at all.

Part of Jayce wanted Declan to remember. It wasn’t the good part of him. It was the fucked up part that wanted him to be his even though it would ruin the kid. Ruin their parents. Ruin fucking everything.

Shit, when had this happened? When had he gotten so crazy over D?

Finding Declan’s pajamas by his hamper, he slipped them on his sleeping brother. Then he arranged Declan under the covers, making sure he was warm. Jayce sat on his bed for the longest time, watching him sleep. Hating himself. Hating how he still wanted him, even then.

God, he was so fucked up.

Declan wouldn’t remember. He was drunk and wouldn’t remember.

I’ve never really been one to talk shit about dick size. You’re born with what you got, and you make do. Being a sorcerer, you even get a little leeway, and I know there are more than a few guys that stuff an extra inch or two to make things interesting. I am not one of those guys. I really wish Randal Davis was.

Tristan’s looking at Davis’s dick like he’s internally berating it for just how fucking small it is. It’s not a sweet expression, but few of Tristan’s are. It also doesn’t help that I’m glamoured as Davis, because hell, I have never felt inadequate before, but I sure do under that withering stare. I’m not hung like a horse, but I could be compared to Davis. Fucked up thing? Tristan sucks this kid off all the time. How the hell does Davis put up with that glare every time he’s being blown?

Probably because Tristan Bryant is the hottest piece of ass the Academy of Sorcery has to offer. I might be biased, but I don’t think so. He’s brilliant, lithe, and all sexy confidence. With his shining blond hair, crystal eyes, creamy white skin and lush red lips, I don’t think there’s a sorcerer or sorceress alive that wouldn’t want Tristan. Most might prefer him dead or in a lot of pain at the time, but that’s only because on top of being gorgeous, he’s also an absolute asshole. Yeah, I’m definitely not biased. He’s sexy as fuck.

Determined to make the most of things before the potion that makes me look like his boyfriend wears off, I grab Tristan’s very silky shoulder length hair and push him down to his knees. Heh, he is not happy about that. Davis is also a fucking sappy, romantic gasbag that likes to whisper sweet nothings in the blond’s ear while he’s rubbing up against him. I know better and wrench Tristan’s hair hard, his lips parting in a surprised moan.

“That’s it.” I cup my other hand down his cheek, fingers running over his lips, touching the edge of his teeth, his trembling tongue. He’s not glaring now. No, he’s into it, eyelids heavy with want, soft puffs of air hitting my hip. “Suck me, Bryant.” I pull his hair again. “Now.”

“Fuck,” he gasps, all he can get out before I’m pushing my dick between his gorgeous lips, holding his face firm to keep him from trying to pull off.

Shit. I really shouldn’t be doing this.

He groans, opening wider as I sit as deep as I can inside the tight, scalding heat of his mouth. God, I wish it was deeper. Part of me wants to suffocate him, take his throat so hard he’ll always be raspy from what I do to him. That he’ll never know it’s me just makes me more desperate to mark him in some way. “God, that’s it, baby… Let me fuck you.”

I can’t stop staring at his face, his cheeks flushed, brows furrowed as he tries not to choke every time I pump into him. He’s tight inside, and so wet. The noises he makes are obscene, loud, and crazy desperate. It’s nearly impossible to hold back. That I’m doing this at all just shows how much I’m losing it over him. He’s so hot and sexy, and I’ve been dreaming of fucking him forever.

He grabs my hips, and I wonder if he’s finally going to push me back, put me in my place for being too rough, but it never comes. No, he just moans again, opens his lips wider, his fingers clawing at the back of my thighs and digging into the muscles of my ass as he helps me slam into his mouth.

“Fuck, Tristan.” God, he likes it. I tighten my grip in his hair, pulling him back so I can see his face. Fuck, he really likes it.

“You going to cum like this? Just from my cock bruising your tonsils?” I can’t stop myself, can’t stop from saying shit to him. His mouth is full of dick, dripping wet, and he loves it. It doesn’t help that he’s on his knees in a back hallway of the school like he does this all the time. Like he’s been looking for someone to come along and use him.

I slowly pull out of his mouth, his lips clinging tight suction to my head as he tries to keep my dick inside. He finally releases me with a wet pop, his tongue caressing over the tip of my cock for a toe curling instant. Fuck. I force his face further back, tilting him up by his wet chin until he meets my eyes. I watch, surprise jolting through me when he actually blushes.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t do this all the time. But he should. He’s really fucking good at it.

He opens his mouth to my thumb, his lips swollen and bright red. I push hard against his soft flesh, watching him gasp, knowing his teeth are biting in on the other side of his lip. His tongue is suddenly drifting out, licking at my knuckle. I take two fingers and push them into his widening mouth. “You have a really sick oral fixation.” His tongue comes up to wrap around my digits, coating me in his clear fluids, sucking me down, teeth scraping as he runs his hands up my hips and stomach, short nails digging in and pulling down.

Oh shit. My eyes close, his hands doing something crazy to me, his mouth sucking my fingers like they’re directly connected to my dick, making me dizzy and so painfully hard. I knew he’d be good—Fuck, he could stick his tongue out and tell me to fuck off, and I’d be coming for him. But that he’s into it makes it so much better. I can almost pretend it’s for me.

Fucking Davis. Fucking douchebag, Randal Davis and his bite-sized prick for dating Tristan.

Opening my eyes, I pull my fingers free of his mouth, grab him roughly by the back of the neck, and grind my too small cock up against his bottom lip. He looks up at me, cruel gray eyes intense with fire and sex, and fuck, I want to ruin him. And I’m pretty sure, seeing how his tongue is sneaking out to lick my slit, he would really enjoy it.

But although Tristan Bryant might get on his knees in a hallway, he does not, under any circumstances, spread his fucking legs in a hallway. I’m actually not even sure he bottoms. Every time I’ve seen him with his boyfriend, he has never once shown an interest in letting anything between those tight cheeks of his. Then again, when you have some sap whimpering how much they’re meant to be together while also refusing to plump his cock up with a simple spell, it really fucking kills the mood. Least, it sure did for me, watching Davis put his soggy kisses and limp wristed hands all over the wild blond. A hot piece of ass like Bryant deserves fucking better.

Too bad I’m not the one to give it to him.

My fingers bite into the back of his neck, pulling him down again. I watch his face, his lashes fluttering shut, mouth dropping open in anticipation, tongue reaching out to meet my cock when I push into him again. I cup my other hand to his cheek, fingers tangling in his hair and gripping hard as I pull him down to meet every relentless thrust I force into his tight throat. My god, he’s beautiful. His mouth is wide open, dripping wet down his chin and my dick. Whimpering, hot suction noises and choked sobs escape him as he surrenders to me. He gasps around my dick, struggling to draw air in, his hands grasping weakly to my thighs as he lets out a string of desperate, low moans. He’s sexy. Really fucking sexy.

“God… god, that’s it… want it… fucking take it…” He’s going to cum. I can see it on his face. He’s so fucking gone, he’s going to cum with my cock in his mouth. “You’re doing so good, baby… So… fucking… tight…” He makes this beautiful, wet cry when I pull him down a final time, his throat opening to me, so hot and dripping tight as I shoot stream after stream of my cum into him. And fuck, he swallows down every nasty drop, milking me for more while fighting to breathe.

Fuck. I pull out of him, my dick growing cold in the air. I don’t care. I have to touch him, or I’m going to lose my mind. I drag him up to his feet, his body swaying, arms heavy as he wraps around me and opens to my kiss. Before he can think to stop me, I shove my hand down the front of his pants, groaning when I find him slick with cum already. God—the gorgeous brat came without even touching himself. Both his hands were on my thighs the whole time, pretty fucking sure.

“Randal, fuck, that was so good. Didn’t know it could—Fuck. Fuck.” He pulls me down into another kiss, crushing me back against the wall, grinding against me so hard I think he’s trying to fuck me with his pants on. It’s hot, really hot, but him calling me his boyfriend’s name is a punch to the gut.

Fuck, I’m such an idiot. If there’s one thing certain in a world full of magic, it’s that I, Chase Hunter, will never have a shot at Tristan Bryant. Just the rule of the fucking universe.

I kiss him—I’m never going to get another chance—and reach down to tuck myself back in while he sucks on my neck. Tristan does really nice things with that mouth of his.

“I gotta go.” I push him back, watching the confusion and hurt flash in his beautiful gray eyes. God, I’m the biggest fucking asshole ever.

I yank him by the arm, his eyes widening as he crashes against my chest. “Baby, you were incredible,” I whisper against his lips, cupping his face firmly, tilting him a little closer so I can kiss him the way I’ve always wanted to kiss him. He melts into me, moaning, tongue tentatively tangling with mine. I pull him closer, unable to stop as I wrap him in my arms, kissing him so consumingly, so thoroughly, all he can do is whimper once I finally release him and leave him leaning weakly on the wall.

I walk away before I can think of a reason not to, glancing back as I round the corner, finding him staring at me, his eyes blazing as they meet mine.

Shit, I am such a fuck up.