by Ker Dukey
My breath hitches when he teases my other nipple. Burning my nipples sounds like fucking torture. So why the hell am I turned on?
“And here,” he murmurs, running his knuckle over my lower abs.
I nearly stop breathing as I anticipate him going lower, but instead, he runs his knuckle over my inner thigh.
“Maybe here too. I haven’t decided.” He sounds amused. “I’m going to make you cry.”
I scoff. “Fucking right.”
“Sorry to break it to you, Xa, but you don’t know shit.”
Scowling, I shove his hand away. “And you don’t know shit about me.”
“You’re transparent as hell,” he says, unaffected by my pissy attitude. “You hide from your feelings until they eat you alive. And rather than letting them consume you, I’m going to be the one consuming.” He leans forward, his mouth at my ear, tickling me. “I am ravenous, boy. Fucking starved for you.”
I let out a surprised groan when he nips at my earlobe.
“Finish working on your song. I’m going to plate up some food.” He stands, abandoning me on the swing with a half hard dick and whole heart bursting with confusing feelings.
Burn…burn…burn…
I want you to hurt me.
The song unravels inside my head. I snag up my guitar, eager to put music to the words. With my eyes closed, I strum the chords and sing along.
I’m lost in thought when the swing moves as he sits back down. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but he’s set out two plates and a couple beers. I set my guitar down on the ground and pick up my plate.
“This doesn’t smell like a frozen lasagna,” I say as I stab at the steaming food with my fork. I groan as I take a bite. “This is too fucking good to be frozen.”
He chuckles. “While your lazy ass was sleeping in the truck, I ran into the store to get a few necessities. A lady named Hilda always has something home cooked, ready for reheat. Lasagna is a town fave.”
“I love Hilda,” I say as I inhale the lasagna.
“She’s barely five feet tall and has a wart on her face. Still love her?”
“Yes,” I joke. “I’m going to have all her babies.”
“You can tell her next time we run into town.”
We finish our food as he tells me about some of the rookie cops he works with. I’m enjoying his stories while drinking a beer…until I realize how domestic this all feels. Familiar—like with Lex—and easy.
I jump to my feet, suddenly alive with nerves. “I need to go to bed.” Before he can argue, I snag my guitar and haul ass upstairs.
It felt like a fucking date just now.
A date I was enjoying.
I’m torn between wanting to throw a goddamn tantrum and running back downstairs to keep the night going. Instead, I pace the bedroom floor.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
I stare at my Zippo I threw on the bed. The urge to flip it open and scald my skin is intense. I could. But Blaine said…
He wants to hurt me.
A calm washes over me at the thought of giving my pain over for him to control. I’m always so mentally fucking exhausted, a weight lifts at the thought.
Before I change my mind, I storm out of the room on a hunt for him. I find him in the kitchen washing the few dishes we dirtied up. When he sees my manic expression, his features harden.
“When shit piles up so high in my head, the only way for me to make it go away is to burn it. Something about that flame against my skin, it leaves me blank and unfeeling inside. And when you…” I run my fingers through my messy hair, tugging to the point of pain. “You cause all these confusing feelings to worsen. I feel like my head is going to explode.”
“But…” he trails off, challenging me to fucking beg for what I need.
“But I need you to do it for me. You said you would, and I fucking need it. Right now.”
“You want me to hurt you, yes?”
I swallow and nod.
“Say the words, boy.” He stalks over to me, until we’re nose to nose. “Say them.”
“I can’t,” I whisper, my cock achingly hard between us.
He grips my hips and pushes me against the wall. I let out a hiss when he rocks his hips against mine, allowing me to feel how aroused he is too. His lips fuse to mine, and I let out a defeated groan as he dominates me with his kiss. He fists his hand in my shirt and pulls me even closer.
“Say it, Xa.” He kisses me so deep, it makes me dizzy. “I need to hear you say them. You need to hear you say them.”
My body aches and buzzes with the need to feel the burn he promised he’d deliver—a pain that will numb my thoughts and calm my tumultuous heart.
“Please, Blaine,” I mutter. “Hurt me.”
He smiles against my lips. “Good boy.”
Those words are a shot of heroin straight into my veins. I love the way they feel sliding through me, making me high.
Blaine’s good boy.
Fuck.
I want to do this…whatever this is.
Holy shit.
This is happening.
I’m in the middle of Blaine’s room, my hands raised above my head, and cuffed to a metal rack in the ceiling. He made me remove my T-shirt, but keep my pants on, which, for reasons I hate myself for, disappointed me.
I fucking love having his eyes on my junk. It makes me painfully hard. I love the ache he evokes within me—the burn.
Burn…burn…burn…
He takes my lighter from my pocket and lights a small red candle he pulled from a drawer. My eyes track his movements, anticipation thickening the air around us. The glow of the flame flickers its promise.
“When I first saw you, my dick throbbed with the images I conjured up in my mind of you strung up just like this,” he croons, his eyes darkening like a predator about to pounce. “When I came to your house the night you got into a fight, I had to battle all my instincts not to give you a whipping, then spread you out over the couch, rip those tight wet jeans from your body, and spread your ass cheeks before filling you up with my big, fat cock. Pushing past the muscle, skin on skin, until you cried out in pain, then pleasure.”
He moves closer, and the blood rushes through my veins, pounding my heart like a drum inside my chest. “That smirk you do so effortlessly should be a crime. It’s maddening not to be able to kiss it from your lips. I want to feel your lips around my cock, pump my release down your throat, taste myself on your tongue for days,” he taunts. I gulp and shift my feet, trying to hide my raging hard-on, but he knows—he fucking knows what I like more than I do.
Lifting the candle high over my shoulder, he allows the wax to pour from the top onto my skin and watches my face for a reaction.
A hiss leaves my lips as it makes contact, the sting like tiny needles poking into my flesh. The smile from his lips makes my insides dance. He enjoys this—me—hurting me. Pleased with my reaction, he lowers his arm, making the contact of wax to my skin swifter. The drips run a couple inches down my pectoral muscle before solidifying, the red stripes like art against my pale flesh.
I focus on the pain. It’s the only thing that’s real to me. The sweet release allows all the murky, dirty guilt inside me to leak free, pouring out the toxic hate I hold for myself. When his hand swipes away the wax and his wet tongue kisses over the sting, I groan. The pain and pleasure is mind-altering. I want to chase the high it gives me. No drugs can give me this.
The familiar burn ignites my flesh as the wax drips on my chest. My cock strains and my breathing quickens with every single drop. The fire ebbs, then a new fire begins inside me as his lips stroke over my nipples, teasing, tempting, promising. I want to scream for him to touch my cock. Please fucking touch me everywhere and give me everything I’ve denied myself. But I’m too fucking cowardly to ask, to admit it’s what I want. It only makes me crave the pain.
“Hurt me,” I choke out, desperate to be punished.
/>
Lex’s sad eyes flash behind my eyelids. I want to reverse time and tell him everything I should have before he died.
It was real, Lex. I wish I could have admitted that. Maybe things could have ended differently…
When the heat stops, I open my eyes to find Blaine standing before me, harnessing a fucking whip, like some sexy modern-day cowboy.
“I’m going to lash you ten times, and if you don’t beg me to stop, I’ll reward you.” He strides around me so he’s at my back. Large, warm hands touch the waistband of my sweatpants, heat from his body being so close mists over my back, his breath just above my ear. “You won’t be needing these,” he hums, pushing them down my legs.
My cock springs up, slapping my lower stomach, and my ass cheeks contract. It’s exhilarating having him behind me. It heightens everything. When you don’t know what’s coming, it’s electrifying. A chill races up my spine as he steps back. I fist the restraints, preparing myself for the crack of the whip.
The hiss through the air is my only warning before a slash of hellfire explodes across my back. I balk, jerking forward from the contact, then almost whimper from the thrill of it. The sting rages, and my cock throbs. Pleasure ripples through me when the next one hits.
The hurt is too fucking good.
“Two,” Blaine barks from behind me, his voice gruff with need.
The next one whips out, finding purchase across my ass cheeks.
Crack, whoosh, snap.
Fire.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Burn…burn…burn.
Five…
Fire.
Pain.
Pleasure.
Burn…burn…burn.
Six… seven…eight…nine…
My body sags when the last one hits, the euphoria sending shockwaves of adrenaline through my system. My chest heaves with exhausted, lust-filled breaths.
“You’re such a good boy, Xavi. Fucking perfect,” Blaine growls, sweat beading on his bare chest, his cock straining the zipper of his jeans. Is he going to fuck me with that now? My thoughts wander as he drops the whip and bends to his knees in front of me.
Fuck.
Grabbing my hips, he smiles up at me before his tongue swipes out to taste the salty goodness glistening the head of my dick. My dick twitches from the contact, and heat warms my spine. Holy shit, this cop is licking my dick.
“I want to fucking drain your cock, boy. Take everything you have left to give. Tell me what you want me to do,” he demands.
I answer like the good boy I am. “I want you to suck my dick.” I don’t feel the usual wash of guilt, humiliation. No, I fucking earned the pleasure by enduring the pain.
“Good boy,” Blaine tells me, and I blossom under his praise like he’s the sun and I’m a flower desperate not to wilt away.
When his mouth opens to take me in, I hold my breath. The warmth of his lips as they descend my length is better than anything I’ve ever felt. My entire body tingles with sensation, hyperaware of all contact. His hot tongue slips over my cock, slurping away. His head bobs up and down the length, taking me down his throat. My knees buckle, and my balls draw up. I bite my lip so I don’t blow too fast. I want to relish this, live in the moment of it as long as possible.
He sucks me hard and deep, hollowing out his cheeks. Spit drools all over me, lubing my dick, creating a slip and slide of gratification. Kisses trace down my dick to my balls. He sucks them into his mouth and hums around them. It almost makes me cry out from the agony of the pleasure. He’s an artist down there. We fit together perfectly, lock and key. A closed fist grips the base of my dick while his lips go to work on the bulging head, sucking, slurping, licking, flicking, tugging, up and down my shaft. When I can’t take anymore, I lose it and buck my hips forward, fucking his face, and he lets me. His fingers grip my sore ass cheeks as he punishes his throat by forcing me harder and deeper. I cry out, and my spunk spurts in scorching waves, splashing the back of this throat. He laps me up, taking every drop. My body shudders from the force of the emotional release. A tear leaks from my eye.
That was everything.
Getting to his feet, he swipes the tear with his thumb and grasps my chin, forcing our eyes to clash. “You’re beautiful, boy. You taste like pain and glory, and I can’t get enough.” Leaning forward, he licks my lip, then sucks it into his mouth. My flavor is still potent on his tongue.
Show me.
See me.
Please me.
Burn…burn…burn…
Laying in my bed with Xavi sprawled out next to me on his stomach, naked and sated, is rewarding. I knew he needed me, just didn’t know how badly that need was.
After applying some balm to his back, he collapsed on the bed and hasn’t moved since. His breathing is labored, but I know he’s awake.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about when you use the lighter on yourself,” I say, staring up at the ceiling.
Silence fills the room as he sucks in his breath and holds it. “The world around me crumbled when Lex died. I let him down, and the guilt fucking eats away at me.” Honesty makes his words raw and ragged.
“So the burn is to punish yourself?”
“It was at first, and now it’s a need—a craving to escape my head.”
Leaning up on my elbow, I turn to face him, stroking over his shoulder in a soft caress.
“How did he die?”
“Overdose.” His voice thickens with emotion.
“He was gay, right?”
He turns sharply, his brow crashing. “How would you know that?”
“I’m a detective. It was a hunch.”
His head drops back onto the pillow as he faces me, shifting his body to get comfortable. “Lex had this energy, you know? He could walk in a room, and immediately, it was a party, a better place to be. His laughter was contagious. He infected everyone he came into contact with.” A smile dances on his lips. “The night he died…” he swallows hard, “we spoke about his feelings for me.” Tears build in his dark eyes. I want so bad to catch it, kiss it away, but I don’t move. I allow him to finally release what’s inside him. “I fucking felt it too, you know? But I was so scared, so terrified of what it meant about me. His brother, Owen? He was always talking about marketability and how our image is what sold us. Four single guys was sellable to our female fans. I felt the pressure to be something I wasn’t. Owen needed me to be this perfect front man—straight and a pussy magnet.” Squeezing his eyes closed, he chokes. “I told Lex I wasn’t gay. That I was flattered, but we were just friends and would only ever be friends. Just fucking friends.” Water drips from his eyes, scorching a path over his nose and seeping into the pillow. “I made him feel like shit, made him want that hit.”
“No, don’t do that. He was an addict. He injected that shit into himself.”
“But if I was honest with him,” he whispers. “If I’d told him it was real… Blaine, it was real, and I lied to him.”
“Then what? His addiction would have disappeared? Whatever happened, he was still going to inject that poison into his veins that night, Xavi.”
He nods, the movements stiff and his jaw tense. “Deep down, I know that. But he still died with my lie in his mind.”
“You weren’t ready, and he probably knew that. You were best friends. He knew you, Xa—he fucking knew you.” I pull him into my arms, letting him release all his anger and tears. “It’s going to be okay, boy. I promise.”
I need a reprieve from me.
I don’t even know who I am. I don’t even know who I want to be.
I need a reprieve from me.
I like the pain. I fucking need it.
To feel the flame, suppress the blame.
I need a reprieve from me.
Why won’t you let me burn?
Show me how. Make me learn.
Burn…burn…burn…
I need a reprieve from me.
Show me how. Make me learn.
Burn…bur
n…burn…
I don’t want to feel anymore. Everything’s too raw.
Pain and sorrow are too hard to swallow.
I need a reprieve from me.
I’m already burning.
Ignite my yearning.
Burn…burn…burn...
Show me.
See me.
Please me.
Burn…burn…burn…
Hurt me.
I reread the lyrics he eloquently wrote in his open notebook, and a heavy sigh leaves my lips. We’ve been at the cabin for two weeks now, and I expected him to go stir fucking crazy with no Internet or parties to act foolish at, but he’s surprised me. Writing new lyrics every day, strumming new melodies. It’s incredible to watch his process, to see the magic come together before my very eyes. He appears to have reclaimed himself while being out here.
Opening up sexually has lifted an enormous weight from him, but it worries me that in a week we will be back in the city and the pressure will be back on him. A knot forms in my gut at the idea of not having him in my bed. Ever since the night of his first whipping, he’s spent every night in my bed, sleeping and touching, but not fucking. That’s new for me—the buildup, the intimacy—and I don’t want to let go of it. He will be going back to his own soon enough, and that leaves a chill around my heart.
I didn’t expect to be this invested, this connected to someone. But it’s undeniable, the affection I have for the boy. A week left of having him to myself. Then back to reality. Back to our lives. Back to the pressure of being this pussy-eating rock god.
He stirs in his sleep, the dark curls of his hair falling over his eyes as he shifts onto his side. “You been watching me long, perv?” He grins, and I want to tongue fuck the dimple it creates.
