Devious Resolutions

by Ashleigh Giannoccaro

  He shakes his head in disbelief. “It was you.”

  “I loved you,” I choke out. “Losing you was the last thing I wanted. But when push came to shove, I wasn’t strong enough to fight for you. I hated myself for it. When Dad pushed me to the military, I went willingly. Held my gay secret to my chest, saving it just for you, and I got stronger. I worked so fucking hard to become the man you deserve. Stronger. Fiercer. Unafraid of any asshole.” I smile at him. “I planned for you. One day I’d come back for you. I’d orchestrate it just right so you would see how much you mean to me. How hard I worked to be worthy of a man like you.”

  His lips purse like they used to when he was upset and trying desperately not to let any emotion bleed into his features. But I see. I always see.

  “You killed because you couldn’t kill me,” I tell him. “I watched your every move. Learned everything about you. But while I watched you, I also uncovered the real asshole. The one who started it all. Cord was one of my best friends. Our fucking teammate. He and the other guys must have picked up on our secret relationship, because they made this fucked up plan to tear us apart.”

  GLAM’s eyes are wide as saucers, his lashes blinking rapidly as it all sinks in. “I’ll ask again, Rage. Why are you here?”

  “I’ve brought you a gift.”

  “Cord.”

  “Probably balls deep in one of your lady friends right now,” I growl. “I’ve lured him this far. All you have to do is say yes.”

  His brow arches up high. “And what exactly am I saying yes to?”

  To me. To us. To everything.

  “Just say yes,” I breathe. “Let me show you I can be exactly the man you deserve.”

  He shakes his head, but his wicked smile says it all.

  That’s a fucking yes.

  Glam

  No. No. No.

  Ten years’ worth of burning, fiery hate seems to cool quicker than I can stop what’s happening. Chase was horrified and humiliated and scared. He’s always been quiet and shy—except on the basketball court—and to be frank, it’s why we meshed so well. I was the loud, obnoxious attention seeker and he liked to hide in the shadows.

  It’s not like you gave him a chance to explain himself, Austin.

  The younger, betrayed version of myself is broken. I swept away his pieces and became this glorious thing in its place. But that brokenhearted teen still lives in the shadows of my mind. Aching. Sobbing. Yearning. I knew. Deep down on some level, I knew, which is why it hurt so bad. He never sought me out. Never came forward. Never tried to make things right with me.

  Not that I would have listened.

  First of all, I’m a stubborn bitch.

  But my stubbornness loses this war as I regard the man staring back at me with glimmering green, hopeful eyes. He’s stronger in mind, body, and spirit, no lie. But he also wants me to bend him to my will. Just like old times. So, essentially, he’s spent ten years making himself perfect for me.

  What a lovely gift.

  It’s not even my birthday.

  A smile tugs at my lips, wondering what he’d get me. The very idea that I’m imagining us still together eight months from now is alarming.

  “Finnnnneeee,” I say dramatically. “I guess I won’t kill you.” I roll my eyes hard, secretly loving the amused snort that escapes him. The thrill races up my spine and vines its way around my heart. “I’ll unchain you, Rage, but your cock still belongs to me.”

  “It always has,” he rumbles, his voice husky with need.

  I need my gummy bear. There are motherfucking butterflies in my stomach and I need Peter to keep me grounded. He’ll know if I’m making a bad decision or not.

  Grabbing my shorts, I slide them back up my thighs and tuck my dick back into them. Once I’m dressed, I push a button on the keypad to call for Peter and then I grab my keys from the cabinet. I unlock the shackles from Rage’s wrists, and they swing away, freeing this beast of a man. He pounces, but I’m not afraid. His palms cradle my neck and his thumbs rub along my jawline.

  The butterflies are back. Fluttering in an annoying way. His lips press to mine in that shy, sweet way I used to love so much. I grip his soft hair and pull him closer, my nails raking down his slashed chest. He hisses but gives in to my feral kiss. The groan of pleasure that escapes him fuels my desire to possess him. My tongue lashes with his, reminding him who owns him. One of his big hands slides to my ass, gripping tightly through my leather shorts, and pulls me closer so we’re pressed together.

  “Fuck,” he hisses, jerking away from our kiss. Wildness gleams in his green eyes.

  A slow, evil smile tugs at my lips as I drag my eyes down his ruined chest to his cock that’s locked away in its cage. His balls are slightly purple, which makes me cackle with glee. He fists his hands, clenching his jaw, no doubt trying to get rid of his arousal. That cock of his that’s caged won’t fit properly once erect.

  I walk around to his back side and press my dick against the crack of his ass. My palms roam down his glorious obliques and right to his cock. I feather my fingertips over his swollen balls. “I’m going to fuck you again tonight, Chase,” I growl, nipping at his shoulder. “Over and over. Your ass was made for me.”

  “Yes,” he utters in a husky tone. “Fuck, this hurts. You make me crazy, Austin.”

  I smile sadly because it’s so reminiscent of our teenage years. “As much as I want to terrorize you like old times, I need to clean you up. You have a present for me that I very much want.” I point to a white wall. “Push the panel to access the bedroom and shower.”

  “I knew there was more to this room,” he says as he picks up his kilt, showing me a nice view of his ass.

  “Lollipop, stop bending over like that. It tempts my dick. And we have no time for that. I’m thirsty. So thirsty for revenge. Chop-chop, lover!”

  He looks over his shoulder at me, flashing me a handsome smile, before walking over to the panel to let himself into the bedroom. As he disappears, Peter knocks on the outer door. I push the button to grant him entry before yanking him to my chest, crushing his beautiful roses.

  “Oh, gummy bear!” I cry out, kissing his head. “Everything has changed.”

  He pulls away, regarding me in the innocent way that makes me want to lock him away in a tower forever. “Where is Chase, er Rage?”

  “Showering.” I give Peter a broad smile. “All those years ago I was wrong.”

  Peter’s blue eyes widen. “Really?”

  “Chase was a shy, sweet boy like you. His parents were strict and religious. I corrupted him, naturally, like I almost corrupted you. But it wasn’t him who filmed us. It was his horrible friend Cord.”

  Peter frowns. “So nobody’s dying today?”

  “Oh, dear boy, don’t talk all crazy!” I cry out, cackling. “Someone’s going to die.” My gaze shifts to the open panel where the shower runs. “He brought me a gift. A gift he’s been trying to give me for three years. I must say, his dedication to pulling this off perfectly is admirable. Some say I’m a diva,” I drawl out, rolling my eyes. “So if he approached me outright, I would’ve shut him down. But this way? Sneaking into my wicked party, pretending to be someone else? And brought me the disgusting little worm? Perfect.”

  Peter grins at me. “You’re so beautiful when you’re happy, GLAM.”

  Am I happy?

  I’m never truly happy.

  Because I’ve lived a decade wallowing in the hate of a broken heart.

  Chase has paid his dues, though. He’s lived a life without moi, which was suffering enough. But, he and his perfect asshole, remained loyal to me. He spent all these years working on the most wonderful gift for me. One I’d never be able to turn down. My heart stutters in my chest with excitement.

  “You’re a good boy, gummy bear,” I tell Peter with a smile. “Tonight, we’re going to have some fun. I’ll even let you help out and play too. What do you say?”

  “Pooks, this is the best night ever,” he says breathily
, always my most adoring fan.

  While Peter cleans up the playroom, I dream up all the ways I will fuck up Cord. The ideas are endless. My mind throbs with the need to do every single dark thing I can come up with.

  “I’m ready,” Rage’s deep voice rumbles from the doorway. He’s put back on his kilt and washed away the black paint on his chest. The blood has been cleaned from his body and the wounds are trying to scab over. Some have been patched up with bandages he must have located under my bathroom sink.

  “And how is your dick?” I taunt.

  Peter giggles nearby.

  “My dick hurts like a motherfucker,” Rage growls, his green eyes flaring with heat. He winces and I laugh, knowing just looking at me makes him hard.

  “Put your mask back on, lollipop,” I instruct Rage. “Time to party.”

  The party is in full swing. The bass is thumping loudly as people get plastered. All the beautiful people dressed up just for me has me thrumming with happiness. Holding hands with my gummy bear as Rage prowls back into the crowd thrills me like nothing else. I squeeze Peter’s hand and we share a conspiratorial look. Peter and I dance to a new Lady Gaga song, grinding our hips together. I feel Rage’s hot stare on me, which makes me hard in my shorts.

  “Can I watch?” Peter asks, biting on his glittery pink lip. “I want to see you make love.”

  I toss my head back with laughter at his words. “You’re adorable, darling. I don’t make love. I fuck like a rabid animal. You know this.”

  He frowns. “Even with him?”

  My nostrils flare. Yes, I fucked Chase like a beast. I loved to hurt him and make him scream. But then there was always the after. His lips on mine, his fingers running through my hair, my hand sliding up and down his ribs. How we’d whisper soft things in the dark. Promises and vows. Love that only surfaced when my monster had been fed. The young man inside me connected best to Chase in those moments. Our souls seemed to intertwine.

  I pat Peter on his head. “You may watch us in bed and tug at your pretty cock, gummy bear.”

  He grins at me. “You’re the best, GLAM.”

  “I know.” I wink at my beautiful boy.

  Two strong, burly men stumbling along the perimeter of the living room catch my eye. Rage is playing the part of drunk, laughing and cutting up with his friend. It’s all for show. People don’t see how straight Rage’s spine is. How the hate for Cord ripples from him as though it’s a heat wave in the desert.

  Peter and I dance to a few more songs before we slip away once more. The party will survive without us, it always does this late in the hour. I find Cord and Rage at the doorway to my playroom.

  “This is where he does it,” Rage rumbles to Cord. “We just need to get inside.”

  Cord, drunk as hell, sways. “The fucking fairy murders people in there?”

  Rage’s body tenses, but he doesn’t defend me from the name. Simply nods, his black hook on his head bumping into Cord’s forehead. He’s such a good actor. Bravo, lollipop!

  Peter and I back up around the corner. Then, I stomp heavily in my heels, before rounding the corner.

  “Well, hello,” I purr as I near them. “Aren’t you two a delicious treat just waiting to be devoured. Would you like to see my playroom, hmmm?”

  Rage, playing the part, stutters. “Uh, I don’t know. We just got lost.”

  Cord swivels around to face me. His mask hides his eyes and nose, but it’s pulled up over his mouth, revealing lipstick smeared across his cheek. “We’d love to see it.” He squares his shoulders and fists his hands.

  His sad excuse of an attempt to intimidate me falls flat. Cord is a piece of meat that I will devour. I’m the motherfucking carnivore here.

  “Don’t hurt me,” I tease. “Peter and I are fragile.”

  Cord smirks. “Can’t make any promises.”

  I shimmy past them and swipe my finger on the touchpad. The door opens, and behind me, all three men follow me inside. When the door closes behind them, I let out a crazed laugh.

  Gotcha, homophobe!

  “You know,” I purr, cutting to the chase, walking right up to Cord. “You look familiar.”

  He tenses. Not because I recognize him, but he’s actually that disgusted by me as a human. His lip snarls up in disgust. When I cut my eyes over to Rage, I’m delighted to see the fat vein in his neck raised and thumping with his barely contained fury.

  It’s okay, lollipop, I’m a big boy.

  I cock my head to the side as I stand too close to Cord. I can smell vodka on his breath. He’s a fucking embarrassment to humanity. Always was. The stereotypical homophobic asshole athlete. But instead of picking on some nerd at school—although he did plenty of that—he chose to have beef with me. We got into a few brawls after practice over him calling me a fucking fairy or a twink. I was outwardly gay and proud. Chase was a closet gay. It didn’t matter because we had our relationship in the bedroom and our friendship outside of it. I didn’t need Chase to defend me against Cord back then. I never expected him to. For as big and fierce as Chase is now, he was not that way as a teen. He was sensitive and soft. I loved to break him over and over again. With Cord, I could handle my own fucking self.

  “Exactly how tight is your ass?” I taunt, loving the hiss of disgust coming from Cord.

  “I’m not gay,” he snaps, spittle wetting my face.

  “Is that so?”

  He growls in response. “Your twink ass—”

  Cord’s words get yanked from him as Rage grabs him, pinning Cord’s arms with his chest against Cord’s back. “Show some respect.”

  Cord struggles and snarls. “What the fuck, Forage?”

  “I said,” Rage booms, “show some fucking respect.”

  Cord tenses as I yank off his mask.

  “Remember me, asswipe?” I growl, calling him the same name I used to fuck with him over on the court.

  “How could I ever forget you?” he spits at me. “Gay little Austin Mallari. You thought you ran the fucking town with your big ass mouth.” He sneers. “That school was my school. That town was my town. Chase was my best friend.”

  I grip Cord’s jaw, punishing his flesh with my black fingernails. “Let’s get one thing straight,” I hiss. “The school fucking sucked. You can have that goddamn town. But Chase was never yours. He always was and always will be mine.”

  “Let me go, Forage,” Cord bellows to Rage. “I don’t know what kind of sick fucking spell you’re under right now, but you’re making a mistake.”

  Rage pulls his arms tighter, getting right in his ear to whisper, “You stole him from me. You fucking taped us and tried to destroy the only thing I’ve ever loved. You’re a fucking monster.”

  Cord explodes with fury. “You were a fucking embarrassment! Let this twink fuck your ass. It was sick! I was saving your life!”

  “You tried to destroy him,” Rage snaps. “I was so fucking afraid.” Rage’s green eyes cut to mine, evil and deadly. “But I’m not afraid anymore. I haven’t been for a long time. What I want is revenge.”

  I smile at my feral lover. “Chain him up, lollipop. We have games to play.”

  Rage

  Seeing Cord naked, chained, and at our mercy is vindicating. For so long I’ve dreamed of this moment. Fantasized how it would happen. Planned for it to come to fruition. And now we’re here. Peter and GLAM celebrate with a cocktail while I brood, pacing in front of Cord. Cord is sobering up some, yanking on his restraints while cursing all three of us.

  Especially GLAM.

  He hates GLAM with everything in him.

  Which makes me hate Cord even more.

  GLAM downs his drink and then prances over to Cord. “How many times did you watch that video of us fucking, hmmm? Did you jerk off your sad excuse for a cock wishing it were your ass I was inside of?”

  Cord lets out a string of curse words in response.

  “Peteeeerrrr!” GLAM chirps. “Bring Daddy his tools!”

  Peter scurries away into the b
edroom beyond the panel. When he returns carrying a pink, jewel studded tool belt from the closet, GLAM claps happily. Cord has taken to whining, no longer cursing him out.

  “You look like a motherfucking god in your damn leather kilt and dark hooked mask,” GLAM says, eyeing me up as though he wants to devour me whole. His dick strains against his shorts, eager to play.

  We must finish this game first, though.

  He wraps the tool belt around his middle and fastens it. Then, he pulls out a hammer, inspecting the smooth, silver end. “I like this one,” he coos. “So shiny and pretty.”

  Peter claps. “Can I play too, pooks?”

  Nodding, GLAM taps the hammer to the belt. “Choose what you want, gummy bear.” Then, he turns to me. “Which would you like, lover?”

  My heart beats thunderously in my chest. I curl my hand into a fist. “I have this.”

  Peter slides out a long screwdriver. “I want to poke him.”

  Cord chokes. “You people are sick!”

  “No,” GLAM bellows. “You’re sick. Stealing our private moment and sharing it with the world was sick. Framing your best friend was sick. But this”—he waves his hammer in the air—“is poetic justice. This is beautiful revenge. This is the end for you, asswipe.”

  Cord opens his mouth to spit out more words, but GLAM must be done hearing what he has to say. He whaps the hammer hard enough to bust his bottom lip and break a few teeth. Blood runs heavily from his new wound as he struggles to free himself from the restraints.

  “You hated gays so much,” GLAM hisses, rubbing his hand in the blood. “But your dick gets hard just like the rest of us.” He grips his flaccid cock, but all it takes is a few strokes to have it hardening.

  Cord lets out a sob, spitting out teeth. “P-Please stawp. I’m sowwy, okay? I fwucked up. Just a stupwid kid who made stupwid miwstakes.”

  I step beside GLAM, cocking my head. “But what about after? The past decade. Every woman you fucked behind your wife’s back? That victim from one of our cases I found you defiling in a bathroom? The lies you told to get where you wanted? You brought this shit on yourself, man.” I lean into GLAM to inhale his neck. Fuck, he smells good enough to eat. “You messed with the wrong boys.”