Chapter 286 - 284: One Of Your Toys.

Chapter 286: Chapter 284: One Of Your Toys.

It’s all coming into focus now. It’s dark but he can see it clearer now; the dark skin, dusky and glistening under his nails and under his lips and starving blue eyes, bluer than midnight blue, burning and burning, and burning all for him.

Oh, fuck.

In his hand, still dripping and hard, Khobi’s cock throbs.

No fucking way.

The images don’t stop. They keep coming; flashes of bodies and intense heat –no, not just any bodies; his own, tangled up in fucking Loac’s.

He groans into the darkness, mortified.

What have I done?

Got drunk and screwed around with Loac Trent, is what.

(So much for restraint. So much for his ironclad resolve.)

And for all he tries to remind himself that Loac is a dick; that he’s a massive asshole, and shit, Khobi doesn’t even like the guy, the arousal tearing at his sanity is suddenly far more intense and more demanding than ever, and that little voice in his head suddenly sounds very small and very far away.

(Fuck, he had felt so good.)

And Khobi can still feel him. His weight. His hands and his teeth; his shape between his legs.

His cock.

His hand doesn’t stop. It can’t; not with how vivid the images are. Not with how hot Loac looked on him, grinding into him, moving with him. The sounds he’d made, and his expression, wild with ecstasy, and all for him. The animalistic way Khobi’s body had moved without restraint, aching for him and to be taken by him; hands and lips ravenous and hips fervently working Loac into as deep and as mindless of a frenzy as he’d driven him.

No thoughts. Only pleasure.

(And sure, it’s been a while since he last had sex but that just didn’t explain what had come over him; why he’d acted the way he had. When it gets to that point he’s never been shy about what he wants or how he wants it, but he’s never in his life behaved quite so shamelessly.)

Breath stuttering, he lets his eyes sink closed again as he touches himself; one hand working his cock and the other tracking the same paths Loacs had made down his body, imagining it’s him again that’s pressing into his abs and skimming his nipples. It’s not enough; never had been –Khobi had wanted Loac.to touch him all over; to have him press his fingers up and in, working him loose and stretching him wide and rough.

Fuck, he wants him so badly.

Writhing against the sheets, Khobi’s world fades to nothing but burning blue eyes, burning dark skin, and that intoxicating voice in his ear, purring thick and velvet and driving him to the edge. Pleasure mounting, he focuses on the greedy way Loac had rocked his cock against his ass; heavy and hot and full of promise. He chokes out a groan, sweat beading on his skin and hand twisting on his nipples, his shirt, in his own hair with desperation, as he imagines the way it would burn as it sank into him.

(Khobi’s no stranger to sex but it’s never felt anywhere near as hot as that. And if it’s meant to then everyone he’s ever been with has been doing him wrong.)

Somehow, he knows instinctively that Loac had absolutely, utterly burned for him.

And now Khobi’s burning again, too.

His free hand slips between his thighs, aching to touch.

More.

He wants more.

Loac

All at once, the blue behind his eyes turns to white, and there’s nothing but blinding heat and pleasure and he’s coming with Loac’s name spilling from his lips.

The white abruptly goes dark, and for a moment there it’s almost like he blacks out again because the next thing Khobi knows, the roof above him is coming back into focus with an uncomfortable sense of deja vu, and his chest is heaving like he’s just been fighting for his life.

He’s shaking.

Shit. He’s jerked off before, but that was something else.

(He’s just wound up from last night.)

(That’s all.)

Thankfully there’s a fresh pail of water and a towel sitting close enough to his bed that he doesn’t even have to sit up to reach it, and it’s not much but it’s enough to clean himself off.

The water gets rid of the come, but does little to wash away the shame.

By the looks of things his shirt made it out untainted and unscathed but Khobi’s definitely gonna burn it, just in case. Binny washes his clothes, and some things friends just don’t need to see.

As he comes down from the high of orgasm, a fresh wave of shame washes over him, and the groan that escapes him as he attempts to drown himself in his pillow is anguished and tastes like dust.

For a moment he just lies there, wallowing and feeling dirty from the stickiness, the sweat, and the knowledge of what he’s just done.

And what he almost did.

He almost fucked Loac.

Almost.

That’s right, Khobi thinks to himself, glancing up towards the door, and then down at his chest. (Those soft touches, then...was that him, too?)

He left.

It’s a good thing he did, too. With Loac looking at him the way he had, he would’ve let him do anything to him.

It’s strange. For all the strangers Khobi’s seen Loac with, he’d never had that much fire for them. He’s sure of it. Absentmindedly, he touches his lips, sensitive from his orgasm.

Did he kiss them like that, too?

Fuck, stop it.

He presses his hands into his eyes as if that’s going help; as if that’ll turn back time.

It doesn’t help.

There are too many parts he remembers so vividly and kind of wishes he didn’t; enough to make him both horrifically embarrassed and embarrassingly turned on, and as each excruciating memory plays back behind his eyes, he feels the shame and the regret of a night spent too loose rearing it’s ugly head with an absolute vengeance.