Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Drake stopped next to him, and the way his fingers slid into Clover’s hair was immediately recognizable. He leaned in, and Clover couldn’t even begin to describe the comfort of feeling his warm breath on his cheek.
“Just… don’t look at them. Pretend we’re alone. Okay?” Drake whispered in the smallest voice. As if Apollo had beaten him down already.
The tenderness agitated something in Clover, and he broke into a violent sob that wouldn’t stop assaulting his whole body. He could pretend all he wanted, but life would never be the same. He’d fucked up so bad. Didn’t even know where Boar was, and now he’d be subjugated by the only use those people could have for him. Even when he’d been homeless, or lived with Jerry, he’d managed to hold on to his sexuality and use it how he wanted to.
That would be taken away from him tonight.
Worse yet, Drake’s love for him was being used against them both, their intimacy taken away and turned into a spectacle.
Drake took a deep breath and slid his arms around Clover, pulling him into a brief hug. “I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon,” he whispered before pulling away.
Clover had never felt so alone before, and the sound of Drake’s zipper opening behind him didn’t send shivers of excitement to his balls for once. He was scared. And revolted. He wanted to turn back time.
But that wouldn’t happen, so he shut his eyes, hidden behind the curtain of hair as Drake’s saliva-covered finger dove between his buttocks. He would have thrown up if he’d eaten anything, but with the nausea came something else. He already mourned the ease with which he’d jumped into sex with not one but four men.
He’d been their ball of easy-going happiness, always up for it, eager to have sex and enjoy their bodies as well as their company. Who would he become if he didn’t look forward to Drake’s touch anymore?
The preparation with saliva was all Drake could do for him, yet a part of Clover wanted to get on with it and have Drake fuck him already so that it could all be over. They were just two bodies. They would get through it.
Their love could survive anything, even something that struck so close to the core of what they were to one another. Drake took too long, but while Clover did physically relax around his three fingers, the sound of masturbation coming from behind him added edges to every single sensation. Of course Drake couldn’t get it up as easily as always, which only prolonged this torture. When the damp cockhead met Clover’s hole, he was both relieved and disgusted. He wanted to get this over with. And then? He didn’t want to ever see another person again, and just sink into the hole of his own misery.
Because of the gaping, bleeding wounds on his back, ass, and thighs, Drake couldn’t even hug him, instead settling on touch here and there as he bowed over him. The cock didn’t even feel like Drake’s, but like an alien thing existing only to humiliate Clover.
“I can’t lose you to Arnie,” Drake whispered, leaning forward enough for his hair to tickle Clover’s back. “The man is a monster. I can’t have you anywhere near him.” Drake choked up. “I just can’t.”
Clover tried to tune into the gentle way Drake ran his fingers over healthy skin while detaching from the thrusts into his body. Closing his eyes helped ever so slightly, as did Drake’s soothing voice and the saliva he kept adding for lubrication. They didn’t change what was happening, though. This was now the hell Clover lived in, and with each thrust, the box his real self hid inside became smaller, buried deeper in his head, away from Apollo, away from Mr. Arnie, away even from Drake.
Hands squeezed his forearms, his ass burned when the jabs became harder, but Drake came at last. This time, Clover wasn’t ready to beg for his man’s mouth though, didn’t relish in the heat inside him, nor did he long for intimacy. In fact, the moment Drake pulled away was the moment he felt true relief.
And he hated it, hated himself, hated Apollo, and hated that he didn’t even know where Boar was.
“Happy?” Drake rasped between one gasp and another.
Clover didn’t want to open his eyes, because one of the goons lay dead all too close, and he’d have to meet his gaze.
“Indeed, a fine performance. Glad to see you so compliant, Drake. Maybe you will manage to restrain yourself from killing any more of my men. Go stand in the corner,” Apollo ordered.
“No,” Drake snapped, but Apollo removed his mask and looked straight at them, his eyes hard.
“Don’t try my patience.”
Clover could sense Drake’s hesitation, but whatever happened next, he could take it. He just didn’t want Drake to participate in any of it. “Please, Drake, do it.”