Can't Touch

by Chara Croft

Being back on campus a week after spring break shouldn’t have been a relief, but not gonna lie, I’d fucked so many twinks over the break that my dick had felt raw when I’d come home.

The way I saw it, my cock was a high-maintenance performance machine and it needed constant servicing.

“This is mine,” I growled, my hand closing around his shaft for the first time.

I never had to worry about whether or not he’d be mad at me, because he always told me exactly what to do and then was super nice to me when I did it.

I didn’t just want to make Sean feel good, I wanted to ruin him for anyone but me. I wanted to fucking wreck him.

I was seriously fucked, wasn’t I? Every day this week, I’d told myself to slow the fuck down on this obsession with my roommate, and also every day this week, I’d paid zero attention to my own advice and rushed home like a bitch in heat every damn time I knew he’d be there.

I was not B-word material and was definitely allergic to the R-word, too, but despite those two stone-cold facts, it was like I’d been hit with some kind of alien mind power relationship-ray or some shit,

“I want you to be my everything, sweetheart.”

I wanted him to push his fingers all the way inside me. He’d already claimed my thing as his own, but I wanted him to own all of me. I wanted him to use that little hole for his pleasure; wanted him to bury his thick, hard shaft as deep as it could go. I wanted to feel him inside me, wanted him to shove it in as far as he could, the way he liked to do with my mouth; wanted him to pound me into the mattress until I couldn’t think anymore; to fill me up so full that I overflowed and became his completely… always… forever.

“This is… my hole,” he gritted out, panting. “My… fucking… ass. It… belongs to... me, Sean, right? You’re mine. You’re my—fuuuuuuucccckkk.”

Translation: yes, Sean and I were both were happiest when I told him what to do and then made him do it, but that also meant it was my job to take care of him while he was busy making me happy and whatnot… which worked out pretty fucking well in my opinion, since I both liked always getting whatever the hell I wanted and was also kind of ragingly protective of my boy.

Sean was my boyfriend, and even if it meant I’d officially lost my manwhore card, I’d been the one to take us to B-town and now I was gonna own that shit.

My cock was so damn talented that it should be plated in gold and stuck up on an altar so little gay boys the world over could pause and pray to it every morning. There were probably entire fandoms dedicated to my cock, legions of hungry little bottoms who I’d ruined for all others just by giving them a taste of mine, all heartbroken and crying and shit now that I’d taken it out of circulation.

He nodded, eyes wide, and I bit my tongue to keep from letting loose with the L-word. “Kiss me,” I said instead, because hello, possibly true or not, I’d just recently graduated to the B- and R-words, thank you very much. Going for the L was some serious next level shit. A guy had to work up to these things, alien mind-control or not.

“Breathe, baby. You can take it for me. So fucking tight, but you can hurt a little for me, can’t you, sweetness?”