Page 85 of Make Me Pretty
My vision tunnels into a dark void as I step up to him. Abel yanks his bag from my hands to rifle inside, making shit rattle and scrape. My eyes never leave his face as he pulls out the bottle with a trembling hand.
I take it from him, and with the other hand, I snatch his backpack away, tossing it somewhere behind us. Abel follows its dissent with a gaping mouth. “Hey, that’s my fucking shit. You can’t just throw it around—” I shut him up with my tongue, licking along his lips before delving inside the damp cavern of his mouth.
Abel sighs so softly, I freeze. His shoulders have dropped, body completely lax as his headthunksagainst the wall. He’s nolonger fighting me but welcoming my touch without a trace of apprehension, eyes half-lidded as his eyelashes skim his gaunt cheekbones.
My fingers curl around the bottle as something akin to fear licks its way across my insides, watching him before me. So comfortable with whatever may come. So vulnerable and… andpretty.
Popping the cap, I pour a glob onto my fingers, then press against him. My arm snakes around his left side, disappearing beneath his skirt. Abel’s breath hitches when my slick fingers slide through his crack, finding the warm pucker of his hole with ease.
“Only because I want this fast,” I growl against his mouth. “And wet.”
He smirks, lids low as he thrusts his hips, giving me more room to work. The slide of my finger is smooth, encased by an impossible kind of heat. It sinks right to the knuckle with the ease of a single breath shared between us.
Abel’s hard, little cock twitches against mine, and even with the too many layers of fabric between us, it feels painfully intimate. I grind against him as I bury my knuckles in his crack, massaging along the tight warmth of his channel.
His breathless mewls are the ignition for the flames that bloom inside me, unraveling into a blinding inferno. I drop my mouth to his neck, kissing, licking, mouthing every inch as my breath hitches, no longer controlled but choppy and unrestrained.
The press of my second finger brings a hitch of breath followed by a muffled moan as Abel bears down, accepting me with ease. Trails of vile thoughts peek around the edges of consciousness, so far away from the vortex I’m falling into but close enough to touch.
He’s used to this.
He knows what he’s doing.
There was fucking lube in his backpack—the bag I’ve never seen him without.
I crack my neck, growling through the onslaught as I push three fingers deep. Abel grunts, back bowing as I slam into him, no longer stretching but fucking—and hard.
The speed parallel to the sounds ripping from his throat blurs the presence of confusion, so I push deeper. Abel’s hands clamp around my neck, fingers delving into my hair as he yanks me around.
The collision of our mouths is brutal. We fight for control, tasting of blood and heated spit. My teeth find his bottom lip, and I shred it open, gnawing on it as he pants through his opened mouth, hot breath fanning across my face.
I burn. Every inch of my skin is crawling with stinging flames as I shove my shorts down to free my aching dick. Abel shoves his hand between us to grab me. I curl over him with a grunt when he encircles me and tugs upward.
Stuck flush together between clothes and sweaty skin, I pin Abel against me with my fingers inside him, and he controls the movement of my hips with his grip on my dick. We fight for it, teeth clashing and flesh shredding. His crooked teeth scrape across my collarbone. My nails tear through his flesh.
Slickness coats my dick, making me shudder, shoulders rolling as it slithers down my spine. Abel reaches down to fondle my balls before teasing a blunt nail just beneath my glans. I pull back with a hiss, catching the wild, sinister twist of his mouth.
His left leg rises, curling up around my hip. His skirt bunches around his narrow waist, exposing the front of his jock. I release a heavy breath through my nose as Abel balances back on his tiptoes, using the wall for leverage as he angles my cock downward. But our height difference doesn’t make it easy.
Through a heavy-lidded gaze, he grunts, the toes of his converse slipping on the floor as he swipes my cockhead over his slick, stretched hole. I’m panting, mouth pooling with saliva as I watch the show before me, one hand wrapped around his hip, the other clutching his exposed thigh curled around me.
“Peris,” Abel rasps. I blink. “Fuck me. I’m ready for you.”
I glance down between us. His hard cock is visible through the dark fabric, but I can’t see it. All I can focus on is Abel’s hole and my cock against it.
I already know how tight and hot and wet he is. How all I have to do is lift him up to sink inside. To choke on the grip of his pussy until it all feels right again.
Just me and Abel and all our ugly.
I grab his ass on either side and lift him into the air, using the wall at his back for support as I spread him open. He guides my dick inside him as I slowly lower him down. The compression of him bearing down makes me shudder, the squeeze of his hole impossible to penetrate. And then, my head pops through.
I’m inside him again.
“F-fuck,” Abel moans out as his head falls back, and my gaze catches on the scar through his eyebrow. I’m reminded of when he showed up on my door, mottled and broken because someone dared to put their hands on him.
My back hunches as I slowly release his weight until his ass is flush against my groin. The straps of his jock burn against my skin when I roll my hips, just to feel him from every angle.
The curve of his spine, the thrust of his chest. The pucker of his lips with a few sweaty strands stuck to them.
