Forsaken Desires (The Deepest Desires 2)

chapter sixteen

Knox

Being Monday morning, the library is basically empty. Aston leads us to the second level today, which I’m thankful for. I don’t think I’d be able to sit on the third level and concentrate.

Much to my surprise, he quietly unpacks his backpack, getting started on his research without so much as a glance in my direction. He’s acting weird today, but I’m kind of thankful for it. More than okay acting like Saturday night never happened, I get my laptop out and begin working too.

We continue like this, in surprisingly comfortable silence, for close to an hour. I’m getting restless and anxious, though, awaiting his next move, because there has to be one. There is no way we did what we did this weekend, and he has nothing to say about it. It’s not like him.

Feeling like I’m going to crawl out of my skin, I shove out of my seat. “Going to get some water, be back.”

“Alright, bro,” he says, not even looking up at me.

Heading to the back of the room where the water fountain is located, I take a few huge gulps before splashing my face with the cold water.

I’m going insane.

Certifiably fucking insane.

I need to get my shit together. I should be able to sit in the same room with him without panicking or jumping his bones.

But why isn’t he saying anything? No talk about Saturday, none of his normal joking, egotistical remarks. Hell, he’s not even talking about our assignment together.

He thinks he can get into my head like this and then say nothing?! I mean, what the fuck is up with that? I don’t fucking think so. I pick up the pace as I make my way back to the table, needing to confront him right fucking now.

He doesn’t even look up when I walk back, and if that doesn’t piss me off further.

“Hey,” I growl, slapping my hand down on the table.

This asshole drags his eyes from his laptop—leisurely, might I add—up my body until he meets my eyes. He’s wearing the most bored expression, as if the last thing he wants to be doing is talking to me.

“Yes?”

“What’s your fucking problem, bro?”

“Um,” he mutters, scrunching his brows. “I don’t have one?”

“Oh, you don’t, huh?” He narrows his eyes at me, searching for my issue. Is he serious?

“Nah, man, but clearly you do.”

With my hands planted on the table, I lean over and reply through gritted teeth. “You’re damn right I do, Walker.”

“Okay, care to elaborate?” I didn’t think it was possible for him to look any more bored than he already did, but here we are, as he leans back in his seat.

“You’ve barely said anything to me today, that’s what!” I’m practically shouting at this point and wouldn’t be surprised if the librarian came and ripped me a new one.

“Since when do you want to chit-chat with me, Finny?” There’s a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips now.

“I don’t, but fuck! We could at least talk about what happened on Saturday.”

He cocks his head at me, crossing his arms over his chest. “You want to talk… about Saturday… with me?”

“Yeah, bro, I do. How can you not?” I’m basically groaning with frustration at this point.

The librarian, who I didn’t even know was on this level, pops out of fucking nowhere like a damn magician, scowling at us like we stole her puppy.

“Sorry,” we say, in unison.

Looking back at me, he says, “Well, we can’t talk here. She’ll have our heads.”

“Okay, then where?”

Rolling his eyes, he stands up. “Fuck, follow me, I guess.”

******

Aston

He’s lost his ever-loving mind.

Since when does Knox fucking Finnegan want to talk? He’s the king of avoidance, and now he wants to talk about us hooking up?

This is a bad fucking idea, and will more than likely blow up in my face. I knew hooking up with him was a mistake the second we finished, which is why I left as quickly as I did. Didn’t want to put up with his insecure, angry man bullshit. There’s only so many times we can hook-up and have him blame it all on me, before I snap.

Dude clearly has some internalized homophobia and deep-rooted denial going on, and I want no part in it. Messing with him was fun, but I’m over it now. Once I saw the look on his face and the distant body language after we’d just shared such an intense moment, I decided I’d honestly rather pretend he doesn’t exist and move on with my life. If I’m going to experiment with my fucking sexuality, it should probably be with someone who doesn’t loathe my entire existence and refuses to acknowledge his part in this.

Yesterday, I asked Luca to come over to my dorm so I could finally get all this shit off my chest. It’s unlike me to keep anything from him, especially something as big as this, but shit, it’s confusing as hell, and I didn’t even really know what to say, so I didn’t say anything at all.

When I told him about Knox barging in like a caveman when I was hooking up with Travis, he was shocked, to say the least. Oh, he was also fucking elated to tell me that Travis is known as “Tony Troy” to Branson, and is a Grindr guy he hooked up with last summer.

So, that’s fucking neat.

Walking into the art room, because it’s the only room I know for sure is empty this time of day, I head toward one of the desks, hopping up to sit criss-cross-applesauce. This should be interesting.

It’s a screwed-up type of game with us now. Are we going to fight? Are we going to fuck? Is he going to punch me? I never know.

Standing there, looking awkward as shit with his hands in his pockets, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so sheepish in all the years I’ve known him.

Knox is a guy who exudes confidence, walks into a room, shoulders held high, knowing he’s liked, envied, desired. This side of him is new, and rather off-putting. Where is the cocky player, the arrogant asshole?

“Well?”

“Well, what?” he responds, glaring at me. Ahh, there he is.

“Dude, you fucking practically demanded we talk. So, talk.”

Taking a deep breath in, he walks up to me, placing his hands on either side of me and effectively boxing me in.

“I don’t fucking understand what you’re doing to me, dude!”

My brows shoot to my hairline as I take in what he said. “What I’m doing to you? How am I doing anything to you?”

His nostrils flair as his lips curl into a sneer. “Whenever I’m in your vicinity, I lose my fucking mind and behave like a goddamn moron.”

Now it’s my turn to narrow my gaze at him as I place my palms on his chest, shoving him away. “How is that my fault, Knox?”

“It… it just is!” He’s shouting at this point, face red with fury.

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. He’s fucking insane. “Knox, I am not responsible for your actions, or for how you handle situations.”

“But you take pleasure in antagonizing me.” He has the gall to shove his finger into my chest to get his point across. “And don’t even act like I’m fucking wrong.”

“Yeah. You’re right, I do.” I shrug, and his eyes flare in response.

“See!”

“I take great pleasure in pissing you off, you single-minded idiot, because you’ve held this grudge against me since we were teenagers, bro. For no—”

“That’s bull—”

“Uh-uh,” I cut him off, holding my fingers up to his mouth, his eyes narrowing down at my hand. I’m putting a stop to his little temper tantrum right fucking now. “I’m fucking talking. You don’t interrupt me, you understand me?”

That pisses him off even more, and he huffs at me but listens.

“As I was saying, you’ve held this grudge for no fucking reason. Big fucking deal; we kissed one fucking time when we were in high school. Get the fuck over it already, shit.”

Pushing off the table, he starts pacing in front of me, hands running through his messy locks.

“You know what,” he finally spits out, stopping right in front of me, “you drive me fucking crazy.” I can’t help but sigh.

“Feeling’s mutual, my man.” Our eyes stay locked for what seems like a whole minute, my gaze only drifting when I see his Adam’s apple bob with a rough swallow.

“Fuck this,” he grumbles right before he pounces on me. His lips crash against mine in a hurricane of wrath and tension, hands flying up to cup my face, tongue darting into my mouth with conviction. The moan that escapes him as he caresses my tongue is heady.

The taste of him fills my mouth; faint tobacco and minty toothpaste. His scent encases me, a potent combination of shampoo and him.

It takes a few seconds for my brain and mouth to catch up, then I’m finally kissing him back, fisting his sweatshirt. Kissing Knox is electric, all-consuming, downright tantalizing. It’s as if I can never get my fill of him, can’t get close enough.

Shifting until my legs are dangling off the table, I pull him in between my open thighs until our hips are flush. He’s fucking hard as a rock. I moan into his mouth before I decide to go bold.

If he wants to be a dick ninety-eight percent of the time, I can give it right back.

Breaking our lips apart, I smirk at him as I push on his shoulders, forcing him onto his knees in front of me—and oh, what a fucking sight this is.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“You’ve been a bad boy, Knoxy. Bad boys need to beg for forgiveness,” I taunt him, flicking the button on my pants, then working the zipper down. “And you’re going to do just that—on your knees… with your mouth around my cock.”

Shuffling, attempting to stand up, he fumbles as he says, “Ah, man. I don’t—”

“Knoxy, Knoxy,” I say in a chastising tone, resting my palms firmly on his shoulders. “I wasn’t asking for your opinion. I was telling you to get down on your knees and open your fucking mouth.”

He stares at me, stunned, but he doesn’t try to get up anymore.

Taking my cock out, I lazily stroke it from base to tip. I was already halfway hard, so it doesn’t take much to get fully there. The weight of his gaze is intoxicating, staring up at me through his lashes, lips swollen and parted, looking curious, nervous, and horny all at once.

His gaze keeps alternating between my eyes and my cock, as if he’s unsure where he wants to look. Fully aware I’m probably crossing some sort of line here, I can’t find it in me to care. He’s done this exact thing to me, so it’s time for payback.

“What are you waiting for? Kiss it.”

“You can’t be serious,” he drawls.

“Oh, I never joke about my cock, baby.”

His eyes narrow and he licks his lips, probably subconsciously, looking from my cock back up to my eyes, timid as all hell.

I fucking love it.

“Come on, Finny. Do it. I know you want to. I can see it in your big doe eyes.”

“Fuck you,” he groans seconds before he shocks the hell out of me, flicking his tongue out and licking my swollen head fleetingly. The act causes me to inhale deeply, a full body shudder rolling through me.

He sits back on his haunches and looks as shocked as I feel.

Recovering quickly, I paste on a devious grin and stroke myself again.

“Good boy, was that so hard?”

Silence.

He’s glaring at me, but the chub in his gray sweatpants gives him away.

He wants this—he loathes that fact, of course—but refuses to act on it without a little push. I see right through his act.

Sliding my ass off the table until I’m standing directly in front of him, my dick’s now level with his eyes. Reaching my hand down, I grip his chin between my thumb and index finger, angling his face up until he’s making eye contact.

“You look so good down there, baby,” I tell him, squeezing the base of my cock with my other hand, bringing it up to his lips.

Obediently, he opens up, letting me glide across his hot, silky tongue. He doesn’t close his mouth around my length, simply lets me slide in and out, the sensitive underside of my shaft reaping the benefits.

Taking my cock off his tongue, I slap the side of his face—not too hard, but enough to shock him and get his attention. “What a good boy you’re shaping up to be.”

“Fuck you.”

“Nah, not yet,” I say, my grin wide.

He rolls his eyes, but says nothing.

“Now, stop talking and let’s put that mouth of yours to good use.”

Nudging past his lips again, he actually closes around me this time.

“Suck,” I order, with another firm slap to the cheek.

His tongue twirls around gingerly, the storm still raging in his eyes, and he starts to suck lightly.

The warmth of his mouth feels heavenly wrapped around me, my hips automatically thrusting deeper, causing him to gag.

“Shit,” I laugh. “Sorry, man.”

His eyes, now slightly watery, are shooting daggers at me, but his control seems to snap. He reaches a hand up, gripping my cock, and really starts to bob his head up and down my shaft.

“Fuck, Knox,” I moan out, fisting his hair and never taking my eyes off him.

He is a sight to behold with his lips stretched wide around me, hollow cheeks, and tears pooling in his eyes. Taking in every inch of him, I don’t miss his hand sliding into his sweatpants to take himself out.

His cock is as big and beautiful as I remember it, making my mouth water. Stroking himself to the same rhythm his mouth is working me with, he groans around my cock. The vibrations threaten to make my legs give out.

I’m still beside myself that he’s so willingly sucking my dick right now.

What I would give to get inside his head and know what he’s thinking.