Forsaken Desires (The Deepest Desires 2)

chapter twenty

Knox

Me: Hey, morning—wanna meet at the fields and smoke?

JT: Did you just ‘good morning’ text me, bro? ;)

Me: Fuck off, yes or no?

JT: Yup. Want to meet me outside the art building and we can head there?

Me: Really? The art building again?

JT: What? It’s open on Saturdays and I’m in here using their supplies.

Me: Fine. Be there in a half hour.

Since everything that went down Wednesday, Aston and I haven’t seen each other. We’ve texted a handful of times, because apparently, we do that now, but haven’t been face to face yet.

As much as I’ve tried to ignore and deny everything happening between us, it’s probably time I stop trying to hide or avoid it. There is something between us that isn’t just going to go away, and fighting it does nothing but stress me the fuck out. My head is still very much screaming at me, but goddamn, the way he makes me feel is too good to ignore anymore.

If I’m really going with honesty here, then I think I should probably also admit to myself that I’m starting to feel things for him that go beyond just physical and sexual. Or maybe it’s always been there, and I’ve been in heavy denial.

He’s funny, he calls me on my bullshit, we both smoke weed to relax, listen to the same music, clearly hang in the same crowd… he’s overall chill to hang out with when I’m not being a grouch about it.

But fuck if all that doesn’t terrify me. I’ve hidden this part of myself my entire life, and opening up to this scares the shit out of me. I’m also rather envious of Aston, and maybe a little bitter too. Coming to terms with all of this has been nothing short of torture for me, and it seems to be easy fucking breezy for him.

He’s so comfortable with his feelings and his desires. He seems to fully own it; no fear, no shame. Even with that fucking asshole from the frat party, he shamelessly danced with him in front of everyone, then took him upstairs.

Must be nice.

I wonder how many men he’s been with. Fuck, I’m probably one of many. Another notch on his belt.

Throwing my black Vans hoodie and matching black shoes on, refusing to simmer on that, I head out the door. As soon as I get on the sidewalk, my phone rings in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see it’s Katie.

“Hey, dude.”

“Hey, loser. What are you doing?” Her voice is cheerful, but slightly winded, like maybe she’s walking to her car or something.

“Fuck off. I’m walking to campus to meet Aston. We’re going to smoke.”

“Oh, meeting Aston, huh?”

“Katie…”

“Fine, I’ll hush, but I want details later.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

“The reason I’m calling is to see if we’re still on for tonight?”

“Yeah. We’re having a party at the house.”

“Can I come early?”

“Don’t you always?”

“Your turn to fuck off, grumpy ass. See you tonight. Have fun with your boyfriend.”

“Katie!” I basically growl.

She giggles. “Bye, Knox!”

Swear to God, that girl is a pain in my fucking ass.

Picking up the pace, I notice it seems like it’s starting to warm up a little lately. It’s clear and sunny out today, still cold as hell, but not nearly as bad as it’s been. Spring in Eastern Washington is my idea of perfect weather, so I can’t wait.

It only takes me about ten minutes to get to the art building. Texting Aston to tell him I’m here, he lets me know he’ll be out in a minute. Being here reminds me about what we did Monday, and shit, it stirs things inside of me.

The way he spoke to me, the way he took exactly what he wanted from me, was hotter than I could have ever imagined. For as long as I’ve known him, which at this point is a while, he’s always been the chill, laid-back guy, who never raises his voice, never argues with anyone. So, to see him like that. Fuck. Not to mention the painting I saw after. That causes a whole different slew of feelings from me that I can’t even begin to process.

“’Sup, man,” Aston says, jogging down the stairs. He’s wearing faded black skinny jeans, a crimson WSU crew neck that looks paint-splattered, and black combat boots that look like they’ve seen better days.

“Hey, man. Ready to go?”

Throwing me an easy, carefree grin, he replies, “Yup, gotta stop by my room and get my shit, though.”

Heading toward the dorms, we walk side by side, mostly in silence. Surprisingly, it isn’t awkward like I thought it may be.

“So, do you do anything else in there besides paint and draw?” I ask, glancing over at him.

“You mean aside from fooling around with you?”

Looking over at him again, I see him running his hand over his mouth, trying to hide his grin.

“Fuck off.” I laugh. “Yes, aside from that.”

“Uh, well, yeah. I’ve been known to work with clay a time or two as well.”

“Damn, really? So, you’re pretty good at that too?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not as good with the clay as I am with painting or drawing, but like how music and playing the guitar are your thing, art’s mine. I’ve always been passionate about it, and it’s relaxing.”

Walking into the building and down the hall, he opens his room and we both go in. As soon as I enter, I’m engulfed in his intoxicating scent.

“Where’s Anderson?”

“Think he’s with Cash and Weston,” he responds, looking back at me from his dresser. Grabbing whatever he needed, he shuts the drawer and heads back toward the door.

Just as I’m about to open it, his hand shoots out, grabbing my arm and spinning me. In a flash, my back is pressed up against the door and his body is practically flush with mine.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you in my bed since you left Wednesday,” he admits, voice rough and husky.

Swallowing hard, I drop my gaze down to his full lips before going back up to his eyes. “Uh, really?”

Could I be any more awkward? Jesus, fuck. Pull it together. Damn.

Dropping his mouth next to my ear, he whispers, “Really.”

Chills erupt over my whole body, and I can’t think straight.

Slamming my eyes shut, I force myself to relax.

“Me either,” I breathe.

At my admission, he fully closes the distance between us, pinning me to the door with his body. Reaching up, he cups my neck and brings his mouth to mine. Tongue dancing along my bottom lip, he seeks entrance and sighs into my mouth when I open.

His tongue caresses mine with the gentlest strokes, his mouth tasting like spearmint and tobacco. Bringing my hands up to grip his hips, I suck on his tongue, extracting a deep groan from his throat.

I have no clue how long we stand there, making out like teenagers, before he finally pulls away.

He bites his swollen lip. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

We make our way to the fields, not seeing hardly anyone since it’s Saturday. My whole body is still vibrating from that kiss, and I have to resist the urge to brush my fingers over my lips.

Like every other time we’ve come here, he puts music on before lighting up the joint.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” I ask him, taking the joint from him and hitting it.

“Was planning on it.” He eyes me while responding. “Why? Don’t want me to?”

“No, I do! I mean, if you want to, that’s cool with me.”

Smooth, bro.

Chuckling, he changes the song. “So, are you going to pretend like you hate my guts still… or?”

“Uh, I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest.”

Nodding, he doesn’t say anything else on the subject. We pass the joint back and forth a few times, the smoke giving my body that calm, buzzing feeling I love so much.

Lieby NF comes on, and I can’t help but laugh. This song is sick, but damn, does it fit what’s going on here.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. I like this song,” I respond, not really wanting to delve into how this song shoves my feelings for Aston right into my face. Thankfully, he lets it go.

“So, how’d you get started with music? You’ve been doing it for a while, yeah?”

“Yeah, we’ve been playing since middle school. It was required in our music class to learn, which I’m sure you know since you went to the same school. Anyway, it stuck with us three. It was a way to escape my home life and get lost in something for a while. I love it. I love playing with them.”

As the words leave my lips, it dawns on me that I don’t ever tell that story. At least not the part about using music as a form of escapism from home.

“Damn, that’s dope. I’ve only heard you guys play a few times, but you’re good. Like, really good.”

His compliment takes me aback and causes flutters in my stomach. It’s such a change of pace for us to be talking like this, no arguing or bickering surrounding our conversation. I kind of… like it.

“Thanks, bro. Like you said, my music—like your art—it’s my thing.”

“Have you guys ever considered going anywhere with it?” Smoke clouds around his face as he exhales, handing me the joint.

“Nah. It’s always been something fun for us to do together. I enjoy it, but don’t want to make a career out of it.”

“What do you want to make a career out of? You’re a psych major, so do you have a plan?”

The sun is shining bright, and it’s making his eyes appear crystal-like, almost a bluish green. Like an endless ocean diving into the depths of my soul as he studies me.

“Uh.” My stomach flips aggressively as any response dies in my throat. This is yet another thing I don’t talk to anyone about. Am I really about to divulge this to him? I guess so, because my mouth starts moving before my brain has a chance to catch up, per usual. “Yeah, uh, I’ve always wanted to work with children. Specifically, children who come from broken or abusive homes.”

I’m cut wide open and am uncomfortably vulnerable. It’s unsettling and making me want to run, but I don’t. Something about him is keeping me grounded.

He hits the joint one last time before putting it out and looking back at me. “Damn. That’s amazing. And impressive.”

My face is on fire as I look away. “Thanks.”

At that, we get up and make our way back to the dorms. I need to get home since Katie is coming over soon, but I left my phone in his room, so I have to grab that first.

Unlocking the door, we make our way inside. The annoying fluttering in my stomach that always accompanies being alone in a room with Aston has made itself known again. I refuse to believe it’s butterflies. I’m a grown ass man. Why would I get butterflies?

After grabbing my phone from the table, I watch Aston pull his crewneck over his head. His t-shirt underneath rides up, showcasing his pale, toned back, and my mouth fucking waters. The tight jeans he’s got on hug his bubble butt nicely, my teeth aching to take a bite out of it. My dick twitches in my pants, wanting to stir to life, but I will it to behave.

Turning around while my eyes peruse over his form, he definitely catches me checking him out and my cheeks heat at being caught. Flashing a cocky grin, he saunters over to me, backing me up against the door, his eyes never leaving mine.

He places his hands on either side of my head, leaning in and leaving feather-light kisses all along my jaw. The faint touch of his lips is driving me wild as my breath picks up and my hands fist his shirt at his sides.

He finally makes his way to my mouth, only to deny me what I really want, ghosting over my lips and moving to the other side of my jaw.

“Aston…”

His breath dances across my neck when he chuckles. “I’m sorry. Is there something you want?”

“Yes, fucker. You know there is.”

“I don’t think I do.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Think you gotta spell it out for me.”

“Touch me,” I growl.

“Mhm, where are your manners, Knoxy?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I never joke with manners.” He’s continuing to place kisses along my neck, smiling and thoroughly enjoying fucking with me.

“Please fucking touch—”

His lips are on mine before I can even get the last word out, tongue thrusting into my mouth, and his right hand coming to hold my throat in a firm grip. His hips drive into mine, letting me know how turned on he is.

Dropping to his knees, he drags my pants down my thighs. My cock springs free, bobbing near his face, begging for attention. Looking up at me, he licks the slit, causing chills to break out all over my body. I want his mouth on me right now more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.

Running the flat of his tongue up my length, he finally puts me out of my misery and wraps his lips around my swollen tip. The heat and wetness from his mouth is sublime and I can’t help the low moan that rolls out of my mouth. Resting my head on the door behind me, I run my fingers through his short hair, urging myself farther.

He gags around my length but accepts me nice and deep. The feeling of him swallowing around me makes my toes curl.

“Fuck, yeah. Just like that.”

He works my balls with one hand while he uses his other to stroke me in time with his mouth. He’s a fucking God with his mouth.

“Shit, Aston. Fuck, gonna come,” I groan, feeling the orgasm building low in my gut.

As soon as I say that, he removes his hands and mouth from my body, sitting back on his heels.

My mind is foggy from the almost-orgasm, and I gape down at him, confused as hell.

“What the fuck, man.” I’m breathing the words, feeling desperate and at his mercy, though I’m standing above him with my dick in his face.

Wiping his mouth with his hand, he stands up and places a soft kiss on my lips. It’s not reciprocated because I’m still confused about why I was denied an orgasm.

“Maybe if you’re a good boy tonight, I’ll finish the job.”

“You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Bye, Knox,” he says lightly, with a shit-eating grin on his face. “See you tonight.”

I’m practically shoved out of his room, with the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever experienced. Sexually frustrated doesn’t even begin to cover it.

What an asshole.

As I’m making my way down the hall, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

JT: And don’t even fucking think of jacking off.

JT: That orgasm is MINE…

JT: If you’re a good boy.

Clutching my phone in my hand so tight, I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter, I make my way back home. Walking with a hard-on is annoying as fuck. Thankfully, the cold air helps deflate my dick quickly, and by the time I get home, it’s under control.

As if Aston has some weird fucking sixth sense, I get a text the minute I shut my bedroom door.

JT: *one new video*

Sitting on my bed, I press play and immediately groan. His phone is propped on his desk and he’s sitting in the chair. He’s fully dressed with his cock out. His legs are kicked wide, and he’s completely relaxed.

Staring directly into the camera, as if he’s seeing into my soul, he works his cock in long, languid strokes. Through the video, I can see the pre-cum leaking out of him, begging to be licked off. My mouth waters at the sight, and I swear I can taste the salty flavor on my tongue.

I’m rock-hard again, dying to wrap my hand around myself. He gives himself a few more strokes before coming closer to the phone. “Remember, that orgasm is mine. Better not touch yourself or there will be fucking consequences.” The video ends and I fall back onto the bed, frustrated and fucking horny.

It’s going to be a long fucking day.