A Little Bit

Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Warren

My phone hasn’t stopped buzzing since I made the post.

It’s either likes, comments, or Mother incessantly trying to reach me.

I’m sure she has a lot of strong feelings about me sharing this with the whole world. Giving her no warning.

I thought about how this would affect her for a fraction of a second before I hit share. But I still did it—because it needed to be done.

I had replayed her argument in my head as my finger hovered over the button.

“I did what I had to do, Warren. To continue this legacy—to pave the way for you.”

That told me everything I needed to know. It had never been about me. Always the legacy. It came first.

I think maybe—on some level—I had always known that. But I held on because it’s all I’ve known. This is what love was—trying to make my life into an image they deemed successful, regardless of my wishes.

The empath in me is unfortunately feeling a pang of understanding for her. I wish I didn’t. But I’ve seen Grandaddy. I know what he’s like. I’m sure this is all a trickle effect. He did it to her, so she does it to me.

She probably never even had a chance.

I can’t worry too much about that, though. If she extends an olive branch, I’ll consider crossing that bridge if I ever come to stand in front of it.

For now, I ignore her calls, thanking god that she left for DC yesterday and will be in session for the next few days. Otherwise she might be breaking down my door right now.

I lift the watering can in my hand, tipping and pouring into the various pots decorating the mantle in front of me.

The day after I went psycho—as SJ so affectionately calls my breakdown—and ripped up everything in my townhouse, I slept late. My body and mind greedily taking the rest I don’t usually allow myself.

I groggily awoke to banging and clanging, and after getting out of bed to investigate, I found ten or twelve men moving around my living room. Sweeping up glass, lifting the heavy, tattered furniture, filling up garbage bags full of any debris that found its way to the floors during my “psycho” episode.

“What’s going on?” I asked sleepily as I rubbed my eyes, trying to get my brain to catch on to the idea that we’re awake.

SJ sat in a kitchen barstool—one of the few we didn’t destroy—and shrugged as she flipped through a magazine sitting in front of her, having absolutely no worries in the world. “Nothing,” she murmured absently.

“This isn’t nothing,” I quipped back, holding my hands out to the strangers still picking up the mess.

“Oh. I just hired them to come get the stuff.”

Anxiety rippled through me as I watched the consequences of my actions being dragged out the front door.

Guessing my feelings, she got up and placed her hand on my forearm, trying to ground me.

“Warren. Cool it. This is good. It’s a blank slate. You can do whatever you want.”

I tried to let that thought settle in, but it wouldn’t. Just danced on top of my skin.

“But—”

She grabbed me by the shoulders, giving me a slight shake and leveling me with an intense stare. “No. No but. Whatever you want.”

For the next few days, we worked on painting the walls black, visiting every plant nursery there was within thirty miles, and hanging the only decor I have left—the most important one.

It looks nice in here.

Well… that may be a stretch. They’ve removed the trash and furniture, but the damage stays behind. Dents in the walls and the floor from me wildly swinging my sledgehammer. Holes in the ceilings from the missing light fixtures. The only new furniture I had the energy to get was a few lawn chairs that we stuck in the living room and a cheap rug to cover up some of the holes in the floor.

But it’s different. It’s more me than anything that was here before.

Through it all, Eli hasn’t left my mind, wondering what he was doing—if he had seen the post. Not that it was for him. It was the right thing to do. Setting the truth free. But I certainly want to know his thoughts.

I place the watering can down just as a knock sounds at the door.

SJ finally trusted me alone enough for her to leave. But only temporarily. She went to go get more plants a few hours ago, something to cheer me up, insisting I needed to stay home and avoid any prying assholes after what I had just put out into the world.

I assume it’s her, needing help with everything she bought, so I thrust the door open. But my face falls when I’m met with Eli on the other side.

A thrill shoots down my spine when our eyes lock. My blue with his warm, sweet brown.

The sensation is quickly followed by an ache of nostalgia, digging its talons into my skin. Has it been that long? That I can feel nostalgia about him? His face like a vintage photo of a better time.

I stand there like an idiot, mouth open and loudly breathing until a squeak of a “Hi” peeps out.

He doesn’t say it back, just kind of rocks back and forth on his feet, eyes breaking away from me and fixing on a random point next to the door. My eyes catch on his hand. He’s clutching a chunk of Spanish moss so tightly that his knuckles have turned white.

“Eli?”

“I don’t care,” he blurts, still not meeting my eyes, but walking past me into the house. I follow and close the door behind me.

My brow furrows while we stand in the foyer and I try to form a follow up question, but he beats me to it, shaking his head and bringing his free hand up to rub his eyes. “About what happened… I mean… I do care, but—” He cuts himself off, slowly lifting his eyes back to mine. He takes a step closer, dropping the moss on the floor. I stop breathing, but still the smell of weed and fresh air somehow storms my senses. “But I want you anyway. I need you,” he finishes.

Another step. My heart beats rapidly in my chest. Adrenaline and arousal mixing and spiking my blood, making a deadly cocktail I won’t survive.

“I can’t live without you. And I’m done trying,” he whispers, eyes flicking down to my parted lips as he takes another step, bumping our chests together.

He’s close enough to feel his breath on my mouth. I want to push my tongue out and taste the air.

“Can I have you?” he asks, bringing his thumb up to rub my bottom lip.

My legs quake underneath me, threatening to give out and send me to my knees where I belong. Serving him. Worshiping him.

“You had me from the moment you set your eyes on me. I’ll never be for anyone but you,” I whisper hoarsely back.

“I missed you,” he rumbles, grabbing onto my nape harshly, making a tiny whimper escape my mouth.

“I love you, Eli,” I breathe.

“I know you do, sailor. I never questioned that,” he murmurs, leaning into the last bit of space between us.

When his lips seal to mine, it all comes back. The need. The longing. He feels like every contradiction in the world is fighting for control and creating something new. Heaven and hell. The devil and God commingling into one sensation meant to corrupt and uplift me.

I eagerly open for him, plunging my tongue into his mouth, moaning when I taste him.

He growls back at me, shoving his tongue in farther, licking all around my mouth, dominating the kiss. Dominating me.

We walk farther into the house, never separating our lips as we blindly paw at each other. My hands roam over every inch of his body I’ve been deprived of for too long, dipping under his T-shirt to let his skin sear my own. He rips his mouth away from me once we reach the living room to step back and pull his shirt over his head. His muscles contract with every breath he releases, drawing my eyes to his abs, his chest, his bulging shoulders all littered with black artwork.

His eyes devour me as we stand there, suspended in time, lust consuming the air.

He comes closer, grabbing on to my button-up and yanking it, making me stumble into his hard chest. “Why the fuck do you still have this damn shirt on?” he asks while his fingers quickly unbutton it. He looks back up at me, hungry, black eyes staring straight into my soul. “I’m tired of not being able to?—”

His voice stops when his eyes flick above my head, widening as he walks away and toward the mantle with my newest piece of art hanging over it.

“You bought it?” he asks, his voice taking on this strange quality I can’t quite recognize.

“Yes,” I say as I turn and watch him crane his neck up at the drawing.

It kind of happened by accident. I stumbled across this ad for some art exhibit being held at a museum a few blocks away from my townhouse. It mentioned that they were showcasing pieces by AU students. I wasn’t even sure if Eli’s work was in there. I just took a chance.

I called the museum the day of the exhibit and said I wanted to see the pieces before the public did. I shamefully dropped my name to get them to allow it—something I don’t ever do. But I was feeling desperate. I needed to see if his work was there. To feel some kind of connection to him.

I couldn’t believe my luck that it was there. I wasn’t even planning on buying it, but when I saw it, I told them to name their price. They tried to argue with me, saying that they had to allow others a chance to bid. But I wouldn’t back down, emphasizing that I’d pay anything for it—that I didn’t care what someone bid, I’d bid more.

He spins around, a scowl on his face. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.”

His face falls, but then he quickly replaces it with a smirk. “A little conceited of you to hang a drawing of yourself, no?”

I shake my head, crossing my arms. “It’s not me. It’s you.”

He lets out a snort of a laugh, turning back to the drawing. “Hate to burst your bubble, but I drew it. It’s you. Your face wouldn’t stop haunting me until I got it down on that canvas. It looks nothing like me.”

“No. It’s you,” I say as I walk up beside him, looking up at the drawing, my hand tentatively reaching toward his. Our fingers slip together so easily, like they were meant to be entwined. “It’s a depiction of me, but everything about it is you. Chaos. Beauty. Lightness. Darkness.” I turn to him. He mimics my action, his lower lip trembling when I place my hands on his face. His eyes fall shut, making a lone tear slide down his cheek, leaving a wet track on his beautiful face. “Perfect and imperfect. I got it because I see you, not me.”

He opens his eyes and smiles. It’s bright, creeping into all the dark parts of me and illuminating them.

I don’t know who leans in first, but our lips meld back together. We kiss slowly. Languidly. A promise forming with every movement our mouths make.

His hands find my shirt again, finishing the buttons and sliding inside to push the material off my shoulders. Our kissing grows more frantic, needy moans coming out of our mouths as the rest of our clothes find their way onto the floor.

I fall to my knees in front of him, zoned in on his hard cock jutting out at me. My hand grabs onto his shaft, eliciting a rumble from his chest. Looking up at him, I find his eyes glued to me, his irises swallowed up by blackness. Sticking my tongue out, I duck my head, licking a path from the seam of his balls up his rigid length and ending on his fat, wet crown.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he moans, his head falling back while he threads his fingers through my hair. He looks down at me again, a reverence in his eyes as his hand leaves my hair, softly trailing his fingers across my face until he reaches my lips. His thumb rubs against my lower lip, making me shiver there on the floor, naked and panting for another taste of him.

“You look like such a good slut on the floor for me. Are you my slut now, Warren?”

I nod my head, leaning into his touch. “Yes. Only yours.”

His thumb suddenly pushes into my mouth. My tongue automatically swirls around it, tasting and sucking the flavor of his skin. “Say it again,” he orders, a hint of desperation coloring his tone while he withdraws his thumb from my mouth. “Say you’re mine. Only mine. Always.”

My chest constricts. “I am only yours, Eli. Always,” I say, leaning forward to take him into my mouth, but his hand darts forward, grabbing my jaw and lifting my gaze to his.

“I mean it, Warren. You’re mine now. I won’t give you up for anything. No one and nothing can keep you from me. Not your family. Not mine. Do you understand that?”

I nod while my insides melt, a new feeling of acceptance and security filling up the space. Something I’ve never gotten to experience. But it feels authentic from him. Absolute.

A lewd smirk creeps onto his face. “Good. Now show me how much you missed this dick, sailor. Because it fucking missed you.”

I lean forward, opening my mouth and wrapping my lips around his leaking cock. He hisses above me as I move down the rest of his shaft, my tongue swirling along the underside, messily tasting his skin, while spit leaks out of my mouth, running down my hand. The tip bumps the back of my throat. I breathe through it, trying my best not to gag, but one still slips out, making me jerk my head back.

He takes that opportunity to grab my hair, yanking my head completely off his dick. “I fucking love hearing you gag on my cock, sailor.” He jumps down into my lap, knocking me off balance so I fall to my ass. His slick, messy cock bumps against mine, drawing a long moan out of my mouth.

“Fuck. I love how that pretty pink mouth makes my cock so sloppy. Look at it.” His hand fists into my hair and forces me to look down at our cocks, rubbing against each other, both leaking pre-cum like faucets, making an even bigger sticky mess.

“God, yes. It feels so goooood ,” I squeal the last word when he wraps his big hand around both of our cocks and strokes, leisurely dragging through our mess, spreading it around.

“I’m not even sure we’ll need lube with how wet you are, baby. I think I can just fuck your tight cunt like this.”

His words hit their mark. Their depravity reaching inside my brain, unlocking a dark chamber that only he has the key to.

He continues to work us with his hand, slipping and sliding our hard, wet dicks together before my eyes slam shut and my hand reaches out to stop him. “Wait. I-I don’t want to come yet.”

“Lie back, baby,” he whispers into my ear.

My lips find his and we feverishly kiss as I lower my body to the floor. He stays above me, his muscular frame sitting on my thighs while his hand returns to my cock, stroking me at a tortuous pace.

“Eli,” I whine, squirming beneath him.

“What, baby? Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me. Now. I can’t wait.”

His motions freeze, somehow even more heat entering his eyes. “Shit, baby. You’re going to kill me. I love hearing you say that.” He leans down, feeding me his tongue in a quick and dirty kiss, before he pulls back, making me chase after his mouth.

Grabbing onto my legs, he lifts them up, bending my body in half so my hole is exposed to him. I crane my neck up to watch as he trails one of his hands down my leg, stopping when he gets to my ass. A harsh grunt leaves my body when he spits on my taint, the angle making it run down my skin and settle on my hole where his fingers rub it in. “Need to make you nice and wet for me, baby. Fuck , it’s pretty. Should I lick it?”

He doesn’t wait for me to answer, leaning down and sloppily licking me, lashing his tongue against my hole while I squirm and pant, sweat breaking out across my keyed up body.

“Eli. Eli! Please. Please, give it to me now. Fuck my cunt. Wreck it. Fill me up, baby. Umfff .”

I barely recognize myself, so consumed by lust and burning need that I’m pleading to him, sobbing around each of my words while he worships me.

He leans up, his dark hair hanging in his eyes as he uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “I love hearing you beg, baby.”

Grabbing his pants off of the floor behind him, he finds a small packet in the pocket and tears it open with his teeth, then pours a generous amount of lube on his cock, rubbing it around. Taking his wet hand, he smears the rest over my hole, pushing some of it inside of me.

He scoots forward on his knees, and then I feel the blunt head of his cock at my entrance before he applies the slightest pressure, and my hole greedily sucks him in.

We both hiss at the same time. His girth stretches me, even with only the tip inside, but it feels so good, a delicious sting of pleasure and pain. Continuing to push in, he feeds me his inches, the burn spreading out in all directions, warming my blood.

When his pelvis meets my cheeks, we both stare lazily at each other until he slowly pulls back and drives back in.

“Shit,” I mutter, stretching my neck up and slamming my eyes shut while he continues his slow pace, building something inside of me with each brush of his cock against my prostate.

My dick obscenely leaks all over my stomach as he picks up his pace. He runs his hand through it, bringing the mess up and smearing it across my lips, making me lick it off. “You’re so fucking amazing, baby,” he praises while he abuses my hole. “You take my cock so well, beautiful. Fuck I can’t wait to fill this cunt up with my cum. Do you want my cum?”

“Fuck, yes,” I say. “Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

He leans over me, fucking into me brutally, grinding his head into my prostate, lighting my body up, readying me for an orgasm that will fucking kill me.

But before I can, his movements stutter and he gasps his release as the tendons in his neck stretch out, some beast freeing itself directly into my body.

Despite not coming, I feel glowy inside, having a part of him in me.

He slowly pulls out, but when I try to lean up on my elbows, he gives me a look like I’m out of my mind.

“In what world would we be done?” he says, moving back up and thrusting his tongue in my mouth. “I would never leave you unsatisfied, sailor. Don’t doubt me. Lie back.”

He moves back down to my legs and lifts them up, using his fingers to scoop his release leaking out of me, then wrapping his wet hand around my dick, stroking me with his used cum.

“W-what are you— ugh —doing?” I barely choke out with my hazy brain.

He smirks at me, his hand leaving my cock to stick two fingers inside of me, scooping more of the cum out, then reaching that hand behind his back. “I’m using the leftovers from this sloppy cunt”—he momentarily stops as he breaches his own hole, pushing the cum in and shuddering, his eyes rolling back—“to lube us up, so I can sit on your fat cock and ride you until you bust inside me.”

All of my nerve endings perk up at his filthy words. He strokes me one more time, crawling back up my body and positioning himself over my angry, wet cock, before sitting down.

His ass swallows my cock, the tightness making my whole body go numb. He lifts up and slams back down, immediately starting a punishing rhythm. I don’t even feel like I can see straight. My poor brain melts as he rides me, all the synapses firing the best they can but unable to form any coherent thoughts except, “I love this. I love him. I love him .”

My orgasm takes me by surprise, quickly shooting from all parts of my body to meet at my dick and explode inside him, painting his insides with my seed.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant out as he grinds on my pelvis, milking every last drop of cum out of me until I’m nothing but a puddle of bones below him.

He lifts up, spreading his cheeks and letting the mess of our cum drip back onto my stomach. Sitting back down, he slowly rubs it into my skin, his eyes absorbed in the motions as we both come down from our highs.

“I love you, sailor,” he breathes out once he’s convinced my skin has absorbed everything he’s given it, dropping on top of me so his head rests right under my chin, both of us a sweaty mess of limbs on the floor of the living room.

“I love you, too,” I whisper into his hair before kissing it.

We’re silent for a long time, listening to our quiet breathing, feeling our skin against each other.

He speaks first. “Hey, what the fuck happened in here?”

I laugh. “I went psycho.” I smile at SJ’s term. “Tore everything up that my mother put in here.”

“ Everything ?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to start over.”

He makes a contented noise of surprise. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks,” I murmur back, absently running my hand through his dark hair. “Is there a reason you brought me some moss?”

He laughs. “Not really. It just… reminded me of you.”

I smile and don’t say anything else. He speaks again, “I saw your post.”

My insides constrict. “And?”

He lifts his head, looking up at me. “Why did you do it?”

“It was the right thing to do. And I was tired of hiding,” I answer honestly, hoping that’s enough to keep him.

He nods and lays back down. “I’m proud of you. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like to admit all those things. To have the public be privy to all the private information of your life. I’m here for you if you need to talk about anything.”

“Thank you,” I say, being quiet for a second before asking what’s been plaguing my mind since the moment I found out how we were connected. “Do you ever wonder why we found each other? Out of all the people in the world...”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, his chest breathing in and out on my stomach before inhaling a tired breath. “I don’t know why it happened this way, but I don’t think I care… anymore. I did. I felt like it was some cruel joke.” He traces his fingers up my stomach, skittering goosebumps in every direction. “Something brought us together, and it’ll take something… I don’t even know… mind-bending to break us apart again.”

He sits up, grabbing my wrist, kissing the unmarred skin. “You said a lot of nice things about that up there,” he says, nodding his head up at the drawing he created, before turning his dark eyes back to me. “But it’s nothing compared to the real thing. You’re the work of art. Something that should be framed up on a wall. I hope I can convince you”—he tenderly rubs my wrist with his thumb—“that that’s the truth.”

I smile at him, and he puts his head back down on me. I allow myself to feel the goodness, let it soak into my consciousness.

There’s a lot I still have to face. Mother. Grandaddy. The consequences of spilling my secrets out into the world. But when his breath evens out, and his weight presses down on me, a calm settles over my mind, because no matter what I’m going to have to deal with, I won’t be doing it alone.