Shameless [Nathan Lloyd]

If it hadn't been for the tattoo, I would have passed off the night before as a nightmare. One that left me unsure how to feel. About myself. About Ash. About Vince. About anything.

Ash joined me downstairs at ten to seven. Her hair was back in a loose bun, and she was wearing tight jeans and a t-shirt that showed one shoulder.

She looked fresh and gorgeous, only instead of wanting to fuck her, I had the urge to give her a kiss on the forehead and tell her everything would be okay.

I suppressed the urge. It'd be weird. And God knew there was already too much 'weird' going on right now.

"Morning," she said, as I collected my laptop from beside the couch.

"Morning."

I avoided eye contact. Neither of us really knew how to deal with what'd happened the night before. I wanted to tell myself that he'd forced us to fuck him, but part of me knew it wasn't that simple. Whatever he'd tapped into was real and a part of us. He just happened to know how to prise it out into the light.

After Vince had left, we'd climbed into bed together and slept, me wrapped around her. I say 'slept', but between us I doubted we'd gotten much, both of us too disturbed to sleep. All I could feel was my own, cold cum sliding down my throat.

We got through work on autopilot and arrived home to find Vince sitting on the couch. He had a glass of wine in his hand and was watching a movie.

"You're making dinner tonight," he said to me as I came into the lounge.

I felt an instant stab of anger. I threw my laptop down. "I'm not your bitch!"

He swivelled his head to look at me. My heart beat faster as I waited for him to threaten me.

"I'll help, Nate," Ash said in a small voice.

Vince turned back to the TV.

Together Ash and I made dinner and delivered it to the table to a waiting Vince.

He examined our efforts and made a face.

"Cooking lessons start tomorrow. You can't live like this."

Ash nibbled her food, eating just enough to escape Vince's scrutiny, but I still wanted to throw up from the night before.

Eventually, Vince put down his cutlery.

"You seem to be struggling, Nate."

I shook my head.

"Tell me, boy who's 'not my bitch'—why aren't you eating?"

I dropped my gaze. "Not hungry. I'm going to go to bed."

He put his hand flat on the table in front of me. "You're going to stay here and eat."

"Vince—I was thinking we could hang out tonight," said Ash.

His gaze slid sideways to her.

"In my room," she said. She gave him a small smile.

He sat back in his chair and considered her. "All right." He gave me a cool look. "You're off the hook. For tonight."

I shoved my chair back and bolted to my bedroom.

As I shut the bedroom door, I realised my hands were shaking.

I sat down at my desk and turned on my computer. I couldn't get in my own head tonight. I needed to be anywhere else.

I logged onto Facebook and immediately saw the red 'message received' symbol at the top of the page.

There were three messages from Stella.

With a sigh, I opened the window.

'Did you tell my wife to divorce me?' was followed by; 'Don't fuck with my family, or I swear I will destroy you.'Time stamped an hour later, there was one, final message. 'I guess I'll see you soon.'

I sat back in my chair. This was not helping my state of mind. I looked back at the screen. 'I'll see you soon'. The guy had to know if he came after me I could down him with a single punch.

Unless he meant he'd come after me legally. But what could he do? I hadn't done anything illegal. Not even in my life away from Stella.

He is a programmer, though.

Which meant what, exactly? That he'd hack me?

No, 'see you soon' implied he was going to turn up on my doorstep, either with bigger, stronger friends, or a lawyer.

If it was friends, he'd have to pay them. A guy like him didn't have friends who could beat up a guy like me.

I closed the message window and scrolled through my feed. The same old shit came up as it had the day before. Fake news, clickbait and photos of people's meal choices.

I left the computer and lay on the bed. Propped up against a pillow, I scrolled through my contacts.

I stopped on Ty. Ty was responsible for this guy being in my house. Maybe Ty could get rid of him.

I pressed on his number. The phone rang twice and went to voicemail.

"Ty, call me back, you fucker. I need to talk to you about Vince. He's..."

He's what? Making me eat his gourmet cooking? Making me feel inadequate? Given me a satanic tattoo that's turned me into someone who slobbers on his cock any time he tells me to?

"Just call me."

I ended the call and lay back, frustrated.

A text came through. I picked up the phone, hoping it was Ty. But it wasn't Ty, or Stella. Or Paul, pretending to be Stella.

'Hey cutie, it's Marla. Do you want to catch up tonight?'

Marla. I searched my mental database. Marla. Ah yes, an online dating contact from months ago. A one-hit wonder, I'd thought at the time, but not an unpleasant one. The 'Tainted Love' of her gender. Memorable and eminently replayable.

'Where abouts?'

'I need to come to you—all my flatties are home tonight and I want to get loud.'

Here. I had a feeling that would play very badly with Vince. In fact, I wasn't sure she'd be safe from him. And then there was Ash.

I realised I couldn't do Marla, no matter how much I craved normal sex right now.

'Shit, I can't. Just remembered, I have to get up early tomorrow.'

Her pause conveyed her disappointment

"Okay stud. Another time.'

'Absolutely.'

I tossed the phone down beside me and my hand strayed to my jeans. But of all the scenarios I could play back, the only one that would come to mind was licking my own cum off the bedroom floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 19

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All week, Ash kept Vince occupied. It should have bothered me that they were boning, given how I felt about her, but I found myself in a mental daze, unable to turn myself on, unable even to raise enough emotional energy to get jealous.

Saturday came, and with it, Ty's birthday. It was a costume party. Although I hadn't heard from him all week, I assumed it was still on. Ty loved his parties.

I was planning to go as a pirate. I'd acquired some fake leather pants and a white muslin shirt off the internet. I'd also stolen eyeliner from Ash's room. I ringed my eyes with it and made a face in the mirror. Not quite Johnny Depp, not quite La Tigra, but not bad at all.

I checked myself out in the mirror and knew I'd outdone myself.

The doorbell rang. I was wearing makeup. Ah well, if it was Paul with a lawyer, this would make a great story. If it was Paul's paid pals, what I looked like didn't matter. I'd either be able to take them or I wouldn't.

I jogged down the stairs to answer it. Sure enough, it was Paul on the doorstep. I looked past him for signs of any larger, more dangerous friends he might have brought with him, but he seemed to be alone.

I lounged in the doorway, wondering what he could possibly want now.

In the heat of the afternoon, he was wearing a shirt that only just buttoned over the expanse of his belly, the buttons pulling apart to show distorted diamonds of pale skin. His crumpled shirt tails sat over the top of his pants, the fabric twisting up on itself like the edge of a dead leaf.

For a guy who looked like he'd just finished masturbating over Twilight Sparkle porn, he looked surprisingly confident.

I put my hand on the edge of the open door, ready to smash it into his face if he tried to force his way in.

"Hey Paul. What can I do for you?"

A lazy grin spread across his face. "Your mate, Vince, said you'd be here."

There was a creak on the stairs behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to find Vince walking slowly down the stairs. My heart sank.

Vince reached the bottom of the stairs and walked up to me. He placed his arm around my shoulders and addressed the fat bastard on the stoop.

"Paul? Don't believe I've had the pleasure." He put his hand out and Paul shook it.

Vince looked sideways at me. "Nate, I believe you know this man's wife?"

"She never mentioned she was married."

He patted my shoulder. "And when you found out, I'm sure you apologised profusely and offered to make it right."

Fuck, Vince. Really?I gave him a dark look.

Paul took in Vince's physical contact with me and I could see him trying to figure out the dynamics of the relationship.

I'd had enough. "Fuck off, Paul."

I started to shut the door, but Vince grabbed it with the hand that'd been resting on my left shoulder, holding it open.

"Nate, Nate, Nate." He placed his free hand against my chest and I felt as though a sledgehammer had thumped into me. I gasped and bent over and he rubbed my back as I broke into a coughing fit.

"What did... what did you do to him?" said Paul.

Vince kept his gaze on me and waited until I got my breath back. When I straightened up, he pressed his hand against the tattoo again, only this time the contact ignited my nerve endings in ways that were inappropriate in front of a guest. I felt myself swelling in my tight leather pants and winced.

"So, an apology," said Vince. He slapped his hand against my chest.

It was a warning, a reminder he could make me do whatever he wanted. Force me to submit to him, humiliate me in front of Paul for his amusement. Prove I really was his 'bitch'.

Well, fuck that.

It was one thing to fuck with my libido in private, but I was notabout to let him dominate me in front of another guy.

"You don't know the circumstances, Vince. I don't have to apologise for shit."

Paul sneered. "So you think it was okay to tell my wife to leave me?"

I gave him a cold look. "I told her to give you a chance, actually. Something I'm currently regretting."

Vince considered me. "Have you given this man anything in the way of an apology?"

I narrowed my eyes. "No."

Vince put his hands on my shoulders and shook me once. "Well. Now would be a good time."

I met his eyes. "I don't think so."

Vince gave me a look that promised all kinds of hell if I kept arguing with him. A presence boiled off him that made my skin crawl. If I didn't agree to apologise to Paul, I wasn't sure what he'd do. The thought excited me. But if something was going to happen, I wanted it to happen in private. Not in front of this balding idiot.

"Nate?" Vince prompted.

I looked up at Paul, shaking my head at the absurd amount of control Vince had over me. "Fine. I'm sorry I fucked your wife."

Seeing me contrite, there was a light of malicious joy in Paul's eyes.

"—in her pussy, and in her ass. I'm sorry for both of those. And for coming in her mouth so often."

Paul's grin turned to a look of burning anger. He looked as if he was about to have a stroke.

Vince's grip tightened on my shoulders and I gritted my teeth. "You couldn't help yourself, could you?" he said. He turned to Paul. "That wasn't the best apology, was it?"

Paul shook his head. "About what I expected."

"I thought the same," said Vince. "I think young Nate here thinks he bagged your wife through natural selection."

Paul's lip lifted in a sneer. "Before you, I was treating her like a good guy would," he said. Saliva flecked his lips as he spat the words at me. "I respected her. But after she told me what she wanted in bed, I fucked her like she'd never been fucked before. She said so."

He watched my eyes intently for my reaction to this revelation.

I imagined he truly had fucked her as she'd never been fucked before. I doubted she'd slept with any other sweaty, socially inept, tentacle-porn watching douchebags.

If Vince hadn't been there, I would have told him this. As it was, I said nothing.

"Paul, you'll enjoy this." Vince released his grip on my left shoulder and ran his hand up to the back of my head. He massaged his fingers into my scalp and then grabbed a fistful of my hair.

"Vince," I said, warning him to let go. He wouldn't dare humiliate me here. Not in front of this walking ballsack of a human being.

He brought his face close to mine and said, "On your knees."

"Vince—"

"Inteus."

All the strength left my body and he pushed me to my knees.

What the fuck was happening to me? I was strong enough to take Vince on, but I couldn't so much as raise my fist to him anymore. Instead, despite my humiliation, a thrill of excitement ran through me at the thought of what he was about to do.

Paul looked down at me with a mix of satisfaction and savage glee. "Does he have to do what you say?"

Vince's forehead creased for a moment and he gave a small shake of his head, telling Paul to shut up and just enjoy the moment.

He reached around me and unbuttoned the top button of my pirate shirt, his knuckles igniting my skin as they brushed against me. He undid the next button and slid his hands inside, sliding over my pecs, over that goddamn tattoo.

I gasped as his fingers traced the outline.

Paul just watched in wonder.

Vince undid the third, then the fourth button, and pulled the shirt down off my left shoulder, exposing the all-seeing eye to the air. He traced his fingers over the eye and I flinched under his touch.

Paul, who'd no doubt been playing Dungeons and Dragons while I was losing my virginity, seemed to instantly get the connection.

"Is that how you do it?" he said to Vince.

Vince didn't answer. Instead, he pulled the rest of my shirt up so that he could reach the buttons, and undid the last couple. He pushed the shirt off my shoulders and it slipped down my arms, gathering at my wrists where my hands rested on my thighs.

He placed his hands on my shoulders and kneaded his fingers into the muscles.

Paul grinned. "How does it feel, kid, to be on your knees in front of me in your shitty fake leather pants, half naked, about to suck another man's cock like the fuckboy you are?"

Very much like I'd gone to hell.

Paul put a hand to his zipper and glanced over me at Vince. "Do I—?"

Wait, what? I thought Vince was going to let him watch, not use me like a fucksock. Paul did not seem like the kind of guy who would want another guy to give him a blowjob.

Vince apparently gave him an affirmative, as he slid down his beige trousers and tugged down his pants, taking his Walter White tighty whities with them to pool around his ankles.

I gagged at the smell that accompanied his cock reveal.

"I knew I was coming here this morning," he quipped, as if this was hilarious. "So I fucked Stella in the ass last night and then didn't shower this morning."

I tried to look back at Vince, but he gripped my hair tightly, keeping me facing Paul.

"I've also had three coffees since six a.m."

Fucking douchebag.

I dropped my eyes, my face twisted with disgust.

Vince, still holding my head in place, crouched so that his face was next to mine. "Are you sorry you fucked his wife, Nate?"

I tried to nod, but his grip was too tight.

"Yes. Fuck, Vince! I'm sorry!"

He straightened back up. "Do you think he's learned his lesson?"

There was hunger in Paul's eyes. I didn't think he even cared about getting off—he just loved that I was helpless.

"I don't know. I see fear... but not remorse."

Fuck, what did remorse look like if it didn't look like this?

"Then I guess we need to hammerthe point home," Vince said, joining the innuendo party. "Open wide, Nate."

I pressed my lips together. No way was that used fuckstick going in my mouth.

Vince increased his grip on my hair and I felt strands of it ripping out of my scalp.

"Nathan Inteus Lloyd, open your mouth."

The second he said Inteus, a scorching pain ran through the tattoo. It felt as though someone had splashed acid on my chest.

I opened my mouth to breathe into the pain, and Paul took his cue and stepped forward, waving his oozing cock at my face. At least it wasn't that big. He was way smaller than me. Which explained why Stella had looked elsewhere for carnal pleasure.

Normally this would have given me a measure of satisfaction, but kneeling as I was, it was hard to indulge in schadenfreude.

"Open your mouth." Still holding a fistful of my hair, Vince used two fingers to massage the back of my head. "You shameless little shit."

Paul waved his dick at me again and tried to use it to part my lips. I put my hands up to push him back and Vince let go of my hair and grabbed my shoulders. He pressed his thumbs into the muscle, hitting some pressure point there, and I let out a strangled noise and dropped my hands from Paul's legs, biting the inside of my cheek to stop from crying out in pain.

"This is going to happen, Nate. What is it you like to tell your girls? Just relax."

Fucking asshole. Which was probably what he'd do to me, if I didn't stop pissing him off.

Paul waved his cock in my face. "Come on. You loved my wife's ass so much, here's one last taste."

He pushed his spongy head against my lips, his precum sliming my lower lip. Vince tapped his thumbs against my shoulders, warning me he'd hurt me again if I didn't comply, and I grudgingly opened my lips enough to let Paul push his way in.

The taste was revolting. The smell was somehow worse. Because he wasn't that long, I managed to take most of him in, leaving my nose buried in a bush of wiry, greying pubic hair.

He put a hand on top of my head, resting it there. The look in his eyes made me die inside. Just this one act broke any illusion of who held the power here. He was the one who made the money, drove the Audi, and had the smoking hot wife and a kid who was one casting call away from representing white chocolate on TV.

Who was I? Well, I was the guy with a fat guy's prick in my mouth.

"Is he making an effort?" Vince said to Paul.

Paul shook his head slowly, keeping his gaze locked with mine.

"Nate." Vince's thumbs dug in, just enough to remind me how much those pressure points hurt.

I ran my tongue along the underside of Paul's semi-erect penis and felt it jump. Another drop of precum ran from the tip and pooled on the back of my tongue.

Vince, sensing my lack of enthusiasm, dug his thumbs into my muscles enough that I pushed back against him.

"Do you want me to take you upstairs?" he said.

Hell no. I shook my head.

"Then suck."

Fuck it. The sooner this was over, the sooner I could wash my mouth out with bleach.

I held my breath to block out the stink of Paul's sweaty man meat, and started to suck, running my tongue along the underside of his shaft and then swirling it around the head.

He moaned and his fingers in my hair spasmed against my scalp.

He half closed his eyes and I ran my mouth up and down the length of him, using suction to try and get him off quicker.

Paul put one hand under his balls and squeezed himself gently.

Vince put out a hand. "Nathan can do that." He pulled the shirt the rest of the way down my arms and tossed it behind us on the stairs.

"Nathan."

At this point, I just wanted it over.

I reached up and cupped Paul's musty testicles, massaging his saggy sack with my hand.

He moaned and looked down at me, his eyes full of hunger, and a borrowed dominance that made my skin crawl. Guys like Paul didn't get to give me that look. Jealousy, hate, envy—that shit I was used to. But not this. Paul wasn't just not afraid of me anymore; he thought he owned me.

I rolled my shoulders, wishing Vince would move his hands and let me get myself of this humiliating position. Instead, he kept his grip on me, adding pain to humiliation.

Well, if he was going to force me to go through with this, I might as well finish it.

I wrapped my hand around Paul's mediocre cock and squeezed as I ran my tongue around his head. He moaned, pushing himself further into my mouth, and I sucked harder. Surely he couldn't last much longer.