I may have gone a teensy bit wild on this band, Chase Atlantic. And by wild I mean obsess over them like they were underwater oxygen. Anyways, here's another good one.

Julian's POV:-

"I heard what happened with Max."

"Shut up." I look back to look out for Luke.

"Julian, he does it so that the Coach doesn't have to," Dylan explains. "Believe me, you don't want the Coach to teach you a proper lesson."

I could still remember the time when Coach had lifted me off the ground by my collar. His breath stank of cigarettes and coffee. I suppress a shudder, and go to the corridor crouching low. We had drawn lots earlier, and Luke was the seeker. From what Ian told me, he was pretty good at it.

The old library was actually just a room but the guys used it to refer to the whole place. There were two buildings and a ground in between them. Everything was dusty and faded, giving Harry Potter vibes. The corridor windows had no glass so we could be spotted from below.

Ian appears on the other end, and beckons us warning us to stay low. "Luke is coming from this side. We need to know which way he's entering. The window is too risky. We need to use that opening."

I look up at the small hole up on the wall.

"Julian, Dylan will lift you up."

"Why me?" Dylan and I, ask in unison.

"Because you are the lightest," Ian says to me. "And you're the strongest," he says to Dylan. Dylan crosses his arms. Ian sighs, "Fine. This is a new jacket. I don't want to spoil it."

Dylan looked too bored to argue, so he just offers me his shoulder. I gulp and look at the wall.

Dylan pats his shoulder, "Climb up, Mon- hh..."

"Monh?" Ian asks, watching Dylan cough.

Dylan clears his throat, "Man. Climb up. My good man."

I scowl, "If you are going to make me your sticky spider, then at least call me your sexy man."

Ian snorts. Dylan patiently waits, crouched down. I grit my teeth, and step closer. Dylan fiercely meets my eye.

"We won't let you fall."

Beside him Ian grins, "But we might push you off the ledge."

I shake my head, untying my shoes, "If I die I'll be haunting both your asses."

Dylan smiles. "You couldn't have chosen a better ass to haunt, Mo-oulian," he stutters at the end. I start to feel concerned.

"Moulian?" Ian quizzes. "What's up with him?" he asks me. I shrug, and place my socked feet on Dylan's shoulder.

"This is not what I meant, when I said I want to put my feet on your shoulder," I mutter under my breath. Dylan coughs then holds my ankle.

"I'm so glad, your feet don't stink," he grunts hoisting me up. "Anything, JULian?" he asks, emphasizing my name.

"Not yet," I answer, peeking over the ledge. "Oh wait. He's going into the bushes. Prolly to take a whizz or check."

"Hmm.. Julian careful," Ian warns when my balance falters. "Now is not a good time to haunt my ass. I ate Swedish Meatballs last night, and they are making my air biscuits extra breezier."

Dylan gives a disgusted smile. Ian continues, "I swear, man. And the best thing if you look carefully, it resembles a green banana before it.. you know, fades away. I'll show you."

"I beg you. Don't."

"Guys!" I hiss. "He's entering the left wing!" I get off Dylan's shoulder.

"In that narrow hallway," Dylan whisper shouts.

"No! It's too dusty," Ian pales, earning a pissed look from both of us. He rolls his eyes, "You guys go. I'll find a new place."

Dylan puts a hand between my shoulders to helm me towards the hallway. It looked casual on the outside, but only I could feel the gentle squeeze at my nape and the thumb moving inside my sweater's collar.

The hallway was bombarded with old shelves and chairs. We carefully climb to the other side, making as little noise as possible. It was a good hiding place but the problem was that in was covered in chairs and pews on the other side. Some broken, some stacked on each other. We stand in the space we find, afraid to knock something off and give away our locations.

Dylan leans against the wall, and tries to look cool. I ignore him and look around worried Luke will jump our asses. He clears his throat, "Do you know how to climb?"

"What?" I whisper.

"Climb. Like windows, trees, walls?"

I scowl, "Why? I'm not climbing anything and then falling down and breaking my delightful bone structure. Nor am I climbing into any of your ex's house to retrieve your clothes or shoes."

"You've done that?"

I grit my teeth, "For Lia. Bitch ran two blocks in bra, only to realize she left her top back. She was too tipsy to make a proper climb again, so forced me to haul my ass up. Worst daymare."

Dylan nods, brooding and looking at the ventilators. We hear footsteps and press back further into the shadows.

"Move!" I whisper furious.

"There is no space!" Dylan hisses back.

"You are really not gonna like what I'm gonna do next." And I shift.

Dylan gasps, "Is that... Oh God. Julian, you sicko! Why are you hard right now?"

"I don't know! I saw you biting your nails, and..."

Dylan looks at me shocked. I helplessly shrug, "I'm a teenage boy. It takes very little to get me up. Look, I know its not the ideal explanation-"

"Just shut the fuck up," he snaps. "And stop poking me."

"Sorry," I smile sheepishly, and put my hand in front. Dylan watches my hand, and groans quietly, "Don't do that. I like it when you touch yourself."

"And I am the sicko," I mumble. Dylan glares at me, but quickly crouches lower as Luke runs by.

"We need a new place," Dylan mumbles watching Luke from the gaps between shelves.

"Yes, with a garden and sun roof," I agree.

"What?"

"I said, won't people get suspicious if we hide together?"

"Max and Alex hide together all the time. This is not an anti-gay place, where our every action will be scrutinized," Dylan rolls his eyes. 

"Why are those two closer than the rest of you?"

"When we were seven, Alex did a heroic thing where he pushed Max off an accident. Max can be quite sentimental. I know you won't believe me but he's very sensitive. He refused to leave Alex alone after that incident, and Alex liked being the only guy who could change that stubborn bull's mind. So it all worked out... There. I see it. The private reading room."

"Fancy," I nod, running after Dylan holding his hand because I can.

He closes the door, and I let him check around through the windows once more before slamming him into the wall. He hisses sharply then slumps his shoulder. "Fucking finally," he mumbles, holding my face.

We knock down an old lamp, when Dylan walks me back deeper into the room. We still to hear any noise, before I grab Dylan's collar to push his into a desk. "Jump on," I say getting breathless.

My hands spread his knees apart till they touch the desk. I put my face inside the collar of his olive green shirt and take a deep breath from his honey skin. He always smelled like vanilla. Heady, creamy, dreamier than Maldives, making you want to climb into his body.

Dylan grabs my neck and brings my mouth to his. My lips shape themselves to his mouth. I coax it open with soft nibbles and strokes. His mouth is so soft and hot, tasting bitter yet sweet, like he had been eating a coffee flavored toffee. Our kisses get filthy and wet, and I love it. I kiss, and kiss him. Still my body demands more. My skin is tingling with the need to be touched by him. And there's that never ending need between my legs, where in the privacy of my mind, I had imagined his hands and mouth in thousand ways.

Dylan tortures me in many ways. I think the most frustrating one was on the field. Seeing him run, his hair flopping on his head, the sun gleaming on his sweat slicked body. I would long to hold his wrist and feel that pulse, the slender bones in them. Even now I'm aware of how snuggly he had fit my cheek in his warm palm.

I cross my arms to his back, feeling the heat from his shirt seep through my sweater. He moans when I suck the hinge of his jaw. I blow air down his half-open shirt and he sighs.

"Monkey. Monkey. My Monkey," he murmurs squeezing my shoulder. Once again I felt that sharp feeling that accompanied everything I felt for him. It's like a deep rooted fear that this might be the last time I see him. Next time we meet he could be telling me he can't stand me anymore and I won't have any tricks up my sleeve to stop him.

"Dylan," I whisper, hugging his waist. "Please," I say, even though I have no idea what I'm begging for. He seems to understand something, cause he presses my face into his neck rubbing my shoulder.

"You okay?" he asks, tipping up my chin. I nod. "Really okay?" he narrows his eyes. To avoid answering I kiss the corner of his mouth, and trace the curve of his bottom lip with my tongue.

My hand traces the inner seams of his jeans. He catches my wrist when it nears his thigh. His grip is almost painful, but not as painful as the look on his face. "I already owe you two blowjobs. Don't."

"Owe me?" I laugh surprised. "Darling, you don't owe me anything." He released my hand once he was sure I won't try anything.

"Shut up," he mumbles, looking at my mouth with naked lust. The way he looked at me sometimes made me worry if he'll be okay.

I clear my throat, "You did give me one good hand job though. But are there any standard rules of bargaining? Like one blowjob equals two hand jobs?"

If only Maths were that easy..

The corner of his mouth kicks up, and I feel weak in my knees because it's so fucking unreal. I love his curly brown hair, his brown eyes, his smooth face with faint freckles and red lips that always looked supple. He must drink a lot of water to keep them that way. Mine always get chapped and dried, till I steal Lia's lip balm to heal them.

Dylan's one hand squeezes my waist, blocking the imagery of his pretty lips wrapped around my cock vanish. "Don't zone out Monkey," he says huskily, his lips grazing my earlobe. I groan. Why does he keep calling me Monkey?

It makes me fall for him. Its not the word, its the way he says it. Like a playful, affectionate teasing only meant for me. Makes me feel special, and loved. He kisses beneath my ear, and cups me. "So stiff Julian," he murmurs appreciatively. I rock my hips, letting him feel me on his hand.

Smiling, I press my lips to his. Dylan opens his mouth and quietly touches his tongue to mine. My hand also strokes the fly of his jeans. "You're only half hard," I say accusingly. He chuckles, "I've got much better control babe."

"Yeah, I remember," I tease him, thinking about the bathroom stalls when he nearly suffocated me. Those were albeit crazy, but good times.

He entwines our fingers. "Hang on," I say trying to free them.

"Why?"

"Um.. I want to scratch my butt." His lips twitch.

"Why, allow me, Mother Supreme," he says loftily, and actually scratches my left cheek.

"How did you-"

"You were tilting leftwards," he answers. "Better?"

"You're disgusting. Do it again." 

He laughs.

My thumb rub his collarbone. "What do you like?"

Dylan looks amused. "Almost everything except you." He winces when I poke his chest.

"Liar," I chide, though half certain he was saying the truth. "I meant in bed."

"Oh," Dylan looks at me. Then blinks. "I would actually love some boundaries. And space."

He bursts out laughing at my flushed face. God, I am an idiot.

I bristle, "Fine don't tell me. I will get it out of you." If I magically don't screw things up before.

"So confident, Monkey," he playfully squeezes my butt. I lift my chin stubbornly.

"Anyways, thank you for scratching my ass."

"It's okay. In return, you can scratch my left nut."

"The hell," I say disgusted, but I'm laughing. Dylan pulls me closer by my waist and puts his face on my shoulder listening to my laugh. We were lazily making out when we hear loud shouts from outside, indicating Luke found out Ian.

I plant my hand on the table between Dylan's legs. He grunts, and clumsily grinds his crotch against it, as desperate as me to relieve some pressure.

He winces when my hand brush against his inner thigh. "I started jogging in the morning. Too much exercise got em chaffed."

I pinch his bottom lip with my teeth, "Unacceptable. The only reason your thighs get chaffed is because my head kept bobbing between them."

"I'm not letting you near my spectacular bone," he says, moaning in relief when I press my thumb over him.

"Why? Are you mad at me?" I ask, kissing then biting beneath his ear. I am careful not to make a mark.

"I'm always mad at you," he pants, squirming when I fondle him.

"Why?" I ask, although I know countless answers. He lets out the breath he'd been holding when I take away my hand.

"Hmm.. Let me think," he murmurs, and pretends to think, looking away and chewing his lip. He's being playful, and I want to push him off the table and scream at him to beat me. I want him to kick me away, because of how horrifying I have been. And I know, I should leave him alone because he has so much to give, and I have nothing to offer except my damaged toxic self.

Instead I swallow, and lean closer to kiss his neck. He closes his eyes and lifts his face offering me more. "Why, Dylan?" I whisper, grazing my teeth along his neck. "Tell me." I want to hear him say it. A reminder for both him and me.

Dylan gulps, "Because you..." I stand straighter to look him in the eye. He also clenches his jaw, seeing I am serious. "Because you took away my privacy. Because you took my chance to come out. Because," he looks at the ceiling in frustration. I wait. "You," he says with a bitter smile. "Because of you, I can't date anyone else now. Julian, I-"

The door rattles loudly.

Dylan gets down the table pushing me deeper inside the room, "Go hide. I'll cover for you."

I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off, "Monkey, go." He pushes me behind the shelves. 

"Open up," Luke's voice comes up. Dylan sighs and goes to open the door. I squat down behind the mucky couch and make my way deeper into the room to hide behind a cupboard. I felt a dampness between my thighs, and look down to see the wet spot over the fly of my jeans.

I groan silently. Why again? I hate pre come. I know for sure Dylan has seen it, or at least felt it when he pressed his thigh into my crotch. I jump awkwardly to adjust some tissues into my pants.

"Thank you," Luke bows and comes inside. "Only Julian is left," he says to Dylan.

"I got no idea where he is," Dylan says with surprising sincerity. I pull out the white shirt that I had tucked in. It was longer than my sweater so it covered my crotch, but I looked messy now.

"Really?" Luke asks amused. "Then I must have seen someone else enter this room with you."

"Damn you, you book fucker," Dylan chuckles punching Luke. "Come out Julie."

"And out," Luke triumphantly announces when I emerge. "You both are bad at this."

"Where are the others," I ask. Luke points. He and Dylan trail behind me. I look back to see Luke chuckling, and Dylan flushed and trying to kick Luke's long legs. I take out my phone knowing what I have to do.

.................................

Dylan walks to the parking lot, confused. "Why are you calling me here? Not complaining though. Turns out, five years of art classes and I still can't draw an eye on a bird."

"You don't have anymore classes that are important, do you?"

"I hope not. What's up? Who's this?" he asks, glancing at Jerry beside me. I smile encouragingly at Jerry.

He holds up his hand for a handshake. Dylan takes it, confused. "Hi. I'm Jarrett. Call me, Jerry."

"I'm Dylan. Nice to meet you?" He looks at me, now looking a bit concerned.

After a moment of awkward silence, I realize I'm supposed to say something. "Oh, sorry. My bad. Dylan, Jerry wants to go on a date with you."

Dylan stills, his eyebrows raising high. "Beg your pardon?"

I clasp my hands, "Jerry, is from St. Patrick's school. He's not from this town. You have nothing to worry. It is all settled-"

"May I talk to you for a moment?" Dylan interrupts. "Alone," he bares his teeth.

"Excuse us," I smile at Jerry. He shrugs, leaning against a car. In my mind I approve of how well he has dressed for the date.

Dylan is dragging me by my elbow. At the end of the parking lot, he hurls me in front of him. "What are you playing at?" he snarls.

I step back surprised. "No, wait. Don't jump to any conclusions. I met him and his boyfriend at a party. They broke up last week, but I never went out with him, nor do I know him that well."

"What?" Dylan asks impatiently.

"You wanted an anonymous date. He knows no one from our school, or from our town, I think-"

"I don't care about that-"

I gasp. "Shit, he's not your type. I had not considered that. Sorry, Dylan. I'll send him back-"

"-good."

"-and get you someone else-"

"-what! No, Julian. For once in your miserable existence, shut the fuck up."

I close my mouth. Dylan rubs his forehead. "Why on earth, are you setting me up with guys? Is this some sort of a three way situation?"

"No," I shake my head. "Unless, you wanted to. I might do it for you-"

"Julian, focus!"

"Right. Sorry. I got you a date."

"You want me to go on that date?" he asks, looking disappointed. I nod, confused. Didn't he say he wanted to experiment.

"I know more people, if you don't like Jerry-"

"Shut your wormhole," he snaps, his eyes filling up. Fuck. He takes deep breaths, to calm down. "Stay away from me." he warns. "Something is very, very, wrong with you." 

"I know that," I yell back, but he was already storming away. Jerry waves to me, pointing towards Dylan. Fuck my life.

................................

I nervously avoid Dylan's glare. We were all standing together waiting for the crowd to clear after school. "Don't forget the jog tonight," Alex reminds Lia. Lia had fought her way into the boys running session with Max.

"Julian, and I will be punctual," Lia promises.

"No," Max cuts in. "Julian is staying home to meditate and ponder over his mistakes of the day." I don't know if he's joking or not, so I settle for nodding. "Rest of us will meet in the dead of night."

"Except Dylan," Alex chirps.

"Why? What is he doing?" Lia asks. Bless her curiosity.

"He's grounded," Ian replies. My ears perk up, "Grounded?"

Ian scratches his neck, "Actually, Alex, Dylan and I, got wasted in my backyard cause my parents were out for a date night. And Dylan suddenly felt he should go tell his dad how much he loves him and managed to escape our supervision."

"It wasn't much of an escape since you were begging to accompany Dylan," Alex raises a brow. He turns to Max, "Ian wanted to confess his love for Paul too. And Luke's father." Ian smiles sheepishly.

"That is bad," I mutter. "His father must have seen him drunk."

"Oh, it gets worse," Ian chuckles. "His father was in the front room watching TV, and Dylan went and laid down on the floor and asked for a belly rub."

Lia very openly laughs out, pointing a finger at Dylan. "You're such a dawg."

Alex grimaces, "You're not cool enough, to pull that off."

While Alex and Lia pinch and fight, I gasp when the realization hit me. "You're grounded," I say to Dylan.

Ian snorts, "That's what I said dumbass." But Dylan was looking at me in hatred and accusation. Shit, that is why he wanted me to climb a window. I close my eyes at my stupid brain.

When he wanted space and experiment, I barged in. And now when he wants me climbing into his room, I bring him a fucking blind date. Bloody great.

....................................

Paul doesn't say Dylan's grounded, instead welcomes me into his house. I know it's a long shot, but I still go to Dylan's room and knock his door, calling his name. He doesn't answer like I expected so I go downstairs to the kitchen where Paul was making himself a snack.

"Mind if I visit, Vin?"

"Not at all," he smiles and lets me into their backyard. I go to the impressive coop they got. Outside the door, I peer inside. "Vin?"

I hear no sound. Maybe she's sleeping. A little loudly I say, "Vinnie? Vin? Love, you there?" I go closer. "Vin?" I try again. Maybe she doesn't like humans. I put my head inside. God, it smells in here.

Then I try clucking like a chicken, hoping she might pop her head out from the hay.

"You can't even give space to a chicken."

I jump, and take my head out, embarrassed. Fuck, was I really clucking right now.

"I thought, she was feeling lonely," I say with as much dignity I could muster, not that I could have much left. Vin was happily sitting in Dylan's arms.

"She is fine," Dylan rolls his eyes. "And stop clucking. You don't know the bird language, and you might say something that could offend her. I don't want her to stop the egg supply."

"Or, she might appreciate some banter in her language. People love to hear their native tongue spoken. It must be the same with animals too," I nod.

"You're stupid."

"Am I? Watch this." I crouch to Vin's level and trying clucking. Dylan gasps, and covers Vin's head protectively.

I stand straight, looking stunned. "Oh. My. God. Were you trying to cover her ears?"

Dylan pinks, "I-I was-"

"You don't know, birds have their ears in their stomach?" I ask in disbelief. "Holy crap, you don't even know the basic biology."

Dylan juts out his chin, "Of course, I knew that. I'm not an idiot. They have their ears in their stomach so that they can listen for food as they walk." I almost laughed. Almost.

Dylan continues, "I just didn't want her to look at your ugly face." Then he gingerly adjusts Vin in his arms, and fumbles around her body as if looking for her earlobe, then settles for widely spreading his hands on her stomach.

"Be careful. The baby eggs in her stomach also listen through her ears," I say seriously. Dylan flusters, and moves his hand around, looking troubled. I continue gravely, "You gotta be careful, man. I mean, it's bad enough you are eating the unhatched chicks, but robbing them of the privilege of listening to the sounds of the world."

He stares at me for a second, then sighs. "Julian, what are you doing here?"

"I came to apologize. I somehow offended you."

"Damn right, you offended me."

"I shouldn't have tried to set you up. Look, I'll just send you all the numbers I know and you can choose-"

"For fuck's sake, man!" Dylan exclaims. "Why are you so adamant that I go out with someone else? Weren't you the one, who tracked me down like a complete psychopath-slash-stalker, when I went on a date?"

"Yes! And I realized that I was wrong. I mean, I always knew I was wrong, but you get me so mad with all the teasing and kissing that I get a little crazy. Not that I lack in that department. But then, today you were saying why you were mad at me and I...."

I take a deep breath, "Dylan, I can do nothing about outing you. I cannot undo it. But this. Your idea of experimenting, that I can help you with. No matter how much, I want to blow up all the nice restaurants with dynamite, so you'll only get to go to crappy dates."

Dylan's jaw loosens.

"Look, I'm willing to step back. I mean, you don't need my permission or any approval from me. I just wanted to let you know, I'm trying to improve. Even if it means chaining myself to the bed while you go on dates."

Dylan laughs briefly, "You're such an idiot. If you only had listened to what I said."

"What?"

"Forget it. Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Yes. Chickens don't have ears in their stomach."

That earns me a kick in the ankles. We stand there quietly for a moment. He bites his cheek, "You know, I'm lowkey surprised."

"Why?"

"I didn't know, you knew you were wrong."

"Yes, Dylan," I sigh. "As much as you like to believe I'm Ted Bundy's descendant, I'm not. I have a hard time sorting things out." The poor lad must sleep in terror that I'll tattoo my name on his chest at night.

To kill the awkward silence, I repeat, "I know, when I'm wrong-"

"-and irrational," he adds quickly.

"-okay."

"-and toxic."

"-fine."

"-and infuriating."

"-I think, I got your point."

"-and evasive. And intrusive, crazy, impulsive, manipulating."

I scowl, "I'm going to say very nasty things about you to Vin."

And that's how Paul found us. Dylan squeaking and running around the backyard, trying to sheild Vin, and me running after him quacking, and flapping my elbow.

We both stop, and look at him ashamed at being caught. Paul crosses his arms, "Give me one good reason, why I shouldn't send you both to therapy?"

"I could develop a teenage drinking problem, so you should be saving money for a liver transplant?" Dylan offers.

His dad considers for a moment, then gives the briefest of nods before disappearing into the house.

"Also, he is beyond therapy," Dylan slyly adds in his direction, tilting his head in my side.

"Hey!" I punch his shoulder, though I fear he might be correct. 

"C'mon," he mutters putting Vin in her house and locking the door. I follow him to his room, wondering why Paul didn't say anything. Upon enquiring he flusters then tells me to shut up.

I flop down on his bed, while Dylan went to wash his hands. "Hell no!" I pale, when Dylan starts to run towards the bed. He catapults and lands heavily on me laughing wildly. I can only groan, but my hand don't push him away. They hug him.

He sits on my stomach, his mood weirdly playful. My eyes widen in surprise when he starts to twist my hands and pin it above my head. His grin widens when I struggle. But he doesn't know my dad put me Judo lessons when I was ten. I hook my leg around his ankle, and flip him around.

Dylan laughs louder, thrilled. 

I take off his t-shirt, and he doesn't protest. My lips kiss the lines of his shoulder, and move down to his soft, downy chest. My nose nudges the small squares packs on his stomach, and I feel Dylan curling a loving hand around my ear. 

I don't flinch these days. In the beginning whenever Dylan brought his hand anywhere near my face, I would grimace or flinch. Thankfully he never noticed me stiffening, too consumed with his own vexations. Those days I had trouble blocking George from my mind.

George was short tempered. Anything wrong, and he would punch me. He knew my dad had a loose hand with his belt, so it was like he assumed that punches from him meant nothing to me. I'll admit, I did think I deserved it for some time. And after every hit he would come to me sweet and loving, kissing me, and pampering me which was the kind of attention a love-starved person like me looked for. Those moments, his moods, me throwing myself at him made me believe I was in love. 

Not even Lia knew, George was abusive. I didn't tell her because I knew she would make me stop seeing him. And my horny ass liked getting fucked by George. He was quite a sight with black hair, black eyes, an evil mouth with an even wickeder smile. The starting three months were bliss, before he showed his real face.

True, I used to annoy him. Going against people gave me specific kind of relief. My dad once broke my ankle in anger because things didn't go exactly the way he wanted at Grandma's birthday party. It involved my cousin playfully shoving me, and me crashing with the waiter who carried oysters, but I was the one at his disposal. 

After spending your days holed up in fear, and summited into blind obedience, the beatings I would get from George and my bullies because I defied them felt good. It felt liberating to openly put in my voice, and do exactly the opposite of what others wanted. Of what I wanted.

This very habit had almost ruined my relationship with Dylan. I never wanted to do any of those things, but I still did it out of impulse.

After such a troubling relationship, Dylan came to me like a sun on a rainy day. I have never been with someone who actually takes care of me. Usually they are with me for my pretty face, and because I have money to take them on expensive dates. Dylan doesn't even notice the fact that I'm rich. All I have to do is cry, and he melts. I love it. So easy.

George once slapped me because I was irritating him. When I cried, he simply groaned and left the room. Ever since Dylan tells me how I should not let anyone beat me, I've started to realize I deserve better. And also that he deserves better. Not me. 

Dylan showed me that he can make me fall for him without playing with my brain, or making me cry, which in turn makes me cry, which in turn gets me what I want. Till now, from what I've seen and experienced, relationships include fifty percent manipulation. I spend hours trying to figure out, what's his angle, and ended up enlisting every toxic behavior practiced on me and how I project it myself. 

He is so good. So fucking good to even give me another chance. I shiver when his fingertips lightly brush beneath my jaw. I move further down.

I look up in time to see the protests forming on his lips, but I stop him. "I won't."

He nods, and folds one hand behind his head watching me with parted lips. His breath halts when I press my nose into his crotch. My lips bite the curved sausage forming over his boxers and he groans behind his throat. My hand slide up his knees, rubbing his thighs. I decide to test the limits, and press my mouth over his balls.

Dylan clutches my neck, and hauls me upwards to kiss me down into the mattress. He gets on top of me. "You have such a nerve," he growls. I laugh into his mouth and press our hips together, earning another anguished moan from him.

He watches me with bright eyes, and a red face. He looked happy. And for now, that is enough for me. 

I'll just jerk off later.

................................ 

Does my dad complain about people coming to office when they're sick? Yes.
Does my dad stay home when he's sick? Hell no.

My college opened guys, and I have to study and do other mortal tasks. Gross. But it's nice to be back in college and ogle at cute seniors. I highly recommend it. 

Hope you liked this chapter too! Thank you for all the comments and votes. And if anyone is wondering why I am double updating these days, well it is not intentional. See the chapters I write and the scenes which I have to include go really long, so I have to split it into two. But I did not mind all the appreciation, so keep that coming. 

Also, you people have the most amazing usernames. Some are adorable, some have me giggling, and some have me cough out my morning tonic shocked. I love it! 

Good day to all. You look equally amazing dressed up, or curled up in your bed. That azz is killing it. Those hips are spilling sass and power. You're from a whole other dimension. Sorry, I'm rambling. I might be sleep deprived. So yeah.