Milo Post Chapter Nine (NSFW) (Patreon)

A/N: Be warned that his is NSFW. And it is angsty.  

With his head tossed back, Milo widened his stance, back butted up against the table. The tavern was empty now, the patrons having cleared for the night leaving nothing but a low burning fire in the hearth and the soft sound of music elsewhere.

“Is this what you wanted?” they asked, looking up at him from between his legs.

Reaching down, he cupped their cheek, thumb catching on spit covered lips.  “You know I’ll always want you,” he told them. He couldn’t see them. Their features were hidden in the flickering light of shadow, the swinging lanterns above having long since gone out.

They smiled. It was that soft and sweet smile that made Milo forget about everything bad in the world. The one he knew was just for him. It made him feel cherished and zeroed his entire world in on the feeling of actually belonging for once in his life. When it was followed up with a long lick up the length of his cock his back arched and he hissed in pleasure.

“Answer me, Milo. Is this what you wanted?”

His chest rose and feel, hair sticking against his forehead.  He could feel the way his belly tightened under their fingers, the muscles shifting and tensing in desire.  He didn’t know what they wanted. He just wanted to make them happy. To keep them safe. Why couldn’t they understand that?  Why couldn’t he understand that? As the heat licked up his spine, twisting around him in a tight grip of pleasure, he shook his head back and forth.

“Answer me, Milo.” Their breath was ghosting across him, causing him to become red and aching.  Their lips were so close, wet and open and so very teasing.

“I don’t know what you’re asking,” he panted. If he knew, he would answer them.

“Did you want to be in control? For once?”  They sucked gently on the head, causing Milo’s mouth to fall open and his hands to grip the edge of the table. “Didn’t you want to control something and call it your own?”

“What?” he frowned as he looked down at them. “No. What are you even talking about? I never wanted to control you.”

The smile twisted a bit, turning slightly cruel. “You sure about that?”

He didn’t know how it happened but suddenly he was inside them. They were flat on their back, moaning and writing as they fucked themselves wantonly against him.  Milo’s head dipped, his nose running up the line of their collar bone.  Slowly, his hips began to move, the table beneath them creaking with each thrust.

He could hear his own voice, a low whisper in their ear.  “I never wanted to control you,” he breathed against them, thrusting hard to elicit a soft whine. “I never wanted any of that. I just wanted you.  Your body. Your heart. I wanted something for me for once in my god-damn life.” The table slid across the floor as he thrust into them hard, holding their thighs and bending their legs up near the chest.  A sharp hiss of breath filled the room as sweat rolled down their bodies, the two of them sliding together in the muggy dark of the old tavern.  “I want to make you feel good,” he whispered.  “I want to be inside you.  I want to make your eyes roll back in pleasure and when you’re a shuttering mess beneath me. I want to tell you how fucking beautiful you are just for giving it all to me.  When you walk through the market I want you to feel my cum dripping down your thighs and I want you to ache for more.”

Reaching between them, he began to play, wringing every ounce of pleasure from them as he could.

“And in return, I want to feel the same,” he told them, twisting his wrist and pumping himself deeper inside them. “I want to see your fingers inked into my skin the next morning because you gripped me so tight. I want my cock to ache with how good I fucked you. I want every inch of me to be boneless because you rode me so hard that I forgot my own fucking name,” he growled. Spreading their legs wide, he began to fuck into them in earnest, feeling his balls begin to tighten as his own release was near.

A soft hand came up, cupping his face, turning his amber eyes towards them.  “Then just let me be yours,” they whispered.  “Tell me I’m yours and I can be it.”

With a growl, Milo lunged forward, capturing their lips. “Mine,” he whispered. “You’re fucking mine, you hear me? No one elses. I don’t care about the rest of the world. I don’t care about what will happen, I deserve to have you.”

“Yes you do.”

“I want to have you.”

“You have me.”

He dipped his head down on a broken sob. “Why can’t I have you?”

Milo woke with a start, aching and sweaty as he stared up at the shadowed ceiling of the distillery.  The rafters had once been wound with soft string lights, small little lanterns that dimmed as the day turned. They had burnt out so long ago now and Milo had never gotten around to changing them.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he let out a shaky breath.  He had returned from the tavern only hours ago, after dropping them off at Hazel’s.  The two of them had been pressed together outside the gate, mouths hungrily devouring each other as hands wandered just a little too low.  Milo had grinned, nipping against their lips as their hand snapped at his suspenders before snaking down to cup him through the tight fabric of his trousers.  They had gotten bolder. Far more likely to surprise him now than he was them.  It was perfect really and sent Milo’s heart fluttering in his chest with a sense of happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

And just like that, it was all snuffed out.

Like everything else in his life, it was a fleeting feeling that would never last.

Tossing the sweat slick sheets from his body, he hit the mattress with his fist, gritting his teeth as he felt that familiar pulse between his legs.  He had things to do today.  This was the last thing that he needed to be indulging in.

Yet when his hand went down to adjust himself, he felt his cock twitch in need.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Gripping himself, he squeezed tightly, his thumb dragging slowly up the thick vein, circling the head and playing with the slit.  He turned his face to the side, burying it in the pillow as he huffed out a pained breath. He shouldn't be doing this. He absolutely shouldn’t be doing this.

But the dream had been so good. It had felt so good.  Why couldn’t he indulge in it just a little longer?

Tossing his free arm over his face he began pulling at himself roughly, wincing at the tight drag of skin and lack of slick. He didn’t care if it hurt or left him raw. He just wanted it done with. He just wanted to spill across his closed palm and get a few more hours of sleep before he had to start the shit fest that was his life.  But it wasn’t enough.

Rolling over, he got on his hands and knees, jerking between his legs and imagining them beneath him.  He imagined spilling against their skin, rubbing it between their naked thighs before going down on them himself, bringing them to completion and feeling their pleasure against his tongue.  Sucking on a finger, he reached around, playing with his backside, seeking out his puckered hole to feel the tight burn.  He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining it was them.  Their fingers. Their tongue. Their body fucking him over and over and over again until he was left screaming into the pillow for more.

But it wasn’t enough.

It just wasn’t ever enough.

Collapsing, Milo cried into his pillow, feeling tears of frustration wet his cheeks.

He would never be enough.

He hadn’t been for his mother or father. He hadn’t been for Malcolm or for Ever. He wasn’t for Hazel. And he certainly wasn’t enough for them. He had failed them above anyone else.

Curling his body into a tight ball, he hugged his pillow, his father's words coming back to haunt him still. “You will always be alone. Who would want someone as corrupt as you.”

“Shut up,” Milo whispered against the ghost of it all. “Just shut the fuck up.”

A hand ghosted down his back, something soothing and warm. Startled, Milo sat up, looking around the room.  It was empty, just as it had always been. But he had felt it.  That slow glide of comfort.

Wiping at his eyes, he looked around nervously. “Hello?”  There was no answer.

Taking the blanket, he pulled it up to his chin and laid back down. He had a few hours yet before he needed to get up.  It was best he got some sleep.

As he closed his eyes, he tried to clear his mind. And outside the window, the one high above in the distillery that led to the rooftop, the lanterns swayed.