Page 5

CHAPTER FIVE

I feel silly sitting in this bathtub, up to my neck in bubbles, but the guys insisted this would help relax my muscles after the hike, and I wasn’t in much position to fight. The last time I was in the tub, I was still playing with action figures, making them do backflips into the soap and pretending the world was flooding and they had to rescue everyone. Now, I just settle against the porcelain and let my eyes fall shut.

I thought I would hate today. Aside from majorly embarrassing myself in front of basically all of Dad’s employees, it was oddly nice to get out into the world again. So much time in the darkness made me forget that I kind of like being outside. I like the feeling of the sun on my arms and face. I like how much movement there is. In my bedroom, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights dimmed, everything just feels…still.

Sometimes I wonder what changed. Like, was there some major event in my life that I missed that seemingly altered the way I interact with everyone around me? Could I possibly pinpoint the precise moment when the chemicals in my brain became unbalanced?

I used to lie in bed and mull over this line of thinking for hours. I’d beat myself up about not being able to find it—like if I could just go back through my entire life and locate this little glitch, I could fix it and everything would be okay again. But I think it’s long past time to accept that there was no switch I flipped. I didn’t do anything to become like this. This…this person that can’t quite ever seem to be as happy as everyone else.

I smile bitterly to myself, shaking my head and stirring a cloud of bubbles in front of me with my fingers.

If there was nothing I did to end up this way, then it just happened. It doesn’t make sense that it could. It doesn’t make me feel better. But maybe it’s time to just accept that as the unshakeable truth. The part of me that’s conscious of my actions didn’t break me. It’s just something that happened . And maybe I can start growing more comfortable about that. Throwing my hands up and admitting that I’m not to blame.

I don’t know.

It feels like I don’t know anything anymore.

There’s a knock at the door, and before I can call out to enter, Sid cracks it open and steps inside. I make a move to cover myself with some of the bubbles, and he simply laughs.

“Fuck you covering up for?”

It’s a fair question considering he and I were taking turns sucking Derreck off not even twenty-four hours ago. Something about that kind of comradery (cum-radery?) makes modesty just feel forced.

“I dunno,” I laugh, my face growing warm. I sink into the water a bit more and bring my leg up to lightly scrub over my bruises. “Did you need something?”

He takes a seat on the closed toilet and gestures for me to hand over my bath sponge. I place it in his palm, making a face. Sid squeezes soap into the blue folds of the sponge, dips it in the bath water, and lathers it up.

“I wanted to check in on you,” he says. A moment later, he’s scrubbing my back in small circles. I let out a sigh, relinquishing control to the older man. “Derreck said you told him you were fine, but I had to check.”

“Oh wow,” I said, putting a hand over my heart. “You care that much, Sidney?”

He ignores my sarcasm to say, “I was a nurse back in the day. Tough habit to kick.”

“Bullshit.”

“I know. Nobody fuckin’ believes me when I say it, but it’s true. Went to uni for it and everything. Ma was a nurse. Wanted to be just like her. Turns out I was pretty good at taking care of people. Shocked everyone.”

I’m almost skeptical of Sid, but there’s no humorous tone in his voice like he’s playing a joke on me. It’s hard to imagine someone like him having gentle bedside manner, but stranger things have happened—this whole weekend, for instance.

“How’d you end up working for Dad?”

“I wasn’t cut out for nursing. Got too invested. Too attached. First time one of my patients died, I knew I couldn’t do it for long. Funny, ain’t it? Me being the softest fucker in the hospital. But it’s true.”

He sighs, and when I look over my shoulder at him, the hardened expression I’ve always attributed to him is nowhere to be found. There’s solemness in his eyes, the kind of resigned sadness I’ve only seen come from whatever the opposite of nostalgia is.

“Do you miss it?”

For a long time, he says nothing. He busies himself with taking care of me, inspecting my arms for any cuts or bruises. “No,” he says. “I can take care of people without being in that environment. And they didn’t have company trips like this.”

“No wild doctor orgies to sweeten the deal?”

He smirks. “I fuckin’ wish. You look okay. That’s good.”

“Just some muscle tightness. Nothing major.”

“Hurry up with this and I’ll treat that too.” Sid stands up from the toilet seat and looks me over, smiling at me.

“What?” I pull the bubbles up to cover myself again.

“Always thought you were a little snooty. You’re a good kid though. You just need to loosen up some.”

It’s like I can feel my heart squeeze at the statement. Derreck likes everyone, and Julian is probably the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, but a compliment like that from Sid… It makes my stomach do a flip, but instead of showing it, I roll my eyes at him. Can’t let him think it means that much.

“I’m an acquired taste,” I tell him, trying my best to appear unaffected. “You just had to refine your palate a little. Glad you’re finally up to speed.”

Sidney groans and throws my scrubby at me, sending me into a fit of laughter. “Hurry the fuck up. I’ll be in my room. And I left something for you under the sink. Use it or not, up to you.”

A moment later, I’m left to my own devices. Only when I can tell Sid’s gone do I let myself laugh again, this time easing out the giddiness that’s filled my belly like carbonation. As intimidating as he tries to make himself seem, I think I know the truth about Sid. A wounded healer, I think that’s what they call it.

Someone who’s able to help because they understand that hurt firsthand. It’s inspirational. I’ve wallowed in my own shit for so long, and here Sid is, able to turn his own pain into a salve for others. As I finish up my bath, I find myself wondering if it’s possible for me to do something like that. If it’s possible that I could take all these miserable months and mold them into something good rather than letting it all go to waste.

After drying off, I take some time with my lotion, careful not to press too hard when it comes to some of my fresh bruises. I test out my leg, apprehensively flexing and relaxing my calf to avoid the aftershock that can come from cramps. Everything seems to be in working order, and I find myself chuckling at a scenario where, after convincing me for months to get out in the real world again, I come home to my parents with a broken leg and the meanest stank face I can muster.

Before I leave the bathroom, I squat down and pull open the door beneath the sink to find a note, and beside that, a green, white, and blue box.

The note reads, “Brought an extra. If your ass isn’t completely sore from the fall, use it. No pressure.”

I reach for the box, shaking my head when it finally clicks. This motherfucker so graciously and selflessly gifted me an enema. And here I thought I was done with cleaning up.

It takes about fifteen minutes, and while I get myself prepared, I sit on the toilet, tapping away at one of the many games I have on my phone. It’s honestly a blessing that I haven’t let myself get so bad that I’m blowing all my money on mobile games. I’ve heard Reddit horror stories, and that’s a statistic I refuse to be part of.

When I’m all cleaned up and positive painting won’t be a surprise activity on tonight’s agenda, I finally get dressed, tugging on a pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt. I drop my towel off in my room, then pad down the hall to find Sidney.

He’s in his bedroom, and I’m caught off guard by the massive California king he has. I thought my queen was impressive when we first got here, but this is just showing off.

“The star of the show has arrived,” I say, waving my hands in the air for some added flair.

Sid rolls his eyes.

“Got you a bandage,” he says, gesturing to the nightstand, where he’s seemingly prepared a few things for me. I crack a smile and carefully walk over to the bed, testing out how much pressure I can put on my ankle. It’s thankfully not broken, just sprained. I have a feeling a handful of Tylenol over the next few days will do the trick.

When I sit down, Sid wastes no time getting to work.

“I can do it,” I say, watching him unwind the elastic cylinder. Sid looks at me like I’ve suddenly turned Avatar blue.

“You weren’t listening to what I said earlier, were you, boy? Just let me.”

Rather than arguing with him, I take a deep breath and try to relax. Everything inside of me wants to take the bandage from his hands and wrap my ankle myself. I don’t like feeling useless, especially not around all these guys on the trip, but Sidney is resolute. He’s made up his mind, and that’s that.

With surprising care, he brings my leg up by my calf and drapes the fabric bandage around my ankle. He’s particular with his movements, presumably from time working with plenty of injured folks, yet it makes me smile nonetheless. Sid, who looks like he gets into barfights for fun and eats glass bottles for breakfast, acting as if he’s repairing a baby bird. His touch is so light, if I closed my eyes, I might not even feel the callouses on his fingers and convince myself I was being looked after by someone else entirely.

Once he’s done, he lowers my foot and looks up at me. “Too tight?”

“I get that often,” I reply. The worried expression on his face melts into a grin, and his face softens.

“I’m serious.”

“No,” I say, slowly rotating my ankle side to side. It actually feels better being wrapped like this. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” Sid remains on his knees for a moment longer, allowing his hands to travel higher, over my thighs. He gives a squeeze, and I flinch. “Still tense, huh? Be back in a second.”

I’m left alone in the room, and I let myself fall back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. With the sunlight fading over the mountains, Sidney’s bedroom glows an orange hue. After the adventure of a day I’ve had, I could honestly fall asleep just like this, sun-kissed and snug in his comforter. Thankfully, Sidney doesn’t take too long. He’s returned with something gun-shaped in his hand, and I make a face.

“For massages,” he smirks. “Lay on the bed proper.”

Carefully, I swing my legs up onto the bed and turn so that I’m lying with my head on his pillows. He takes a seat beside me and powers on the massage gun, clicking up twice. I feel myself tense the moment his hand is on me, and he glances my way.

“Relax. I ain’t gonna kill ya.”

It takes concentration, but I force myself to chill out, even as the foam head of the gun approaches. The sensation brings out a groan from deep within me, and it takes all my strength not to pull away from him. I know these deep tissue massages are supposed to help, but goddamn if this shit doesn’t have me gripping the sheets and breathing through my teeth.

“That’s it,” Sidney hums, working the tool deeper into my muscle. “I know it hurts, but it’ll feel good when I’m done. Good boy…”

Never thought I’d hear that from Mr. Degradation Kink twice in one day, yet it’s comforting all the same. I squeeze my eyes closed and grit my teeth, fighting back a whimper as he draws lines up and down my thigh with the gun. Despite how bad it feels at first, it’s nothing compared to the charley horse from earlier in the day, nor is it half as embarrassing as busting my shit on the hiking trail. Small wins, I suppose. I’ll write it in my gratitude journal or something.

That sentiment disappears when he reaches a particularly sensitive spot in my thigh, and that whine I barely held in breaks free. Sidney takes note of this, letting up on the pressure he’s applying, and he looks up at me when I lift my head.

“I can take it,” I say.

With thoughts clearly on the tip of his tongue, Sid presses down the massage gun like before, and I breathe through my teeth as the tenderness of my thigh is practically battered. His eyes are dark, focused on mine, and he parts his lips slowly when I groan. I don’t quit, though. For him, I keep my composure long enough to hear,

“I know what you want me to say.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. You want me to call you a good boy again. Want me to be impressed how well you can take this. I’m not.”

I can’t help the coy smile growing on my face at being clocked so easily. He presses even harder and I gasp. Before I can complain, he drags the foam head of the massage gun closer to my middle, to the crease of my leg.

“Nobody gets rewards for doing what they’re made for.”

“Is that what I’m made for?” I breathe, watching him move the tool closer and closer to my groin. The vibrations somehow feel even stronger, and I swallow hard.

“Taking what a man gives you? That’s exactly what you were made for, boy.” Sid narrows his eyes at me, guiding the gun to the base of my dick. I could almost laugh. The sensation is strange, a jolt in the pit of my stomach, and I nearly close my legs to shy away. It’s Sidney’s gaze that keeps me planted here on the bed, spread open as he teases me.

“If you’re not gonna give me what I clearly want, what are you gonna give me?”

Sid moves closer to me, “You wanna be told how good you are? Be told how proud you make someone? I’ll get D or Julian in here. They can kiss your arse. Give you all that praise and make you feel like a fuckin’ princess. Not me.” For emphasis, he glides the vibrations up to my tip. A shuddered exhale escapes me, and I bite down on my lip.

“That doesn’t answer my question. What are you gonna give me, Sidney?”

“Two fingers deep inside your hole, if you’re not careful with that mouth of yours.”

“You think I’m a bitch? That I can’t take three? Four?”

Sid’s bushy brow quirks up, and he narrows his eyes at me. I can’t tell if he’s upset with me or not until he’s climbing on the bed beside me, practically forcing me aside to make room. He places the massage gun against the bulge of my boxer briefs and grunts,

“You use what I left you?”

I nod.

“That’s a good slut.” He sets the massager aside and unceremoniously tugs at the waistband of my underwear. I raise myself up, dropping back to the mattress once I’m naked from the hips down. I’m as vulnerable as I was in the bathroom, but this time, there’s no denying my excitement. Sid swats at my erection, and despite how seriously he looks, I laugh out loud, nudging him with my shoulder.

“Stop.”

“You like it,” he murmurs, shooting me a smirk. Just as I’m getting used to his softening expression, he slips two fingers in his mouth, his eyes darkening. I watch, enamored as he wets them carefully, his full lips dragging slick lines over each knuckle. Sid then presses them past my lips, catching me off guard.

“The wetter you get them,” he says in a low voice, “The easier they’ll be to take.”

My dick throbs hard. I can’t say I’ve ever done something like this, but I don’t dare disobey Sidney. When he gives orders, I know it’s in my best interest to follow them like a good boy. Or a bad boy. I’m still working out which I like more. Never the less, I suck his fingers messily, making sure to leave saliva running down his knuckles when I pull back.

Sid examines them, but before he can move them between my legs, I grab him by the wrist. Confusion crosses his face, and without explanation, I spit directly on his two digits. Sid blinks, then sighs.

“Jayden…”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to fuck you until you’re sobbing.”

I bite back a smile. “Promise?”

“I fuckin’ swear it.”

He damn near growls with determination, and something deep in the pit of my stomach twists with anticipation. I watch, holding my breath, as he eases his hand between my legs. A second later, there’s a warm wetness against my hole. Sid’s pressure is surprisingly gentle at first.

“Open up for me.”

It takes a moment of focus, but I will myself to relax, not fighting Sid’s fingers as he presses them inside. The sensation puts a lazy smile on my face. Outside of the night before with the guys, I couldn’t name the last time I had someone else’s hands on me, touching me like this. Stretching me open around them. Sid’s eyes are dark as he watches my face contort, from a slight grimace, eyebrows knit together, to the way I soften when he finally makes it past the tightness of my muscles.

“There it is,” he says, grinning.

A bashful warmth of blush spreads across me, because even if I wanted to play hard to please and make Sid work for it, the effects of his touch on me are more than obvious. With his other hand, he reaches for the vibrating gun, pressing the button to turn it onto a medium speed. It’s embarrassing how tightly I clench around his fingers the moment I feel that buzzing drag over the tip of my dick.

“Fuck,” I gasp, staring up at him like he’s just electrocuted me.

“Thought you weren’t a bitch, boy,” he hums, narrowing his eyes at me.

I swallow and steel my gaze. “I’m not.”

“No?” Testing whether I’m telling the truth, he clicks the vibrator up higher, to the strongest setting, and presses it against my cock once more. “I won’t judge you if you are a bitch.”

I know he’s just saying that. He doesn’t mean a single word. If I give in and let him see this quickly how much he’s affecting me, I’ll never hear the end of it. That’s why I grit my teeth and reach forward, cupping my hand around the vibrating tip of the gun and holding it flush to the head of my cock. My entire body practically trembles in sync with the makeshift toy, but I don’t back down, letting my mouth fall open. It’s almost sensory overload, yet I only relax when he says,

“Now, don’t come too early.” Sid grins and knocks my hand aside, taking over once more. “You made your point, boy. Maybe you’re not a bitch.”

“Yeah,” I pant, forcing myself to cool off. “Maybe.”

The intensity of the massage gun subsides, and I’m once more reminded that Sidney currently has two fingers stuffed inside my hole. He works them slowly at first, curling them so he can stroke my walls. There’s something in his eyes, a fire I’m only becoming more familiar with each time we fuck around, but I think I’m starting to love that expression. It’s as if he can stop controlling himself. No more censorship, no biting his words or trying to be on his best behavior. Julian’s not around to soften what he says or does, and as much as I appreciate the good energy Julian brings, I like seeing this untethered side of Sid.

He sets the massage gun down on the bed and takes me in his rough hand, getting his palms slick with my precum. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I didn’t hold back, it wouldn’t take more than a few pumps for him to completely ruin me, but I hold strong. Not yet. Not when that dark look in his eyes is searing into me, his wicked smile growing wider with every second. He’s evil, and he relishes in it, working those fat fingers into my hole even more aggressively.

The sting of being stretched has fully subsided, and now rather than wincing, I curl my toes into the sheets, careful not to put too much pressure on my ankle as I begin thrusting my hips forward to meet his hand. I want every inch of his fingers deep inside of me, and I have no qualms showing it.

His filthy grin spreads across his face. “That’s it, boy. Give it to me. Give me this pretty little pussy.”

It’s not the first time I’ve been with a guy that used that word, but it sounds different coming from Sid’s lips. Dirtier, like despite the equipment I have, if he wanted to, he could turn it into a pussy just for him to use.

“Take it,” I tell him, preparing myself for the wrath I know he’ll undoubtedly unleash on me. And just on cue, a humorless smile spreads across his face.

“I don’t take what’s mine. You give it to me,” he says. Without warning, he pulls his fingers free and swats at my hole, making me jump. He circles my entrance again and again, and when I least expect it, he spits on it and stuffs it once more. “If I tell you to do something, you fuckin’ do it. If I say open for me, you spread your legs for Daddy, and you say thank you for whatever the fuck I decide to treat you with. You understand me?”

I cry out when he adds a third finger inside me and presses my cock flat to my stomach, grabbing the massage gun again without looking and trapping my length between my skin and the tool. He’s merciless, his fingers a piston while he absolutely torments the tip of my dick. I try to resist squirming, but I’m weak to my body’s reactions, writhing into the mattress as he takes full control.

“Answer me, Jayden.”

“Yeah,” I cry out. I can’t be fucked to care about how loud I am. Sid’s torment is too strong, too fucking good to worry whether Julian or Derreck are able to hear. Hell, the guys in the other cabin could hear me and I wouldn’t be able to even pretend to be bothered. I want them all to know, because Sid is demanding it, and being bossed around by him makes me nearly feral. It’s all his, whatever he wants.

I could continue to fight the feeling rattling through my body—the rising swell of my orgasm—but I’ve spent so much of my time being utterly impartial to my feelings. It’s as if the dark cloud of disinterest is slowly lifting, and I’m tired of living beneath it. More than anything, I deserve it. I deserve to feel this fucking good, completely overcome with everything Sid is doing.

“If you understand, then give me your fuckin’ load. Show me how thankful you are that I’m playing with your little sissy hole.”

I ruin myself for him, just like that.

I can only stare up at him, mouth agape as I release everything I’ve been holding back. The vibration against my cock is somehow the worst and best thing I’ve ever felt, practically ripping my climax from me. Rope after rope of cum splatters across my chest, and a stiflingly warm buzz weighs me down like a blanket. I grip the sheets and give up any hope of fighting off or maintaining my bratty behavior. Now, I’m only Sidney’s, and he’s turned me into a groaning, sticky mess.

“There it is,” he says with a chuckle. “All that fighting, and in the end, you’re still my little bitch. Aren’t you?” He pulls his fingers free and licks them clean, and if I could come twice this quickly, I’d be soaking myself in another layer of cum. Before I can answer, he slaps me in the face, stunning me. “Aren’t you?”

Not only did he drain my balls, but Sid’s drained any kind of resistance from me. “Yeah,” I say, dragging my fingers through the mess I’ve made all over myself. Licking it from my fingers, I stare up at him and say, “Slap me again.”

His second smack is even harder, and it makes my head spin. The urge to catch his hand and bite him crosses my mind, to be equally as aggressive. Something tells me he’d punish me for it and we’d both love every goddamn second.

I give him the softest puppy-dog eyes I can when I ask, “Again?”

He swings his hand back for a third, but there’s a voice from the other side of the room that stops us both in our place.

“No invite? It’s like that?” Derreck has his arms crossed over his bare chest, and his boxers hang low around his cut waist. Julian’s arm is wrapped around him, groping the front of his underwear while he rests his chin on the man’s shoulder.

“You’re more than welcome to join,” Sid grunts. “But I’m fucking him first.”