Page 50 of Doubts of the Egoist (Egoist #3)

Gently, too gently. Rick kissed him the same way Kuon used to kiss women. Like someone fragile. It discouraged and fed his insecurities, making him wonder with what eyes Rick looked at him.

A knee wedged between his thighs, and a powerful thrust of taut hips shrank Kuon’s attention to the thin layers of soaked fabric separating their lower bodies, where something hard and hot pressed against his pubis. Something Kuon couldn’t bear thinking about.

Rick licked the seam of Kuon’s mouth, begging him to put some passion into the kiss. Kuon replied with a twitch of his jaw, but even that felt awkward.

He wasn’t sure how to react or where to put his hands.

His nails clawed helplessly at the grout lines on the wall behind him.

His gaze settled on a three-light vanity lamp mounted above the mirror as wet, eager kisses crept down his neck.

Impatient fingers moved to his shoulder blades, counting scars and kneading sore muscles.

It was strange how the same caresses could evoke completely different feelings.

Yugo’s palms were smooth, cold, and confident.

Rick’s warm, rough-skinned hands remained uncertain, as if he touched something that didn’t belong to him, or maybe he was still afraid of rejection.

Even the kiss felt different—gentle and unobtrusive, compared with Yugo’s omnipresent, possessive kisses.

Rick was half a head taller, so Kuon had to tilt his head back to meet the right angle for a kiss.

The insignificant inch that separated Kuon from Yugo barely strained his neck, allowing him to believe in the illusion of equality.

If kissing Yugo made him shed his morals, dignity, and pride, Rick’s height and ropes of taut muscles made Kuon’s hang-ups flare.

With Rick’s massive body blocking out the light, Kuon felt oppressed.

A wild, rough, animalistic coition might distract him from thinking about Yugo, or so he hoped.

This tenderness, bordering on adoration, only fixated him on the unfamiliar, imperceptible sensation that wasn’t enough, or maybe was too much.

Kuon didn’t know, but Rick’s caresses didn’t ignite a single spark of warmth in his core.

Has sex always been so boring? He couldn’t remember. Or does gender matter, after all?

He wasn’t disgusted, but a lingering sense of wrongness haunted him.

He gritted his teeth, refusing to feel immoral or guilty because fighting fire with fire shouldn’t be wrong.

This should bring relief, liberation, so Kuon grabbed Rick’s neck and kissed back with grim determination, as if each kiss, every clash of teeth, tore the invisible thread that stitched his life to Yugo’s.

Encouraged, Rick’s hands gained confidence. They slithered up and down Kuon’s back, then outlined his hips and buttocks, before moving up to his neck and sliding down again.

One of Rick’s hands separated from Kuon’s lower back, and the water cut off.

Magnified by the thick silence, Rick’s rapid panting sounded deafening as it bounced off the walls and Kuon’s lips.

Without pulling back, as if even a hair’s breadth could break the spell of the kiss, Rick led Kuon out of the shower.

He grabbed the nearest towel from the hook and draped it over Kuon’s head.

Dabbing his face, Kuon felt rather than saw Rick shed his soaked sweatpants, remaining in his boxers.

Kuon didn’t fight the strong hand that took his wrist and pulled him out of the bathroom and into the living room.

The water cooled on his skin, making it tingle, as a trail of footprints and puddles stretched behind them.

The long car ride and the quick shower had failed to banish the ice from his marrow, and his teeth began to chatter again.

Or was it nerves? He couldn’t say, but the fire of hate no longer fueled him, leaving behind an icy ash of melancholy.

A high-pitched howl from the far corner of the living room drew his attention to the dogs locked in the cage. One of the puppies clawed at the bars, the other chewed on a toy, but they fell out of sight when the bedroom door closed.

The air-conditioned darkness enveloped his damp form.

Kuon’s fingers spasmed and clenched into fists, trying to keep the warmth inside.

In a room like this, one would either sleep or cuddle up, preferably under a blanket.

Kuon didn’t want to cuddle. He needed to burn with acute sensations, so that all thoughts of Yugo would go up in flames until nothing remained.

Tenderness was in the way. Yet, he had no idea how to ask for what he needed, because in the unlit room, Rick’s cheeks glowed, and his fingers trembled for an entirely different reason.

Kuon tensed, acutely aware that his head was a solid block of ice compared with Rick’s.

The disturbing thought vanished as the man, half a head taller than him, put one knee on a low, wide platform bed and pulled him along. Kuon didn’t resist even when Rick’s hand pressed gently into his shoulder and turned him over.

The mattress barely dipped under his back, surprising with its hardness. It was no softer than a military bunk and gave the impression that Rick couldn’t relax even in his own bed.

Kuon sneered, unable to stop comparing. Yeah, unlike Yugo’s “fuckadrome”, this bed is probably still a virgin.

Kuon’s gaze wandered around the Spartan room.

The walls, painted dark gray on one side, were paneled with chestnut wood on the other, and there was no furniture except for the bed and a matte gray wardrobe.

Thick blackout curtains of the same gray framed the single window, milky sky clouding behind.

It was simple and cold—the perfect place to rest.

Rick’s light-haired shins brushed against Kuon’s hips from both sides as the man straddled him. The reddened face centered Kuon’s attention as Rick crouched over him, sucking bruises on his chest. His fingers hooked into the wet fabric of Kuon’s boxers and peeled them down his legs.

Kuon’s head remained as cold as the air in the room.

He couldn’t understand why this felt so different from what he was used to.

Apart from the first rape, Kuon burned in Yugo’s hands unable to think straight.

Now, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, he registered the intensity of the kisses, the location of the touches, the hardness of the bed beneath his shoulder blades, as if this was happening to someone else, not him.

With soul-shattering clarity, he realized that this was not going to work. Kuon opened his mouth to admit his inability to continue when the dog tags caught his attention again. In the dark, the cold metallic glint grounded him, making him want to try harder.

I should stop analyzing and relax!

He closed his eyes and tried to lose himself in the foreplay.

Rick is handsome and fit; it shouldn’t be this hard, right?

He sexualized the caresses, concentrated on the sensations, but arousal passed him by.

Even without the visuals, he couldn’t help but compare the citrusy and soothing scent of mandarin and lavender to Yugo’s heady scent of cigarettes and vanilla, spices and wood.

The annoying softness of the touch did not stimulate him, instead, it tickled.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Can’t I be aroused without chains and bites anymore? Or am I a glutton for humiliation?

However, he saw no reason to stop now. Emotionless sex could still break the cursed cycle of his twisted, unhealthy relationship with the Black Duke.

Lost in thought, he missed the moment when Rick’s lips pressed against his pubic bone. A large hand cupped his butt cheek and inched toward the crack.

Kuon jerked up, hand shooting forward and slamming into Rick’s shoulder. Anxiety coiled in his stomach as the ice from his head crackled down his spine. “Wait…”

Thinking he could do it and actually doing it were two different things.

Rick gulped; his hand retreated. He sat back on his heels and licked his lips. “Sorry. I should have asked. Is it okay if I top today?”

Kuon blinked, failing to understand what Rick was saying.

“I haven’t bottomed in a long time. I don’t mind doing it in the future, but relaxing might take extra time and effort. Bottoming has always been a challenge for me, both mentally and physically.”

Kuon shook his head, mind stalling.

Misinterpreting Kuon’s silence, Rick continued, “Then… can you give me some time to prepare?”

Battling the mental, debilitating fog, Kuon stammered, “W-wait, what?”

A deeper shade of embarrassment colored Rick’s cheeks, and he stubbornly lowered his chin.

“I wouldn’t want you to be repulsed, or for either of us to get hurt.

Sex between men can be messy, you know? Or you don’t want to go all the way?

That’s fine too, just tell me before I do something you hate. ”

The meaning of Rick’s words slowly caught up with Kuon, leaving him sitting there, gaping in silent shock. What the hell am I doing?

Until now, Kuon had not felt the weight of guilt. Rick was a big boy and knew what he was doing. It was a two-way road where they both got what they wanted. Rick used him and the moment to get what he wanted, just like Kuon. Or so he thought.

I’m no better than Yugo.

“I’m sorry,” Kuon croaked, wanting to punch himself in the face. Unable to meet Rick’s eyes, he hung his head low and turned away, swinging his legs off the bed so his feet touched the icy floor.

His shaky hands raked through his hair again and again, but the gesture failed to settle his thoughts or calm his nerves. Fingers sank into hair as he rested his elbows on his knees, collapsing into himself and the darkness.

The words he had wanted to hear from Yugo rang in his ears, amplifying their meaning. They were like a sobering kick in the balls from reality.