Page 12 of Make Me Scream (Visceral #2)

By the time the credits are rolling on the screen, Mom is fast asleep on the extended part of the couch, face propped under her cheek. I find Abel smiling softly at her, his eyes sad, and it makes it all so much worse.

I carefully sit up and reach over, stealing his blanket to cover Ma up.

I expect him to fight me, but he doesn’t.

When she’s all tucked in, I turn off the T.V.

and extend my hand out to him. Abel stares up at it, blonde brows furrowed, the crooked barbel between them accentuating his frown for more than ten beats of my heart before he reaches up and takes my hand in his and follows me down the hall.

It's quiet between us as I push open his bedroom door and lead us inside, ensuring to lock it behind him. I reach over and click on the lamp, and the moment the snick of it sounds in the stillness of the air, I slowly back him against the door.

“I think what you need right now is to forget, puppy. Am I right?” I whisper against his mouth.

“I wanna forget it all,” he chokes out. I pull back just in time to watch the tears fall as he blinks.

They’re big, hot tears that run in thick trails down his slender cheeks.

I reach up to wipe them away, only succeeding in smearing his makeup, which, unfortunately, makes Abel look far too hot for what’s supposed to be a serious situation.

Damn, I curse myself.

“How do you want me to take care of you?” I ask him, needing to know what he needs.

“Just fucking do something!” he shrieks, voice cracking as he throws his head back, eyes pinched shut as if he’s in pain—and I think he is.

So much of it, he can’t breathe. He digs his fingers into his uniform-covered chest and claws.

The scrape of his nails on the polyester is like nails on a chalkboard.

I yank his arms down and pin them to his sides.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, runt.

” I spit in his face, watching with pride as saliva drips down his cheek in thick trails and he just takes it.

His chest is still heaving, but after a few deeper, slower breaths, I take a chance and release one of his arms to grab his chin to pull his head back. Abel’s eyes open, finding mine readily.

They’re beautifully wide and silver, gleaming in the low light.

“That’s much better,” I praise him, and he fucking shivers.

My balls throb as I cradle his face, dragging my thumb along his cheek, smearing my spit. Abel opens his mouth, asking without asking. My heart chugs as we stare at one another.

“Go ahead,” I give him permission. He whines as he sucks my thumb into his mouth, his eyes falling shut in ecstasy. He wraps his tongue around my digit, cradling it, but not sucking any more than necessary, just holding me inside his mouth where it’s nice and warm and so fucking wet.

“Good boy,” I purr, leaning forward and brushing my lips across his sweaty forehead. Abel—who was panting—is no longer. His heaving breaths have slowed considerably, nothing more than slow intakes through his nose.

“You can suck.” I give him permission, and he listens as well as I’d hoped. He pulls me deeper into his mouth until the entirety of my thumb is inside, and the lulling motion keeps his teeth pressurized against my skin. “You’re doing so well, puppy. I’m impressed.”

Abel whines around my thumb, shifting back and forth on his feet, and I can’t resist. I reach down with my free hand and palm his hard dick through the ruffles of his skirt. “Jesus fuck,” I mutter, folding the material around his shaft and stroking—just once.

“ Mmm! ” Abel keens, back bowing into a beautiful “C” shape. I drop my hand and tsk him.

“I don’t think so,” I admonish. “A good boy stays where he’s told, doesn’t he?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, eyes wide and glassy.

“And I think I want you on your knees.”

A few tendrils of hair fall in front of Abel’s face as he drops to the floor, releasing my thumb as he does with a resounding squelch. The sound is utterly lewd, and it makes my dick throb, flexing against the stretchy material of my basketball shorts.

“Fuck,” I groan, not expecting this level of obedience from him. I stare down at my runt, his purple skirt hiked up around his thighs, showcasing every new burn he’s given himself… most likely today, it looks like.

“What have we here?” I muse darkly, crouching down to get a better look at his freshly-mottled skin. Blisters are puffed up in various places, filled with plasma and blood, burned in the shape of a fucked-up smile.

“Nothing,” he rasps, seeming to choke on the word.

“Oh, nothing?” I tease, tracing the edge of a blister with my blunt nail. Abel hisses, and I laugh dryly.

“You think this is the solution?” I ask him.

“There is no solution,” he says after a minute, and I can’t tear my eyes away. For some reason, I kind of admire him for taking his pain to this level. To make it this real. This permanent. “But at least this way I feel something—and I know how to handle this pain.”

Oh…

Fuck.

That brings me pause.

I stare down at the smiley closest to me—not a fresh one but an old, silvery scar. It’s healed and warped but a smile all the same. And it suits Abel—painfully so.

And part of me is glad he’s found a way to deal with his demons.

I only wish I had a way to deal with mine.

“Well, when you’re with me, I don’t think you need lighters and burns, now do you, runt?” I ask, forcing my thoughts away from it all. I can’t—not yet.

Not today and probably not ever.

“I’ll always need it, regardless of you, Peris.” He spews his hatred like it’s all he knows—and fuck, it really is.

And that pisses me off.

I reach back and yank his braids and the strands of his bow with one hand until he yelps. “Fuck you if you think you have any say in what happens with that shit, runt. I don’t want you doing it.”

“You don’t control me.” It’s spoken low and cold and is such a fucking lie, I can’t help but laugh. I loosen my fingers into a caress and massage the base of his skull until he shivers. If he wants hot and cold, that’s what I’ll give him.

“Puppy, you’re a fool if you think I don’t have any control over you.

” I lean back until my fingers barely graze his face, and then, I draw my foot to press my sock-covered toes against his crotch, flexing them against his rock-hard length, reminiscent of the locker room. The beginning of our madness.

“I mean, look at you right now. On the floor, on your knees, and hard for me. Some things never change.”

“That doesn’t say much, given what I’ve been through,” he snaps, huffing a breath through his nose as he shifts, subtly rubbing his dick against my foot. I huff a laugh and flex my foot, rubbing his shaft for a minute before dropping my foot to the floor again.

“Yeah, blaming that on your trauma is smart.” I drop down into a crouch, bringing us to eye-level. Abel readily avoids my gaze. “But I don’t think you want to fight me right now, do you runt?” I grab his crooked chin and bring it closer, pinching it tightly between my fingers.

“Fucking look at me.”

Molten silver meets golden-green, venom swirling in the depths. “What?” he snaps, teeth bared.

“Answer me.”

“No!”

“No, what?”

Come on, runt. Give it to me.

“No, I don’t want to fucking fight!” he shouts, but it comes out broken, more of a raspy whisper that he chokes on.

My heart soars.

I’ve finally broken Abel Silver.

“Good. Cause I’m thinking I’d rather play with you and then fuck you for a while. How does that sound, runt? You wanna be my puppy for a while?”

“Your… puppy?” he asks, voice gravelly. It makes my dick throb.

“Yeah.” I rub my thumb along his temple. Come on, ask me.

“What do I do?” he asks, brows furrowing and lips turning downward.

“Listen to me,” I snark. “Think you can manage that?”

“Fuck you,” he snaps, nostrils flaring. I lift a brow, deadpan, waiting. “Fine, Peri, ” he finally relents with a breath. “I’ll be your fucking puppy.”