Past…

The sound of a twig snapping outside has me opening my eyes. Turning my head toward the sound, I watch as Cain crawls through my bedroom window. Not that I’d know it was him by the looks of it. Unlike his usual polo shirts and khakis, he’s sporting an oversized hoodie and sweatpants.

Other than the neon lights from my tank, it’s dark in my bedroom. But from what I can see of Cain’s silhouette, his hood is pulled up, and his face is pointed down toward the floor.

“Front door works just fine, man.”

He says nothing.

I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s past midnight. Cain’s spent the night a few times, but he’s never arrived here this late.

And he’s certainly never crawled through my window before.

Not that I’m upset. With my dad gone for business three weeks out of the month, Cain knows he’s welcome here whenever he wants. He’s the only one I bend the rules for.

Sitting up in bed, I lean against my headboard. “What’s up?”

I’m not oblivious to Cain being out of sorts, I just know he’s more likely to talk if I act like everything’s normal.

“Think you can get Mrs. Miller to come over?” His voice is so low I almost don’t hear him.

Considering her husband gave her a black eye for not answering her phone yesterday, I doubt it.

I don’t have romantic feelings for Mrs. Miller, but I do have a fondness for her. I guess you can say I consider her somewhat of a maternal figure. Which is probably all kinds of screwed up considering I’ve fucked her more times than I can count.

That said, I told her I’d keep the shit that goes on with her husband to myself. And unlike most people would if they knew, I don’t judge her for cheating on her husband or for fucking high school students.

She’s got her own demons, just like everyone else.

Reaching for my cigarettes, I bring one to my lips and light it. “Probably not. It’s late.”

Back turned to me, he grips the windowsill. “Is it?”

Not many things put me on edge. But Cain’s recent mood swings do. I knew he was a ticking time bomb, but he should be feeling better now that I’ve given him an outlet for his issues.

Instead, he’s unraveling a little more each day. The only time he’s not is after I tie him up and get him off.

He’s content after that. Stable. Usually hangs out in my bed with me and watches the fish…talking about anything and everything that comes to his mind.

Until he goes home, goes to school…and the cycle starts all over again.

“It’s almost one in the morning.”

“Oh.” He blows out a shaky breath. “Is there someone else we can call? A girl who’d be down to fuck around tonight?”

I don’t care that he wants to fuck a girl. Hell, I’m down to fuck a few girls tonight. But the vibe he’s putting off currently doesn’t sit well with me.

“I know plenty of girls, man. But before we schedule the orgy…why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

He stops pacing. “Nothing. I just…I need…” His voice trails off and he bows his head.

My chest tightens as I continue staring at him. I’ve always been perceptive when it comes to other people’s emotions. I’m not a bleeding heart by any means. Quite the contrary—I don’t give a shit about most people until they give me a reason to. However, I’m sensitive to the slightest shift in their demeanor.

Probably has to do with my mother ignoring my existence. It forced me to spend a lot of time observing her and her druggie friends, which in turn made me somewhat of a people watcher.

Cain’s the only one who’s ever truly fascinated me though. The first time I saw him—or rather took an active interest in him—he was in a faculty room—stuffing ballots into a locked box so he could win the race for student body president.

But that wasn’t what sparked the fire…it was what he did after. From my hidden spot behind a bookcase where I made Mrs. Miller give me head moments prior, I watched in amusement as Cain unzipped his pants, took out his dick, and proceeded to jerk off.  

Before that incident, I’d never known anyone other than me who got a boner from doing fucked-up things. But there was Mr. Debate Team Captain himself, violently choking the chicken while he cursed Gerald Douglas—a student with special needs—to hell and back for daring to go against him in the race for student body president.

The icing on the cake was when he walked over to the fridge and jizzed inside Mrs. Douglas’—the school music teacher as well as his opponent’s mother—jelly and fluff sandwich.

We might be opposites, but deep down—Cain’s my kindred spirit if there ever was one.

Luckily, I knew just the right outlet for him…one that wouldn’t result in the mass homicide he was clearly heading for. The guy has dreams and aspirations after all.

Unfortunately for him, it’s only making him come apart at the seams.  

And unfortunately for me…I seemed to have developed serious feelings for the bastard. Well, feelings other than wondering what makes him tick…and wanting to fuck his asshole so I can see if it’s wound as tight as the rest of him is.

Taking a long drag off my cigarette, I study him. “Look, you’re obviously going through some shit.”

Silence.

I’m not the type to feed into people’s dramatics, but as per fucking usual, Cain’s an exception to the rule. For reasons I don’t understand, he’s gotten under my skin.

Rising off the bed, I walk over to him, knowing it will end in either one of two ways. With my fist in his mouth or his dick in mine as we battle it out. Either one is fine by me. Thanks to my nap I’m well rested.

I grab his shoulder. “Ca—”

He flinches and a choked sound rips from his throat as he turns. “Don’t.”

He’s hurt, that much is evident. What I don’t understand is his getup. “Why are you wearing a masquerade mask?”

From the looks of it, it’s the same one I gave him two weeks ago at the dance.

When he doesn’t answer, I pull it off.

My stomach turns to lead when I see his swollen black eye and split lip.

My anger is a visceral thing. Starting low in my gut and spreading outward. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

I don’t say shit like that lightly. I’m going to torture the living shit out of his father just like he’s done to Cain all these years.

I go to climb out the window because it’s the quickest exit, but Cain seizes my arm. “No.”

“Yes.” It’s no longer a matter of if. It’s only a matter of how fast I can get there.

He starts to open his mouth…and then—to my absolute fucking horror his eyes become glassy and he starts shaking.

“I got waitlisted.” He looks at me like a child who just watched Santa kill the puppy they wished for. “They waitlisted me.” He points to his chest. “Me.”

Christ. I don’t do well with shit like this. At all. Or maybe I do, but I wouldn’t know because I don’t have experience when it comes to comforting others. Fact of the matter is—I just don’t care about people enough to give a shit.

But Cain’s different. Because I do care. More than care…he’s…I’m not sure. My neurosis? My fixation? My obsession? Perhaps all three.

All I know is he’s where ninety-nine percent of my thoughts drift to as of late.

“I’m sorry, man.” It’s not a lie. I know getting into Harvard was important to him. “But being waitlisted isn’t the end of the world, right? It’s not like they turned you down.”

“Being waitlisted is the end of the world. Do you know how many applicants they get a semester? Tons. It’s their way of jerking me off so hard it burns but never letting me come.”

“Interesting analogy—”

“This isn’t a fucking joke, cocksucker.” He starts pacing. “This is my goddamn life.”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. I’m not sure there is anything else to say. “This sucks.”

Nodding, he turns to face the window again. “I might as well blow my brains out and end it now.”

My reaction is automatic. I grip his shoulder, much harder than before. “Don’t say shit—”

“Fuck.” He clutches the windowsill, his body wracking with tremors. “Don’t touch me.”

Harvard is the least of my worries. Ignoring his request, I reach for the hem of his sweatshirt.

It gets stuck halfway up his back and I realize it’s because of all the caked-up blood sticking to the material.

If I thought my reaction was visceral before it has nothing on the storm that starts brewing inside me when I see the belt marks.

Judging from the abrasions, the motherfucker didn’t use the loop. Just the buckle.

Running to the bathroom, I grab a few cool washcloths. Then slowly, I peel the rest of his sweatshirt off. Every inch I uncover is like my own punch to the face.

“First beating I ever felt like I deserved,” Cain says, his voice cracking. “What am I gonna do, Damien?”

Before I can answer, he grips my shirt, his tears soaking the fabric. And that’s how we stay for the better part of five minutes. Until he places my hand on his semi-hard dick. “I need you—”

The words are out of my mouth before he can finish his sentence. “Get on the bed. Face down.”

I suck at comforting people…but this? Taking control over someone who feels out of it and blurring the lines between pain and pleasure? That is something I can do.

“He was so pissed,” Cain says as I position myself behind him and proceed to take off his pants and boxers. “The angriest I’ve ever seen him in my life.” He closes his eyes. “And then my brother…he just laughed and called me a loser.” He scrunches his face. “He’s not wrong. What kind of man lets their father beat them while their brother stands there and laughs?”

I press my lips to a wound on his tailbone. “A man who thinks he deserves it because he’s been conditioned to think he does and doesn’t know any better yet.”

He shifts his cheek on the pillow a little to look at me. “Are you in love with me?”

That’s a weird fucking question. “I’m not sure.” Grabbing the washcloth I placed on the nightstand, I dab it over a wound that’s still bleeding. “To be honest, I’m not sure I know how to love. I don’t think I’m capable of it.”

He nods. “That makes both of us.” He sighs. “Promise you’ll fuck Mrs. Miller for me one last time before I’m gone.”

“You’re not going anywhere, asshole.”

“There’s no point living if I can’t do it the way I was supposed to.”

It’s not so much his words, it’s the intent in his expression. Like he truly believes there’s no way out other than death.

Throwing the washcloth down, I brace my arms on either side of him and lean down so I’m next to his face. “You think there’s only one roadmap to your life? One way to get where you want to go?”

“For me there was.”

“Then you’re not half as smart as I thought you were, Mr. President.”

His features harden. “Gee thanks. You and Harvard have that in common I guess.”

I grit my teeth. “What I mean is, there are a hundred different paths to get to Harvard. Same goes for becoming a politician if that’s really what you want. Pick one and start walking.”

“It’s not that easy. My dad had everything planned for me. And now that I fucked—”

“Fuck him,” I shout. “Fuck your brother and Harvard too, for that matter.” I grab his jaw. “There are two types of people in this world, Cain. Those who are capable of greatness, but don’t bother trying. And those who still try even though they’re not capable of greatness.”

“But I did tr—”

“You’re neither,” I interject. “You’re the type of person who can do anything he sets his mind to and succeed.”

“You really think so?”

“You know I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” I lean my forehead against his. “Everything you want is already yours. All you have to do is reach out and take it.”

He draws in a breath. “I wish I could believe that, but I don’t see how. My life is over.”

“Your life isn’t over.” I run a finger down his thigh. “It’s just beginning.”  Shifting, I plant a line of kisses down his back. “There’s a reason for all the bad shit we go through, man…something that will eventually make us realize it was all worth it in the end.”

He snorts. “You get that from a Hallmark card?”

“No, jackass. It’s how fate works. One event leads to another…and those events lead to the next event and so on and so forth. Then one day, you look back and connect the dots. Next thing you know, everything starts making sense.”

“I think Mrs. Miller’s fortune teller crap is starting to rub off on you.”

I bite his ass. “Yeah. Or maybe, just maybe…I’m a lot smarter than you give me credit for.”

His features twist. “Harvard was everything, Damien. My father’s connections are everything. There’s no way I can do this without him.”

I trail my lips down his ass. “Says who? Because the Cain Carter I know isn’t a fucking pussy. He takes what he wants. Show your dad you can do this without him. Because you can.”

His hips jerk. “I’ve never met anyone who believes…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “You…”

He moans when I slip my tongue between his cheeks. “Did you mean what you said before?”

I pause. “Yeah, you can do anything you—”

“No.” His voice drops down a few octaves. “Did you really want to kill him for me?”

“Not did. Do.”

“I’d never let you do that—”

I spread his cheeks and circle his asshole with my tongue.

“Fuck, that feels good.” He stretches, stuffing his hands under the pillow. “But if you were going to…how would you?”

“How would I kill your father?”

He nods, arching his ass into my face.

I think about this a moment before I give him my answer. “Easy.” I flick his puckered hole. “I’d make it look like an accident. Something that could never be traced back to me.”

He shudders when I repeat the movement. “Jesus.” Raising his ass higher, he looks up at me over his shoulder. “Like what?”

Smirking, I tease him again, this time, dipping my tongue inside. “I’d give him some sleeping pills.”

His eyes go hazy. “What makes you think he’d take them?”

“Everyone eats, right? I’d find a way to put it in his food.”

Groaning, I suck on the seam of his balls until he trembles.

“Then what would you do?”

Licking my finger, I push the tip of it into his hole.  “I’d wait for him to fall asleep.”

He bucks into my finger and my heart accelerates. “Yeah?” His voice is a deep rasp. “Then what?”

I adjust my position on the bed, lining his ass up with my dick while I continue prepping him.  “Well, before the pills, I would have re-wired an everyday household item...something simple…maybe a coffee maker or toaster. This way, they’d blame it on faulty wiring.”

“Blame what on faulty wiring?”

Slipping my finger out, I grab some lube on the nightstand and give my cock a languid stroke. “The fire that would kill him.”

Cain’s breathing hitches as I proceed to work my dick between his cheeks. “Why a fire?”

I groan when a pearlescent drop lands directly on his puckered hole.  “Because they don’t leave much evidence behind…especially if you do it in the middle of the night. People are sleeping, so the neighbors are less likely to call the fire department, therefore there would be more damage. More damage usually equals less evidence.” I swirl my tip around the liquid, slowly working my cockhead in. “And since he’d be full of sleeping pills…he’d never make it out alive. Not unless someone tried to rescue him.”

Cain clenches the sheet in his hand, gasping for air. “Oh, fuck.”

“Relax, man. It will only hurt for a little while.” With a grunt, I push my hips forward, watching my wide crown disappear inside him. The sensation feels so good, it’s all I can do not to come on the spot.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you.”

His body goes slack, and when I look down, I notice a large wet spot underneath him.

He already came.

Cain isn’t next to me when I wake up the next morning.

When I call his cell to see where he went, he tells me he’ll see me at school later.

Which is why I think nothing of it when I catch him in the locker room after seventh period rummaging around for something in his locker. His back is to me, but I notice he’s donning his usual polo shirt and khakis.

I run a finger up his arm. “How are you feeling?”

He tenses. “Fine.”

On one hand, I’m happy he’s back to normal. On the other, I’m worried he’s back to normal. It will just empower his father to do it again.

“Back to business as usual then, huh?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Looking around to make sure we’re alone, I take a step closer to him. “I told Kristy not to come tonight. Figured you should take the night off.” I close the distance between us and my hand slowly makes its way to the front of his pants. “You can still come over and—”

An elbow to my stomach makes my head whirl. “What the f—”

“What the fuck is right.”

I can feel the color drain from my face. No black eye or split lip. He’s not Cain.

“Man, I heard you were a freak but—” He stops mid-sentence, his face lighting up. “Holy shit.” He starts laughing as he looks between me and the locker. “You thought I was my brother, didn’t you? This is…wow. I knew he was spending time with a buddy lately, but I didn’t think it was that kind of buddy.” He laughs harder. “Wait until my dad hears about—”

My hand is around his throat before he can finish that sentence. “Listen to me, you sick fuck. Whatever’s going through that perverted head of yours is wrong.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you and my brother are—”

“Hanging out with girls and partying? Christ, I know you’re a nerd, but it’s nothing to get your panties in a twist over.”

“Wait, he’s been partying with you lately?”

Removing my hand from his throat, I pull a bag of weed out of my pocket. “Yeah, sometimes we get really freaky and smoke the devil’s lettuce. Which is what I was trying to discreetly slip you—or rather, your brother—before. My dad just paid a shit ton of money to clear up my last incident, I don’t need to cop another. Know what I mean?”

He nods. “Yeah. I mean no, but yeah. Makes sense.” He rubs his neck. “Didn’t mean to insinuate you were a faggot. My bad.”

Too bad I’m a long way from done. He’s not leaving this locker room without me fucking up his perfect life. I consider it foreplay for the ass-kicking I’m going to give him when he least expects it.

I smirk as I recall who his girlfriend is. “By the way—tell Kim I said hi.” I lean in like I’m about to tell him a secret. “Between me and you, her halitosis combined with that hairy mole on her face is off-putting, but if you give her a mint and close your eyes…her blow jobs aren’t all that bad.” I fix his collar. “Then again, why am I telling you this? I’m sure you already know.”

“Kimmy would never fuck you,” he deadpans. “She’s loyal to me.”

He’s going to make a great politician. He’s so convincing, I almost believe the words out of his mouth.

Unfortunately for him, Kimmy isn’t as loyal as she pretends to be.

And unfortunately for Kimmy, she fucked someone with a near photographic memory who pays attention to details.

“She’s got a birthmark shaped like Alaska on her ass. Her nipples are a deep rosy pink. Around the size of half-dollar coins, probably the most attractive thing about her.” I rub my forehead. “There’s something else…oh, that’s right. I popped her cherry back in…” I snap my fingers. “February. In the library. Fiction section. She’s a huge Jane Austen fan.” I roll my eyes. “Then again, aren’t they all?”

His jaw drops. He honestly looks so hurt it’s downright hysterical.

I wince. “Ouch. She probably told you it was a tampon or bicycle incident, huh?” I blow out a breath. “Damn. These hoes just ain’t loyal after all.”

His jaw tics. “That fucking bitch.”

“Yeah, man,” I say as he rushes past me. “You go let her have it.”  

Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I shoot Cain a text.