“We already did, Salvatore.” Shit. That name always does me in. He’s standing now, stalking toward my naked body, water droplets dripping down my chest. “There’s no going back.” His hands remove mine from my dick, replacing them with his own. Gripping my shaft as it grows in his hot palm, a groan slips free. This is so fucking wrong. “You’re mine now.” It’s all he growls before taking my mouth. He bites my lips, tugging on my lip ring, making me moan.
His hand fists me, pumping harshly, as if he’s convincing himself more than me that this is right. It feels so right. Perfect. Meant to be. I spear my tongue between his lips, fucking his mouth thoroughly. KJ hisses as I find the hem of his pants, snaking my palm inside to grip his rock-hard length.
“Fuck,” he lets out, stroking me more fervently.
I’m a mess in his hands, as he is mine. Both our precum leaks across our palms, coating us as sinfully as the DNA we share. While we’re tongue fucking, groping each other, unable to keep our distance, I hear Tris.
“Atlas! Bro, where you at?”
I push KJ off me and rush to my dresser, grabbing shorts. My heart races, the beat erratic in my chest as I beg it to slow. Not even killing people is this panic inducing. After he calls for me again, I run a hand through my hair as KJ situates himself on my bed, pretending to be on his phone.
“In here!” I yell, knowing he’ll find my room. When he comes in, he eyes KJ, knowing we’re not as close as we used to be, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he makes small talk.
“You going to the Masquerade?”
“Do I have a choice?” he jokes, not peering up at Tris at all. Normal KJ, that’s for sure. My brother is the living definition of nerd. It’s hot though, knowing how fucking smart he is compared to me.
“No, probably not. You’re a Grim, after all,” Tris replies. KJ looks up with confusion. And I nearly smack him. Unlike me, Kenji isn’t ingrained into the Society or the Reapers like I am. He’s been saved from it, because I make it so.
“He’s coming with me,” I interrupt, before Kenji asks too many questions.
“I am?” His stare is filled with confusion, hope, pride. Yeah, seeing him in a suit will be hot as fuck. Stop thinking about him like that. Keeping my distance would be impossible. Especially now. I’ve had more than one taste. Giving that up seems impossible.
“You are. It’s about time you hang out with me again,” I mention, swallowing the large lump in my throat. “Don’t you think?” He smiles at me, red tinting his cheeks. That color, it’s so innocent and bright, offering me hope that shouldn’t exist.
“Well, I’ll meet you guys there. Seems I’ve got someone to ask.”
“Later, Tris.”
“Bye, T,” KJ offers. He peers at me as Tris leaves, and I shake my head, knowing if I stay, I’ll find myself sinking into my brother again, and it can’t happen. So, before Tris is too far down the hall, I chase him, no shirt and all. Needing a fucking distraction.
Chapter Eight
Atlas
The ball is tonight, and I’m not anywhere near excited for it. But that’s why I find myself at the hoops with Kenji, where I used to practice before Rusty invaded my happy bubble.
My feet connect with the pavement as I pivot opposite of Kenji. He’s not as rushed to win as me, he never is, but it’s so hot when our bodies are this close, out in the open, where we can’t touch like lovers. We sweat, both our shirts drenched as I run to shoot a basket.
As soon as I get to the line, I rise, pushing my feet, and follow through with my wrist, not realizing he was there. He blocks the shot and laughs at my shocked expression.
“Been practicing defense,” he muses, dribbling the ball. He looks so fucking hot with his hair plastered to his face in every which way as he uses the ball like he has nothing better to do. I’m suddenly feeling my dick go half-mast. This never happens. Ever.
The game is my focus place, but with my twin and his fuck-me eyes and lip bites, I’m near ready to take him to the public bathrooms and fuck him senseless.
“What, hard for your brother?” he snickers as I growl. Flipping him the bird, I slap the ball from his hands, heading to the hoop again. He laughs, chasing after me. It’s intense when my heart races in tandem with my dick. He gives me so much to push for.
I finally make a basket after he stops, hands on his hips, and bends in half. Fuck, his ass looks spectacular in shorts. Stop. Stop. Stop.
“Again,” I hiss, trying to calm my body. “You didn’t even follow through.”
He nods, still bent, and I walk to him. And the fucker rotates his ass at me, purposefully. Looking around us, not seeing a single person, I grind into his ass, unable to help myself. My cock nestles between his cheeks, and I’m beyond stiff.
“You’re a distraction, Kenji. A fucking delicious distraction.”
He lifts, turning to me. The lilt of his lips has me narrowing my eyes. “Guess the wrong head is guiding you, brother.”
“Fuck you,” I grunt, knowing he’s right.
“I’m ready, are you? Pretty sure that beast is ten seconds away from eating me.” He points to my very hard—very visible—erection.
“Maybe it wants you to eat it,” I offer, swaying my hips. What the fuck are you doing, Atlas? My cock jerks, momentarily shutting my mind up. “He’s so lonely.” His eyes darken, going from lavender to a dark violet.
Violent.
Desperate.
Starved.
He lowers to his knees without preamble, and I’m about to stop him when he pulls down my shorts, freeing my stiff dick but leaving them over my ass. I’m hot in his palm as he rubs me up and down.
“So fucking hot,” he praises. “Love these.” He rubs a fingertip across my ladder, teasing me at every one.
“Don’t be a tease. You’ve already broken my concentration. May as well break some laws too and suck my cock.”
“Fuck, Atlas.” Whenever he says my name like this, gritty, deep, rough, it’s pure sex. It’s the biggest invitation to take and take and take. He’d let me too—he’s such a slut for my cock.
He takes me in one pull, sucking me fast and hard. He’s a few pumps in when I hear something behind me.
“Off,” I hiss. His eyes connect with mine. and he silently tucks me away. My heart jackhammers in my rib cage, hurting from the fierceness of it. First Tris, and now, whoever the fuck else is behind me.
“Hey, guys!” Fucking Rusty belts out as KJ pretends to tie his shoes. His face is flushed, crimson and ripe. It could be from us working out, but I know it’s from having my dick down his throat as if it’s his midday snack.
“Hey, Rust,” Kenji says unenthusiastically as I grip the basketball to death. It indents from my fingertips, but fuck, if I had a knife, I’d stab it over and over, pretending it was the fucker behind me. He only reminds me that while I’ve distracted myself with my twin, I’ve lost my mission to make this fucker bleed.
KJ rounds me, giving attention to the fucker that has five days more of life. KJ may think it’s over, but it’s far from it. He’ll be dead by the end of this week. Even if I do it myself.
Doesn’t matter. Either way, I win.
“Wager?” Kenji’s face morphs into fear, waiting for the double down I offered moments ago. It doesn’t take me long to decide. This is what I’ve wanted, even if he thinks it’s a joke. Either he wins or I do. No matter if he follows through, I’ll end up on top.
“You’re mine,” I whisper, swallowing the dryness in my mouth, feeling the scratchiness of air as I breathe, waiting on a response.
“What the fuck does that mean?” he demands, biting the inside of his cheek.
“That if you don’t kill the bastard, you’re mine. Mine to have, to fuck, to bleed, or anything else.”
“We are brothers, Atlas.” His words are apprehensive, stilted. Fear laces them. Not fear from wanting to give in, no, fear from finally admitting he wants me too.
“Brothers or not, it’s my bet. If you don’t k
ill Rusty by our eighteenth birthday, you’re mine.” He visibly gulps, his face flushed beautifully.
“What about me?”
“Tell me, brother. If you’re not a little bitch, tell me what you’d want if you finish?”
“You on your knees, bringing me pleasure. But Atlas…” He trails off, backing up a step or two. “That’s it. We go our separate ways. This,” he explains, gesturing to us. “We can’t be brothers once we break what ties us together. No matter how we look identical, we can’t come back from these things.”
“What, me fucking you? Or you enjoying it?”
“Fuck,” he groans, and I see his dick pressing against the zipper of his denim. Mine is equally hard. But there’s no denying it for me. He’s mine. He’s been mine since before we were born.
“Exactly. That’s what I’ll do. Fuck you for the rest of our lives.”
That day solidified my goal. It’s when I decided whether he killed him or not, Rusty would die, and I’d get my brother. Kenji isn’t one for gore; luckily, he hasn’t had to pull the trigger yet.
“So, can I play?”
So can I play? I mock in my head, wanting to ram this ball through his intestines. Or anything really. He grates on my nerves. His blood, life, essence, it’s worthless. It has no value, and neither does his dumb fucking idle chitchat.
“Can’t, Society business,” I answer a moment later, finally turning to him as my dick softens entirely. It’s easy to do with this curly haired loser nearby, but even more so when Kenji’s attention isn’t focused on me. It’s like his acknowledgment of us makes me insatiable and hard constantly. Rusty Johnson is a loser; he’s not part of the Society, he’s trash, and he’ll stay that way until his last breath leaves me. He frowns and I think of the perfect plan.
Kill him before the ball, and have that be our alibi. Not that we need one.
“You know what, Johnson? Yeah, let’s play.”
Kenji watches me as I relax my shoulders. Once the ball hits the ground, my mind goes from my brother to the game. My blood flows for this sport—this game—and it drives me to success. I dribble the ball, twisting when Rusty tries grabbing it. I face off with KJ, allowing his body to brush mine. My dick hums, and I fucking hate the power he has over me. Faking right, I head to the hoop, shooting before either of them catch up. It’s a beautiful shot, swishing the net. Success thrums through me.
Even with two of them, I’m unstoppable. It’s why Silvercrest makes it to the championships every single year. It’s all me. I’m the honorary. The fuckup with tattoos, piercings, and addiction to my brother’s body… I’m the fucking king of the court.
We keep going and going, and in the end I’m twenty-one and they’re seven. I’ve won. My prize stares at me with pride. He’s covered in moisture, much like me. I don’t pay attention to the fucker next to him. I’m too absorbed, entranced with his expression. He wants me. Bad.
If our little voyeurism got him off, I can’t wait to fuck him as Rusty watches. I’m going to gut him and fuck my brother while he bleeds. When he’s crying like the little bitch he is, I’ll make sure he sees my cum leave Kenji’s little asshole, then maybe, if he’s a good little prick, I’ll end him for good.
My dick hardens in my shorts, and it takes everything in me to calm it down before they notice.
Thinking of Rusty dead gets me so hot and I’m not sure why, but I don’t fucking care the why, just the want, and I’ll do anything to make it happen.
“Our house?” I offer kindly, knowing my exact intentions. Kenji must know too because he shakes his head at Rusty and gives me a derisive growl.
“No.”
“Why not?” Rusty questions, smiling from ear to ear, not realizing how dangerous of a position he’s putting himself into. But I do. He’s signing his own death certificate.
My smile widens, feeling like a Cheshire cat even if I can’t see it.
“We have shit to do. Society business,” KJ mutters grumpily. Then his gaze connects with mine, and I know what he wants. My desire to kill has taken over the other needs for my brother.
“Wouldn’t it be great to have a guest?” I question demurely, acting as if I’m the new best friend of the stupid cunt opposite me. “He can help us get dressed and shit.”
Rusty’s face lights up, his own lips turning up and his cheeks rising in response. “I’d love to hang out with you, Atlas.” His words—much like himself—are pathetic. If he can’t see the animal lurking beneath the skin… hell, on top of it. I’m head to toe lined with ink. It’s not even a camouflage, it’s so people are aware that there’s not a single fuck I could ever offer.
Yet, he isn’t like 90 percent of the population. He’s stupid, naive, but apparently kind enough to not think the worst of my tats. Doesn’t matter though—his death is my goal. His blood is my reaping. My brother is my goddamn award.
“Atlas,” Kenji hisses. When my gaze connects with his, I notice how tight his jaw is. It’s amazing how angled it is, sharp and cut, perfect like his dick. His eyes are nearly closed with how pressed he is, and as hot as it makes me, death is in mind instead. Fuck my conscience, I’m not going to walk away. He’s mine. It’s what I’ve worked for.
“Kenjington,” I rebut, wanting him to admit he’s jealous. Seeing it in the flesh has me aching. It’s such a pleasure I didn’t believe I deserved. Yet, he’s wanting me, hating my time being separated.
Well, too damn bad.
“You know, maybe next time…” Rusty interrupts our silent battle. I let out a huff. “I can see you both have conflicting opinions. So, text me, Atlas.” He winks at me, showing his little dimple. “I’d love to get to know you better.”
“You know what?” Kenji hisses, not nicely, but not harshly enough to give cause. “You should come over. Maybe even share us both.”
That idea has me completely soft in my pants, but he said it with purpose. He’s using my own words from our last bet against me. He wants me to know he’s pissed about my offer. What he doesn’t realize is my intentions had nothing to do with getting my dick anywhere near this prick.
It has everything to do with slicing his throat and watching him choke on his own blood.
Chapter Nine
Kenji
We head home and I glare at Atlas the entire way. His words set my heart aflame, nearly bringing me to my knees in sadness. It crippled me, the jealousy and hatred. Maybe this is how he felt seeing my dick in this dude.
It’s intoxicating. Hatred. It fills the veins, climbing my body irreverently. Giving me some type of God complex isn’t exactly good, but now I understand my brother. His need for Rusty’s blood makes sense.
It’s why I’m pushing this now. Even if it has my brother giving me a questioning glare, it’s payback. He doesn’t realize it, but I’m about to win our final bet. Six days early, no less. My grin widens, churlish, probably ugly and monster-like. But I don’t give a shit. He asked, now he shall receive. Then he’ll be taking it in the ass, and I’ll be the one pounding into him.
He had his fix of me.
Owning me.
Marking me.
Having me on my knees.
Now, it’s his turn to see how his twin doesn’t differ from him much at all.
We walk the short distance home, my body exhausted from the battle with my brother and me, the adrenaline from nearly getting caught with his dick in my mouth, and this untapped energy for blood. Atlas disarms the house, and as soon as we enter, we notice the lights are on. The problem with that, we turned them off. In the front room, the sound of keys on the piano ring out. My gaze connects with my brother, and for the first time in maybe ever, fear lines his forehead.
It wrinkles, stress contouring every plane of his face. We don’t stop staring, not even when Rusty brushes past us and heads inside. Like he owns the place, he removes his shoes and sits on the love seat.
“Oh, hello, child.” A serene voice is directly pointedly at Rusty.
Mom?
Atlas
swallows, and I feel a pain ping in my chest, warning me that this isn’t good. Our parents, for all intents and purposes, love us. I know it. They may never be around, but they don’t hide their weird affection for us when around.
They’re like Morticia and Gomez. Fucking creepy, but loving in their own horrific way. We have to say something, he mouths. His eyes are wide when our Mom’s head pokes around the wall we’re currently hiding behind. Virginia and Terrance Grim, our parents. They are here—for once, they are fucking here. And I’m not happy. I stare at the people I idolized as a child, the two that ruined my dreams and stole my happiness. They’re worthless.
“Boys,” Mom sounds out. It’s like we’ve been shocked with a cattle prod. We’re stuck in our spots, unable to move. We share another look, and she narrows her eyes. “Don’t be rude to your mother or your guest,” she chirps.
Atlas is the first to move. “Hey, Momma. Missed you.” It’s always so easy for him now, to go into this role of doting son. He didn’t used to be this way. Before it was me, and he hated them. Something changed, but when we stopped being close, he never told me what. Him being soft with our parents would be funny if you could see how he is with the rest of the world. But it’s charming, seeing him love her the way I haven’t been able to in years.
He lays a kiss on her cheek and sits on the recliner opposite of Rusty. Mom looks pointedly at me, waiting for me to hug her or some shit. I’m the weird child. You wouldn’t know based on my vanilla appearance. Out of the two of us, I’m normal. That’s saying a lot, since I’m far from it.
Hell, I let my brother fuck me four days ago without batting an eyelash. If she knew that, would she kill us? That’d be her role. Taking our lives, bringing our sickness to the surface.
She gives me a raised eyebrow and taps her foot. “You’re letting the heat out.”
“It’s like eighty degrees in here, Ma.” It’s true. She likes it hot as fuck. It’s because she’s an ice queen, without a heart. Or if there is one, it’s so frostbitten, it’d be useless.
The Society Page 37