ABOUT TWO WEEKS LATER:
EARLY SEPTEMBER 2013
• T R E V O N •
I sighed in frustration as I helped my drunken, on-again off-again, boyfriend not fall into the toilet filled with his vomit.
"You okay, baby," I consoled him as I rubbed his back, holding his long locs for him as he gripped the edge of the toilet seat. "Maybe—you should cut back on the alcohol," I suggested for the millionth time over the past years.
"Shut the fuck up, Trevon," he groaned, getting up from the toilet. There he goes—the real Dayshawn. The sober Shawn that loves to belittle and little boy me. The Dayshawn that when he works his way back into my life, he knows he can be his real self. He walked out of the bathroom. I scoffed, chuckling a bit. Unlucky for him, I'm not that kid I was all them years ago. Hell even a few of them. I'm a grown-ass nigga running my own company, paying my own bills.
"You sure you not still drunk, nigga? Keep talkin' ta me like et," I warmed following behind him.
"Or what, Tre?" he looked up at me smirking as I just stood there with a scowl.
"Try me."
"Yo ass get bolder by the year," he laughed. "I remember when I said sum you would just do it, now you thirty wit a company, and it's boostin' ya head up thinking you run some shit,"
"And what do you run exactly, my nigga?" I stepped close to his face looking down on him but not by much.
"You, nigga," he smirked again, his voice clear and unwavering. He meant that with every fiber in his being, and to be honest, he might've been right.
He grabbed my dick making me gasp, then reached down into my pants this time grabbing it with nothing in between his hand, all while holding eye contact.
"Right, Trevon?" he muttered while he began to stroke me. I bit my lip as my eyes fluttered a bit, my body overwhelmed by his touch. "I run you right?" he spoke speeding up his pace a bit, but I didn't answer, I just let out a low groan, rocking my hips into his hand.
He pulled down my pants, my already wet dick springing from my briefs. He pushed me onto the bed, so I was sitting on the edge. He climbed in between my legs before he opened his mouth slowly engulfing me in his throat. "Fuck," I cursed low, placing my hands on his head. He smacked them away pulling off of me.
"You still ain't answer my question. Who run you Trevon?" he asked me, but held his focus on my dick, like he wasn't talking to me at all. I refused to speak as another low groan fell from my lips when he started using his hands again. He immediately sped up his pace, licking his lips while still staring at my dick.
"Day, put it in ya mouth," I muttered in a breathy voice.
"Answer my question first," he commanded as he bit his lip, finally looking up at me into my eyes. Sexy, toxic, fine-ass, hoe-ass nigga. I got that last one from Malik.
"Ah, D-Dayshawn," my eye fell in the back of my head when I felt his mouth sucking my balls, sending pleasure through my body. He kept teasing me doing everything but sucking my dick, until I finally gave in. "You—ah-fuck, Dayshawn," I moaned out while laying on my side with his tongue in my ass and his hand stroking me. "You run me, mmmm" I hummed biting my lip.
Damn, this nigga got me.
He pulled back from me getting up and getting on his knees again. I sat up at the edge of the bed. He looked up at me smiling, and my face turned into a frown. "Eat this dick up, nigga," I demanded watching as he started sucking the life outta me.
...
