Youngblood (coming soon)

Sneak Peek

Alright, so just know - that this doesn't mean that 'Youngblood' will now be regularly updated - the book is nowhere near being ready, and I'd like to have many chapters under my belt before I start posting - but here's half of chapter one to you all considering I have nothing other to do than stuff my face full of cupcakes and binge on netflix (i.e best birthday ever)

This is still very much unedited

OH ALSO - BORDERING PG13/R RATED CONTENT UP AHEAD

So to be safe it's about 14/15+ only. Not that'd I'd ever be that controlling, just be responsible that there is the insinuation of sex but nothing happens, it's more of a flashback. Also - it has to do with two men. However this story is not a bxb/mxm.

S n e a k P e e k - C h a p t e r O n e

There's quick shiny fingers of sunlight that peek through the hazardously strewn, and waywardly kept greyish blinds, like someone had been peeking through them subtly, and too occupied to place them back.

It's the in-between sunshine, where grey still soaks up most of the sun, but there's still a slight enough amount to creep itself into people's bedrooms.

The room is a mess, there's a black throw blanket piled in the corner, desk kept messily across from a small, unmade, full bed, a closet door is open a crack, the once blue carpet is now kinda-not-blue-more-greyish-but-still-blue.

Nayden Acker wants to cry.

He doesn't know where he is except for quick bursts of lust filled memories, pale skin on dark skin, greenish-darkish-goldish eyes matching against brown, there's a moment when he feels loved - where he feels wanted.

But even then that moment is fleeting.

There's a man beside Nayden, he's short and stocky, with pretty lips, slender hips, and dainty eyelashes. The man is beautiful.

But last night he wasn't beautiful, or dainty, or anything sweet and kind to Nayden.

It was rough - angry fist fulls of hair, pants strewn about, groans, nails-scratching-against-your-back sort-of rough.

But isn't that what Nayden wanted? For it to be so rough that he forgot?

Nayden didn't feel like forgetting now, the deep scratches on his back that throbbed with a dulling pain proved that last night wasn't as fun as it should've been.

Too rough, too maddening, too attached.

He can't find the strength to move his long gawky limbs out from under the thick blue duvet.

But he knows he needs to leave with nothing but the trace of memories last night created, in his wake.

Nayden feels used, and - and he feels dirty. The cramping in his legs was awful, the kind of ache that made your toes go numb, his back hurt, and all that feels his head is too rough, too rough.

This wasn't what Nayden was looking for- what he needed. He needed gentle hands, gentle fingers, reassuring cuddles.

Not break-your-back - because - damn-this-guy-is-a-tough-bastard.

Nayden pulled himself from under the duvet, feet padding against the worn carpet as he hunted for his clothes, all the while searching for a relief to the anguish flaring up wildly in his back.

Too rough. Too damn rough.

Nayden shuts the scraped, white, bedroom door, the walk of shame not fazing him. All he wanted - no - needed, was to go home, and find the ice-packs tucked away in the freezer.