Breaking the Rules [BoyxBoy]

13 | ωσrℓ∂ σf cнαncєѕ

You've got a face for a smile you know
A shame you waste it when you're breaking me slowly

Chapter 13 ~ World of Chances

Trey Carter

Door locked? Check.

Curtains drawn? Check.

Sensual playlist that took hours to make? Check.

Blue dildo, still unused as ever? Check.

Lotion? Check.

Fantasies? Check.

Slowly stepping out of my pants, I lowered myself onto the edge of my bed where all my handy dandy accessories laid beside me and shut my eyes. After marveling in the familiar lavender scent of my room that Rita cleaned everyday, I finally decided to finish what I had started before that dickhead kidnapped me. This time, I made sure to cover all my bases so that I wouldn't be interrupted.

Seconds later, I found myself slipping into an alternate reality—one where Scar had confessed his feelings for me and was minutes away from fucking the life out of me. Grabbing onto my shaft, I made slow up-and-down motions to build up the anticipation of Scar finally sticking his dick into me. Maybe this was unhealthy for me to do, but quite frankly, I didn't care. After three whole days of being pushed around and insulted, I deserved this.

But when I tried to imagine Scar's husky voice telling me to get down on my knees, I heard a different masculine voice instead. It didn't take a long time to figure that it belonged to Owen. "You gotta be fucking kidding me," I hissed aloud as I snapped out of my fantasy to clear my head.

Great. This was probably some weird version of Stockholm syndrome.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, I let my eyes flutter shut once more and envisioned Scar's blue-green eyes, his crooked smile, and his messy hair. Not even seconds later, however, Owen's face replaced his. Now I was stuck fantasizing about a racist with forest green eyes that were so entrancing, yet so unappealing at the same time. Even when I tried to get him out of my head, his face would always reappear as though it was my brain's way of mocking me.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, a series of soft knocks sounded at my door. Groaning, I glanced over my shoulder to glare holes into the door. "What is it?"

"You have a visitor," Rita's soft-spoken voice flowed from the other side of the threshold.

After spending three days with a group of sadistic stoners, all I wanted was some time to myself. That was all I asked for, but of course, my wishes had to be disobeyed by Rita's constant pestering. We usually got along because she was like the mother I wished I had, but I was on the verge of saying some pretty messed up stuff to her. "Tell them to leave," I shouted, "there's a reason why there is a do not disturb sign on the door!"

There was a slight pause which I mistook for Rita's compliance, but the sound of her delicate accent flowed through my ears once more. "I would, but he is persistent. He says he has to confess his love for you—whatever that means."

And just like that, my heart stopped in my chest and my breath constricted in my lungs and throat. For so long, I had dreamed of the day when Scar would confess his feelings for me, especially now that he was capable of liking someone of the same gender. So without further contemplation, I dressed with haste and bolted out of my bedroom, nearly knocking Rita over in the process just so I could descend the staircase in record time. Strolling into the grand foyer, I rounded the corner to breeze into the living room, but all the anticipation in my lungs instantly died when my eyes landed on Liam and his always-so-slum brother, Owen.