January 17th
8:09
I was faced with a choice. go back to the overpass, in the cold and freeze my ass off in the winter and possibly die.
Or stay here in this nice house with those nice people. but give up my freedom and become Dylans sex slave.
ugh.
I look at myself in the mirror.
My blonde hair was messed up. My green eyes were still a bit red from crying earlier, and my face was still flushed from my short but heated encounter with Dylan.
I have no choice. I sigh in defeat.
I recall Dylans words for me.
"If your staying then sit in the guest room till I come to get you. If not then pack up what little stuff you have and be gone."
He rubbed his knee in my groin causing me to moan and get hard.
He smirked and then left.
Leaving me with the duty to take care of my er situation.
I sighed one last time.
then I soaked in the amazing tub for a bit to relax.
going back to my room I realized my clothes were gone and instead were some streached out pajama bottoms and an oversized shirt with a note.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
'Dear Zack,
Here are some pajamas. wouldnt want you to wear the same dirty clothes. Tomarrow we'll go shopping with Dylan.
goodnight, sleeptight.
-Kari'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I put them on and sat patiently on my bed.
as the minutes ticked by I became ansy and annoyed with him for taking so long.
I started to question. maybe it was a joke?
But no the door to the bathroom opened and a cocky looking Dylan steped in, closing and locking the door.
"Staying or leaving?" he asked.
"asshole." He just smirked.
"I'm staying." i sighed.
An evil grin spread across his face.
"Stand up." all the cockiness was gone and replaced by this dominating voice.
I found my self quickly standing.
I have no idea what I've gotten into.
YOU ARE READING
Owned *BoyxBoy*
AcakZach Rollins a 16 year old gay teen lives on the streets now. he ran away from home. then he meets Dylan Moore. most popular person but he's got a secret. He's gay too. in return for living in his lovely home Zach has to agree to Dylans terms. but a...
