Stop

An hour later and my heart was still racing. My cheeks were still flushed and the uncomfortable feeling was still eating away at my stomach. My mind was swirling like a tornado with thoughts, thoughts of Peyton.

The more and more I thought of him the more and more aroused I got. I growled and curled up in a ball on my bed. My fingers tangled up in my hair, tugging on the poor locks as I tried to force myself to repeat all the reasons why I hate Peyton and that I did in fact hate him.

Lets see:

He’s an asshole/bastard/dick/every other bad word to describe someone’s cruelty in the dictionary.

He’s no good because he drinks, does drugs, and sales himself.

He treats me like his little boy toy, which I am not!

He’s arrogant and cocky.

His ego is too large to be considered healthy.

There’s nothing to like about him!

So obviously I hate him. I mean all those reasons say that I hate him!Then why does it sound so wrong? Self-conscience I swear if you do not shut the hell up I am going to strangle you!

Just stop thinking about him ok? I just need some rest and tomorrow I’ll feel fine. I’ll pretend like this didn’t even happen…

Sighing, I close my eyes and fall into, thankfully, a dreamless sleep.

~

“Mmph!”

I find myself in a predicament with Peyton again. The God’s seem to really enjoy torturing me, because my dad has been horrible.

When I got to school the first person I saw was Peyton. Every time I was in the hall I saw the boy and whenever he looked at me, he’d smirk. Every time I saw thathot smirk I’d feel my body shiver in a way that it really shouldn’t.

And now…here we are, in the bathrooms once again. This time was different though, maybe it was because of what happened before or maybe it was from the talk, I’m not so sure. All I know is that this time the boy had no problem with locking lips with me.

I pressed my hands against his chest, trying to push his body away. Like that will help though, pushing Peyton is like a mouse trying to push a bulldozer. Absolutely and positively pointless.

I gave up on trying to push him away and simply hoped that he’d pull his lips away from my own. Again, the gods laughed at my hope. Peyton used his tongue to pry my lips open so he could slip it inside and examine the cavern of my mouth.

I cursed my body for trembling. I cursed my knees for quivering and I cursed my hands, which ended up curling into his shirt. I cursed every single molecule of my body that actually liked the way his tongue caressed my own or the way his hands moved up my sides…

It was all so wrong. It was just wrong! Two guys aren’t supposed to do this. Guys just aren’t supposed to do this type of thing with each other, especially when it’s with someone you hate.

Although I thought that though, although I thought it was completely wrong, my body believed other wise. It arched into his touch, loving the feeling of his rough fingers moving up my chest…

Wait…what? When did his hands get up my shirt?

My eyes shot open as I felt said fingers rub my hardening nipple. I gasped into the kiss that he forced before I decided this had gone far enough.

I quickly moved my face to the side, not caring that a string of salvia now coated the side of my face. I panted like the idiot that I am before trying to speak, “Stop.”

“Mm, why?” Peyton asks, his breath ghosting over my neck, catching it on fire. I bit my tongue to stifle back a moan.

Peyton’s hands moved from my chest, getting lower and lower to an area that was currently throbbing, begging for some type of attention. I growled at the thought that this actually was turning me on. Someone had to have drugged me…maybe this is one really long nightmare? Maybe I’m in a coma? Yeah, that has to be the reason…

My heart pounded against my rib cage as I felt Peyton’s’ hand massage me through my jeans. My limbs shook with pleasure and I cursed my dick for being so damn sensitive.

“This doesn’t seem to mind the attention,” Peyton breathed against my ear.

It was hopeless to try and keep quiet now. I moaned at the feel of Peyton’s hand that now grasped my erection.

“You never had someone do this to you before have you?” Peyton asked, his skilled fingers moving up and down my cock in such a way that it had my knees giving out on me.

I groaned, which must of answered his question because he chuckled, “Too easy.”

It didn’t take long for me to hit my orgasm, my seed coating his hand. If Peyton hadn’t had had his arm around me I would have fell to the ground. Instead my limp body used him for support.

My body shook in fear as it finally realized what had just happened. I whimpered, “Please…j-just leave me alone.”

“Why?” Peyton asks, his voice completely void of emotion, as usual.

“Please…just stop.” I hated how weak I sounded. I hated the way my voice sounded so pleading. I hated that I was pretty much begging him to stop…whatever he was doing.

Finally Peyton scoffed and pressed me against the wall once more. I winced, scared that he might finish whatever he had started. Instead I felt a hand press itself against my cheek and redirect my sight to him.

“Do you really want me to stop?” Peyton asks curiously.

I nod my head without a second thought.

Peyton smirked before leaning in, pressing a lingering kiss on my lips, before pulling away with the same goddamn smirk. “Ok.”

By the look on his face I knew there was a catch.