Chapter 4

a couple days later

Jumping out of his sleep, Micah breathed deeply in repeated breaths. He looked at the door, feeling his breathing pick up even more.

He quickly looked away, jumping up out of the bed and running to the bathroom.

Micah grabbed his knees as he bent over the toilet, feeling his mouth water and his stomach rumble.

He started to gag and vomit for a moment, wiping his mouth with a piece of toilet paper.

His body only continuously shook as his anxiety attack only grew.

Micah grabbed his chest as he walked to his bathroom sink. He doubled over it grabbing the edges as he huffed and looked into the mirrors.

His breathing was restricted further when he saw the small hickies that still adorned his neck and shoulder.

It only reminded him of the events that happened a couple of nights ago.

It reminded him of the feeling he got every time he saw Jeremiah, and how feeling that way wasn’t accepted.

Being queer was frowned upon in the world, and especially in the basketball world.

The league would never accept an openly queer athlete into the league.

Queer? Micah thought. “Es-es not me,” he shook his head, looking into the mirror which only caused his breathing to get heavy again.

He then ran to the shower and began stripping all of his clothes, turning the water hot, almost scalding before he jumped inside.

Micah started to scrub his skin all over, especially his bottom. He felt disgusted with himself for what he did with Jeremiah, and why was it all he could think about?

After he showered for a while, he got out and decided that he’d actually go to class today.

For the past couple of days, Micah had told everyone he was sick, and only been in communication with Kelia and his parents while he kept himself trapped in his room.

He sighed as he looked through his wardrobe, grabbing one of his turtleneck dri dri-fit shirts and some joggers to put on and cover all the love marks Jeremiah left on him.

After dressing and doing his hygiene routine, Micah grabbed his backpack, phone, charger, and keychain. He then opened the door to his room, immediately coming to a halt when he locked eyes with Jeremiah.

Micah hadn’t seen him since he told him that they couldn’t be anything.

He still felt as if it were the best—for the both of them.

They had big lives ahead of them, and they couldn’t let some drunken, hormonal mistake ruin it.

Jeremiah on the other hand was confused… and sad. He stared for a moment at Micah, seeing the bags on his face, his eyes were red as hell, and the fact he hadn’t been out of his room since…

We had sex. Jeremiah thought.

He still couldn’t believe it himself. He knew he and Micah had a… chemistry that was unexplainable, and it probably was the reason they’d get drunk and couldn’t help but to touch each other.

But I don’t like men… I think?

Jeremiah wrestled his thoughts for the past few days.

I think I like Micah though… I can’t help but to be drawn to him.

As Jeremiah stood across from him, his chest tightened. He felt like this was his fault. He should’ve encouraged them not to do what they did.

He knew how Micah’s family was, but… Jeremiah can’t help how Micah makes him feel.

“Mi—” Jeremiah started to say his name, getting cut off when Micah rushed past him, grabbing his jacket and car keys, then swiftly exiting their dorm.

The loud sound of the door shutting filled Jeremiah’s ears which only made him sigh.

He sat down on the couch and facepalmed himself, then ran his hands through his hair. “The fuck was et?”

•••

in the library

Sitting quietly at the library table, Jeremiah could hardly focus on the textbook in front of him.

All his mind had been on was Micah.

Micah Parks. He thought he read the words in his damn textbook.

Jeremiah shook his head to break himself from his thoughts… It didn’t last though.

He keeps thinking about his lips. How soft, pretty, and pink they are. How when Jeremiah kisses him, he feels Micah melt in his hands.

How his face turns red when Jeremiah subtly flirts with him.

How good he feels when they fuck.

Jeremiah for sure keeps replaying the moment over and over in his mind. He can’t help it.

Sometimes he even wishes he showed Micah how good he actually was in bed if it was going to be the only time.

He knew that he shouldn’t think that way, but he couldn’t help it. Ever since a couple of days ago…

Actually, ever since they became roommates, Jeremiah’s mind has been consumed by Micah Parks.

“Fuck you keep starin’ inta space fa?” Taylor tapped Jeremiah’s cheek, breaking him from his trance and catching him off guard.

“The fuck wrong witchu?” Jeremiah smacked his lips, making Taylor laugh.

“Es what I’m tryna ask you, nigga. You been actin’ spaced the fuck out fa the past couple ‘a days,” Taylor told him, crossing his hands on the table before reaching out to Jeremiah and grabbing one of his and holding it while he looked at him with a tight-lipped smile. “You can talk ta me, buddie,”

Jeremiah just looked between Taylor’s eyes and their connected hands. “Fuck offa me, nigga,” he snatched his hand back, making Taylor crack up laughing.

“Seriously tho’, Jer,” Taylor said with a serious tone.

Sighing, Jeremiah looked away, figuring out what exactly he would say to him.

Taylor was his closest friend outside of his two best friends outside of college, and they knew each other pretty well, so he knew his excuse would have to be good.

“Uhh…” was all he managed to muster.

Taylor raised a brow, “Ever since the party you skipped out on—you know I gotcho lo’, so I know yo ass stayed home… n Micah been actin’ weird too…” he started piecing together what he could which made Jeremiah’s palms start getting sweaty. “Y’all niggas fought n tryna cover it up from coach?”

Letting out a breath, Jeremiah laughed a bit, thinking how he was grateful that his friend wasn’t that smart. “Nah, it don’t got shit ta do wit Micah…” he lied.

“We ain’t frens, enemies, or nun, aight?” the words Micah spoke to Jeremiah also ran through his mind, and his chest got tight.

“…He got his own shit he dealin’ wit, n I’m jus’… jus’ know iss not nun you need to be worried ova fa me,”

Taylor crossed his arms, not believing a word Jeremiah said, but he knew his friend well enough to know that he’d come around on his own.

“Okay, Jeremiah. Imma let it go fa now,”

A small smile appeared on Jeremiah’s face, “Thank you, Taylurrrrrr,” he trolled, causing the two to both crack up and get shushed by the librarian for their voices booming through the room.

“Sorry, Miss ma’am,” Jeremiah nodded toward her, and Taylor shook his head as she walked away.

“Et is not ha mufuckin’ name, nigga,” Taylor chuckled.

Jeremiah shrugged, feeling his phone ding in his pocket.

THREE STOOGES

Drey 🤞🏽

> we still linkin at Mar place?

hell yuh <

Lamar 🤙🏾

> how tf yall rey make plans ab my mf crib

Drey 🤞🏽

> what time we meetin?

in bout thirty after I leave the library wit taylor <

imma be there til my practice <

> bettyyyyyyy

Lamar 🤙🏾

> ?????????????

Jeremiah just laughed and liked Lamar’s message, then put his phone away, and turned his attention back towards Taylor. “Enough ’bout me, wassup witchu, Tay?” he asked.

Taylor shrugged, “The usual. School, ball—no bitch givin’ me hell, jus’ pussy you feel me?” he held out his hand to dap Jeremiah up.

“Hell, yeah,” Jeremiah laughed and dapped him up. “Felt that,”

“Thur is someone I have my eyes on but they,” Taylor shook his head, leaning onto the table, resting his head on the backside of his hands.

Jeremiah raised a brow, “They?”

Taylor smacked his lips, “Youn kno’ ha…” he told him, keeping his eyes averted.

“Hmm,” Jeremiah hummed and kept his mouth closed, considering that Taylor didn’t press him

further earlier. “Aight, my nigga—well let’s lock in fa es next thirty, cool?”

“Coolio,” Taylor nodded, and they dapped each other up, and then refocused on their textbooks.

•••

Jeremiah stood at his best friend Lamar’s front door with a smile on his face and some snacks he grabbed for the three of them.

“MIAAAH!” he heard a voice yell. Jeremiah whipped around, seeing Dreya run up the stairs with a bottle of vodka.

“Fuck, no. I got practice,” he shook his head.

Dreya just shrugged her shoulders, “Okay, you be borin’, nigga. Et don’t mean me and Mar ain’t rey drink, tuh!” she smacked her lips, then moved him to the side with her hips, so she can knock on the door herself. “Open da do’, bitch!”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m comin’. Damn!” Lamar yelled back through the door before he unlocked it, standing at the door, holding a stack of money and a lit blunt in his mouth.

“Y’all niggas ghetto,” Jeremiah scoffed and moved past them both while Dreya laughed, grabbing the blunt from Lamar after he took a pull.

“Niggas go to college and suddenly forget whur they came from,” Lamar smacked his lips.

After the three were settled in the living room, on the couch, Jeremiah caved and took one, baby shot.

“So, how schoo’ been?” Dreya asked as she broke down some weed with her fingers on the table with a tobacco leaf next to it. “How you n ole boy you fought doin’?” she asked, making Jeremiah’s heart speed up a bit.

“Uhhh…”

“Et nigga finally gotta ass whoopin’ afta all ‘ese yurs,” Lamar laughed as he poured himself another shot. “Hurry wit et wood, Drey,”

Dreya scoffed, “Bitch, you roll it den,” she snapped back, making Lamar laugh.

“Well… we-we coo’,” Jeremiah stuttered. “Wh-What would y’all do if y’all fucked sumbody you wasn’t ‘pose ta fuck?” he asked, a little tipsy.

Lamar and Dreya both popped their heads up from what they were doing, Lamar who was on his phone, and Dreya who was licking and sealing the blunt. “Huh?” they said at the same time.

“You fucked et nigga’s girlfren, Miah?” Dreya asked, and Lamar busted out laughing.

“Aye, you a low down nigga,” Lamar added on.

Jeremiah scoffed, “No, Ian fuck et nigga’s bitch—she ain’t my type—no disrespect ta da skinny broads,”

“So, who you accidentally fuck?” Dreya raised a brow as he put the blunt to her lips, lighting it and taking a few pulls.

Jeremiah remained silent, taking a deep sigh. “Nevamind,”

“Ea nigga trippin’,” Lamar shook his head, grabbing the blunt from Dreya.

“I am,” Jeremiah huffed and facepalmed himself. “I neva thought my last yur would already be es… stressful,” he sighed, scratching his chin.

“How? Youn got no kids, youn got no bitch holdin’ you down, youn gotta pay fa college cuz you one of the best playas in college… damn nur guaranteed ta go pro,” Lamar told him.

Jeremiah sighed, running his hands through his dreadlocks, messing them up a bit. “I know… iss jus’,” he wiped his face with both hands—his mind, still only on one person. “Iss’ hard ta explain,”

Dreya just looked at him suspiciously. She has known Jeremiah since elementary school. He was her first ‘relationship’. They dated for about three months in fifth grade, but she broke it off when she told him she was gay.

Jeremiah just shrugged and asked if they could be best friends instead, and ever since, they’ve been connected to the hip.

She knew there was something deeper to his words, and it felt oddly similar… “You look confused…”

“I am,” he sighed deeply.

Lamar, who was high out of his mind and slightly drunk, just blinked and shook his head. He would just keep his mouth shut because he was too confused.

“Whatchu confused about?” Dreya asked him. “Real shit, Miah,”

“I can’t speak on it right now, Drey,” Jeremiah answered as honestly as he could. “Ion even… Ion know… I need ta head out anyway, n clur my head fa practice. I gotta go, plus I left my bag at home,” he shook his head standing up.

“Nigga, you jus’ got hur,” Lamar smacked his lips. “You used ta be fun, Jermy. Why you gotta stick up ya ass?” he stood up and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. “You made it my nigga. You out da hood,”

Jeremiah just sighed and nodded his head, “You right,” he averted his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to look him in the face.

He was worried about all that other stuff, but he was more concerned with his sexuality, and the person who made him question it.

Dreya just shook her head, suspiciously. She was going to find out what Jeremiah was hiding from her. They don’t every keep secrets from one another. “Aight, sobur yaself up fa yo Coach cuss yo ass out,” she told him.

He nodded, then he felt his phone ding in his pocket.

Dreya 🤞🏽

> yk you can tell me the truth right?

He just looked at her message, then looked back up at her as she smiled at him. “I hur you, Drey,” he nodded, referring to both her comment and text. “See y’all later,” he told them before leaving to head back to his dorm.

•••

Luckily for Micah, his first two classes were with the majority of non-athletes which meant—no friends.

He didn’t feel like talking, but he knew he would eventually have to.

Micah knew he would be bombarded with questions about his disappearance.

He groaned as he walked through campus, of course, there were all types of people walking towards him and talking to him.

Micah would put on a fake front until he finally made it outside of the building preparing to head back to his dorm. He took a deep breath, feeling his anxiety rise from being around everyone.

He felt like everyone already knew…

“Micah!” he heard his name, followed by an arm around his shoulder.

He sighed, feeling his heart rate increase, seeing James, Chase, and Jordan.

Jordan had his arm around Micah as they now changed Micah’s course of direction. “It look like you was rey go home—wussup, Micah? We ain’t seen you in a minute,” he chuckled.

“I told you niggas that I was sick,” Micah said low. “Which I’m still not completely ova,” he added, hoping they would let him go.

They didn’t.

“Man, gon,” Jordan moved off of him.

“Es nigga ain’t no damn sick,” James put his arm around Micah next. “I know when es nigga sick,” he spoke as they approached a bench on the campus where the four of them sat down. “Wussup witchu, Micah? Why you bein’ weird n ghost lately?” he asked.

“What I’m tryna find out too—I asked Jeremiah whur you was at yesterday,” Chase added on which only made Micah’s chest tighten even more.

“Fuck he say?” Micah almost gritted.

James raised a brow, “Woah…” he said, noticing how his volume raised a bit at the mention of Jeremiah… He’s also noticed how irregular Micah has been since he moved in with Jeremiah.

The two always seem to go at it, but the three boys noticed a sad energy from Micah today—that threw them off the most.

Micah was always the fun and life of the party even if he was very guarded. He rarely spoke about his feelings, but he was always a good friend to them, especially James, whom he’s been friends with since freshman year.

“He ain’t say much really…” Chase answered. “Jus’ et he assumed you wasn’t feelin’ well,”

Sighing, Micah grabbed his water bottle from his bag and took a big gulp, hoping it would calm his anxiety. “Coo’,”

James pulled Micah’s shoulder, so he was facing him, “You ain’t answer my question tho’… Wassup witchu, Micah?”

Micah just stared at him, then quickly looked away, “I told you, I’m si—”

“Cut da shit, Micah—We yo bros,” Micah told him.

A deep sigh escaped Micah as he shook his head, standing up and walking away, hearing as they followed after him, “I’a explain ta y’all later—please, I jus’ need some time to myself,”

“Micah!” James yelled out as they still followed him. “So you jus’ rey skip practice… again!” he asked.

“YUP!” Micah yelled back as he ran into the dorm building.

Jordan just raised a brow, thinking how peculiar Micah’s behavior was. However, he just continued with the other two boys, following after Micah into the dorm rooms.

Micah had reached the elevators first, and he clicked the third floor, hoping that they would leave him alone.

Once the elevator stopped on his floor, Micah rushed to his dorm room, grabbing and fumbling with his keys. He felt his anxiety increase when he heard footsteps running towards him, knowing that the three of them ran up the stairs to beat the elevator.

“Fuck,” he dropped his keys, bending down to pick them up, he put them inside, turning them, and opening his door.

Micah was about to step inside when he felt hands all over him. “Please get the fuck offa me,” he told them.

“Micah, what is your issue?” James asked. “You really gonna skip practice? You know es our senior yur, right?” he clenched his teeth.

Micah just felt another panic attack brewing.

Down the hall, Jeremiah stood, watching as Micah shook in their arms and his eyes started to water. “I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!” Micah yelled. “PLEASE… leave me alone,” he said more quietly. “I jus’ need some time ta get my mental right,” he tried his best to explain as he wiped his eyes.

Jeremiah felt his chest tighten as he just watched the three go back and forth with Micah, who refused to answer their questions.

He knew exactly the cause of Micah’s stress. It was himself that caused it. He knew he was the source.

Not daring to move an inch, Jeremiah just watched at the boys attempted to calm Micah down, eventually getting there.

They then hugged Micah, telling him to let any of them know if he needed anything, and that they would tell Coach a good excuse.

“Ion know wuss happenenin’, but… take cur of yaself, Micah,” James nodded, looking out of the corner of his eyes, noticing Jeremiah at the end of the hallway looking at them.

He then looked back at Micah, seeing where a couple of the bruises Jeremiah left on him peeked out from his turtleneck. James just raised a brow and shook off his thoughts, for now.

“I will,” Micah nodded as the trio let him go.

“Aight, be at the next practice tho,” Chase told him , patting his back.

Micah nodded, and then the three started to head down the hallway, in the opposite direction they came from, now headed toward the elevators.

They passed by Jeremiah, James stopping in front of him. “You know wassup wit him don’tchu, roommate?” he raised a brow, folding his arms.

Jeremiah’s eyes went wide a bit which James noticed and kept to himself. “I told niggas my answa already,” Jeremiah spoke and used his thumb to point towards Chase.

He felt like James was pressing him which made him wonder if he knew the true nature of what he and Micah did, but based on Micah’s reactions, and the words he spoke to him, he doubted it.

Jeremiah also knew James was closer to Micah than him, so he’s not exactly shocked by being pressed, but he wouldn’t just take it.

“I asked you tho—N clurly you know the nigga ain’t jus’ sick,” James pressed, stepping closer to Jeremiah.

Smirking, Jeremiah shook his head, “Ask yo fren what’s wrong wit him, homeboy,” he patted James’ shoulder then walked past the three. “Bye, Jay. Bye, Chase,” he waved the other two byes then went towards his room.

“Jus’ let it go,” Jordan grabbed James, causing him to look at him and sigh before the three proceeded to leave the dorms.

Jeremiah sighed as he crossed the threshold of his dorm room. He paused when he saw Micah, sitting on the couch with a bottle of tequila and a shot glass, with red eyes and a tear-stained face.

Micah immediately noticed his presence, “Whatchu doin’ hur? Iss practice today,” he asked him, glancing over at Jeremiah as he shut the door to their room.

“I jus’ came back ta get my bag…” Jeremiah sighed as he turned to really look at Micah, feeling his heart break a bit. “Look, Micah…” he started, sitting down on the couch, but keeping space in between them as he looked forward, not facing Micah. “I—I’m sorry. If I ever knew the aftamath of us, I wouldn’t have even did et witchu. I feel responsible somehow. I’m sorry, and Imma really stay outcho way,” he sighed, standing up.

Micah just kept quiet as he watched him walk to his room, without looking back.

He bit down on his lip, feeling his heart rate increasing, for he felt himself feeling for him even more. His words… his worry… all of that just made Micah feel for him more.

…and that is what scared him the most.

Micah knew he couldn’t be with Jeremiah. No matter how seen he made him feel. No matter how good he pleased him.

It wasn’t possible. Not with the lives they live—especially his life. He’d be shunned, disowned if they ever even found out just a tiny portion of what he and Jeremiah have done.

Micah stood up, without thinking, walking towards Jeremiah’s door. He stood there for a moment, staring at the door, feeling an urge to go inside and—

“What the fuck is wrong wit me?” Micah grabbed his head, then turned around and rushed to his own room, slamming the door behind him.

•••

later on that night

Jeremiah walked into his dorm, covered in sweat after being worked relentlessly at basketball practice. He instantly dropped his bag on the floor and locked it, flicking on the light, shocked when he saw Micah sprawled out on their couch with a bottle of liquor on the table next to him.

He was also sleeping. Jeremiah heard his subtle snores as he couldn’t help but to wander over to him, looking down at his sleeping face.

Jeremiah just took in all of his features. He thought his eyes were beautiful, but it was nothing compared to how pretty and pink he thought his lips were, and how soft they felt on his… he thought his nose was cute…

Why am I thinking another nigga’s nose is cute?

He just sighed, and without much thought, he picked Micah up, bridal style in his arms.

Micah just grumbled, “Da fuck?” he muttered, but his yes remained closed.

Jeremiah just smiled as he looked down at him in his arms, thinking how cute he was. He almost leaned down to kiss him, but he then remembered Micah’s words to him… how he saw how distressed Micah has been lately, and so he stopped himself.

He used his foot to open Micah’s already cracked open door, walking inside, and his eyes went wide, seeing the state it was in.

Micah was really clean, so when he saw clothes everywhere, his food that was uneaten that looked like it was days old… water bottles opened, and used napkins around his nightstand and bed… he knew how bad Micah truly felt.

He just sighed and laid him down in a clean part of his bed, then he went to their kitchen, grabbed a plastic bag and went back into Micah’s room. He grabbed the used napkins, old food, and other trash, throwing it away.

He quietly picked up the clothes that was on the other side of his bed and on the floor, taking it to Micah’s hamper that was in the corner of his room. Jeremiah then went back and made sure Micah was under the covers properly.

“The fuck?” Micah grumbled as his eyes adjusted, seeing Jeremiah standing over him. “W-What the fuck is you doin’ in my room?”

Jeremiah jumped back, “Sorry, I-I…” he stuttered. “I saw you passed out onna couch, so I jus’ brought ‘chu ta yo room,” he quickly explained. “Sorry, lemme leave now,” he told him, then left to go back to his own room.

He slammed the door shut behind him, taking a few deep breaths before he started stripping his clothes to take a shower.

Jeremiah walked into his bathroom, turning on the shower, stepping inside, feeling his mind race—yet only about one person.

Putting his head backward and stepping forward, he allowed the water to run down his face and body. He put his hands on his chest, running it down his torso until his got to his dick. “Fuck,” he breathed when he grabbed it, and it was already hard—obviously from thinking about him.

He slowly started stroking himself, “Shit,” he groaned, closing his eyes.

Of course, behind the curtains of his eyes, he saw Micah underneath him again as he was deep inside of him.

“Fuck, J-Jeremiah,” he recalled Micah’s voice moaning out his name.

“Yeah, baby?” he breathed as he rolled his hips into his hand, biting down hard on his lip as his hand focused on the tip, moving at a quick speed. “Fuck,” he huffed.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the dorm, Micah sat up in his bed, looking around his room confused. He then looked down at himself in bed, then to his door.

He carried me to bed and straightened up my room? he thought to himself in disbelief.

“Why?” he asked aloud, gripping his hair. Now, he just felt even more confused.

Micah hurried to jump out of bed and cut off his lights. He rushed back to bed as he felt his panic attack coming while he cradled himself in his comforter. “I told him ta leave me the fuck alone,” he sniffled, staring at the wall, hearing his heart pound in his ear.

It was the only sound he heard until he fell fast asleep.

•••

“Aye!” I yelled from the court, feeling my heart pounding in my chest, but my fuckin’ feet ran even faster. “JEREMIAAAHHHH!” I screamed with a smile on my face, jumping and holding my hands up.

His brown eyes met mine with that smile as he stopped dribbling to throw me the ball. “DUNK ON ‘ESE NIGGAS, MICAH!” he yelled back, and I laughed as I shook my opponent, traveling to they side.

I didn’t see anybody. I just kept hearing those words in my head that Jeremiah just spoke to me as I bent down…

then I felt as if I was floating as I soared into the air and pulled my arms back and…

DUNKING ON THEM BITCH ASS NIGGAS!

“YEEAAAAHHHHHHH!!!” I yelled as I grabbed the hoop and jumped down, hearing everyone cheer as the buzzer hit zero, and our team won the game.

I saw all my teammates rushing over to me with smiles on their faces—some even tears.

My heart was just beating in my chest as a feeling of euphoria rushed through my veins.

A smile on my face as my vision got blurry. I looked out into the crowd, seeing my father and mother smile, Kelia rushing towards me.

I then looked back at my team, and my eyes instantly locked with one other person’s. “Daddy love it when you listen ta me,” he said in my ear as he wrapped his arms around my torso.

“Imma letchu gave et one, bitch,” I giggled, hearing him laugh and feeling his hands cup my face as he lifted my chin and pressed his lips against mine.

“You let me have whateva,” he whispered on my lips, then slipped his tongue into my mouth.

I instantly wrapped my arms around him, grabbing the back of his neck. “Hmmm,” I hummed, and then I felt myself fall back onto the bed.

“Fuck, J-Jeremiah,” I moaned out as my nail dug into the skin of his back, feeling my hole throb around his dick as he gave me medium-paced strokes.

He held my thighs as he looked down into my eyes, looking at me like I was some Wagyu steak in es mufucka. “I love the way you say my name,” he breathed before leaning down to kiss me, slowing down his thrusts.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I moaned in his mouth, feeling my toes curl and my legs slightly shaking from the pleasure—the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that he gave me.

I never felt anything like it before.

It was addicting, and it was even more addictive, considering it was him. “Ahhh-Miah. R-right thur,” I moaned out.

I don’t know what it’s about him.

He just makes me want to let him do whatever to me.

“Whateva I want?” Jeremiah asked me, and I nodded.

“Ye-yes,” I let out a stuttered moan, feeling him deep inside of me, making me let out a groan. “Shit,” I bit down on my lip, putting my hands on his stomach. “Stupid, dumb, big dick ass, nigga,” I spat at him.

He just chuckled, shaking his head, “Why you so mean ta me, baby?” Jeremiah pouted as he gripped my wrist, forcefully removing my hands and pinning them above my head.

“Shit, daddy,” I slipped up and said, feeling his dick slowly fill me back up and stretch out my hole.

He then palmed my throat, gripping it as he started quickly and roughly fucking me. “F-f-fuck, Jeremiah,” I moaned, trying to wiggle my hands from his grasp.

I felt my hole continuously throbbing as my orgasm started to build up. My stomach tightened as the tip of his dick jammed at my spot. “You must want me ta fuck you like es, huh? You like it when I’m mean?” he asked, then kissed my lips, never slowing down.

I shook my head, “N-No, baby. Lemme go,” I pleaded, but he shook his head. “Oooh, I-I swur, Miah,”

“Whatchu gon’ do besides give daddy a nut?” he asked me, moving one hand under my leg, so he could fuck me deeper.

My legs only continued to shake and my heart sped up as it felt like I lost my breath while he continued to fuck me until—

Micah’s eyes shot open wide, and his body shook. His breathing was so fast that he could only hear his shallow breaths.

He stared at the ceiling, feeling sweat drip down his face. Micah sat up, looking down at the dark gray spot in his basketball shorts.

Sighing, he just looked back to the ceiling, opening his mouth to speak. He only had one question in mind.

“God… am I really a fa[redacted]?”

to be continued…

•••

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