Xeno’s POV – Chapter Twenty-eight, Freestyle
© Kelly Stock writing as Bea Paige
“I knew I should’ve fucking come upstairs myself,” I snap, my eyes tracing over Pen’s bare breasts before snapping up to meet her gaze.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuccckk!
She tips her chin up, staring at me with defiance that makes me simultaneously hard for her and molten with rage. Those rosy pink nipples, the colour matching her flushed cheeks, turns me the fuck on. It does. It fucking does.
Desire makes my cock thicken in my pants, but anger makes me a liar.
My jaw grits, my fingers curl into fists as I glare at Zayn, as I cut him up with my stare. I’m tempted to stride over to the bed and yank Tiny off of him.
I don’t. And that’s only because I’m not certain that I wouldn’t just climb on the bed and join in instead. A part of me wants to. A big fucking part that’s currently growing bigger in my pants. Motherfuck.
“Xeno… I love her,” Zayn says calmly.
He waits for me to respond, but what can I say to that? I know he loves her. I know they all love her because I do too. God fucking help me, so do I. But someone has to remain level headed. Someone has to be the one to think clearly and as much as I fucking hate it, that someone is me. When he realises I’m not going to join them, he flicks me a look that says, ‘you stupid fool’, then lowers his lips to Pen’s collarbone and slides his mouth lower over the mound of her breasts.
The fucking bastard.
I should leave. I should close the fucking door and let them make out in private, but my feet move of their own accord and I step into the room, shutting the door and pressing my back against it.
“I know,” I finally respond, stuffing my hands into my pockets to try and cover the fact I’m hard as fuck. That I’m weeping pre-cum for her, my girl. Tiny.
And that’s just the problem isn’t it? She’s not mine. She’s given her heart to all of us and that doesn't sit well with me.
“You gonna stand there?” Zayn asks, giving me another opportunity to join them. I know what he’s saying. He’s willing to share and that both guts me and turns me on. I was always taught that true love, true soul-deep love, can only be real if it’s between two people. That it isn’t the same if love is divided up more than that. Why would he want to share something so fucking precious? How can Pen love more than one person and claim that it’s true love?
I don’t understand it.
“Yeah, I am,” I respond stubbornly.
Zayn shakes his head. “Why torture yourself, man?” he asks me before grasping Pen’s face in his hands and kissing her in such a way that makes her squirm against him. My fucking gut twists with jealousy and it takes everything in me not to join in.
I watch with intense focus as Zayn kisses our girl with passion and conviction. I almost come in my fucking pants when he lowers his mouth over her erect nipple and sucks it into his mouth whilst his fingers slide between her legs.
I bet her mouth tastes as sweet as her pussy. I bet she feels fucking phenomenal.
Pen lets out a low moan as her head turns to the side and she pins me with her lust-hazed stare and fuck if she isn’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I feel the pull of her need all the way over here and like an invisible force I’m helpless against it. My body shakes with my desire to go to her, to kiss her beautiful mouth, to touch her pert breasts and lick her skin, and say fuck to it all. I always believed I had the most self-control. That no matter what, I’d always be the one who remains focused when the other fuckers fall apart.
But right now, I’m in fucking turmoil watching Pen rock against Zayn’s hand. Seeing one of my best-friends smother her in burning kisses all over her bare skin makes me want to do the same.
I want to fuck her pussy with my fingers.
I want to kiss her skin.
I want to bite her lip.
I want to graze my teeth over her nipples and draw her into my mouth.
I want her to make those noises for me, only me.
I want her.
I want her to be mine.
And yet I can’t deny my friends her love because I love them too.
So fucking much. They’re my brothers and when she decides, she’s going to fucking kill them with pain. She's going to kill me.
Zayn groans, Pen moans, and I fucking swallow down my own desire, almost choking on it. In my jean pocket, my fingers reach for my cock and I squeeze it through the material trying to calm it the fuck down, but it pulses in my hand. It knows what it wants and it sure as fuck isn’t my fingers. I drag my gaze up to Pen’s face.
She’s so fucking beautiful. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. She’s strong, funny, feisty. She’s an incredible dancer who dances with her soul, with every part of her body and all the emotions she holds inside. There’s nothing about her that I dislike. She’s everything.
And she will forever be my Tiny, no matter what.
Even if she chooses one of the others, I will love her. Always.
“Xeno,” she mouths, and I wobble on my feet at the need in her eyes.
She drinks me in as she rocks against Zayn’s hand, as she grasps his hair and pulls his mouth against her tit. The way she’s looking at me now, it makes me doubt my decision. It makes me question why I’m so determined to make her choose.
Is loving one person a limitation we put on ourselves because society makes everything else seem impossible, wrong? Could it really be true that she can love us all fully and completely? A parent is capable of loving all their children, not just one, so why is this idea of loving more than one person any different?
Perhaps it isn’t. Perhaps I was wrong and Pen, my Tiny, was right.
Pen moans, my name lost to sensation. I watch as her cheeks flush with more heat, her eyes roll back in her head and she shudders with an orgasm I wish I’d given her. It’s at that point that I slip silently from the room my own cock leaking with cum and my heart begging my head to change its mind or lose her forever.
Can I really live a life accepting her decision but knowing that she could have loved us all, but I forced her to choose?
© Kelly Stock writing as Bea Paige
“I knew I should’ve fucking come upstairs myself,” I snap, my eyes tracing over Pen’s bare breasts before snapping up to meet her gaze.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuccckk!
She tips her chin up, staring at me with defiance that makes me simultaneously hard for her and molten with rage. Those rosy pink nipples, the colour matching her flushed cheeks, turns me the fuck on. It does. It fucking does.
Desire makes my cock thicken in my pants, but anger makes me a liar.
My jaw grits, my fingers curl into fists as I glare at Zayn, as I cut him up with my stare. I’m tempted to stride over to the bed and yank Tiny off of him.
I don’t. And that’s only because I’m not certain that I wouldn’t just climb on the bed and join in instead. A part of me wants to. A big fucking part that’s currently growing bigger in my pants. Motherfuck.
“Xeno… I love her,” Zayn says calmly.
He waits for me to respond, but what can I say to that? I know he loves her. I know they all love her because I do too. God fucking help me, so do I. But someone has to remain level headed. Someone has to be the one to think clearly and as much as I fucking hate it, that someone is me. When he realises I’m not going to join them, he flicks me a look that says, ‘you stupid fool’, then lowers his lips to Pen’s collarbone and slides his mouth lower over the mound of her breasts.
The fucking bastard.
I should leave. I should close the fucking door and let them make out in private, but my feet move of their own accord and I step into the room, shutting the door and pressing my back against it.
“I know,” I finally respond, stuffing my hands into my pockets to try and cover the fact I’m hard as fuck. That I’m weeping pre-cum for her, my girl. Tiny.
And that’s just the problem isn’t it? She’s not mine. She’s given her heart to all of us and that doesn't sit well with me.
“You gonna stand there?” Zayn asks, giving me another opportunity to join them. I know what he’s saying. He’s willing to share and that both guts me and turns me on. I was always taught that true love, true soul-deep love, can only be real if it’s between two people. That it isn’t the same if love is divided up more than that. Why would he want to share something so fucking precious? How can Pen love more than one person and claim that it’s true love?
I don’t understand it.
“Yeah, I am,” I respond stubbornly.
Zayn shakes his head. “Why torture yourself, man?” he asks me before grasping Pen’s face in his hands and kissing her in such a way that makes her squirm against him. My fucking gut twists with jealousy and it takes everything in me not to join in.
I watch with intense focus as Zayn kisses our girl with passion and conviction. I almost come in my fucking pants when he lowers his mouth over her erect nipple and sucks it into his mouth whilst his fingers slide between her legs.
I bet her mouth tastes as sweet as her pussy. I bet she feels fucking phenomenal.
Pen lets out a low moan as her head turns to the side and she pins me with her lust-hazed stare and fuck if she isn’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I feel the pull of her need all the way over here and like an invisible force I’m helpless against it. My body shakes with my desire to go to her, to kiss her beautiful mouth, to touch her pert breasts and lick her skin, and say fuck to it all. I always believed I had the most self-control. That no matter what, I’d always be the one who remains focused when the other fuckers fall apart.
But right now, I’m in fucking turmoil watching Pen rock against Zayn’s hand. Seeing one of my best-friends smother her in burning kisses all over her bare skin makes me want to do the same.
I want to fuck her pussy with my fingers.
I want to kiss her skin.
I want to bite her lip.
I want to graze my teeth over her nipples and draw her into my mouth.
I want her to make those noises for me, only me.
I want her.
I want her to be mine.
And yet I can’t deny my friends her love because I love them too.
So fucking much. They’re my brothers and when she decides, she’s going to fucking kill them with pain. She's going to kill me.
Zayn groans, Pen moans, and I fucking swallow down my own desire, almost choking on it. In my jean pocket, my fingers reach for my cock and I squeeze it through the material trying to calm it the fuck down, but it pulses in my hand. It knows what it wants and it sure as fuck isn’t my fingers. I drag my gaze up to Pen’s face.
She’s so fucking beautiful. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. She’s strong, funny, feisty. She’s an incredible dancer who dances with her soul, with every part of her body and all the emotions she holds inside. There’s nothing about her that I dislike. She’s everything.
And she will forever be my Tiny, no matter what.
Even if she chooses one of the others, I will love her. Always.
“Xeno,” she mouths, and I wobble on my feet at the need in her eyes.
She drinks me in as she rocks against Zayn’s hand, as she grasps his hair and pulls his mouth against her tit. The way she’s looking at me now, it makes me doubt my decision. It makes me question why I’m so determined to make her choose.
Is loving one person a limitation we put on ourselves because society makes everything else seem impossible, wrong? Could it really be true that she can love us all fully and completely? A parent is capable of loving all their children, not just one, so why is this idea of loving more than one person any different?
Perhaps it isn’t. Perhaps I was wrong and Pen, my Tiny, was right.
Pen moans, my name lost to sensation. I watch as her cheeks flush with more heat, her eyes roll back in her head and she shudders with an orgasm I wish I’d given her. It’s at that point that I slip silently from the room my own cock leaking with cum and my heart begging my head to change its mind or lose her forever.
Can I really live a life accepting her decision but knowing that she could have loved us all, but I forced her to choose?
