Page 38 of Meet Cute

Trembling fingers untie the drawstring of his sweatpants, the fabric dropping down to his ankles to show off the tent in his red car patterned underwear. Finn seems extra timid now—all the confidence from earlier completed deflated, but his erection twitches as the dark wet spot across the front only gets bigger.

Reminders of how fucked I am hit hard when I see the scars of my name in his flesh. It’s so horrible, really. But shouldn’t I be more disgusted by it? Not to say I like it, but… I guess it doesn’t bother me as much as it would bother literally anybody else. My parents might’ve been right, something might seriously be wrong with me.

Acting on pure curiosity, I reach forward—eyes fixated on him as my fingers gingerly trace the tip of his length. Finn shudders, pupils dilated all crazy while he stands there timidly.

When the underwear disappears his cock flings upwards, standing at full attention. It’s definitely not as big as mine, but it’s pretty sizable. Maybe five inches? The tip is a peachy-pink color, and a big vein runs down to his full balls. He’s not trimmed or anything, but I would be an idiot for even expecting so from someone with such a messy room.

I’m not really sure what to do at this point. Do I just put it in my mouth? Do I kiss it? Spit on it? The porn I’ve watched is minimal, and it’s crystal clear to me that neither of us know what exactly to do. Sex doesn’t come with a manual, it seems.

This is a crazy stupid thing to do in the first place. The things he’s done to me, the things I’ve seen… Obsessive stalker shrines, lovebombing… it’s stockholm-a-tron 101 yet I’m eating it up. I’m seriously so stupid.

But it’s Finn. It’s Finn. I know deep down it doesn’t change anything, but god I wish it did.

“Is it… okay?” He asks, shifting weight to his other leg awkwardly. I hate how my attention is drawn to the way his dick bobs in the air, and even more than that I hate how much I’m into all of this. “Bunny?”

With my body on autopilot, I let my hand begin slowly pumping at his leaky cock. Is this really what I want? My first experience with anyone being the man who not only kidnapped me but did something completely unforgivable to me?

To be frank, I don’t know what I want. But I know I’m hard and my brain is fried, so yeah—maybe this is what I want. At least right now. If I really wanted to stop, I’m sure he would let me.

So why am I not stopping?

All of Finn’s anxious twitching and little movements come to a screeching halt when I look up at him. His skin turns a deep red, before he falls forward and leans against me for support.

My free hand moves to the back of his neck, holding him against my chest with far too much affection. More affection than he deserves. Little by little I can feel him losing control, easing down and letting himself enjoy it. There’s this lovesick quality to his gaze, which is as intense as it is exciting.

“You’re… y-you’re really…” Finn stammers. “Duncan, you… Ugh… I—”

I’m only imitating things I’ve seen, yet it’s so of fun watching how effective this all is. Despite holding all the power, Finn is putty in my hands right now—and there’s something fun about having so much power over someone.

My fingernails dig into his scalp, gripping his messy hair as he shifts to bite down on the bare flesh of my shoulder. “Dun—can….”

His hips jerk back, his cock pulsing before shooting thick white ropes across my thighs. It all happens so fast I don’t process it until it’s over, the hot, sticky mess running down my skin onto the counter below.

Although I was certain Finn would apologize and make a fuss, he instead grabs both my cheeks and leans in to kiss me. It’s not like the other kisses. It’s hungrier. Dirtier. Half lust and half love, or rather his own version of love.

“I’ve been… thinking about this… for so long.”

Past memories begin to run through my mind. I guess I didn’t notice how intently he was watching me drink my soda when we went out to eat that one time. How many other things did I miss? If I was more attentive, would I still be in this situation?

Does it matter? I’m still so fucking disgusting.

“You’re so perfect, bunny. So amazing.” Finn murmurs while wiping my face with his thumbs, body pressed up tight against mine. I’m pinned between the toilet and him, my empty stomach rumbling out again. “My perfect bunny. All mine. I-I love you, ugh… Fuck… so much.”

All the praise is getting to my head. Blushing, I glance over to the side. “Can you… Can we eat, please? I didn’t… breakfast…” For some reason it’s not easy getting the words out right now.

“Yeah, bunny. Of course. I’m sorry. You m-must be starving,” he coos all sweetly as if he isn’t the reason for it. “Let me finish wrapping up your legs, okay?”

A pang of disgust shoots through me. Did I really just do that? What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I still hard? Worst of all, why don’t I regret it?

TWENTY-NINE

Finn moves around the kitchen in such a strange way. He’s had to live here for a good chunk of his life, right? So why does he maneuver around his kitchen like it’s the very first time? But there’s this weird sense of calculation to it, he knows where things are but is always unsure about how to get to them.

I guess that carries over to the way he goes about everything though. Even back at the gas station it was easy to mistake him for a first-timer since he always seemed so scared.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” The question leaves my mouth as soon as the thought forms in my head. It’s been a while, but as far as I can tell he’s never even left the house.

Finn glances back to where I am, hunched over at a backless seat with my arms resting on the kitchen island. This house should be cozy, with its limited space and warm colors—but it feels more like a farce. I guess it’s similar to him in that way. Soft on the outside but just… wrong on the inside.