11
Silas
Silas hadn’t lied to Troy. He’d never allowed a hookup to sleep in his bed, but a storm of possessiveness had owned him when Troy came all over his comforter as though marking Silas’s bed as his.
Rarely did Silas allow himself to let go fully, to take what he lusted for, exactly how he wanted it, but Troy had welcomed the rough handling, the ruthless, near brutal thrusts as Silas had f****d him the evening before.
Silas leaned against his counter drinking coffee, his gaze on Troy’s blue eyes peering at him from a few feet away where he stood, wondering over that red flag he’d taken note of while f*****g the boy.
Had there been more to Troy’s story about his teacher that Chávez had unearthed? Had he been forced, held down against his will? Such trauma would definitely make a p
