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1k reads.

Yes, we've reached the stage where I should have popped a bottle with y'all, if you were here but you're not, sadly.

As I stated, this is the other half of TJTNTG and there would be a rollercoaster of emotions, which might make you hate me (or love me, amen) but I'd make it worth it, scout's honour. (why do I feel a need to say 'I solemnly swear to be up to no good'?)

Anywaaaaaayyyy,

I want to say thank you to this people who have voted and commented on my work:

Djtupou2149

deliciochoco

ILiketacos8v

geenai.

And to those who don't, thank you regardless for reading my book, I know most of it sucks and you have better things to do but thank you all the same.

Song: Fire on Fire by Sam Smith.

~

Paris didn't sleep that night.

Perhaps, he half expected she'd want to call him and ask for an explanation but he knew by now that she'd not even bother to hear his side.

Besides, Hermes?

Hermes was the god of trickery. It sounded like she already knew he didn't exactly have the best intentions in the beginning but he didn't think she'd just let him go so easily.

Sunday passed and he didn't get a call or text.

Monday for him was practically busy, considering how his teammates suddenly became friendly all over again, sending him thumbs up whenever they could and pats on his back that both irritated and frustrated him at the same time.

Eventually, when the competition with the other school began, he fucked up the first half. Wrong passes, horrible shots, half assed dribbles.

They were already behind fifty points.

"Holmes," His Coach looked liked he was ready to explode with how red his face was. "Is there something wrong? Mommy and Daddy problems perhaps?"

Paris felt like punching him. "No."

"Then why's your game off?" The man snapped back bug-eyed. "Because you were playing alright before and it was your mates problem now it's you. Maybe benching would just be better."

"Oh, naw, Coach," Matteo said, "Everyone has off days. This is just one of them for Paris. Right, bro?"

Bro. They were bros again.

Paris nearly scoffed at the word. "Right,"

"Well, we can't exactly move up if he keeps having off days, can we?" He asked, then looked at him. "So you're no longer playing. Cole is taking your spot."

Cole, who was the second best player but was not allowed into the whole popular group thing knew what taking Paris' position meant.

Glares all through the day. "I don't think —"

"I didn't stutter, did I?" Coach asked, giving his own glare now.

He was angry, of course he was, basketball was his sport. The one thing he could do without feeling like a complete mess, and even she had the ability to take that.

Paris had sat on the bench for half a minute when someone from the bleachers tapped his back and gave him a note.

At first, he didn't want to take it until he heard, "You Hermes?"

He turned swiftly now, the girl with the paper moving back at the suddenness before he snatched it from her, earning a 'hey!' in return but he ignored it.

As soon as he was about to open it, a shadow fell over his body and he looked up, meeting the frown of his Coach. "You're unbenched."

Paris felt his eyes widened. How? The game hadn't even begun! "But—"

"Please, don't make me regret this decision." The man mumbled under his breath and scurried away faster than he had ever seen the fat man go.

Paris stared after him, then looked back at the paper that he had rolled open, four words in tidy lines written

Don't fuck up, Kitten.

Then he felt it. A need to look towards the door of the gymnasium and he did, meeting the eyes of the girl that had tormented him for a whole day standing at it's entrance.

She didn't have a smile on her face for him, but somehow, he knew that she wasn't mad. Perhaps, upset at something, but it wasn't him at least.

Alex had no idea how much relief she had caused him at that moment.

The game began again and Paris felt like there were wings on his sneakers. He basically flew around the court, missing two shots but being on point with the others, and the game was over. There were a hundred and twenty nine to seventy.

Of course, it would have been better if he had been on his game earlier but it didn't matter since they had won. The screams in the hall were loud enough to shatter his ear drums and the amount of people gathered around him nearly made him snap angrily at them, but no matter what they did, they didn't let him pass.

And when they eventually reduced in numbers and he looked towards the door, she was already gone.

The Team decided to have a party after school, but Paris didn't want to go. Hell, he had to stomach the grins on their face all day and he wasn't sure he could continue without feeling more disgust for himself so he said he'd stay home.

He just didn't expect her to appear at his window that night.

Paris was reading, legs crossed with his head buried into the book before he heard a knock.

At first, he looked at his door, though the sound didn't resonate with how it usually did with the door until he looked at his window and nearly got a heart attack.

In a flash, he was standing there sliding it open and she jumped in after. She had on a shirt and joggers, with a tote bag over her shoulders.

"What are you doing here?"

He didn't mean to sound angry at the thought. Infact, he wasn't, but the fact that she was at his house, even though he had never told her where, or that she had climbed above it...

"You all have the same windows," She stated, voice bland. "Can I shower here?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Can I shower here?"

"I—" What was he supposed to say? Of everything he expected, that wasn't it, but it was Alex. She didn't do anything he expected. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

She nodded, setting her bag and phone on his desk then moved towards where his bathroom before her phone buzzed.

She paused to look at it, a momentary look of sadness coming across her face before she turned away and shut the door.

As soon as she was gone, Paris turned back to the window and looked out, wondering how the hell she got there before he returned to his chair, now staring at her phone that was buzzing again.

He knew he wasn't supposed to look at it. Paris was one person that believed in privacy more than most but he couldn't stop himself from looking at who would want to send as much messages as he used to.

Desperate people, right?

He stared at it for a few seconds then back at the door before he held it in his hand. They was so many of them, and the fact it was coming from someone he knew she would never hurt on purpose, made him stare at the screen with complete confusion.

Baby boy ♡

I didn't mean it, I swear I won't hurt him. I'm sorry

I'd tell you anything you want, just talk to me, please, I'm begging you, I'd do anything

Mommy, your baby is sorry

I know that I should do better, I keep promising that, but I can't be better if you keep ignoring me

Babe?

A? Should I stop texting you?

Just tell me! Say something! Don't you miss talking me to?

You've punished me for too long that it's not fair anymore...

Jesus Christ.

There was many more, and it was clear she was reading them, and ignoring it.

Paris knew that he was supposed to be happy about this recent development. It was obvious Marcos hadn't told her about what happened and they had fought on something that wasn't him, which also meant she might have some space for him in her life.

But why was he worried about the boy?

He stared at the phone for a while and let out a small hiss. He knew he shouldn't have fucking taken the phone. Now, why the fuck was he having random feelings for no reason? If she wanted to be mad at the male, fine. That was none of his business. Good riddance anyway.

Yet, Paris found himself walking out of his room and calling Marcos with her phone.

It was an impulsive feeling, just to know if he was okay, but he realized half way through that he wasn't actually supposed to card and before he could hang up, boy picked, and when he did, he sounded completely frantic. "Alex?! God, I said I was sorry, why don't you just forgive me?"

Paris could hear him sob and sniff and the mental image of Marcos crying hit him.

He didn't like it.

"A... Won't you— Won't you talk to me?"

Christ, his voice. He sounded like he was at the verge of crying again and since some part of Paris didn't want that, his mouth spoke to prevent it. "Hey,"

And that was when he realized that Marcos didn't know it wasn't Alexandra that called.

Ah, shit.

The male stayed silent, and the second he spoke, it was obvious he didn't like the idea that Paris called at all. "What are you doing with Alex's phone?"

He had never heard him sound so... Cold. Oh wait, he had. In the Alleyway. A rainbow always came after storms right? Made sense.

"She came here, genius." Of course, his mouth was deciding to be snarky about it.

"She— She did?"

He sounded like he wanted to cry again.

"Hey, stop—"

"It's your fault! You with your stupid plan! If you didn't just exist, she'd be here with me! I hate you!"

Paris felt like bitch slapping the male. "You wouldn't know how to hate even if you were taught on it. You're just throwing a fucking tantrum."

He heard Marcos take in some breaths before he began whimpering. "Why do you want to hurt her? You have no idea how much she needs this. And it really sucks because— because I'm the one who told her to take you, and now, when— when I told her I'd use something against you just like Julian and she told me not to. She cares about you. Why?"

She— She cared about him? And Marcos was the one who talked to her? To take him? Paris didn't want to believe it. That the wimp helped, but it made a lot of sense. Alex treasured him, and whatever Marcos wanted, would obviously be given to him.

Fuck, he hated humans.

"I did at the beginning," Paris had his voice low as he spoke, "Look, my family... There's this thing we do when a teenager is basically kicked out of the family to fend for themselves in uni. Valedictorian would have helped me... I don't know."

In truth, he hadn't even thought of that. Ever since he met Alex, he completely forgot his ass was hanging on a bare thread right now. If he didn't get a scholarship, he would be in horrible shit after school, and he'd have to leave his Mom with the bastard.

Fuck, now that he remembered, his head was hurting.

"But you have enough money to work on that,"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure Alex has enough money as well."

Marcos, of course, was ready to defend her. "It's not the same,"

"I don't think you should just go make pretty assumptions because some people don't wear their hearts on their sleeves." Paris found himself snapping then sighed, raking his hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter, what my reason is, but I don't— I don't want to hurt her. It was different, when I didn't know who she was. When I wasn't involved. It was supposed to be me dating her. I mean, it isn't obvious yet that I am completely and utterly bewitched by her?"

He had never admitted it outside, or to even himself, but now that he did, he knew it was true. She owned him. All of him. The whole deal. And it scared and excited him at the same time.

"You could be faking it,"

"Getting fucked in the ass is too much for faking,"

There was silence for a while before Marcos spoke, and when he did, he sounded completely down. "I did the same."

"Fine. So you'd never believe me, it's fine, but I— I care about Alex too. I do. She's the first person in my life that actually makes me feel valid. It's like I can be me around her. You know?"

Most people couldn't stand someone who kept losing his shit, but she— she fucking tamed him. She knew how to sort him out.

"I do,"

Paris could tell he wasn't crying anymore, which seemed to make him feel slightly better. The feeling was new to him. Being connected to someone who he knew had nothing in common with.

Or the more he thought, they did.

Two people who craved some sort of peace from someone to hide from the real world.

"She's mad at me..." He sniffed and let out a small sigh. "And I don't know when she'd talk to me again, I don't know. It hurts so fucking much. I don't know how you were doing it, to be honest."

Paris felt a smile coming to his face. "Thanks for the reminder,"

"And there's no one... To talk to about it with. No one else seems to understand..."

Paris decided to cut him off there. "Well, first, I think crying about it is just pathetic,"

Marcos stayed quiet for a while again, but when he spoke, Paris could swear he was sounding cute. "You are mean."

"And it's you, Marcos. Unlike me, I was basically hanging by a thread but you. She loves you. It's so fucking obvious that I don't know how you don't see it."

"Sometimes, love isn't always enough."

"I guess you should start hoping it is, then. And if she— When she's out, I could talk her too."

"What?"

"You told her to like, consider me right?" He shrugged, trying to ignore the sting of it. "Big deal. I could try getting her to talk to you too. Just so I owe you nothing now."

"You— You don't have to,"

"I really don't like owing puppies favours. They can go wild and shit."

And Marcos laughed.

Paris listened to it. His ears seemingly straining to get everything. Marcos seemed to make everything feel way better when he was happy. Like everything would be alright now because rainbows made everything feel that way, didn't it?

He silently cursed. What were this people turning him into? "Fuck, she's been in there for years, I gotta go. Just don't— Don't cry again. It's stupid."

The male let out a small sigh. "Okay, and Paris?"

"Yeah?"

"She— When we fight, she used to— Overdose. On her pills. It makes her act— Different. I don't know. Could you check on her, for me? To see if she's okay?"

Alex overdoses?

He nodded. "Yeah, sure. I will." Paris hung up after, now walking back into his room before he paused at the door. She stood at his desk, the book he was reading in her hand. "I haven't seen this in a while,"

It was a novel. Liane Moriarty book. Big Little Lies. "You read that stuff?"

"Yeah, but I can't read Novels— On my own," Her face showed something close to pain as she flipped through the pages with a small smile on her face. "I can only read it around Marcos and the idiot always has me repeating words just to get me pissed—"

Slowly, the smile died away. Paris could tell she remembered she wasn't talking to him. Now, he wanted to know why. It was clear it hurt her to be away from him.

Yet, he knew if he had upset her, there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do, at this point, was prove that it wasn't so useless and maybe, she'd see reason in whatever he was going to say. "I could read to you,"

Alex turned to him, a lost look in her eyes. "What?"

"When— You can't, right?" He asked. "I could read for you, if you want. So you just listen, and not read. Even though I know you can. Is that stupid? Do I sound stupid?"

She kept staring at him wordlessly for a while before another smile came to her face. Alex returned the book back to his desk and turned around to look at him. "No, Hermes. You don't. I'd like that. Thank you,"

Paris tried to ignore the fact his cheeks were hitting up as he stared at her now. She had on thigh high black stockings, a big blue and black checkered shirt with her hair in her signature bun, except the braids were gone and it was her natural hair looking like a rabbit tail on her head while she let some strands dance around her face.

And some makeup.

She looked completely the same, and yet she managed to take his breath every single time. "Have you seen my phone? I can't find it,"

"Oh," He walked to her and placed it in her hand. "Here."

He waited for her to ask what he was doing with it but she said nothing, pocketing the device before looking at him. "Would you like to go to a party, Hermes?"

"A party?"

She nodded.

"I—" There was only one party she could be talking about, and with the way she was acting so calm, he wasn't sure he should go anywhere with her. "Well, you see, my Father doesn't like me going out much —"

"Its alright, he won't say no."

He stared at her. "You do not know my Father,"

"And you do not know me,"

The truth in the sentence made him stare like she had just slapped him. Paris didn't know much about her, except little details.

"I like that you don't," Her voice was soft as she spoke, reaching out to touch his face. "When you look at me, you don't see what they see. Some see a pitiful person, some others look at me like I'm a danger even to myself, and when you look at me—"

Paris felt his heart stop. Her eyes kept looking at him with so much intensity that it felt like his knees would give way but she withdrew her hand and held it out for him to hold now, the look gone, now replaced with a smile. "Trust me?"

Why was she acting like this? She was never this way around him. Paris wondered if she was planning something sinister but he knew if she wanted to, Alex would do it without hiding.

And trust her? She had no idea how much he would do for her, did she?

He took her hand and she led him out his room and out his house. As they got to his car, he had asked her where they were going, and she had said in a subtle tone, "You already know."

Right. He did.

Paris drove, getting to Abel's house in minutes, since they all didn't leave so very far away and as soon as he was parked, she came out first and he followed.

Alex stood silently. Her eyes stared at the house behind him, furrowed in concentration then when she turned to him, there was a look on her face he didn't think he'd see.

A look of defeat. "You can go in there,"

What was she talking about? "I don't—"

"Don't." She closed her eyes for a second, the command hanging harshly between them. "Don't make this harder than it should be. You led Wystwood to the finals, and your friends seem chummy with you again. I want to give you your old life back. The freedom."

"You're—" Saying it hurt. Thinking it hurt. "You're letting me go?"

She nodded. "Most times, people can't make decisions for themselves and someone else has to show you the way,"

"Did Marcos tell you that?"

She didn't answer him. "Go, please. You can keep the collar. You can keep everything. I— We can be friends—"

"Are you trying to make me feel more horrible?" He cut in. Paris didn't get why she was always trying to send him away. Wasn't he worthy enough to keep? Hadn't he done enough to be wanted?

"This is me telling you that you won," Alex replied. "You wanted to be someone to me, and you are. I like the thought of keeping you. It's pleasing to my head, so you've won. You can go now,"

"I haven't even been your boyfriend yet," He said.

She stared at him with an incredulous look in her eyes. "Is that what bothers you?"

"No, I'm telling you that I haven't won." Paris fought down the tears threatening to come out his eyes as he walked to her. "I haven't made you deem me worthy of being yours. I haven't gotten you able to fight for me. Hell, you're letting me go like it's fucking easy,"

"There's nothing easy about it," They were close enough now. Their lips just inches apart. "I'm not stupid. The only reason you kept coming back was because I didn't give you the chance to exist in my life. I didn't let you win, and now, I'm telling you that you've won."

"How did I win if you don't want to fucking keep me?" He wanted to scream at her. "Keep me. I would be anything you want. I'd do anything you ask. Just fucking want me."

"Paris—"

"Hermes." He cut in. "Don't suddenly call me that. I'm getting accustomed to the new one."

Alex closed her eyes. "Go away, Holmes."

Paris felt his heart being squeezed. She wanted him. He knew that, but not enough to actually go through with it. How was he supposed to live knowing he could be with her but he hadn't begged well enough to?

His brain told him what to do, for the first time in years, but his heart fought against it. He didn't need to beg. He was Paris Holmes. He could have anyone. Keep anyone.

They just wouldn't be her.

And so, he hung his head low and went on one knee, then the other and wrapped his arms around her waist, saying into her stomach, "I'm not going anywhere. And you can't make me. I don't care what you fucking do. I don't care if you fucking hate me. You can't just come into my life and show me how life could be with you and rip me away from it. I refuse. It's my fucking life and I get to choose who I want. And I fucking choose you. So whatever, do what you want. I don't care,"

Paris had no idea how long he knelt, but he had barely been able to feel himself with the cold and the way he felt numb, but when he felt her hand rest on his hair and begin to pet it, emotions rushed through all of him. "You are so stupid,"

He looked up at her now. Another smile on her face, but there was nothing sad about it. She looked almost proud, that he still decided to stay and it made him want to worship her all of a sudden.

"Get into the car, Hermes," She said now. "The one next to the driver's seat."

Paris wanted to ask why but he ignored it and did as she asked. When he was in, she sat beside him on the other seat, saying softly. "I'm going to repeat myself, and I am going to say it clearly. If you don't leave, right now, I will fuck you and make sure that you're so loud, everyone will know that I'm fucking you and even if they don't hear you, they'd see you limping, and I would keep you to myself. You will have no say in—"

Paris felt his dick throb at the thought. "You talk too much."

And then it happened. A grin appeared on her face. "Take off your clothes,"

Again, he obeyed, trying painstakingly to be slow but his hands got everything off his body faster and he watched her take off the buttons of her shirt. Underneath, she wasn't wearing a bra, and a strap on.

For someone who was so determined to send him away, she had on a specific wear. "Come sit on me and face the windscreen,"

He crawled over to her, trying his best not to poke his ass to much. His eyes met his reflection on the rearview mirror. He looked wild. Absolutely primitive. Like a fucking piece of shit.

And yet, when he felt her breath on his ear, he pushed the thought away. "Relax. You're so tense."

He shivered but tried to keep it down. "I can feel the dildo poking my ass,"

"Like you don't like it," Paris mentally cursed her, before he felt her place a bottle in his hand. "Here. Lube your fingers and fuck yourself so it wouldn't hurt too much when I'm doing it myself,"

"A strap on? And lube? Who were you going to fuck if I walked into that party?"

"Someone that wasn't you,"

Paris felt a frown come to her face but it went away when he heard her chuckle. "Don't think much of it, Sunshine. Do as I said. I want to see how you do it when you think of me,"

The word sent another shot of pleasure through him and he closed his eyes now, trying his best to stay over the dashboard while one hand pressed two fingers into his hole.

As Paris was about to start fucking himself, he was suddenly pressed to the steering wheel, the horn ringing loudly in the air while his butt stayed up and someone place bite marks around it.

He heard himself moan. "What— What are you doing?"

"Contributing unto the ass community,"

"Mistress—"

"Shh, Kitten. Relax. And fuck yourself, I want to get a clear view."

He let out another moan, small breaths leaving his lips before he began to move. Moans drew out his lips as he did so, his walls clenching tighter around his fingers with every bite she gave before he felt her tongue there.

On his fingers.

He tensed again. God, was she trying to drive him mad? "Mistress— Ahh,"

She flickered her tongue around his fingers and hole at the same time, as if trying to get him so wet that she'd be able to poke her tongue in with his fingers. Paris saw himself doing exactly that. He fucked his ass faster, trying to get himself wider before he felt her tongue poke in.

"Fuck," He cursed. His whole body felt like it was being pinched on his nerves as she wiggled her tongue in while he went faster.

Paris could already tell he was getting so close but before he could do that, her hand pulled him out and without warning slammed him on her cock.

He nearly screamed at the hugeness of it, and the pain threatening to split his ass into to, but her fingers pressed themselves into her mouth while she said quietly, "Just because I said I'd fuck you so loud everyone would hear, doesn't mean I want them to. Only I deserve to hear the beautiful sounds you make. Do you understand?"

Paris tried to nod but his body was giving up on him. And his mouth was too preoccupied with sucking on her fingers.

Alex took her fingers out now, wrapping it around his neck and pressing him to her body. It was the first time they were skin on skin and it seemed like it burnt to be so close but he ignored it. Especially when she spoke on his ears again. "I want you to keep your legs on the dashboard and look at that mirror while I fuck you, so you'd see how good and delicious you look when I do so. Is that clear?"

Paris had only obeyed the first order an when she began to fuck him.

Hard.

Her hand still stayed around it's neck, making it impossible for him to breathe properly while her mouth moved from his neck, shoulder, ear, arms—

Did he want her to slow down? Did he want to breathe?

Paris managed to look at himself once again. He looked wilder now, but he hadn't looked as free as he did now. Another moan left his lips again. She was making him feel everything all at once. It was too much. She made him feel too much.

How was she doing this? How was she making it feel so fucking good?

Her other hand began to move down, now pinching his nipples, along with the bites.  Then she went down, and in began jerking him off.

It hadn't been more than three pumps when he cried out, cumming all over her hand and his stomach, but she wasn't through with him. "Turn."

He did, pants leaving his lips as she began to place kisses on his collarbone. "Now, I want you to ride me. I won't assist. I want to see that look on your face. The same look you had on that mirror."

He had never looked at her before during sex. This was new.

"And you can touch me, here."

Alex took his hand, put it on one of his breasts and and gave a gentle squeeze.

He thought he was going to pass out.

"Move, little prince."

Paris did so, trying to be careful because of how she had practically destroyed his hole while his hand squeezed her breasts. She felt so soft. So fucking soft that he could barely think straight and then she said, "Fuck. You look so fucking hot when you're riding me like that."

He felt himself go faster.

Tears now began to bubble in his eyes as he did so. His body hurt because of the cramping in the car but he liked it. He liked how she was looking at him. How she was letting him look at her.  "You make it feel so good. Why does it feel so good?"

"I want to kiss you." Her hands reached out to brush the tears. "Can I?"

He nodded and she did, but it wasn't like how he expected. It was as if it was something she had wanted to do in a long time. Her tongue attacked him while she pressed him to her body, like she was afraid to let him go.

His body screamed at how she was making him feel. It knew he could never replicate something like this again. It made him want her to stop.

"Oh God," He pulled away. His hands now wrapped itself around her neck. "Mistress, I think I'm going to cum. Can I cum? Please, let me— "

She bit into his shoulder.

Paris felt shudders all through his body as he began to cum, his moans growing until he was sure nothing was left in him. As soon as he came down, he realized he needed to breathe. He looked like a fucking mess. Probably smelled like it, but when he tried to move away, she held him. "Just stay, for a bit."

A small flutter started in his chest at the words. "It's still in me though,"

She laughed, and let him go, but after she had kissed him with that life sucking kiss of hers.

When he was seated back on the seat next to the driver's naked with his jacket over his body, he looked at her as she cleaned him up, saying with his voice low. "Did you— Did you take some pills today?"

When Alex fucked him, he was able to forget about crazy his world was, but now, when she was looking at him like he was an angel... She had never done aftercare with him. It was making him feel fucking emotional.

"No," He waited for her to ask how he knew about it, but she didn't. Instead, she said, "I was doing that because I realized I didn't give you a choice to choose. It's addictive. The sex and— And I don't just want to fuck you. It's not how I am,"

"Could have fooled me."

And she smiled at him again. "Sleep, I'd drive you home."

"You might not be here when I wake up,"

"And here I was thinking you were big on risks." She reached out and kissed his forehead. Again, his body felt vibrations from the contact. "Sleep, Hermes. I'd be watching you,"

He did want to sleep though. She had fucked him unable to stay awake, but before he let go, he heard himself mumble. "Can I— Can I call you Mommy too?"

"Yes, little one. You can,"