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God of Fury – Chapter 3

NIKOLAI

Kolya Jr. has been an adventurous whore since he got his first boner at the fresh age of five.

It was such a marvelous discovery when I found my then-wiener hard that I giggled with glee. Then I proceeded to run all over our house, dangling, pointing, and showing it off to anyone who crossed my path while shouting, “Look! I have a gun!”

Dad laughed his head off. Mom looked like she was going to either throw up or burst into flames.

Good times.

For me and my dad. Definitely not for my mom since she was covering my twin sisters’ eyes, ushering them inside, and telling me to get my weenie back in my pants.

I pouted as I muttered, “But my weenie really likes the air.”

Mom looked at the sky, probably to the invisible big bro up there, and when that didn’t work, she directed her gaze at the actual semblance of a real God in our lives. My dad.

After he laughed his ass off—five out of five sense of humor on that man, love him—he helped me pack a pouty Kolya away, and sure as shit, my dick had every right to be offended since his first show was put to a nonconsensual halt.

Dad told me that I actually couldn’t use my wiener as a gun. At least, not yet—see, told you that man has the best sense of humor, as expected of my dad—and stripping in front of my baby sisters is a no-no.

He also said the stupid rule where I couldn’t be naked all the time. Fucking social restrictions and all that bullshit.

At any rate, that was the official birth of Kolya Jr., or Kolya for short. Kolya happens to be the Russian diminutive form of my name, but it’s rarely used, and only by my very Russian grandfather, who snarls at the reality that Niko won the nickname battle a hundred to one.

And no, Grandpa doesn’t know I actually call my dick Kolya or I’d need to revoke my Russian card. And that’s no fun. I breathe vodka.

Anyway, ever since that boner incident, Kolya has become the sluttiest, most adventurous cock anyone would ever meet.

He’s resourceful, to put it mildly, and a flat-out whore if we’re being fucking blunt.

Part of his extended arsenal is being easy to satisfy. Give him a willing hole and he’s weeping in joy—literally.

So imagine my goddamn bafflement when he woke up today and chose the silent treatment.

I presented an especially sexually frustrated Kolya with his favorite flavors. At the same time.

A dick and a pussy? Fucking jackpot, if you ask me.

After the initiation, I got back to the Heathens’ mansion and shot three of my contacts a text to come and worship at Kolya’s altar.

All three of them replied, so what the fuck? A foursome sounded like fun, so I told them to come the fuck over, and they did, stacked with weed and booze, and one was chewing on a blue pill.

Not sure you’re supposed to chew on it, but I couldn’t be bothered and gave him vodka to help…uh…with digestion and shit.

Don’t ask me how I know those two guys and the girl. The girl is from school, probably. Again, don’t ask what happens at school. I’m studying business there, but I’ve barely attended any classes since I’ve been at college. As long as I keep my GPA up, thanks to my superior genes, nobody cares. Me included.

The two guys, anyone’s guess. I happen to attract a lot of attention—might have to do with Kolya’s extravagant magic cross piercing that many swear made them see heaven.

Or hell. Depending on their kink.

Also, it might have to do with how unbothered I am by any request. Once, a girl was like, “Choke me, Daddy,” and I nearly killed her. In my defense, she didn’t specify how hard I should choke her, so I went with the flow—the flow being maximum violence.

Another guy sent me a text saying, “Are you looking for a doormat? Because you can step on me any day and I’d bend over and take it.” So I did just that and stepped on him. What? He asked for it and, I kid you not, he jizzed all over my room. Then he did bend over and took it.

Fun times.

Last night, however, most definitely was not.

It was so far from fun, it gave me fucking whiplash.

I had three sexy-as-fuck people at my disposal and Kolya was playing hard to get like a virgin motherfucker. Which he’s not.

For the first time in my nineteen years of life, I couldn’t get off. Not when they offered their mouths, holes, and everything in between. In fact, I wasn’t even motivated to release Kolya from his least favorite confinement—my pants.

They soon forgot about me and turned to one another while I watched, sitting on the stairs and nursing a bottle of good ole vodka. It was a threesome of epic proportions that started with making out, sucking each other off, and both guys double penetrating the girl and fucking her senseless until she nearly passed out. At some point, they pushed her aside. Viagra boy clearly couldn’t get enough, so he bent the other guy over, fucked him, then nutted in his ass. Or I think he did. Because that’s the point where I fell asleep.

At the bottom of the stairs.

If that doesn’t tell you how desperate Kolya’s state of no fun is, I don’t know what would.

Not the sleeping at the bottom of the stairs part, because I swear to fuck my body can only lull itself to sleep on anything that isn’t a bed. It comes with my head’s fucked-up state of mind.

This is about the not-participating part. Usually, I’d be all over that shit, and, in retrospect, bringing the beautiful queer energy out of everyone. There’s a reason why people say yes whenever I shoot them a text. I’m a guaranteed source of crazy fun.

Last night, not only did I not fuck my way through multiple holes, but I was also bored.

Completely and utterly indifferent.

Like I was earlier, when the professor was about to give me head. Hot bombshell with luscious lips and everything.

Kolya was almost hard but didn’t want her lips anywhere near his goddamn annoying presence.

Fuck.

I walk through the door of the mansion after school and stop in the entrance hall, tug my T-shirt over my head, and throw it down. My necklace that Dad gifted me jostles free and I stroke the bullet that hangs from it before I let it fall to my naked chest.

There. Much better.

People should be thankful I wear pants. Fucking prude society could use a chill pill. I have a beautiful body and I would rather show it off instead of keeping it tucked away. The same applies to my monster cock. I’m usually hella proud of Kolya’s size and porn star-level performance, but today is not it.

I narrow my eyes on the half-tent in my pants. “The fuck is wrong with you, motherfucker?”

Is it all the fucking? No. Hell no. That’s what he thrives on. It’s why he chose to be completely cool with any hole. Endless options and all that.

Maybe I should extend those options… But to whom? I’ve been literally fucking my way through any and all of the population available at my disposal.

Let’s rewind.

What could’ve happened to trigger Kolya’s silent treatment? He’s been caught in this strange stage where he’s about to grow a boner but never exactly gets there.

Yesterday morning, I was coming all over an ass and a pussy, or was it two asses and a pussy? Anyway, I was a bit high at the time, so who knows how many?

What I do know, however, is that Kolya was definitely pumped up for the highly awaited event—the initiation. Punching people to near death? Holding power over their insignificant existence?

Fucking ecstatic.

Kolya was most certainly feeling himself and had the night of his dickish life, especially after…

A twitch rushes to my groin and I pause.

He was feeling himself more than usual when…

A reluctant, uptight preppy boy was gliding his firm ass all over him.

“Oh no.” I glare down at my pants. “Fuck no, you fucking fuck.”

He twitches again as if saying, “Fuck yeah.”

“The fuck are you? A masochist? He said he was straight. Told you to keep your nonsense away from him as if it were an insult.”

My dick doesn’t understand insults, since he has the moral compass of a used condom, and remains standing at attention like an eager kid in class.

“You need to get yourself fucking checked, dude. Preferably by an exorcist so they can get those demons out and shit.”

Now that I think about it, when I was falling asleep, I wasn’t seeing the hot threesome, but the up and down of a gorgeous Adam’s apple as he flinched, jerked, and swallowed thickly.

Fuck me sideways.

Kolya is definitely hard and in the mood now. Maybe if I get him the same flavor as the three from last night…

He flops down so fast, I curse his goddamned maker.

It’s me. I’m the maker.

“Fuck you right the fuck off, motherfucker,” I mutter.

I don’t fuck with straight guys.

At all.

Many of them have fragile egos and macho manly energy that pisses me off and propels me to sudden, impulsive violence. I prefer queers who are comfortable in their own sexuality, like myself, thank you very much.

The only time I hover near a heterosexual man is if he’s a lost bi-curious lamb who wants to experiment. In that case, I make it my mission to take him to heaven. Like an angel did to some prophet—don’t ask me what his name is; I can’t even remember mine half the time.

Brandon King does not belong on any of my lists of interest.

He’s too uptight and closed off, not to mention standoffish and arrogant. His entire existence should give me a serious case of erectile dysfunction.

Jesus fuck.

That guy could use a chill pill. Or a few. In fact, someone should shove the entire bottle down his throat and make him choke on it.

Fuck him and his back off and stop touching me.

I’m straight. Like fuck he is.

He nearly bounced on my cock and he sat there so prettily while I was nursing an erection of epic proportions for a whole five minutes. Not that I was counting or anything.

Or maybe I was. To prove his theory.

Straight, my ass. Or his, to be more specific—pun totally intended.

I should note that during that time, his sister walked by and he nearly lost his marbles, which is probably why he remained frozen for a long period of time, but I digress.

I’m completely uninterested in his mythical straight battle. Fuck that right the fuck off, if you ask me.

The reason I invited him to the initiation was solely to mess with his twin brother. The major asshole who leads the preppy kids in the Elites and thinks he could go head-to-head with us.

A few nights ago, Landon and I fought at one of my favorite places on the island—the fight club. I was so pumped to pummel that English prick to the ground in front of his wannabe fans.

But then Brandon showed up and stood there like the prince version of his brother.

I admit that I lost concentration because he looked so fucking agitated at the prospect of Landon being beaten to death, and I also admit Kolya appreciated the view.

He’s hot. And it’s different on him than his show-off, in-your-face brother.

Brandon has a quieter presence and carries himself in a total golden-boy fashion.

Slick brown hair, groomed face, tall and slim frame, but muscled. Yup, don’t let those preppy clothes fool you. Asshole has abs. All six of them. I counted them yesterday since I had nothing else to do with my hands. I would’ve preferred to let my hand go down a more fun path, but I doubt grouchy Brandon would’ve been thrilled.

Anyway…stop sidetracking. Now, brain. I mean it.

I almost lost that fight because Brandon got in the way. Side note, I don’t usually get distracted during fights because of this lame reason, I assure you.

So, naturally, I had to mess with Bran the way he dared to mess with me. And it so happened that the initiation was coming up and I couldn’t miss that chance.

Since he was so concerned about his idiot brother, I made up a whole drama about his participation. It was a shot in the dark. I really thought Brandon wouldn’t fall for it, since he’s this major snob who looks down on people like me from his high horse.

Imagine my fucking surprise when he walked right in like a lost lamb.

A straight lost lamb.

What I didn’t expect was his subtle aggressiveness and hints of submissiveness peeking from beneath the mask of rigorous control that he wears like a second skin.

From the outside looking in, he seems too boring and snobbish and like he could use some drugs. Maybe a mixture of them would help loosen up the layer of asshole wrapped around him.

However, something changed when he was put under pressure—his body trembled and he struggled to hide behind his mask, literally and figuratively.

My dick jumps at the memory of him remaining as still as a statue on my lap. I don’t think he noticed it, but he had both his palms flat on his thighs like a well-behaved prince.

But then he left before I could convince the others to add him to our club. Not that they would’ve agreed, and Jeremy looked fucking horrified when he found out his identity, but oh well. I just wanted to toy with him a little.

Use him against his brother if the shoe fit.

Maybe destroy his fantasies about being straight in the meantime. I’ve never played around with straight men, but this was too tempting to pass up.

Blood rushes to my groin and I mutter, “Fuck you, you fucking fuck. You need help.”

You need help, Niko.” My cousin Killian brushes past me on the way inside, accompanied by his brother, Gareth, and my best friend, Jeremy.

They must’ve finished school and come back together, which I should’ve probably done as well.

But oh well, I forgot.

Jeremy stops a few inches away from me. He’s an inch shorter than me and definitely the most muscled after yours truly. He’s a few years older, but he’s been my best friend for as long as I remember. I might have pestered him for it, though.

He pushes his dark hair away from his face and narrows his eyes. “Niko, please tell me you weren’t talking to invisible people just now.”

“Of course not. I was having a very frustrating conversation with my dick.”

“That’s even worse.” Gareth shoves my shoulder and chuckles.

My older cousin, twenty-one, is the prince of our little group of mayhem. Slick blond hair, sharp jaw, green eyes like some elf, and fucking dimples. The problem with him is that he’s wiser than should be allowed. It makes him a little boring, just saying.

He’s worlds apart from his younger brother, Kill, who’s my age—dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and possesses the personality of a serial killer. My favorite type of personality. The crazier, the better.

He’s a prick, but at least he’s a prick who doesn’t try to stop me from causing mayhem, and, under certain circumstances, he endorses and encourages it.

“Why would you even talk to your dick?” Jeremy asks, looking half curious, half petrified. Which is pretty much the standard when it comes to me.

“We’re having a difference of opinion. We’ll come to an agreement sooner or later.”

“Or you can take care of that ED we talked about earlier. I can hook you up with one of my professors in the local hospital,” Kill muses as he strolls past me and sits on the sofa, grinning like a fucker who’ll have that Colgate smile smashed when I knock out his fucking teeth.

“If you wanna see my dick again, just say so.” I grab my belt, ready to die on this hill.

Gareth slams his hand on mine, a terrified expression covering his features. “Don’t show us your dick, Niko. Seriously, why do you feel the need to get naked whenever someone mentions your dick? We’re cousins, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, your brother keeps running his mouth about ED and I want to prove that I don’t have it.”

“We believe you,” Jeremy grunts with obvious displeasure. “Keep that thing in your pants. No one in this room wants to see it.”

“I don’t believe you.” Kill lifts a shoulder as he toys with the remote.

“Kill!” Gareth growls. “Stop encouraging his crazy or he’ll be walking around naked for a couple of days.”

“Good idea.” I snap my fingers at him. “You’re so smart, Gaz.”

His face falls. “Please don’t.”

Killian throws his head back in laughter while Jeremy sighs for the thousandth time since he got here and then sits beside him. His state of bubbling displeasure might have to do with me, but I honest to fuck don’t know what I did or am doing wrong.

“Oh, right!” I snap my fingers again and sit opposite Kill and Jer.

Gareth disappears in the background and I catch a glimpse of him going up the stairs, probably to escape my pending exhibitionism.

But that’s a thought for another time.

“What now?” Kill asks with visible amusement. “You going to tell us a tale about your dick?”

“Tempting, but I’ll have to take a rain check on that. I’ve been thinking.”

“You actually do that? Maybe we should check that head of yours when you receive that treatment for the ED.”

“Haha. Hilarious,” I deadpan. “Now, shut the fuck up. I have a very important question to ask. Have you ever been attracted to a guy?”

Kill crosses his legs at the ankles. “You do know that I hook up with anyone, right? Gender doesn’t matter as long as they have a hole I can use.”

Right. He did go on a spree similar to mine, but that was different. I don’t think he’s genuinely attracted to people in any shape or form. He just loves the power.

I do, too, so fucking much that the fact that I haven’t had my fill in a while—the while being thirty-six hours—is causing Kolya’s friends the infamous blue balls situation.

Kill is useless. Next.

“What about you, Jer?”

“I don’t find men attractive.” He frowns. “What’s this about?”

“Yeah, Niko. Don’t tell me you’re having a sexuality crisis after you’ve been bi for over four years?”

I ignore Kill because he’s too manwhorish to offer me the angle I’m looking for and sit on the coffee table, leaning into Jeremy’s space. “Why have you never been attracted to men?”

“Because I prefer women. What kind of question is that?”

My face is so close to his, anyone else would be intimidated and jerk back, but Jeremy doesn’t even breathe differently or attempt to move. He’s so confident in his straight sexuality that he’s not fazed by my outwardly weird behavior.

“You got a boner for Jeremy?” Kill asks from the side like a witch that will be burned in hell while Satan cackles manically.

“Nope.” I push back. “He’s straighter than straight.”

“Thanks?” Jer mutters.

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

He releases that defeated sigh again. “What’s going on, Niko?”

“Get me someone to maim. That’s what’s going on.” I jump up and run up the stairs three at a time, sprint down the hall, then whip the door to Gareth’s room open and shove it against the wall.

He looks up from his desk, pausing on doing homework like a boring prick. Jesus. If he didn’t indulge in some violence on occasion, I would’ve already disowned him.

No cousin of mine becomes boring and gets away with it.

“Gee, thanks for the death scare. Please don’t tell me you’ll start stripping…?”

I stalk toward him, eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you dare, Niko, or I swear I’ll tell Aunt Rai about your annoying habits—”

“Have you ever been attracted to men?”

It’s subtle, and I probably wouldn’t have noticed it if I’d stayed by the door, but Gareth’s eyes widen a little.

He drops his pen on his notebook and exhales loudly. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve always fucked women, but have you done that because you feel you have to due to peer pressure and what’s defined by society as normal or because you want to?”

“What is this about?” He stands up. “What did you hear?”

“What should I have heard?”

His face falls for a fraction of a second and I step into his space. “So? What? Tell me. Tell me! What should I have heard?”

He pushes me away. “Stop doing that shit.”

“Not until you answer my question.”

He runs a hand over his face. “I love women. Happy?”

“What about men?”

“I…don’t know. Could be.” His eyes spark like a tropical forest before he clears his throat. “Why are you probing?”

“I’m testing something. When did you discover you like men?”

“I don’t like men. Jesus.” He jogs to the door and slams it shut, then leans against it, arms and ankles crossed “I’m not sure. I don’t know. I love fucking women, but…”

“But what?” I walk up to him and then peer down at him until I can see the tiny freckles on his nose. “What changed your mind?”

“I didn’t change my mind and, seriously, stop looking so intense. It’s creepy.”

“Blah fucking blah, just tell me what made your straight ass sway on the line. Figuratively, of course.” I grin. “Or is it literally?”

“Fuck you, asshole.” He closes his eyes with pure exasperation. “If you tell anyone about this, especially Kill, I’ll murder you.”

“I won’t if you just fess up. What made you change lanes?”

“I’m not sure I did—or would, for that matter. It’s just…one person. That’s it.”

One person.

One. Person.

That’s it.

Fucking interesting.

I ruffle Gareth’s hair and offer courses in butt stuff, but I’m not even done enumerating things he should know before he proceeds to throw me out and shut the door in my face.

His groans can be heard through the door as I grin and walk down the hall.

On a scale of straighter-than-straight Jer to fluid-as-lube Kill to confused-as-shit Gareth, I wonder where Brandon King falls.

Not that I’m tempted to find out.

That would be crazy.


Just kidding. I am crazy.

A week later, I’m lurking by the entrance of the Elites’ mansion at five thirty in the fucking morning.

You know, where Brandon lives with his insufferable brother, Landon, and a bunch of their family/friends.

Believe me, I’d never dream of waking up this early. But I can’t exactly survive on images of him trapped beneath me and wiggling his ass against my cock.

Kolya, the traitorous bitch who’d deserve castration if I wasn’t a major sexual being, still twitches at those memories.

Something he wasn’t interested in despite all the porn shows I presented him with, both live and recorded.

He’s being a dick. Literally.

Which brings me to this amateurish stalking mission. I might have visited Bran’s Instagram and seen all the stories he posts every single day at five thirty like clockwork.

Sure enough, the small gate on the side creaks open and he steps outside, stretching under the hint of sun. He’s dressed in loose shorts and a fitted green T-shirt that clings to his muscles like a second skin.

Fucking hot.

Now, if he weren’t so groomed with his shaven face, styled hair, and general sophisticated appearance, he’d be even hotter.

I love my men filthy, unkempt, and rugged around the edges.

Women are soft and pliant and should be worshipped. Men are to be used.

Who am I kidding? Both are to be used.

And he’s not one of my men. Jesus Christ. The fuck is wrong with my thought process?

Must be the lack of sleep. Has to be.

Only psychos wake up this early every day for a satanic ritual.

Sure enough, he retrieves his phone from his armband—of course the prick has an armband. Goes so well with his pristine clean image—and snaps a picture of the sky, then his fingers tap on the screen.

I grab my phone—from my shorts pocket like a normal human being—and check the story.

It’s an aesthetic picture containing part of the gate and the looming sun. #NewDay

That’s literally the only hashtag he uses on these posts, as if he’s planning to kill his audience with the repetitive caption.

Brandon tucks his phone back into the armband and touches the earbuds in his ears, elegantly, I might add, as if he’s handling a million-dollar painting.

All his movements are slow, unhurried. No, not slow. Controlled. His favorite uptight behavior seems to pour from him in everything he does.

I bet he doesn’t know how to have fun.

I’d feel bad for him if I weren’t itching to tackle him to the ground and pummel his beautiful face a few times.

Though beautiful isn’t quite the right word. He’s not pretty like a girl or beautiful like a colorful flower on the side of the road. He’s handsome.

Sharp jawline, hard eyes, straight nose, and a set of full lips that would look divine around a cock.

Kolya wholeheartedly agrees, considering the significant change in his moody state. I have to adjust my erection and shake my head.

Stop thinking about Brandon and dick. They obviously don’t mesh.

In fact, the logical thing to do is turn around and leave.

But then again, I was never much of a logical person.

If I don’t stay, I’ll come back tomorrow. And if I leave tomorrow, I’ll return the day after.

It’s an itch at this point.

As Brandon starts running down the road, I release a sigh, tuck my phone back in my shorts, and follow right after.

I’m just gonna find out if he’s as confused as Gareth, and if he is, I’ll help offer pointers. Consider it charity work.

That’s it.

That’s all.

I catch up to him in no time, keeping a few yards between us. His back muscles ripple beneath his shirt and his hamstrings extend and repress, causing his shorts to ride up his thighs with every step.

Hypnotic.

My gaze keeps flitting to the round globes of his ass, though, all peachy and shit.

If he’s straighter than straight, it’s such a shame to leave that ass empty.

Brandon seems lost in whatever is playing in his ears, because he doesn’t notice when I close the distance between us.

I keep running at his pace right behind him.

Now, I know I’m supposed to be on a stalkerish mission, but it’s impossible to stay away from his spellbinding pull.

Fuck it.

I pluck one of his AirPods out and whisper into his ear, “Long time no see. Miss me?”


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