Chapter 8: Answering the Call
The phone buzzed against the counter like an angry hornet, vibrating against the scattered coins and the cold mug of coffee Josh had poured an hour ago and never touched.
Ender's head snapped toward the sound.
Pete.
The name glowed on the screen, stark white against the cracked black case. Josh's hand was already moving, reaching to swipe the call away, to silence the intrusion before it could poison the morning.
But Ender was faster.
His fingers closed around the phone before Josh could stop him. The plastic was warm from the counter, but it felt like ice against his palm. The vibration rattled up his arm, into his teeth, into the hollow place behind his sternum where his heart had learned to beat small and quiet.
He answered.
Josh's eyes went wide. "Ender—"
Ender pressed the phone to his chest.
The speaker was muffled, tucked against his ribs, but he could feel Pete's voice vibrating through the plastic—a distant, angry buzz. He didn't need to hear the words. He knew them by heart. Where the fuck are you. You think you can just leave. I'll find you. You're nothing without me.
He'd heard it all before.
"You don't have to do this," Josh said.
His voice was careful. Measured. Like he was talking to a wounded animal.
Ender looked at him.
Josh stood in the middle of the kitchen, shirtless, his sweatpants still untied, his chest still marked with the evidence of Ender's mouth. His dark eyes were soft with concern, but underneath there was something else—a flicker of that wolfish thing that had surfaced last night. The thing that knew exactly what Ender was doing.
"Fuck me," Ender whispered.
Josh blinked.
"What?"
Ender pressed the phone harder against his chest. Pete was still screaming, the sound tinny and distant, like a fly trapped in a jar.
"Fuck me," he said again. His voice was steady now. Hard. "Fuck me so he can hear. I want him to know I'm yours now."
Josh went still.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. The refrigerator hummed. The bacon smoke thinned. The morning light crawled across the floor, illuminating the cracked linoleum, the coffee mugs, the single cold slice of bread abandoned near the toaster.
Then Josh grinned.
It wasn't a nice smile. It was sharp and hungry and full of teeth. The kind of smile that made Ender's stomach flip and his cock twitch and his heart hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"You're a fucking menace," Josh said.
Ender opened his mouth to respond.
But Josh was already moving.
He grabbed Ender by the shoulders and spun him around, bending him over the table. The wood was cold against Ender's cheek, still sticky with spilled coffee and bacon grease. A knife clattered to the floor. A mug wobbled. The phone stayed pressed to Ender's chest, pinned between his body and the table's edge.
"Hold onto something," Josh muttered.
Ender's fingers scrambled for purchase. He found the far edge of the table, nails digging into the worn wood.
Josh yanked his sweatpants down.
The fabric scraped over Ender's ass, over his thighs, pooling around his knees. The cold morning air hit his skin like a slap. He gasped, arching his back, pressing his face harder into the table.
"Jesus," Josh said.
His voice was rough. Wrecked.
"Look at you. Still wet from earlier. Still open."
Ender's face burned.
He could feel it—the slickness between his cheeks, the evidence of what they'd done. The come Josh had pumped into him, leaking out slow and filthy, trailing down the inside of his thigh.
"Please," he said.
It came out broken. Desperate.
Behind him, Josh spat.
The sound was obscene—wet and deliberate—and Ender felt it land against his hole. Cold and warm at the same time. Josh's thumb spread it around, pressing against the rim, teasing.
"You sure you want this?" Josh asked.
His voice was casual. Almost bored.
But his thumb was shaking.
"Yes," Ender said.
He didn't have to think about it.
"Use the phone," Josh said. "Put it on speaker. I want him to hear you scream."
Ender's heart stopped.
Then it started again, faster, harder, beating against his ribs like a caged animal.
He pulled the phone away from his chest. His fingers were trembling, but he didn't hesitate. He pressed the speaker button and set it on the table, right next to his cheek.
"—think you can just walk away from me? You think that boy is going to keep you? He doesn't know you like I know you. He doesn't know what you are—"
Pete's voice filled the kitchen.
Ender smiled.
"Watch," he whispered.
Josh didn't need to be told twice.
His hands gripped Ender's hips, fingers digging into the bruised flesh. Then he lined himself up and thrust.
One brutal stroke.
No prep. No mercy.
Ender screamed.
It wasn't a sound he recognized. It was raw and animal and completely unhinged. His body split open around Josh's cock, stretched and filled and burning. But underneath the pain was something else—something huge and electric and terrifying.
Josh didn't wait.
He pulled back and slammed in again.
The table screeched against the linoleum. The phone rattled. A fork clattered to the floor. Ender's glasses slipped down his nose, and he didn't care.
"YES," he shouted.
His voice echoed off the cracked walls.
"Fuck—harder—fuck, Josh, harder—he needs to hear how good you fuck me—"
Pete was screaming on the other end of the line.
Ender couldn't make out the words. He couldn't care less if he tried.
Josh fucked him like he was trying to break him.
The table rocked. The legs scraped. Ender's body was pinned between the cold wood and Josh's burning heat, caught in the middle, torn open and filled up. Sweat dripped from his hair onto the table, leaving dark spots on the scarred surface.
Josh leaned forward, his chest pressing against Ender's back. His hand snaked around Ender's waist, fingers finding his cock.
"You're mine now," Josh growled.
His voice was low and dangerous.
"Say it."
Ender's eyes rolled back.
His cock was leaking, dripping onto the linoleum. Josh's hand was tight and hot, stroking him in time with his thrusts.
"I'm yours," Ender sobbed.
His voice cracked.
"I'm Josh's—I'm never coming back—"
He turned his head, pressing his mouth toward the phone.
"You hear that, Pete? I'M NEVER FUCKING COMING BACK."
His voice broke on the last word.
Josh pounded into him harder. Deeper. The table screamed. The mugs fell. Coffee spilled across the surface, pooling around Ender's fingers, dripping onto the floor.
"Say it again," Josh demanded.
"WAIT—"
Ender couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but feel.
"Say it."
"I'M NEVER COMING BACK!"
Josh roared.
His hips stuttered. His fingers tightened. His cock pulsed deep inside Ender's body, filling him with hot, thick come.
That was all it took.
Ender came with a scream that turned into a sob.
His cock jerked in Josh's hand, spurting onto the table, onto the coffee, onto the ruined bacon. His whole body locked up, seized by waves of pleasure so intense they blurred his vision.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
The only sound was their breathing—ragged and heaving—and Pete's voice, still screaming, still spitting, still trying to claw its way through the phone.
Ender reached out.
His fingers left streaks of come and coffee on the table as he grabbed the phone. He unmuted it.
"—kill you, I'll kill you both, you think you can—"
Ender held the phone up.
Right next to his mouth.
"Listen," he said.
His voice was wrecked. Hoarse. Satisfied.
He dragged in a breath. Then another. Let Pete hear the shudder, the slowness, the raw aftermath of what he'd just done.
Josh was still inside him, still hard, still breathing hot against Ender's neck.
Ender let out a long, contented sigh.
"Goodbye, Pete."
He hung up.
The phone clattered onto the counter, next to the empty whiskey glasses, next to the cold coffee, next to the evidence of their ruined breakfast.
Josh pulled out slowly.
The sound was obscene—wet and slick—and Ender winced at the sudden emptiness. He felt Josh's come leaking out of him, trailing down his thigh, mixing with the coffee on the floor.
Josh turned him around.
His hands were gentle now. Careful. Like Ender was something fragile. Something precious.
"You're a menace," Josh murmured.
His lips found Ender's, kissed him hard.
Ender kissed back.
It was sloppy and tired and tasted like salt and coffee and come. But it was perfect. He reached up, tangled his fingers in Josh's dark hair, pulled him closer.
"I learned from the best," he whispered.
Josh laughed.
It was a real laugh. Deep and warm and surprised, like he hadn't expected to find anything funny in the world ever again.
"You're going to get me killed," he said.
Ender shook his head.
"No." He pressed his forehead against Josh's. "He's not going to touch us. He's not going to touch you."
"How do you know?"
Ender smiled.
He didn't have an answer. He didn't have a plan. He didn't have anything but the taste of Josh on his lips and the ache in his body and the strange, terrifying certainty that he'd finally done something right.
"I don't," he said.
Josh looked at him.
Then he smiled too.
It was smaller than before. Softer. But it was there.
"Okay," he said.
Just that.
Okay.
The wind chimes sang outside. The refrigerator hummed. The morning light crept across the floor, painting everything gold.
Ender's phone buzzed again.
Pete.
He looked at it.
Then he picked it up and turned it off.
"Breakfast?" Josh asked.
Ender laughed.
"I think you burned the bacon."
"Fuck the bacon."
Ender grinned.
"That's what I thought."
Josh kissed him again.
And somewhere, in the space between heartbeats, Ender realized he wasn't afraid anymore.