PAH! (Deaf Hearts #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

DEX

His eyes are on me, watching as I move around the club. Every time I feel his gaze slide across my body, I take another shot. It’s getting me all hot and bothered.

I don’t know why.

Probably because I’m drunk and also because I’ve never been into a guy before. But something about Roman’s angry stare is doing it for me. So much so that I flashed him my abs a few times just to make him glower harder.

It helps that he’s ridiculously hot. Even I—a mostly straight guy at the moment—can admit it.

Hell, I have been admitting it for some time now.

Every time he shows up to one of my classes to show off his glutes, I pay attention.

Especially because he watches me at the gym, just like he’s watching me now, with a mixture of hate and want.

I wonder if I can get him to crack.

“Hey, I’m gonna get a car and go home,” I tell Thom, who is flexing his abs for his boyfriend, Robbie, who is blatantly admiring them. His hands move as he says something I don’t really understand.

I’m still learning ASL. It’s a lot harder than it looks, but I’m motivated.

For my brother Thom, his boyfriend, and yeah, okay. Maybe for Roman too. Even if he hates me for trying.

“Ah, man! Why? The night is still young,” Thom cries.

“It’s one in the morning. I’m tired.”

Thom pulls me into a hug, and I slap his back. “Fine, get some sleep. You do have a two p.m. workout class. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.” I’m a little insulted. I’ve never been late to a class in my life, but Thom’s also drunk, so I let that one slide.

Turning around, I search for Roman, but I don’t see him. Maybe he’s left too. He looked like he was having a fucking terrible time. Well, when he wasn’t checking me out, that is.

There’s no point in lingering, so I head outside and immediately stop when I see it’s sprinkling.

My car is going to be here in…I squint at my phone, my eyes going a little cross-eyed.

Damn, shouldn’t have had so much to drink.

I don’t normally do this, but it was a night out.

I can let loose and let go. I can have fun.

A car pulls up, and I verify it’s the same license plate that’s listed on my phone before sliding in. But before I can close the door, someone else shoves their way in.

I grunt as I’m shoved over and turn to give the person a piece of my mind. But I don’t. I can’t.

Because it’s Roman.

He doesn’t even look at me, just closes the door and buckles in.

I sit up and do the same, not sure what the fuck is going on and lacking the vocab to ask. Well, that’s not true. If I weren’t drunk, I’d remember just fine, but right now, the signs are evading me.

As the driver drives me toward my house, the air in the car turns thick, heavy almost. My hand lands on the seat next to me and accidentally brushes against Roman’s. He pulls his away like my skin burned him.

He’s always doing shit like this. The way he was eye-fucking me in the club made me question whether or not he really hated me as much as he said he did, and now he’s in my goddamn Uber?

I mean, I am hearing, and he’s not into hearing guys, but maybe the body I work so hard for is impossible to resist.

The car slows to a stop at my complex, and I open my door, wondering if Roman is going to follow me out.

He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he does, trailing behind me as I walk up to my door and grab for my keys.

It’s starting to rain harder now, and it doesn’t take long before we’re soaked.

When we finally make it in, his light grey shirt is sticking to his skin, and my white one is see-through.

I pull it off and toss it aside, moving into the kitchen, grabbing two water bottles from the fridge. I turn around and offer one to Roman, who takes it, his eyes roving over my chest, taking in my pecs, my puckered nipples, the smattering of chest hair I have there.

Then they slide down to my abs, practically licking at them, making my entire body burn.

I make sure to flex them so he gets the full effect, so he can be just as hot as I am right now.

When his eyes move up to meet mine, anger moves across his face. His middle finger comes up, flipping me off.

Okay, well, that’s fucking rude. He followed me into my house and is giving me the bird. If he hates me this much, he shouldn’t have come.

I flip him off too.

His hand falls to his side, and then he shoves at me.

My back hits the fridge, and my eye twitches. I’m not prone to violence, but fuck him. Really.

Fuck. Him.

‘You need to drink water,’ I tell him, or at least try to. I need him to sober up and stop shoving me around.

He stares at my face and hands and smirks. Then his hands are flying, saying something I don’t understand. But it doesn’t look nice.

I know it’s not nice.

Following me home and insulting me. Flipping me off. Making me flip him off back?

Screw. Him. I’ve been nothing but nice to this guy, and he’s always being a dick.

My mind spins as I grab my water bottle and uncap it, moving toward him.

His hands fall to his sides as I shove him into the pantry door.

It rattles on its hinges, and as his back meets the wood, I hear a small wheeze exit his throat.

My cock, which was half-hard at being near him, moves to full mast.

I like that sound.

My body presses into his, and I sign water once more.

He scowls, so I reach up and grab onto his chin and cheeks, pouring some into his mouth and forcing him to swallow it.

His eyes widen, and I do it again, watching as half a mouthful dribbles down his already wet shirt.

His Adam’s apple bobs against my palm, and I can’t help but imagine what that throat would feel like surrounding my cock. It’s a thought I’ve had more than once.

A thought I’ve tried not to think.

He gurgles slightly and then shoves at me. I shove him back, pouring water into my mouth, letting it dribble out before leaning forward and forcing him to take it. He gasps and then moans as it falls into his mouth, our lips touching as I let mine slide across his.

And then all hell breaks loose.

He shoves at me, and I fall back, the bottle slipping from my hand and onto the floor, puddling under our feet.

Coming into my house, being an ass, and making a mess? Normally, it wouldn’t bother me. I’m an easygoing guy, but the way he felt against me, the way he keeps looking at me like he wants to murder me, is almost too much.

My palms land on his chest once more and push before I grab onto his wrists, wrenching them up over his head.

His mouth parts, and I can’t help myself. I can’t stop it.

I slam my mouth onto his, grinding my hips against his. I feel his hard length pressed up against mine, and I push against it harder.

He moans as I tilt my mouth over his and shove my tongue into his mouth.

He bites down on it, but I don’t stand down. I hold on to him harder until he starts to kiss me back, our teeth grazing as our tongues war with each other, each of us trying to win. But we both know who’s going to come out on top.

Me. Mother-fucking-me.

And with the way he’s letting himself be held down, I know this is true.

My hand moves from his throat, dragging down his chest to the space between us. My palm slides down his cock, and he bucks his hips forward. His lips are wrenched from mine, spit-slick and swollen.

I want those wrapped around my cock.

I squeeze his dick hard, and he grunts. I do it again, and he shifts his hips forward. It seems Roman is a needy slut. He hides behind that anger, but he wants it. He wants me. And he hates that he does.

I smash my lips onto his again and kiss him roughly before shoving him to his knees.

He stares up at me. He can move if he wants, he can break free and leave without even trying…but he doesn’t.

My hand threads through his hair, holding on to him roughly. His lashes flutter, his cheeks red.

‘Suck me,’ I fingerspell.

His nostrils flare, and his hands move up to my pants, undoing them with trembling fingers.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe…

He suddenly stops what he’s doing and fumbles around in his pocket. I watch as he hands me his phone.

I take it and watch as he tells me, ‘Film.’

My cock throbs at the thought, swiping up and pulling up a recording. I angle it at him on his knees, his eyes flashing to meet mine. Then he takes me out and strokes. My vision goes blurry as I feel his hand on me. A man’s hand.

It’s nothing like I expected, but in the best fucking way.

He has the hands of a man who’s never done any manual work, but there’s no denying who he is.

What he is. Just like when he kissed me.

His face is shaved, but there was a hint of raw, rough stubble that coasted over my jawline, and fuck. I want more.

I want him.

He smirks up at me like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and I hate him a little for it. I hate that he’s creating this new feeling inside me.

Rude little fucker.

Oh well. He can make it up to me by sucking my cock real good.

I wrench his head forward slightly, and he falls onto my dick, sucking the head into his mouth, his lips spread wide. He moans, a sweet sound as he takes more of me, pulling me as far as he can until he starts to choke. But even then, he doesn’t let up.

He stares up at me and, as if trying to show off, deep-throats me until he’s nearly gagging. There are tears in his eyes, and I swipe my thumb through one of them as it escapes, making him moan louder.

My cock nearly erupts right then and there. My hands tremble, my mouth opening in a groan as he swallows around me. Then he pulls off, pulls in a breath, and does it again. And again.

I just stare, watching as he eagerly takes me.

And when I feel my orgasm barreling through me, I tap him on the shoulder as a warning, but all he does is suck harder. I erupt into his mouth, my cum falling onto his chin, his neck.

I stare down at him, and he matches my gaze. I can’t believe it. I fucking can’t. But then again. I can.

This has been brewing for a while now. Never did anything about it until now. Alcohol has given me the courage to take him the way I want him. And it seems it was the same for him.

I reach down and wrench him up, seeing the bulge in his pants, and spin him around, setting the phone on the counter and making sure it’s facing us so it can capture what I’m about to do.

He tries to move away from me, but I hold on to him tightly, smearing my mess on his chin and neck up across his lips. Then I tilt his head and kiss him again, rough and sloppy. His moans move into my mouth and down my throat as I pull his cock out.

It falls into my hand, and I stroke, feeling his entire body tremble as I bring him toward the edge. But I don’t let him fall over.

Instead, when he starts to pant, I stop, raking my nails up his chest, pulling his shirt up with them. He groans, angry and needy. I wrench the wet fabric from his body and tweak his nipples.

His head falls to my shoulder, and I bite down on his ear, making him shudder.

Stroking him again, I keep going—hard and fast until he’s close to the edge…and then I stop, tugging on his balls and rolling them in my palm.

“Fuck,” he growls, the word thick in the back of his throat.

I have no actual clue what the fuck I’m doing, but clearly, it’s working because instead of pulling back, he pushes against me harder.

He wants this.

Roman’s hand twines around the back of my neck, and I suck a mark onto his shoulder as I stroke him again, tightening my hold on his cock. This time though, I don’t stop. When his gaze meets mine, I nod, then squeeze harder, my wrist aching with how fast it’s moving.

And as he sucks in a breath and whines, I let him come. His orgasm is loud and strong, his body sagging against mine when it’s over. My lips pull from his skin, and I see the mark I left there before checking out the camera. It’s still filming, capturing it all.

Roman is barely moving, his arms shaking as he tries to keep himself upright, while I reach over and turn the video off. He’s listless and fucked out, and I know in that moment, I’m not ready to let him go. This obviously doesn’t mean anything, but I’m too drunk not to give in to that feeling.

I move to where he can see me and tell him sleep.

He glowers at me, so I try to kiss it away, pulling him into me, but he rears back and shakes his head, signing, ‘No.’

I shrug. That’s fine. We don’t have to kiss again. I lead him to my bedroom instead.

He stares at the bed, his body drooping slightly.

‘Sleep.’ I point to the bed and then kick off my pants and boxers, sliding in naked.

He stares at me and then does the same, taking his pants and boxers off and crawling in next to me.

It’s a queen-size bed, so our bodies brush against each other, but neither of us does more than the occasional graze.

Instead, I close my eyes and hope that tomorrow when I wake up, I won’t regret what I did.