Chapter 9 Nate
NATE
“Hey!” Eric’s voice drifted up the stairs from down below as the front door opened. I grinned, the sound of his voice putting a pause on my frustration.
“Upstairs,” I called back, leaning close to the mirror for a third attempt at popping the fake vampire cap over one of my canine teeth. “Trying to get this fucking tooth on. I swear to god they make it look so damn easy in the YouTube tutorial.”
I caught the faint sound of Eric’s chuckle before he replied, “If it’s any consolation, I brought Chinese.
Figured you won’t really have time to eat before the party since you have to be there so early.
” His voice came closer, coinciding with the sound of his footfalls on the stairs.
I squinted as I pushed the cap over my canine again.
It promptly fell right back off. Goddammit.
“I’m pretty fucking hungry too, not gonna lie,” he continued.
“Which led to some decisions I’ll probably regret later, like crab rangoons and—” Eric stopped short, and I turned toward the doorway as he exhaled a soft, “Jesus, frat boy.”
Dark green eyes raked me over. Once and then again, even slower. I felt the dawning hunger in the stare even before he met my eyes.
“What were you saying about regrettable decisions?” I was pretty proud of my costume, actually.
I hadn’t gone at it half-assed like I’d done every year prior.
The pants I’d found at a theater supply shop were fucking perfect.
Soft and tight, with leather laces up the front instead of a zipper fly.
Jesse had told me they were technically called breeches, but I currently didn’t give a shit what the proper terminology was since they were clearly making a favorable impression on Eric.
The ruffled shirt I wore (poet blouse—again per Jesse), was open from the throat in a vee that extended to my waistband, and nobody needed to know about the impromptu set of crunches I’d done right before pulling the thing on.
We’d call it a trade secret that was paying off heavily if I went by the way Eric meandered closer, seeming to have forgotten about the Chinese and that he was starving.
He came to a stop behind me, crowding me against the counter, the lip of which pressed uncomfortably against my growing bulge.
I couldn’t help it that his gaze still fucking affected me this way. I didn’t even find it annoying anymore.
“Right now I’m regretting leaving the house in the first place.
” His hands gripped my waist and then skimmed up the sides of my ribcage possessively.
He palmed my chest, rucked the poet shirt wider, and dragged his thumb across my left nipple lazily, like he had all the fucking time in the world.
But I wasn’t stopping him. My dick got there first, hard against those pants and starting to drool through the fabric. No way he missed it either.
“How long?” he asked.
“Not long enough,” I replied ruefully, knowing exactly what he was asking. I had to be at the Sigma house for pre-party set-up in less than half an hour, and in all the days I’d been with Eric, I thought we’d only accomplished a quickie maybe once. At Mark’s dad’s campaign party, no less.
“Guess I’ll have to do you there, then,” he rumbled, nosing along the underside of my jaw and grinding his hips in lewd, undulating circles against my ass before pulling back to gaze at my reflection in the mirror.
“Jesus, you look…” He didn’t even finish. Just trailed off and stared, like he was mentally undressing me and also maybe jerking off to the imagery while he was at it. “I’m gonna escort you everywhere and glare at anyone who looks at you.”
“Gonna glare at the whole party? It’s a campus-wide event.
There’ll be at least two hundred horny people in costumes.
Maybe three.” I snickered, though honestly his territoriality only got me hotter.
Now I was the one losing focus, sucking in a deep breath as Eric curled the tips of his fingers, nails scoring over my pecs and leaving thin pink welts behind.
“If I have to.” His mouth barely brushed my throat before skimming down, teeth grazing my collarbone.
“Fuck me, you look incredible,” he murmured, finally getting a complete compliment out.
More or less. He pressed his lips to the side of my neck and sucked lightly.
For a second I thought he might mark me with a hickey and… I would’ve been fine with that.
“Did that last night, in case you forgot.” He hadn’t, and I didn’t even have to look at him to confirm it.
I’d come into the kitchen from where I was studying at the dining table to see Eric squinting at a bottle of ground cumin.
Something about the way he’d checked the label, then given it a few measured shakes over the pot of soup on the stove had gotten to me.
Next thing I knew, I had him folded over the counter next to the bubbling pot as I spread his cheeks and fucked his hole with my tongue.
Eric had braced his hand so hard on the edge of the counter I thought he might crack the laminate, then proceeded to whisper filthy shit as he blew his load all over the lower cabinets with my dick buried inside him.
I felt kind of bad for whoever moved in after us.
There were few places in this apartment that hadn’t been splattered with spunk at some point, even though we obviously cleaned it up.
The kitchen probably got the worst of it, though, outside of the bedroom.
“Mmm, yeah. That was hot.” Eric’s hands clamped down on my hips like he was remembering it, his knuckles digging in.
I half expected him to haul me up on the counter and bend me over for some turnabout.
I kind of wanted him to, too. He rolled his hips against my ass in a hungry grind.
“Maybe we should forget this party. Just stay here. We could do all kinds of fucked-up things.” My cock was so hard it wasn’t funny.
The laces on the breeches were basically useless in my state.
And Eric, as always, had no interest in showing mercy.
He moved one hand away, and I heard his fly unzip.
His naked cock pressed against my ass, heat seeping through the fabric as he rubbed himself against it with a hiss.
“I’m one hundred percent gonna ruin you in these at some point tonight.
That’s a fucking promise.” The words rumbled over the nape of my neck, and a shudder of arousal zipped up my spine.
I wanted it, wanted him. Fuck the Chinese, fuck the party, fuck this costume, and especially fuck the stupid vampire teeth.
“Do it,” I whispered, gripping the edge of the counter, partially to keep the wood from digging into my balls, partially because I knew what was coming and I didn’t trust myself to stay upright.
He slid a hand around my front, cupping my hard-on through the fabric.
I groaned when he squeezed, pushing into his hand shamelessly.
Yeah, definitely fuck the party.
Eric grinned at me in the mirror, ever the cocky bastard. His gaze flicked from my reflection to my mouth. “What did you say you were having trouble with?” he teased, then released my cock. I groaned petulantly when he tucked himself away.
“Of fucking course.” Every goddamn time, and if I didn’t truly love the guy as much as I loved the payoff that came from being edged into oblivion constantly, I’d sound more miffed.
I mean, at this point, “dignity” was a word I only recognized from crossword puzzles.
“I swear to fuck, dude, one day I’m not gonna fall for your bullshit, and then you’ll be—“
“Lost.” Eric’s eyes met mine in the mirror, the humor dancing in them replaced by a solemn intensity that made my heart stutter. “I’d be lost, Nate.”
That wrecked me, and he knew it. Instead of saying something back, I hooked a hand behind his neck, angled my head, and pulled his mouth to mine.
It was a slow, savoring kiss that only left me hungry for more.
I’d learned to enjoy that feature of our relationship, though.
The constant ache of desire I felt for him, the low-grade hum that suffused me from dawn until dusk, and the paradoxically terrifying contentment that came from knowing all the time in the world with him still wouldn’t be enough.
Eric pulled away with one last sensual sweep of his lips over mine and then picked up one of the vampire teeth. “Think I can help you with these. And then—“ he flashed me a scandalous smile. “I’ve got one more accessory for your costume.”
Said “accessory” turned out to be less an enhancement to my Louis costume, and more an instrument of torture.
I stared skeptically at the box Eric held open before me. We’d migrated to the kitchen, where I’d slurped down some lo mein after finally getting my fake fangs in.
“You’re not serious.” I shook my head and tried to close the box top over the butt plug nestled in foam.
“I can’t wear that thing all night.” What was worse was that it vibrated and had remote control capabilities, meaning Eric could torment me whenever and however often he wanted to over the course of the night.
It added a whole extra layer to him owning my ass.
“Sure you can. Plenty of people do,” he said, so encouragingly upbeat I barked out a laugh.
“Do not ever use that tone in a presentation,” I warned. “No one will buy it, and they’ll become as instantly suspicious of your motives as I am.”
Eric lowered the box and crowded closer to me until my ass bumped up against our kitchen counter.
“I’m not hiding my motive, Sanders. You know exactly what I want.
” He tilted his head and lifted a finger to my temple to push back a strand of my hair, studying me.
“You’re the perfect Louis, you know. Always fighting your nature. ”
I exhaled a wry chuckle. “To be fair, I haven’t fought it for quite a while.”
“Good, then you’ll have no problem with this.”