Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Devon
At some point, I must have dozed off, because a moan drags me out of a dreamless sleep.
My dry eyes fly open.
The noise comes again, slightly louder, this time followed by a muffled laugh. Then another deep groan as… skin slaps skin. The wet smack of a kiss. Two very manly voices.
I'm off the couch in an instant, throat tight when I head toward Christian's room. Something burns in my chest, like a deep pit opening inside of me at the thought of him fucking another guy in there.
When I draw closer to both bedrooms, though, it becomes clear that the sounds aren't coming from his room.
They're coming from Logan’s.
Stepping closer, I press my ear to the door like a total creep and listen to what's happening inside.
A breathy sigh reaches my ears, followed by Owen’s low, “Yeah, right there.”
Logan’s answering chuckle kicks me square in the gut, not because it’s hot… I mean, yeah, okay, it’s hot as fuck, but that’s not what has my lungs seizing.
It’s the laugh—the warmth in Logan’s voice, like he’s happy.
Really happy.
With someone who isn’t… me.
A quiet exhale leaves my mouth as loneliness and jealousy war within my head.
Logan groans loudly. “Spread wider for me. Just like that. You look so good like this.”
Fuck me.
Heat crawls up my neck, but not from arousal. I have this horrible sense of being on the outside of something wholesome, something I've chased for years and just can't seem to catch.
I fucking want that.
Not with Logan, not really, but just… that feeling of safety. Intimacy. Someone choosing me even when I’m a mess, wanting me even when I’m broken.
A sharp thud from inside the room startles me, and Logan keens. “Fuck, Owen. I love you so much.”
I jerk back from the door so fast that I almost stumble.
Okay, yeah, no. Nope. Too much.
Backpedaling down the hall, I turn around with my heart in my throat, intent on going back to the couch. Instead, my feet take me toward the one place I shouldn’t go.
Christian’s door.
I hover there in a bit of a daze, fingers twitching at my sides.
Fear and need simmer beneath my skin, this all-consuming urge to just fucking…
hold someone without having to bribe them or pay for it.
It's pathetic, really, how every relationship I've had boils down to one simple thing: what they could squeeze out of me.
How high could I get them, or what could they do to my body?
That's all there ever is, and that's all there ever will be for people like me. Junkies, victims. Evil personified, as my grandfather liked to say. We don’t get happy endings.
I’m about to turn away from Christian’s door when another sound reaches my ears, not from Logan or Owen this time. A familiar guttural growl shoots straight to my balls.
I freeze, every muscle tensing.
No fucking way. He wouldn't be…
But then a quiet, rough groan slips through the door, muffled and unmistakably Christian. Wet, slick noises kick up my heart rate.
Yeah, he fucking is.
My breath catches as heat rushes south toward my dick. Before I can think better of it, I twist the knob and find it unlocked. The door creaks open slowly.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Christian lies on his bed, one arm braced over his eyes while the other moves in slow, torturous strokes beneath his sweats. His lips are parted, chest rising and falling, hips fucking rolling to the soft music playing over the stereo.
God, he’s chasing it hard.
My mouth goes dry. I should leave. Should back out and probably leave the apartment altogether, but I don’t.
Mainly because I'm afraid of where I'll go if I do. So, instead, I just stand there like some peeping tom while the man who’s been driving me insane all week—all year—touches himself in front of me.
He groans again, almost as loud as Logan and Owen, before turning his head. And that's when our eyes lock.
“What the fuck,” he snaps, snatching his hand out of his pants.
My whole body ignites. “Are you jerking off to the sound of your roommates fucking?”
His face is flushed, hair falling in tousled waves around his shoulders. “Ever heard of knocking, motherfucker?”
“I thought—” I swallow hard at the sight of his dusky, peaked nipples. “I heard something. Thought you were, uh… hurt.”
Really, Dev?
“Hurt?” Christian gestures sharply at his dick, still tenting the crotch of his sweats. “Does this look like it hurts to you?”
“Well, you could’ve been, like, in pain. Or having a bad dream. Or, fuck, I don’t know, Christian, I panicked.”
“You barged in on me stroking my cock because you thought I was having a nightmare?”
A nervous laugh bubbles out of me, and I take in his room.
The place is a disaster: clothes everywhere, magazines piled on top of the nightstand.
A large terrarium takes up the back wall, glowing red.
Inside, the biggest fucking snake I've ever seen lifts its head, tongue flicking out like it's sizing me up.
“You jerk off in front of your snake?” is all I can think to say.
Christian snorts. “She doesn’t give a shit.”
“Okay… and you jerk off to your roommates fucking?” I ask again, meeting his gaze where he's still sprawled on the bed.
He stares at me lengthily before muttering something in Spanish. Then he points over my shoulder. “Unless you plan on helping me finish, motherfucker, you can leave.”
Now that gets my attention.
Closing the door softly behind me, I shrug out of his jacket. “Help you finish, huh?”
“Yeah. That’s what I said.”
“You’re serious?”
He lifts his chin high, shifting slightly. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”
Now, that's a lie, and I know it. A big one. But when I glance down at his cock straining against the thin cotton of his pants, precum dampening the fabric, I accept this for what it is: A challenge.
He thinks I'll turn around and leave. But I won't. My own dick might not be fully on board at the moment, but the rest of my body is.
“Last chance,” he murmurs. “You helping, or leaving?”
“Well, since you asked so nicely…” With a smirk, I stalk toward the bed.
His breath hitches when I straddle his thighs, and my palms immediately run down the smooth expanse of his tattooed chest. Script curves along his collarbone, slightly faded from time.
“What does this mean?” I ask, tapping on the words inked in Spanish. One half of them is scribbled out.
“Live fast, die young.” He stares up at me, pupils blown wide. “Got it when I was seventeen. The die young part felt fucked up after what happened to Huckslee in high school, so Tay scratched it out with a tattoo gun.”
“Hmm.”
Darker ink stretches across his side, giving the illusion that his ribcage is made of mechanical cogs and gears.
A snake coils around roses on his shoulder.
All of his tattoos look professionally done, unlike my arm full of flash shit that I mostly traded for drugs.
There are scars threaded through it all, not hidden but incorporated into the ink, probably from wrecking his bike.
I slide my fingertips over his nipples, across his abs, before tugging down the waistband of his sweats.
His hard cock springs free and slaps against his lower stomach, as thick as I remember.
Another moan from the room next door cuts through our heavy breathing when I wrap my hand around him.
“You gonna answer my question about jacking off to your roommates or not?”
“Not.” Christian closes his eyes, hips bucking into my palm.
“That's kind of perverted, man.”
“Shut up,” he grits, reaching up to thread his fingers through my hair. “I wanna come, not talk, asshole. Make yourself useful.”
Useful.
My chest pinches painfully, but I force a grin as I scoot down the bed and lower my mouth toward his swollen tip. “Okay, hot shot. That's what you need? Wanna listen to them fuck while you use my mouth?”
A deep groan rumbles his chest. “Fuck yes.”
“Mmm.” I lick a hot path up his shaft, salty precum bursting on my tongue when I get to the tip. “Just a warm, wet hole to put your cock in. That's all I am, huh?”
All I'm good for.
“Seriously, Dev, shut up,” he snaps, shoving my head down. I don't resist, taking him to the back of my throat like a champ. It's been a minute since I've sucked dick, so I only gag a little, but Christian seems to fucking love it.
He keeps his hands in my hair, forcing me down until my nose hits his groin.
Saliva drips over my chin. Blood rushes to my ears the longer he holds me there, but eventually, he drags me back up again with a satisfied grunt.
I barely have time to suck in a weak breath before he forces me back down again and uses my mouth like his own personal pocket pussy.
“So. Fuckin. Hot,” he moans, matching his rhythm to the noises coming from the other bedroom. His eyes stay closed the entire time.
I won't deny that it's incredibly sexy and kinky as hell watching him get off to this. My dick is half-hard, mostly from the friction of grinding into the mattress, but if my shit worked right, I'd probably be rock solid right now.
I just hope Christian doesn't notice. Like fucking hell I could survive that humiliation.
“I'm gonna come,” he chokes out, opening his eyes to find mine already on him. Tugging on my hair, he pulls me off his length. “Tongue out.”
Obeying, I grin when he slaps his cock on my cheek before jerking into my mouth.
Sweat-drenched strands stick to his forehead, and a foreign urge to brush his hair away from his face overwhelms me.
I give in immediately, never one to deny my impulses.
His brows slam down when I do it, movements slowing slightly.
We lock eyes, my touch lingering on his jaw. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, but it feels nice, so I leave my fingers there, softly rubbing the underside of his chin. The tight grip on my hair loosens, and then he basically starts to… pet me? What the fuck?