17. HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT
HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT
Now playing: Lurk - The Neighbourhood
The problem with the rumor mill in professional wrestling is that it never runs out of material. It recycles the same trash, paints it a different color, and feeds it to the masses.
We were supposed to be having a quiet night. Just me, Silas, and Lena, tucked into a high-backed booth at the back of the hotel bar. We weren’t drinking, just trying to unwind and find a fleeting pocket of normal life amidst the wreckage of our careers.
We’d spent the last hour catching up and scrolling through Lena’s photos from her beach trip with the twins.
Two booths over, shielded by a decorative partition of fake ivy, the world, however, decided to intrude. A group of mid-card talent was holding court, their voices loud enough to carry over the low, rhythmic hum of the bar.
“Oh, please,” Dani’s voice cut through the air, sharp and confident.
“You think you had a shot with either of them? Good luck. I heard rumours about his conquests while traveling. Honestly, how a guy like that, with that kind of reputation, ends up married to a man is just insane to me. It makes zero sense.”
A muscle feathered in my jaw, and I looked across the table at Silas. He was perfectly still, staring blankly at the condensation dripping down his water glass.
He didn't look angry, just...walled off. I could practically hear the gears grinding in his head. Silas already struggled enough with the years we were apart, but hearing it framed like this, like our marriage was some baffling punchline to the rest of the company, was the exact kind of thing that would send him into a tailspin. His brain was already working overtime, quietly stacking their gossip on top of Presley’s bullshit and whatever Rico had screamed in the hallway.
Silas slid out of the booth quickly and quietly. He adjusted the brim of his dark baseball cap, pulling it low over his eyes, and walked straight toward the doorway leading to the elevators without looking back.
“Cal,” Lena whispered in a tight tone. She reached across the table and grabbed my forearm. “Go after him, right now. You know how his brain works when he gets like this.”
“I’m going.”
Following him, the second my shadow fell across the opening of Dani’s table, everyone went silent.
Dani froze, the glass in her hand stopped halfway to her mouth.
Her face turned a pale shade of red. I didn’t give her the satisfaction, only a brief, knowing glance.
As far as I was concerned, they were a table of ghosts who could choke on their own embarrassment.
They weren't worth my words or reactions.
The elevator opened, and instantly I was swallowed by a feeling of unease. The small win I held from ignoring Dani’s group dissipated, knowing that behind our locked door, a potential storm was waiting for me.
As I entered our room and tossed my room key on the dresser, the shifted atmosphere inside the suite hit me like a punch to the gut.
Silas stood by the window, his back to me, the black cap still pulled low against his beautiful face.
His shoulders were locked tight, and his breathing was shallow, small signs that told me the jealousy he claimed to bury deep had risen once again to the surface.
I closed the distance slowly, stopping a few feet behind him. There was no clever defense to throw up, no snarky shield to hide behind. This was something, I realized, that would forever be a hurdle between us. And the reality of that caused a cold, nauseating weight to settle in my stomach.
“Si,” I whispered, hesitantly reaching out, my fingers gently brushing against his arm. “Please, talk to me. Where’s your head at?”
He didn't move for a long second, but when he turned, his face looked ashen in the dim light of the suite. His features were tight. “I’m tired of this, Cal.”
Stepping into my space, his massive frame crowded me until the back of my knees hit the edge of the mattress. He leaned down, hovering over me with ragged breaths as he took in the features of my face with keen precision.
“Tired of what?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
“This. Them. Everyone’s bullshit! Between Presley, and Rico…” He trailed off, his voice fracturing under the weight of his emotion. “Hearing them pick apart our relationship in casual conversation or claim it’s ‘such a waste’ because you ended up with me? It’s fucking with my head.”
This was something we never thought about in the coming out process.
Something which, unfortunately, wasn’t going to stop for a long while.
But no matter how long it took, I would always fracture at seeing how much it affected him.
I let my hand rest gently against his chest, feeling the frantic, uneven hammer of his heart, even through his hoodie.
“They’re irrelevant, Si,” I murmured gently, trying to ground him through the static of his own head. “There was never anything romantic with any woman. You know that. I was just hollow and losing my mind. As for Presley and Martinez? They can both fuck right off with their nonsense.”
Silas nodded, but the weight inside him had become physical now, warping his features as his grip fisted into the fabric of my shirt.
“Why can’t they believe you’re mine?” he pressed as his voice dropped into a rough register. “Is it because of me? Am I not good enough to stand by your side that they have to assu—”
“Silas, stop.”
I caught his wrists, my grip tightening firmly as I cut him off.
I wasn't trying to defend their comments, or even run from the past I created, but watching his eyes blow out with the thought that he wasn’t enough for me, was tearing me apart.
For his sake, I needed to shut the spiral down before it completely broke him.
“Look, I can’t change the past!” The heightened emotions in the room finally took their toll on me. “It happened. It’s done, so let’s move past it. What’s going to make you get out of your head, baby?" I dropped his wrist, sliding my finger down the front of his chest until I reached his waistband.
“Stop.” The command cracked like a whip through the quiet room, and my hand froze on the buckle.
“What?”
“Clothes on,” he ordered in a low, unyielding octave.
I stared at him, completely caught off guard by the sudden redirection. “You…you don't want to have sex?”
“I didn’t say that,” Silas murmured as his dark eyes tracked over my body with a calculating heat. “I only said clothes on. Now, get on your hands and knees.”
My stomach dropped as the sudden shift hit my veins with adrenaline. I looked at the carpeted floor, and my pulse began to race. I hesitated for a moment before taking a step toward the bed.
“No,” Silas said sharply.
I stopped. “No?”
He pointed to the patterned hotel carpet. “On the floor.”
I stared at him, and furrowed my brow. “The floor? Silas wh—”
“The floor, Callum.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a demand. I swallowed hard, any fight draining out of me in the face of his dominance. I lowered myself onto the carpet and sat back on my heels. Gazing up at him through my lashes, I assumed he wanted me to suck his dick, so I reached for his waistband.
“No.” Silas swatted my hand away firmly.
This was getting annoying.
I pulled back with a heavy flush coating my neck. “Then, what?”
“Hands and knees,” he ordered. “On all fours.”
My hands fell flat against the carpet. His order settled deep into my bones, putting me completely at his mercy.
Silas walked past me to the leather desk chair in the corner of the room. He grabbed it and dragged it across the floor, its legs fighting against the carpet. Pulling the chair to the center of the room, he faced it towards me about ten feet away.
Taking a seat, he spread his legs wide and leaned back with his elbows resting on the armrests. He looked almost regal.
“Crawl to me,” he said softly.
My gaze snapped to his, and a breath caught in my throat. “What?”
“Crawl to me, Cal.”
I stared at him, my pride kicking back in. “No.” I sat back on my heels. “Fuck you. I’m not doing that.”
He just shrugged. “Then we’re done talking,” he said simply. “You asked how to fix it. This is the price.”
I stared at him. He was using my own game against me. He didn’t want my body right now. He wanted my pride. He wanted me to surrender it completely.
A slow, dark grin spread across his face as I began to move. Heat spread across my abdomen as a coil tightened in my balls. It was only ten feet, but it felt like a mile, and I was nearly vibrating with desire.
Every movement felt weighted, submissive, and completely intoxicating as I dragged myself across the floor. When I finally reached him, I stopped between his spread knees and gazed at him through hooded lids.
Silas's head fell back with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
A low grunt rumbled out of his throat as he cupped his growing cock through his pants.
Lunging off the chair in a rush of movement, he grabbed me by the back of the neck and the belt of my jeans simultaneously, hauling me up like I weighed nothing.
“Si!” I gasped, stumbling as he shoved me onto the mattress.
I landed on my back, and he loomed over me, an entire thunderstorm raging in his eyes. His fingers wrapped around my ankles and, with a firm tug, he yanked me down to the end of the bed.
“Take off your clothes.”
My breath hitched, but I managed to fumble with my belt while my hands shook.
Every nerve in my body felt on the verge of explosion as I kicked my jeans and boxers down to my ankles and ripped my shirt off.
Silas stood at the edge of the bed, his gaze roaming against my skin as he stripped off his pants.
“Si…” I breathed, realizing he was reaching for the nightstand.