Chapter 17
TYLER
I grin the whole ride to the gym. I’ve been in high spirits for a while now, and I don’t even bother pretending I don’t know the reason.
Not only are things with Jamie back to normal, they are even better than they used to be.
Something has changed since I brought him home from the club.
Since he let me hold him and comfort him while he confided in me, eventually falling asleep in my arms when he was all cried out.
Whatever barrier was between us has come down, and I kind of hate myself for feeling a little grateful for what caused it.
Not that I’m grateful someone hurt Jamie—I still want to rip that fucker’s throat out, and cut his dick off while I’m at it.
But I suppose it’s true what they say about silver-linings.
Because Jamie’s not avoiding me anymore, both physically and emotionally.
We talk and banter. He rolls his eyes at me and shoots back little comments that make my mouth twitch before I can stop it.
And—I didn’t expect this part to matter as much as it does—he lets me touch him.
Not just by accident, not just fleetingly. Full on touching. He lets me rest a hand on his back. Lets me squeeze his shoulder when he’s tense. Lets me pull him in close on the couch instead of hovering at the far end.
I’ve noticed how much I do it, how often my hands find him without a conscious decision.
Ever since he clung to me in the club’s dirty bathroom, scared and vulnerable, I can’t seem to switch it off.
Some part of me decided then that keeping him close is non-negotiable.
At first I was convinced I was purely being protective—and that part is not really a lie. But there’s something else now, too.
The truth? Touching Jamie feels good. But it’s different to how it feels when I hug my friends or family.
It feels good in this deep, steady way that settles my nerves.
Like when Fiona curls into me and I run my hand through her soft fur, feeling her relax into my arms. It’s so nice to be…
needed, to know that someone actually wants my touch.
It’s the same with Jamie—when I feel him lean into me, push closer, silently asking for more, it’s almost like a drug.
It’s satisfying a strange, primal part of me I’d had no idea even existed.
Speaking of primal…
I am a mess. Well, my body is. I’ve never gone this long without sex—my right hand doesn’t count—and the consequences are making themselves known.
I feel like crawling out of my skin. The gym has been my salvation, but I won’t be able to carry on like this for much longer.
Technically, it would only take one phone call or text, and this whole situation could be remedied, but…
it feels weird just thinking about it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I kinda regret stretching out the time between my therapy sessions so much.
I could definitely use some insight. Guess I’ll need to suck it up for another few weeks.
I park the car and grab my bag, reaching into the front pocket for my access card. Which isn’t there. I go through all the pockets, then dig in between my gym clothes when I can’t find it.
“Dammit.” I always put it back there, which means it must’ve fallen out when I was doing laundry. Great. It’s probably lying on the floor somewhere in the apartment. Or worse, it’s still in the washing machine.
I set the bag on the passenger seat and put the car back in motion. At least I only live a few minutes away.
At home, I make my way over to the laundry machine, huffing out a short laugh when I see my card peeking out from under it. At least I don’t have to look for it. I grab it and head straight out.
Or attempt to. I manage two steps before I stop in my tracks.
There are sounds coming from Jamie’s room. Breathy, broken off moans, followed by a loud cry. My body freezes on the spot, but I feel warm. Too warm, heat crawling up my neck and heart racing.
Oh shit.
This whole time, I’ve never heard him jerk off.
Not that I’ve been trying to overhear! It’s just kind of inevitable when you have a roommate.
Well, unless your roommate is Jamie who takes extra precautions to make sure no one is at home when he finally decides to do it.
Has he been doing this the whole time? Waiting for me to leave so he could get down to business?
Wait, why is the idea pissing me off?
I must be losing it. No surprise there, I am a hormonal mess after all.
Shaking my head, I force my legs to move. I’m already at the door when another sound makes me stop. No, not just sound—words.
“Yes! Yes, right there. More…please. Don’t stop.”
Shock gives way to confusion so fast it makes my head spin. Does he—Is someone there with him? Another…man?
That doesn’t make sense. I’ve barely been gone for fifteen minutes. I turn around, scanning the floor. No unfamiliar shoes. No sign of anyone else. That should be enough proof to calm me down, but…I need to make sure.
I stride over to Jamie’s room before I can talk myself out of it. I only mean to eavesdrop for a second, but that plan goes out of the window when I notice the door is cracked open. Only a little, but enough to get a glimpse of him. On the bed. Writhing. Naked. But alone.
A weight lifts off my chest, so sudden and unexpected it almost leaves me dizzy. Okay. Okay. Now that I have confirmation no one’s here, I can leave.
Apparently, I can’t. My legs are refusing to listen.
My eyes aren’t very cooperative either. Instead of doing what any remotely decent human being would—as in, giving Jamie privacy—I stare at him.
I stare at his face, tipped backwards with his mouth open on a gasping breath.
I stare at his hand moving between his legs, not jerking off as I assumed.
Instead, he’s using it to push what looks like a dildo in and out of his ass, a sharp cry leaving his mouth whenever it slides in.
“Please. More,” he begs no one. A squelching sound reaches my ears, loud and obscene. It shoots through my body and ends in my dick, making it hard in two seconds flat. Fuck. Okay. I’ve already crossed the line, but I need to leave before he notices I’m here. I have no idea how I’d explain myself.
For the third time in two minutes, I try my best to leave.
For the third time in two minutes, I fail.
“Oh God, Tyler, please.”
And as if the sound of my name from Jamie’s lips while he’s fucking himself with a toy isn’t enough, more words start to spill out.
“Need you. Need you so much. Need your cock.”
What happens next can only be called an out of body experience. Or possession.
I’m no longer in control of myself. I can only watch; I watch as my hand lifts and pushes the door fully open.
I watch my feet move, carrying me inside, the unobscured view of Jamie spread out naked on his bed greeting me.
He doesn’t even notice me at first. His wrist continues to work, pumping the dildo in and out, punching desperate moans and pleas out of him.
I nudge the door shut.
Jamie’s head snaps up, shocked eyes locking straight onto me.
“T-Tyler?!” he blurts out, voice shaky with fear.
The same fear that must be causing him paralysis, because he hasn’t moved otherwise.
His fingers are still gripping the dildo, which is lodged halfway inside him.
His legs are still splayed open, giving me a direct view of his red, swollen rim stretched tight over the massive girth of the toy.
Something gives inside me at the sight, a wave of scorching heat running through my veins.
I don’t know if it’s the strange, inhuman sound that comes out of me, or the expression on my face, but it snaps Jamie out of it. He snatches his hand back like he’s been burned, then shuffles backwards, the toy still inside him, and reaches for the blanket to cover himself up.
I hate it.
I make a sound, like a growl, and start towards the bed.
Jamie’s already wide eyes grow bigger, lips trembling as he tries to string words together.
“Tyler, this isn’t— I’m not—”
My knees hit the bed. I fall onto my hands and crawl over to him, feeling as though I’m under a spell.
“You’re not what, Jamie? Fucking yourself with a dildo pretending it’s my cock?” I hear myself say, except it doesn’t sound like my voice. I reach for the blanket and tug it off, exposing him.
He jolts with a loud sob, tears gathering in his eyes. Seeing him scared breaks the spell, my protective instincts kicking in.
I gather his face between my palms, wiping the tears away. “Shh, don’t cry.” I press my lips above his brows. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
Jamie hiccups and stills. His gaze finds me, and this time there’s no fear, just confusion.
“W-what?”
One hand still cupping his face, I use the other to grip the base of the toy, giving it a tug.
“Aah!” He claws at my forearm. His dick, which has gone soft in the meantime, starts to harden again. “T-Tyler.”
“You don’t really want this, do you? This piece of silicone.” I pull the toy out, then glide it back in.
Jamie’s nails dig into my skin. He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut.
“Yeah, didn’t think so.”
With that, I pull on the dildo until it’s out, making him cry out. It’s bigger than I thought—though not as big as me—and it leaves him gaping slightly. I watch his hole contract and release, like it’s desperately looking for something to grip onto.
And I have the perfect thing for him.
Discarding the dildo, I hook my thumbs under the waistband of my shorts. One firm tug is enough to let my throbbing dick slip free.
Jamie’s eyes instantly latch onto it, and his mouth falls open. I chuckle. As if he hasn’t seen it before. Granted, it’s been a while.