Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
Felix
I knock twice before a shirtless Duncan answers the door. My gaze settles on his broad shoulders, the coarse, thick mat of dark brown and gray hair decorating his chest, his chestnut hair and eyes like a beacon in the dark.
“Felix? Is everything?—”
My throat feels tight, as the last several years converge on me all at once like an avalanche.
“No,” I reply, shaking my head. My voice slips, which only happens when I am not in control of who I am supposed to be.
My vision blurs as I try to fight the tears, but they are stronger than I am.
“No, I’m not okay.”
Duncan’s thick eyebrows knit together as he pulls me into his arms immediately. His hold is tight, strong, and I crumble like a deck of cards.
“It’s okay... Come on in.” His voice stern and authoritative as he leads me into his house. Though there’s an edge to his voice that is different than all the other times he’s been the bearer of hard truths.
I know if there is one person who will be straight with me, who will tell me the truth, no sugar, it’s Duncan.
Duncan shuts the door with one hand, leading me toward the couch.
“Wh—where’s B—Bobby?” I ask through sobs and sniffles.
“Spending the night at a friend’s house, why?”
I sniffle, my voice shaking. “Didn’t want to look a fucking mess in front of your kid. Got... got an image to uphold.”
Duncan sighs and the sound is heavy as he pulls me down to the couch.
“You’re not a mess, Felix.”
“Yes, I am!” I sob like an absolute mess.
Is he fucking blind?
“I kn—know you s—said if I wanted to not be trash, I n—needed to not t—treat myself like it, but fuck...”
Duncan sighs as I wipe my eyes, unable to stop the onslaught of tears.
“I’m not a good person, Duncan. I’m not. I’m a fucked up piece of shit.”
Another sob wracks me.
“What happened?” he asks, leaning back into the couch, pulling me with him.
I lean on his shoulder, not daring to look up at him because I don’t want to see how fucked up I truly am.
I don’t want to see his pity.
His fingertips trace lightly over my shoulder as he leans toward me, the scratchiness of his beard briskly brushing against my forehead.
“I wanted to ignore him. To walk away, but I couldn’t.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I close my eyes.
“Who?” Duncan’s voice is even, solid, like a rock.
“Sullivan fucking Reign.”
“Ah.” Duncan’s brief utterance is full of judgment.
Maybe this was a bad idea, coming here, like this.
“Maybe I should go...” I say, shoving down the demons that are fighting for freedom. “I should?—”
“You hungry?” Duncan asks as he gets up, letting me fall against the back of the couch.
I watch as he stands, pulling up his gray sweatpants to cover his hips.
I fixate my gaze on him, on the soft curves and edges of his waist, on the thick smattering of hair that covers him from chest to navel. As my gaze travels up to his face, I can’t help but appreciate the sight of him like this.
Duncan is like a diamond, with so many contrasting facets, each one equally as blinding and sharp in design as the last.
It’s hard to believe the same Duncan McKay who used to sport a lip ring and mascara is the same man who can throw me over his shoulder like a ragdoll, who is also somehow the same man who left Hollywood for a house in the suburbs with a fucking white picket fence.
And somehow he’s the same man who can quiet all the noise inside of me.
I’ve been digging through coal for so long, I didn’t know diamonds still existed.
I’ve burned for so long through fires self-inflicted.
I’m going to have to write that one down.
“I, uh...”
“Because I’m starving,” Duncan says nonchalantly as he heads for the fridge. He opens it and the light shines on his skin, illuminating his side profile, his sweatpants sliding off of him once more to reveal a softer definition.
Most of the men in my life, aside from Lou are all coke thin or so muscular you could bounce a fucking quarter off their abs.
There’s something pleasantly comforting about a man who carries himself with the confidence Duncan has.
Confidence I wish I had.
“I’ll warn you, though, my kid is a much better cook than I am. Though, I make a mean grilled cheese.”
I nod like an idiot, a small laugh escaping my throat. The last time I’d been here, he made some sort of buffalo chicken dip, and I swear to God, it smelled like heaven.
Of course, that might’ve had something to do with the man who made it, and not the dish itself, since I left before I could even get a taste.
“I can’t remember the last time someone made me a grilled cheese. Probably my mom when I was sick, when I was a kid.”
I get up from the couch, slowly making my way to the kitchen as I watch Duncan get the ingredients together.
Watch the way his shoulders move as he spreads butter over two pieces of crusty bread, the way the shadows fall on his face.
God, he’s aged so fucking well.
He might’ve been positively delicious when he was younger, but now...
I swallow harshly and try not to stare.
“You don’t talk about your parents much. Not even in articles.”
I take a seat on one of his barstools at the counter, focusing on his prepwork.
“That’s because there’s nothing to talk about. My dad left when I was eleven. Went out for a pack of cigarettes, never came back. Mom never recovered and spent the remainder of my life at home working double shifts so we could survive.”
Duncan turns on a burner, letting the griddle heat up.
“Dad tried to come back a couple years later, after I had my first hit. Looking for money, and I gave it to him. Never heard from him again. Mom... she’s out reliving her lost years in Europe somewhere. Fuck if I know where.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, dropping a buttered piece of bread on to the griddle. It sizzles when it makes contact, screeching at first, then fading to nothing.
“It’s fine. It is what it is.”
“And Sully?” Duncan presses some cheese onto the unbuttered side, then tops it with a fresh piece of buttered bread.
“Sully, Eddie, and Corpse were hired to be my band after my first album. When I started touring. He wasn’t the first guy I?—”
Duncan moves back against the counter as he turns the burner down, letting the sandwich heat slowly.
“He made the pain feel better. For a while. Then I wanted more, and he?—”
“Didn’t want the same thing?” Duncan asks as he flips the sandwich. The sizzle screams as the fresh buttered bread hits the hot surface, fading within seconds to nothing again.
“Not really, I guess. In the end, anyway. He left, and I was a mess. But somehow, I’m the bad guy, you know? I’m the one who’s a problem for him. ”
Duncan flips the sandwich once more, pressing it with a spatula into the griddle, making the butter sizzle longer.
“And then today when I saw him, he started his fucking gaslighting bullshit, and I snapped.”
I close my eyes, shaking my head.
“His new manager was there, and I’m sure by now it’s on everyone’s TikToks. Lou was pissed.”
I open my eyes to see a plate of freshly made grilled cheese in front of me, and my stomach growls.
Duncan sets to fixing himself a sandwich as I take a bite out of mine, and it’s amazing.
Hot, melty, and satisfying. I can’t help but groan in satisfaction.
“This fucking slaps, Duncan.”
The way his eyebrows lift, surprised, but somewhat joyful tells me he really thinks this is mediocre.
But nothing Duncan McKay does is mediocre.
I’m absolutely certain of it.
“Lou’s just grumpy because you make him work for his paycheck.” Duncan flashes me with a half smile. “Believe me, I know.”
“But I don’t want to be a problem. I really don’t. I just... want to make my music and be fucking happy, you know?”
I take another bite of my sandwich, reveling once more in the perfection of the toasted bread and warm, satisfying cheese.
Fuck me sideways, this shit is lit.
“I know,” Duncan says as he plates his sandwich, taking a seat next to me.
He swivels a bit on his chair, his knee knocking into mine.
The next words out of my mouth are barely audible, almost a whisper.
“For a minute I thought... There was a bar a couple doors down, and I wanted to go and—” The words stick in my throat, and won’t dislodge.
Duncan looks at me as he takes a bite of his sandwich. “But you didn’t.”
His words are heavy on my soul, but they are also freeing.
I could have gone down the same beaten path, but I didn’t.
Shimmering, sparkling, this land of diamonds and jewels
Offering me a chance to shine
Glittering and enticing, this land of milk and honey
Never have I wanted so badly to call you mine
“I didn’t,” I say softly,
“You want my two cents?” Duncan asks as he devours his grilled cheese in practically one bite.
“Sure.”
“I think Sullivan Reign is a fucking idiot. And he’s a terrible musician.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You know, he idolizes you, right? God, he was always talking about how good you are. That’s why I was such an ass when we first met. You reminded me of him, and I was pissed.”
Duncan swivels his chair toward me, his dark gaze capturing mine.
I look at him, the way his dark hair falls in his face, the way his scruff fades into a thick beard, the sliver of silver hiding beneath his beard, embedded in his lips.
Absentmindedly, I reach out and flick it with my fingers.
Duncan grabs my hand, pressing his lips to my fingers. “And now? Do I still piss you off?”
His thumb presses into my wrist, like Sully always did when he was trying to make me listen.
You just need to be broken, Felix. You can be a good boy if you want to be.
His words echo in my head, and I realize I was never going to be good enough for Sully.
Ever.
I’d always be waiting for him to throw me a fucking bone, coveting the scraps between his romances with Hollywood’s hottest harlots.
And he’d somehow tide me over with those scraps and make me feel like I didn’t deserve the trash he fed me.
Duncan’s thumb gently strokes my vein, and I exhale.
“How did you do it?” I ask, curling my fingers underneath his jaw. His facial hair against my palm is rough, and I grip his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “How did you walk away?”
Duncan’s gaze implores mine. “I watched my friend spiral out of control, and I didn’t... I didn’t do anything to stop him.” Duncan’s voice shakes, and I can see the tears on the verge of his confession.
“Then I found him. He slit his wrists, and—” Duncan closes his eyes and my heart breaks for him.
God, I can’t imagine.
When he opens his eyes, he looks at me softly. “I knew I loved music, and I loved my wife—we weren’t married yet, but I thought maybe?—”
Duncan sighs. “Marci always said, all you need is ten seconds to be brave. After ten seconds, it becomes the past, and all you have is the future.”
I swivel in my chair, knocking my knee into his as I remove my hand from his, stacking our plates together.
“Ten seconds? That’s it?” I ask as I slip down from the barstool, carrying the plates to the sink.
“Yeah. Whenever I’m freaking out, I take a deep breath, and count to ten.”
I turn to look at him, sitting there. Looking at me.
“You didn’t count to ten when your car died.”
Duncan smirks. “I fuck up, too, you know. No one is perfect.”
I have to disagree with him.
And just like that, he shrugs, changing the subject.
“I want to show you something,” he says, nodding for me to follow him.
When I dropped him and his kid off, I hadn’t really stayed long. Just long enough to attempt to play a song or two on the couch. Then I’d kissed him, and freaked him out and...
“Sure.”
I follow Duncan through the hall as he shows me the bathroom, the guest room, Bobby’s room, an open lounge, his bedroom, and lastly, his music studio and workshop.
In comparison to my two story design piece, his spacious ranch feels so much larger.
It’s full of color, and comfort.
And it’s lived in.
There are hoodies over the lounge couch, and dirty glasses on the kitchen counter, and a sink full of pots and pans.
There are clothes overflowing out of the hamper at the end of the hall.
The bed in his bedroom isn’t even made.
Duncan leans against the doorframe of his workshop, his signature sweat and Old Spice scent hitting me, and I don’t even hide the way I breathe it in.
“You’re going to be okay, you know,” he says softly, his breath hot on my neck.
I turn to lean into him. “With you, yeah. I think I am,” I reply as I lean up and kiss him.
He doesn’t falter or shrink back this time. Instead, he slides his fingers into my hair, pushing me against the doorframe with his body. His chest brushes against my hot pink Def Leopard tee, and it doesn’t take much for me to submit.
Because when Duncan McKay touches me, it’s salvation.
His free hand settles on my hip and I slide my right hand down his bare back, slipping it below the waistband of his sweats, over his ass.
He doesn’t push me away.
Instead, he grinds his solid cock against me and I grow hard.
A desperate moan escapes my throat as I slide my free hand over his waist, his stomach, rubbing the soft, pliable skin. I groan as he opens his mouth, his tongue breaching my mouth, his lip ring clinking against my own.
I skim my hand up his abdomen. Where there should be muscles, there is only squishy, soft skin and a sprinkle of coarse hair against my palm.
Duncan’s kiss deepens as his hands explore my body, slipping underneath my shirt as they course over my stomach.
I stroke the skin of his abs with my palm, liking the feel of his skin against mine.
“You make everything okay,” I whisper.
Duncan takes my lips once more, pulling me back across the hall, toward his bedroom, and I follow him like a lamb to the slaughter, both of us kissing, touching, exploring one another as I let him lead me.
He tugs at the edge of my shirt, and I let him pull it off of me.
I think it falls somewhere between the doorway and the bed.
I back him up against the bed, but I don’t push him.
He kisses my neck, his tongue warm on my flesh as his large hands splay along the sides of my exposed hips, fingers tracing lines along my tattoos.
I groan as he nips and bites at my neck, his cock twitching against me. I push his sweats down a bit.
Duncan tenses, and I stop.
I look up at him in alarm. “Are you okay, do you want me to?—”
“I haven’t had sex with anyone in ten years,” he blurts out.
“Oh.” I nod, moving back, but I come up against the edge of the bed myself and end up falling over, embarrassingly.
Thankfully, the bed catches me, but I know that’ll leave a bruise.
“I just... needed you to know that.”
“We don’t have to... have sex.” I say the words, and they feel strange. “We can just, uh... do whatever you’re comfortable with,” I reassure him, despite the fact my cock is throbbing, and the thought of fucking this man makes me hot as hell.
Duncan sits on the bed next to me.
“Are you a... top or... a bottom?” he asks, his cheeks flushing. “Just curious.”
I can’t help but smirk. Not the direction I thought this was going to go, but I’m happy to answer whatever questions he has.
Especially if those answers will help him with this.
Us.
“I’m vers.”
“Vers?” he asks, eyebrows knit together. “What does that mean?”
“I like both. Though, I’m used to being the top.”
Duncan nods, his cheeks still red. “Good to know.”
I can’t help but laugh a little, considering the discussion.
“I’m going to guess you’re a top.”
Duncan’s eyebrows furrow. “What makes you say that?”
“For one, you have a bite that screams Daddy . In a sexy way, of course. I could totally see it.”
Duncan’s eyes glaze over. “Oh do, I now?” he taunts me.
I nod, my own cheeks flushing as his gaze darkens.
“You think you know me, Felix, hmmm?”
For a sliver of a second, I worry I said something wrong, but when Duncan licks his lips, grinning with grade A Daddy energy, I can’t help but take his fucking bait.
“Maybe a little.”
“Mhmm. Well, you might be right about one thing. I do have a history of being the one on top. But you have a bite that screams fucking brat.” He slides closer to me. I look up at him with a wicked grin. “And last I checked, brats like to top from the bottom.”
I cast him an aloof grin. “What can I say? I told you, I have daddy issues.”
Duncan stalks me, pushing me back against the headboard until his face is inches from mine.
“Such an attitude,” he whispers as he kisses me, and I can feel his grin.
“Maybe I need my mouth washed out with cock,” I tease, adding an ample daddy for maximum effect.
Duncan doesn’t flinch. Instead, he groans, slipping his tongue into my mouth as he whispers against my lips, “Then what are you waiting for?”
His tone is dark, and I don’t have to be told twice.
I move my lips to his neck, sucking lightly on the taut skin there as I settle myself in his lap. Duncan rests his hands on my hips, his fingers grabbing my ass through my jeans.
The curse that escapes his mouth sends me reeling and I grind my stiff cock against him as I let my tongue lave over his clavicle, trailing it through a sea of hair and skin across his chest, down his abdomen.
I crawl down his body like a fucking spider, with not enough hands to touch him everywhere I want.
I slip my fingers beneath the sides of his sweatpants and all but yank them down, eager to taste him.
The pain and worry, the intrusive thoughts... they all disappear.
Sex has always been an escape for me.
But this... It feels different.
I can feel the tremble of Duncan’s body as he sucks in a breath, as his fingers seek purchase in my hair.
For a moment, I think he’s going to pull me up, tell me to stop.
Leave me hard and wanting him, again.
But he doesn’t.
In fact, he does the opposite.
He shoves my head and face against his half-covered groin, thrusting up as he grunts, “Don’t be a fucking tease.”
The grin that falls over my face is stupid.
I shouldn’t like the force, or the command, but damn it, I fucking love it.
Something about the tone of Duncan’s voice strikes a chord within me, and I think I would do anything for that voice.
I pull his sweats down to his knees, letting his solid cock spring free.
The last time I laid eyes on this beautiful cock, he was pleasuring himself while I fucked his mouth, and even from my angle above him, his thickness was rather sizeable.
But up close and personal, I nearly drool at the sight.
I’ve had my fair amount of dick, but none as thick as Duncan.
No wonder the man has the confidence of a king.
With a battering ram like that, I’d probably feel like God’s fucking favorite, too.
I half worry I will asphyxiate to death, but damn, if I die sucking his cock, it’s a good way to go out.
I grab him in my hand first, and note my fingers barely meet one another when I wrap them around him.
It’s a stretch for sure, and my mind spirals, wondering what that stretch would feel like in my ass.
Fucking hell.
My cock twitches, pushing against the inside of my jeans.
I suck in a breath and count to three, flashing my gaze up at him as I lick him from base to head, sucking on the tip, dragging my lip ring along his slit.
Four. Five. Six.
“Oh my God, Felix...” he hisses, his head hitting the back of the headboard. His fingers grip my hair tighter as he thrusts his cock against my lips, and I can taste the trickles of his precum against my tongue.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
I watch his eyebrows knit together as he sucks in a breath, his gaze finding mine. I don’t break it as I let out my own breath.
Ten.
In one fell swoop, I take him into my mouth, and I feel like I might actually choke.
My cock throbs and I move to adjust myself, and Duncan grunts as I lave my tongue around his solid cock, drool forming at my chin from the motion.
I groan in ecstasy as I lick and suck, all the while imagining what it would feel like to be stuffed by this perfect cock.
His hand loosens its grip in my hair, and he breathlessly calls my name.
I lose myself in the sound of his grunts, the way he breathes my name, the lightheadedness I feel as he slowly thrusts his hips up, causing his cock to hit the back of my throat.
I push his knees apart, grinding my cock into the mattress beneath me, driven by the need to fuck something.
Or someone, but I’m not about to turn Duncan over and rail him into the headboard just yet, given his reluctance and his natural dominance.
But God, what I wouldn’t give to watch him make a mess of this bed while I fuck him senseless.
The thought drives me to deep throat him once more, humming around his cock, and he bursts like a dam, growling out a string of curses as I swallow his load like it’s my favorite goddamn drink.
When he’s finished, I remove my mouth from his shaft, looking up to take stock of the euphoria on Duncan’s face, when I am full on knocked over, my back hitting the soft mattress.
Duncan’s mouth finds mine quickly, and he shoves his tongue down my throat, kissing me like a madman as he makes haste with my pants and my aching erection.
I lick his lip ring, thrusting my cock against his hand as he fights to free me.
“You don’t have to,” I tell him, because it’s true.
I want him, so fucking bad, but I don’t want to fuck this up, either. And in my experience, most of my partners weren’t the type to reciprocate or give.
They took.
But this... this bond between us is something I’ve never felt with anyone before.
Duncan presses his thumb into my leaking slit, and I see stars.
I watch as my cock throbs, as he brings his wet thumb up to his lip, sucking it salaciously.
The groan that leaves my mouth is desperate, and I thrust my cock up against his semi-erect cock. I want his lips wrapped around my cock, I want his tongue in my fucking ass, and I want to be stuffed like a damn Thanksgiving turkey.
The desire is so much more profound than I’ve ever felt.
You cut me open and you make me free.
Polished like a stone
You stitch up my battle wounds
You break my fucking throne.
The feel drives me wild, and I can see the reflection of my lust in his eyes.
“I want to,” he says, kissing me once more.
He grinds himself against me, taking both my wrists in just one of his large hands, and I feel like I am drowning once more. In Old Spice and feverish kisses, in blissful submission.
He’s going to need more than a wardrobe.
Maybe some new equipment for his restorations.
“I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel,” he whispers against my lips before taking his free hand and wrapping it around both of our cocks.
His gaze pins me and I am powerless against the sparks flying through me as I feel him harden once more.
Christ, at this rate, I’ll buy him a vacation home in the Maldives.
His strokes are slow and torturous, and I think I could die like this.
At the mercy of Duncan McKay, in his bed.
Who needs interrogation or torture when this man can drive me to the madhouse?
Here lies Felix Hart.
May I rest in peace.
“Duncan... please...” I beg, unashamed of how desperate I sound. I want to come so bad, and I’m so close.
His touch is electric, his words everything I’ve never known I needed.
Just as I’m about to blow, he stops, and I nearly cry out when his mouth replaces his hand, and my cock hits the back of his throat.
I come, hard and fast, his name etched in my heart, my soul, and on my lips.
He swallows my release down with ease, vacating my deflating cock, and just as I am about to expire and melt into the mattress, he resuscitates me by pushing his swollen head against my lips.
Instinctively, I open my mouth for him and he drives his big, fat cock down my throat, coming within seconds, gruffly cursing, and I see stars.
It’s not as much as the first time, but it’s a sweet surrender all the same.
When we’re finished, we both lie there, hot and panting like we’ve just run a marathon.
And in a way, I guess we have.
I’ve never gone back-to-back like that before, not even with Sully, and the results make me feel lethargic, but also comforted.
Duncan slides his sweatpants back up, then works to redress me somewhat, which is a feat. My body is limp and I can barely move, but I feel amazing.
Better than I’ve felt in a long time. My eyes feel heavy and a warmth surrounds me, strong arms pulling me close.
I burrow into coarse hair and warm skin and lips that get lost in my hair. I breathe in Old Spice and sweat, and sex.
Darkness threatens to pull me under, and I let it.