Chapter Ten
Zayden
“Do you think maybe T is right?” I murmur softly.
It’s been hours since Thiago left, after awkwardly standing around in his own dorm.
The tension in the room was starting to feel suffocating, impossible to fucking not notice, given the split lip he sported.
The boys were fighting, and the reason had a name.
Shiloh.
Nico stops folding his laundry and turns to me. “Even if he is, it’s my fucking life, Zayden.”
“It is,” I agree with an exhale, my eyes on the ceiling, debating if I should continue.
“But you know the rules.” The smell of Thaigo’s cologne lingers in the air, along with faint traces of sweat.
The scent I’ve come to crave… No. I shake the thought away before it can fully manifest. “I think you should be more careful, or at least lay low. I don’t like the blog or the fact that people are looking into Asher. ”
Nico’s voice drops, his gaze suggests he’s gone to a place I can’t reach him. “I didn’t kill Asher.”
And I believe him because I know who did, and it wasn’t him.
However, it’s a secret that I will take to the grave.
Or will at least keep that card tucked away until it becomes useful enough to play.
A small scoff escapes my lips. Looks like Safra’s rubbing off on me in more ways than one.
I turn towards Nico, watching as he plops onto the corner of his bed with a deep sigh before letting his head fall into his hands. He looks pathetic…
A hopeless romantic with a gnarly future.
“I love her, Zayden,” he mutters, voice lost in his palms. “I’ve been selfless all my life, man. For once, I just want to be selfish for as long as I can be.”
And that, my friend, is what will lead to your certain death, but I don’t tell him that.
He knows that and so do I. I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to find the right things to say here.
It’s not like I can relate. Our issues are vastly different.
I don’t allow myself to dwell on emotions, while my best friend here drowns in them.
Not that it's usually bad to feel things so deeply, but in this world, it’s deadly.
I rest my head on my arm. Finally giving him my truth, even if it hurts him.
“It’s gonna cost you, man. I’m with Safra on this one.”
I can tell it bothers him, and I’d never side with Thiago in front of him, but he’s not lying about Nico playing with fire.
In the end, he will burn for it. My only hope is that I’m smart enough to use some of the secrets I’ve piled up to get him out of this mess.
Feeling around for my phone, I quickly grab the device and bring it to my face to unlock the screen.
Two unread messages.
Greyson:
Is your owner around, or can u come out to play?
The other one, I contemplate not even opening, but something in the pit of my stomach tells me I should.
Pops:
Rent is due this week. I would also like to see my son.
I couldn’t help but grimace, my lips twisting into a snarl at the word son.
Wants to see his son or his personal bank?
Fuck him. I don’t write back to him, but quickly reply to Greyson, only because I know I can get some good information out of him.
Nothing like a good blow job to get his mouth moving, and I’m sure it would get under Safra’s skin.
Even if he doesn’t find out, this is my own personal move.
I have to play it smart; I can no longer allow them to pull the strings.
Me:
How did u get my number?
The bubbles appear quickly.
Greyson:
When u have resources, information is always available.
“Ezra wants to see me tonight,” Nico’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
I look over at him, my brows furrowing. His jaw is set, and the tightness in my chest returns.
My head tilts to the side. Confusion clouds my mind.
He wasn’t one to touch the guys. He’s a pussy only kind of man, but you never know the motives of these rich assholes.
“Ezra, why?”
Nico purses his lips as he looks down at his screen, and by the look on his face, he’s also unsure of the reason.
It’s not that we didn’t hang with E, but he wasn’t like Wyatt or Thiago.
Since he’s older than us, his jobs require more of him, which means he’s never around.
And again, he prefers women; touching men isn’t his thing.
And despite everything, he’s different from Safra and Wyatt.
Ezra still holds a level of arrogance that reminds you of your place in the food chain.
I didn’t like the sound of it, but it’s not like he can say no.
My pulse quickens just as my muscles tighten along with the lines on Nico’s face as he frowns before typing into his phone.
“Did he tell you what for?” I ask nervously, using my elbow to prop myself up. He shakes his head and lets out a sigh.
“I just asked what for.”
We both knew what for; more than likely, he would be punished.
How, who knows? He could be fucked and humiliated for hours.
Or beaten, but that is Wyatt’s job and the crew he handles.
Torturing is Wyatt's favorite punishment, so I'd assume the latter. Neither option is a walk in the park, and I hate this for him. I hate that I can’t do anything, or maybe I can.
Focusing back on my screen, I start to type.
Me:
When works for u?
Greyson types back rather quickly.
Greyson:
I can play tonight.
I swallow hard, not knowing if I should proceed. Alarms inside me sound like this may be a trap. But how else can I get close to him? How can I use him to get the information I need? Fuck, I don’t even know what exactly I’m looking for… I just have to try.
“I gotta go,” Nico says as he storms out of the dorm, closing the door behind him before I can reply. I let my body fall into Thiago’s bed, letting the smell of him invade my lungs—invade me just as he has so many times before.
My phone goes off, vibrating in the palm of my hand.
I watch my Dad’s contact illuminating the screen and send him to voicemail with the press of a button.
Following Nico’s lead, I head out and walk towards the other side of campus, where my dorm with Wyatt is.
As always, it’s empty, but the smell of sex and weed lingers in the air, the only trace of his presence.
I start to undress, whistling a random tune as my phone continues going off.
My heart races inside my chest, no matter how much I try to distract my body from the need that poisons me.
I fail.
Each breath of air makes more blood rush into places it shouldn’t be. The bulge between my legs is impossible to ignore. It demands to be felt. To be stroked and released. My cock is hard, demanding attention. Lust came knocking, and fuck it, I’m answering.
The need to satisfy the void inside me grows by the second, and before I can think it through, my hand moves over the bulge. I groan, causing more heat to gather at the base of my spine, making me boil inside with each press of my palm. My dick twitches with more demand, creating a wet spot…
A cool window for the furnace that I'm sure I’m becoming.
My conscience takes a back seat, letting the beast inside me claw at my pants, before stepping into the shower.
My hand tightens around the base of my cock.
Slowly, I stroke myself to the memories of Thiago I’ve been trying to purge from my mind, only to find him returning with a brutality that has my fist moving with urgency.
As much as I hate it, my body's reaction is visceral.
It knows exactly what it wants and won’t settle for less. My dick swells, leaking precum as I run my thumb over the tip. Resting my forehead against the cool tiles, my strokes grow slower, allowing the shame and disgust to creep in.
The water washes over me as if it could cleanse my soul from all the impure thoughts.
I close my eyes, envisioning the weight of him and the thickness of his cock as it enters me, and I groan loudly.
My hand picks up pace, my balls drawing tight as heat gathers in my core.
I fucking want him. I want Thiago Safra so bad it genuinely hurts.
Good thing I’m a sucker for pain. I continue my quick strokes, peeling back the foreskin with each flick of my wrist. My breath comes in short and ragged.
Fuck!!
The steam from the shower curls around me as my balls knot, the feeling of falling over the edge blinding me with stars.
Maybe it is the heat coming from the water or the inferno of desire that courses through my veins.
I fuck my hand with an animalistic urgency, only stopping when I feel the familiar urge that spills from my center and runs straight out of my cock and splashes onto my stomach.
I look down at the sticky residue, watching as the water rinses it away.
Feeling like I wasted enough time, I rush to wash off and get ready.
By the time I'm done with everything, it is close to eight o'clock. I look at my phone to find that I have a couple of voicemails from my pops, which is odd for him. He knows that I will help him with rent. I’ve never left him hanging, even though I should, and a message from Greyson.
Greyson:
Rain check. Something came up.
I plop down on the couch and aimlessly scroll through my phone, avoiding listening to any of the voicemails left by my father. Unable to focus on anything but that nagging feeling deep inside my chest. Being curious is never a good thing…
After all, curiosity kills the cat every time. And before I can stop myself, I press the play button, and a sinking feeling settles deep in my gut.
“Ah-son- I,” my father stammers, and I roll my eyes, ready to end it and delete the voicemails. “Lo-ve.”
That does it.