Chapter 18
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Dominic
The monster inside me had awakened, and with the orgasm and the ejaculation, my resolve was shattered into a thousand pieces. There was no way to put it back together. It was irreparably broken. Now, it was no longer the hope of a swift recovery that drove me, but the craving for the next orgasm.
Kilian had proven that it was possible.
Maybe it was just Kilian himself, because the ladies at Red didn’t stir anything in me, even with intense fantasizing and hours of rubbing. Only when I imagined Kilian teasing me at the back door …
God! The fact that I was already thinking like this—as if an erection was perfectly normal—drove me crazy.
I felt liberated and wanted more of it. I was like an alcoholic who, after years of abstinence, was allowed a single drop and now couldn’t think of anything else.
I wanted more!
More erections!
More sex!
More Kilian!
Preferably all day long!
When I found out that Kilian had called in sick on Tuesday, it felt like a setback. Not that I had been expecting a hookup in the control room—not really—but the fact that he was sick struck me as odd.
Sure, he’d had two tough weeks but seemed perfectly fine on Friday. Even when we spoke briefly on Monday night, just before the show, he appeared okay. He was a bit tired, but nothing that suggested he was sick or anything.
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Sebastian while we were having lunch on the terrace.
The stage manager crumpled the paper his sandwich had been wrapped in and set it aside. “No idea,” he said, exchanging a meaningful look with Jacob. “He texted me this morning that he wasn’t feeling well.”
“How was the show last night?”
“Great! It was a big success. The audience gave a standing ovation. Almost ten minutes long. It was a bit much, but it was the last performance of The Big Feast, so I guess it’s okay.”
“And who’s in charge of the lighting now?” asked Vanja, who was sitting next to Eliah, eating a salad.
“Tim,” Sebastian answered, lighting a cigarette. “He’s Kilian’s right-hand man.” Then, addressing Jacob, he added, “If Kil isn’t better by Saturday, Tim might step in.”
Eliah spoke up before I could. “Step in where?”
“For the big wedding party. Kilian was going to handle the lighting.”
I had already finished eating and retrieved my phone. “Are you okay?” I texted Kilian. “Let me know if you need anything. I can bring it by tonight.”
Did I have ulterior motives?
I wasn’t sure.
But I had a bad feeling and wanted to make sure Kilian was okay. I mean … did he have a fever? Or a stomach bug? Maybe he was lying unconscious with pneumonia and needed medical help. I was sure he wasn’t the type to get help for himself—that much I knew.
My message remained unread even half an hour later, which only strengthened my worry and made it hard to focus on rehearsals. Every time the lights changed on stage, I lost my place in the script and cursed myself for letting Kilian get so close.
It wasn’t just that I’d allowed him in—he had seen my other side. Mr. Hyde, as he aptly called it. That chilling voice of his could send shivers down my spine and make the hairs on my neck stand on end.
Since the orgasm in the playroom, I was even more at odds with Mr. Hyde. He terrified me, because all it took was for him to snap his fingers, and I would eagerly wrap myself in his cloak. The problem was, I knew just how insatiable Mr. Hyde was.
Had it been possible, I would’ve locked myself in the bathroom that afternoon to relieve the pressure that was driving me almost mad. But the truth was, no matter how long you rub cooked pasta, it won’t get hard again.
When I left the theater at five and checked my phone, I was surprised to see that Kilian had read my message but not responded. That wasn’t like him, and it gave me another reason to be concerned.
Kilian was open and approachable. Sometimes loud and annoying.
He had a big ego but an even bigger heart, which he too often hid behind a sly smile.
When he thought no one was watching, he didn’t realize that his affectionate nature was visible to everyone—which I didn’t like.
Kilian was caring and looked out for others, something he’d proven to me in the playroom when he wiped the semen from my stomach and cleaned me up.
Nothing would have stopped me from stopping by his place on my way home.
I wasn’t the type to show up empty-handed, but since I had no idea what Kilian was dealing with or what he might need, I decided against bringing medicine.
I knew he liked orange juice—the kind with lots of pulp—so I brought a bottle.
The last time I was here, I had dropped Kilian off after my shift at Red. To my surprise, the front door was open, so I went inside and climbed the stairs. It felt almost eerie how familiar the creaking of the wooden steps was to me.
After I rang the doorbell, it took a while before I heard any movement from inside.
Then the door opened, and Kilian appeared in purple boxer shorts and a white T-shirt.
His hair was messy, like he had just rolled out of bed, his face hidden behind his glasses, and his expression was tired and empty.
“Shit … What are you doing here?” he asked in a flat tone.
I furrowed my brow, puzzled, wondering who I was looking at. Kilian’s expression was frozen, and in the depths of his dark eyes, I searched in vain for that mischievous spark and zest for life. It was like I was facing some bizarre twin of his.
“I was worried.” I cleared my throat and took a tentative step closer. “I’m here to check on you.”
“I’m still alive. So you can leave now.”
I froze, my lips parting in shock. When he moved to shut the door, my body acted on its own, and I stepped inside.
“No chance.” I walked past him toward the living room.
“Please,” he said as he followed behind me, his voice flat and indifferent. “I’m fine. I just need to sleep.”
I stopped in my tracks the moment I entered his living room. The blanket draped on the couch, the laptop on the coffee table, and an open box of Movenpick ice cream with a spoon stuck in it caught my attention.
“Ice cream?” I asked, confused. “Do you have a broken heart?”
“Fuck,” he muttered, brushing past me. “I was just trying to treat myself.”
“You don’t expect me to buy that, do you?” I said, setting the orange juice on the table. “I brought you something.”
Kilian stood next to the table, looking bewildered.
The way he adjusted his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose made it clear that my presence was making him uncomfortable.
The fact that he didn’t crack any jokes only made the situation feel even stranger.
Instead, he turned away, avoiding eye contact.
His eyes were glossy, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going through something incredibly tough.
“If you want to talk … I’m here.”
Kilian stared at the old wooden floor. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Just let me sleep.”
“I’m sorry to say this, but you don’t look fine to me.”
“This … it’s just a phase,” he said, forcing himself to look me in the eye. “It’ll pass.”
“What can I do?” I asked, moving closer. “Please … It’s killing me to see you like this.”
Kilian avoided my concerned gaze, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he was fighting back tears, skillfully hiding them by adjusting his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
Fuck! I had never seen him like this before. And to be honest, I never wanted to witness him like this again. It terrified me because I felt completely helpless.
He did say he wanted to sleep. That I could do. So, I gently guided him to the bedroom. He sighed with relief as he crawled onto the bed. As soon as he took off his glasses and placed them on the table beside him, he collapsed into the pillow.
It seemed like he had fallen asleep instantly. Meanwhile, I sat on the bed for what felt like forever, watching as his breathing evened out. His body lay still, almost lifeless like a stone, but he was breathing, and that reassured me.
When my phone vibrated in my pocket, I left the bedroom, closed the sliding doors behind me, and sat down on the couch. It was a message from Nico.
“Hey! Do you need anything? Still at Hector’s, but I’ll head out soon.”
In seconds, I decided how the rest of my evening would go and texted Nico back.
“I’m still here with Kilian. He’s not feeling well. I think I’ll stay here tonight.”
“Oh no! What’s wrong with him?”
“Honestly? I have no idea! But it seems serious.”
“Make sure you don’t catch anything.”
“I don’t think it’s contagious,” I texted back with a smile. “But I can’t leave him alone like this.”
“No worries. I get it. See you tomorrow for a walk?”
“Yeah, see you then!”
I lounged on the couch for a while, noting that Kilian didn’t have a TV. His laptop was open, and when I moved the mouse, the Netflix interface appeared. He probably wasn’t big on password-protected content.
My eyes drifted to the ice cream. The box had been sitting out for a while, the top layer already melted.
I decided to grab it, along with the orange juice, and headed to the kitchen.
Placing the lid back on the tub of ice cream, I stored it in the freezer.
To my surprise, there were several boxes of ice cream, all the same flavor: Movenpick Salted Caramel Vanilla.
I didn’t realize he had such a sweet tooth. Kilian was slim and didn’t seem to have an ounce of excess fat. The fact that he had this much ice cream stashed away was a bit of a shock.
I poured some orange juice into a glass, topped it off with water, and then returned to the living room. I picked some random series to watch on Netflix. Eventually, I ordered Thai noodles and fried rice. Once Kilian woke up, he’d probably be famished, especially after sleeping all day.
I had just finished eating when the sliding door to the bedroom opened around nine o’clock and Kilian emerged. His hair was messier than before, and he looked weak and pale.
“Hey,” I said, turning down the volume on the laptop.
Without a word, Kilian came over to the couch, crawled next to me, and rested his head in my lap. “You’re still here,” he murmured, holding on to me weakly.
“Yeah,” I replied, surprised, not sure where to put my hands. Hesitantly, I placed one hand on his arm and stroked his head with the other. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” he answered, his eyes closed. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For staying.”
It was a strange role reversal for me since I wasn’t exactly known for being persistent with people—work was different, but otherwise, I usually let go. On the other hand, I was quickly becoming clingy when I got attached to someone—and Kilian was well on his way to finding his way into my heart.
“Do you feel any better?” I asked, concerned.
“What are you watching?”
“Kilian?”
He lowered his gaze sheepishly. “I told you, I just need to sleep it off. I’ll be fine. Ah … The Boys.”
“There’s still rice if you want some.”
“Ice cream?”
“Don’t worry, I haven’t raided your stash.”
We were silent for a while, watching the series. Every now and then, Kilian would shut his eyes and enjoy me scratching his head.
“Can I ask you something?” I finally said.
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured.
“Were you heartbroken?”
“No.”
“Then why the ice cream?”
“I told you, I just wanted to treat myself.”
“With ice cream?”
“Mm …” he muttered, without taking his eyes off the screen. “Probably just overworked.”
I had a ton of questions, but even I could tell he wasn’t ready to answer them all.
“Don’t you want anything to eat?” I asked instead.
“I can’t eat anything. Just ice cream.”
“Then I’ll get you the ice cream.”
When I came back to the living room, he had turned the volume up on the laptop but was still lying there, utterly drained. As soon as I sat down, though, he propped himself up and placed his head back in my lap. That didn’t stop him from eating ice cream.
We watched a few more episodes together until we both fell asleep in front of the screen. It was almost 1 a.m. when I helped Kilian to bed, tidied up a bit, and then lay down next to him.