Chapter 11 Niko
Niko
Niko, filming a video twenty minutes ago in the back seat of his car
Username: Dragonfly
I came for Oliver hours ago, but then I left. And shortly after, a reminder of my past came and erased every good feeling I felt.
I need an outlet now. So I’m hard again, trying to film a video, blotting out everything else in the world.
It’s different now.
It shouldn’t be, but it is.
My followers want more, more, more.
But every stroke I give my cock as I film myself, I’m thinking of Oliver. It’s like an obsession, looping itself around me tighter every passing moment.
When I come, I picture him taking it.
Picture him watching this video, too.
I want to know he craves me.
I want all of my videos to be for him.
Just a phase I need to train myself out of. Eventually.
I know the feeling of rage like a well-worn belt that fits me better than any other.
I keep my rage constrained.
Keep it caged like a goddamn tiger who’s slowly starved of food every fucking day that it isn’t let out.
That build-up of rage fuels me, reminding me that at the center of it all I’m a fucking animal. And when it gets under my skin I don’t behave according to any of the rules I usually set for myself.
Then sometimes, it explodes.
Detonates.
Like a couple of hours ago, when I found out my cousin had been threatened again and I had to channel my rage like a fucking targeted beam so that it didn’t spill out onto the whole world around me.
A situation I need to get under control… even more than I already have.
My day was going swimmingly well, getting fucked by Ollie and having it all on film. But after my shower, I checked my phone and saw a grim message from Sevan saying he’d been threatened again.
But I can figure out how to deal with Callum later.
But first, duty calls.
My lips on Oliver’s skin. The one thing that actually feels satisfying after the past couple of hours. I let my tongue slide out over the curve of his collarbone, and the way his breath gently hitches is a much better fuel than rage.
Tequila is helping, too.
I put a hand to his chest, just below my lips. He’s in a cream-colored collared shirt, and the material is fine and soft.
“Your heart’s beating fast,” I murmur near his ear.
I feel his chest move as he takes a deep breath. “Sometimes alcohol does that to me.”
“Is that your same excuse for this?”
I reach down and quickly brush my palm over his cock through his pants. It’s hard as a fucking rock for me, as expected.
He grips my wrist and shoves my palm away. “Christ, Niko, we’re in the middle of the room.”
I pretend to be a gentleman and take my hand away before anyone in the crowd around us sees.
Part of me can barely believe I’m doing any of this.
I need to be here.
At this party.
And somehow, my rage was stoked even further when I saw some stranger’s lips on my boyfriend’s skin. My not-boyfriend. Whether this is fake or not, I don’t give a fuck. I’m not letting the whole world see that I’d let something or someone I care about be taken like that.
Or maybe I’m just as crazy as Ollie always thought I was.
A shadow, like smoke.
Overtaking everything until I can barely breathe.
I move up further, sucking on his earlobe then giving that a bite, too.
“I’m not yours, and we both know it,” he protests, but I feel him leaning into my body anyway. “What’s with you?”
“Had a bad fucking evening. Need something to claim. You’re here.”
He exhales as I kiss the spot just below his ear. “What made your night bad?”
“Don’t want to talk about it.”
“Tough shit. I want to hear about it, and you’re up in my fucking business right now.”
“Ollie, if you want people to think something’s happening between us, we have to do things in public. And ideally, you should stay off your knees for other men at parties. Understand?”
“It was just a stupid drinking game.”
I slide my hand up his throat, holding it there for a moment.
Like a collar.
He looks so good like that.
“You’d like how this looks,” I murmur at him. “My tattoos look good around your neck. Want a picture of it?”
My cock throbs.
Oliver’s eyes scan my face, looking me over like he’s studying me, deciding how he should react to my hand being on his neck.
I don’t bother trying to hide how much I’m enjoying it. I give it a little squeeze before sliding my hand away, moving my fingertips down to his palm. I swirl my fingertips over his open hand for a moment, and he watches the tattoo on the back of my hand as I move.
I don’t understand how Oliver can be so innocent sometimes.
Innocent, but fucking filthy underneath.
Really would warm my heart if it wasn’t already so cold.
I look around the party for a moment, and already it seems like a repeat of the first night I arrived at Onyx House: more and more people filtering into the room, the lights getting lower, the music getting louder.
I’m sure many people have already seen us getting cozy together on the couch.
But he’s still looking at me, blinking with those long lashes, halfway drunk and probably still waiting for some sort of answer out of me.
Fine.
Just a little bit of mercy for you.
“The reason I was late is because my cousin needed help with an issue.”
He frowns at me.
His face really is pretty, and it’s even more obvious when I’m this close to him.
Pretty toy.
Nice that I get to play with you ‘til we’re done with each other.
“Is Sevan okay?” he asks.
I frown and look away, watching a girl grind up against a guy in the corner of the room. “He’s okay for now. My ex dropped him off a stupid fucking psychotic gift, though, just like he did to us with the skeleton shit a couple of weeks ago.”
“The fuck? What did Sevan find?”
“A dagger.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“It was plastic. A theater prop, painted silver. But knowing my ex… he’s trying to drop some kind of symbol. And I hate whatever that fucking symbol is. Probably thinks he’s being clever, since Sevan is in Double Daggers.”
“Are you sure Sevan is going to be safe tonight?”
“He’s safe. I did something I didn’t want to do, and I called Callum’s neighbor. She’s a heinous woman, but she assured me that Callum’s out in his hot tub, nowhere near here anymore. We’re okay. For now.”
“I want to help,” he tells me. “We can get Roman and his cousins to help, too.”
I pull in a long breath. “I need to forget. I’m going to need you to please talk about anything else, do anything else rather than think about that piece of shit.”
“Fine. But I want you to tell me next time something like that happens.”
I stand up, pulling my hands away from him, and run my hands through my hair. When I glance back down at him on the sofa, I almost pounce on him again on sight alone.
He looks ravished, and all I did was kiss his neck. His hair’s a little tousled. His cheeks are flushed. His body looks like it’s melted into the couch, and his legs are parted enough that I can see the faint outline of his hard-on even in the dim light.
“Stay here for a while,” I tell him.
He frowns, and it’s adorable. “No. Where are you going? Why does it seem like you’re about to do something terrible?” he asks.
“I’m about to do something necessary, and it’s going to ensure that by the end of this party, everyone knows we’re a couple.”
“Ollie! Yo! Guess who I just talked to,” Weston says as he enters the room, grinning and waving at me, too.
“Perfect,” I tell Oliver in a low tone. “Talk to Wes. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Weston seems drunk, warm, and happy now, too. He sits on the couch next to Ollie and I blow a little kiss before taking off toward the back of the house.
The back sunroom has tall, floor-to-ceiling windows that look out onto the backyard, and right now the guys have turned off all the lights and put on blacklights, instead.
The blacklights illuminate the room in a glowy purple hue, and every bit of white that anyone’s wearing glows bright like neon.
I look around the people in the sunroom, scanning the crowd. Finally, I find who I’m looking for.
Noah is sitting on a lounge chair, shirtless, and flanked by two gorgeous women, one with long, dark braids and the other with messy blonde short hair.
One of them has decided to take off her shirt, too, and her tits are mashed up against his arm as she leans over, drawing on his chest with a highlighter.
Her drawings glow neon yellow-green in the light.
The other girl sits on the opposite arm of Noah’s chair, taking a pull from a vape that makes the whole room smell like a cloud of vanilla.
There are two other girls sitting on a couch across from them, both of them watching Noah like they’re waiting for their turn to surround him.
Well, aren’t you popular at parties, Noah.
Exactly why I need to use you for social dynamite.
“Niko! My man. You having a good time?” Noah greets me, his eyes half-lidded as the topless girl draws an impressive bird on his chest with the highlighter.
“Peachy,” I tell him. “You’re enjoying the party, I assume?”
“He’ll be enjoying it a lot more once he goes upstairs with us,” the girl who’s drawing tells me, without looking up from her work.
“Hit this vape with me,” the other girl says near Noah’s ear.
“No thanks, that’s all yours,” he politely tells her, putting his arm around her and stroking the small of her back.
“You want me to color in your tattoos after I’m done with Noah?” the topless girl asks me, finally looking up. “They’d look fucking sick in the blacklight.”
“Not tonight.”
“You chilling, Niko? What’s up?” Noah asks.
“Got a question for you.”
“I’m your man.”
I cock my head to the side. “Is Oliver single?”
A devious smile spreads over Noah’s lips. “Oliver Ashford is the definition of single. That man hasn’t settled down since he got here. Fucks who he wants, when he wants. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” I say.
Stoking a fire.
Pouring fuel on a gossip inferno that will spread like wildfire as quickly as I say it.
“Ollie’s a good man,” Noah says.