13. Roman
Roman
The house is packed, the music is loud and the air smells like beer and cheap cologne. Just what I need to drown the thoughts in my head.
We won our second game of the season, so Killian decided it was reason enough to invite half the campus over, and everyone loves a Sin Bin party. I’m sitting on the couch in the living room with a half-empty bottle of whiskey dangling from my fingers and well into forgetting what day it is.
Luca Devereaux and Damien Moore are flanking me—football and basketball players respectively—both as loud and obnoxious as they always are.
Luca’s got a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, his blond hair sitting way too perfect for someone this drunk. Damien’s sprawled out on my other side, a joint hanging from his lips as he’s scrolling through his phone.
“Why the fuck are you smoking weed, anyway? Aren’t you worried about tests?” I ask Damien, who offers me a goofy grin, his brown eyes glinting.
“I’ve got my ways to pass them,” he says with a wink and I don’t even want to fucking know what illegal shit he’s into.
I take another sip of the whiskey and feel Luca burning a hole in the side of my head. “What?” I snap, and he shakes his head, laughing.
“You’re wound up tighter than Coach’s ass during playoffs,” he says, jabbing me in the ribs with his elbow. “You need to get laid.”
I roll my eyes and take another swig of the bottle. “What are you, my therapist?”
“I’m serious,” he continues. “You’re like a pressure cooker about to explode, man. Get someone random and blow off some steam.”
Damien chuckles and blows out a cloud of smoke. “He’s not wrong. You’ve been a miserable bastard lately.”
“Maybe I like being miserable,” I mutter, leaning back against the couch.
“Bullshit,” Damien says, grinning. “You need to get laid, like, yesterday. Find someone to take the edge off. And hey, if you’re not picky, I’m down for some platonic stress relief.”
I choke on the sip of whiskey, coughing and glaring at him. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
“Nope, I’m dead serious. You’re hot, I’m hot, and you clearly need to blow off some steam. It’s a win-win.”
Luca snickers, tipping his beer toward me in a mock toast. “He’s got a point, dude. Besides, Damien has like, zero gag reflex and he does this thing with his throat that just—”
“Jesus Christ, Devereaux,” I say, taking a long pull from the whiskey bottle while Luca bursts out laughing.
Killian decides now would be the best time to walk over, and he looks at the three of us with an amused expression. “What’s this about Bishop needing to get laid?”
“Just pointing out the obvious,” Luca says. “Your boy here is wound so tight, he’s gonna snap if someone doesn’t fuck it out of him. Or suck the life out of him, like Throat Goat Moore over there.”
Killian laughs and takes a sip of his beer. “They’re not wrong, Rome. You’ve been a fucking buzzkill lately.”
“Glad to know everyone’s so invested in my fucking sex life,” I say dryly and roll my eyes.
“Hey, I’m just saying,” Damien says and leans in close. “Offer’s still on the table and since I’m vers, I’ll even let you top.”
I glance at him, my brain fuzzy from the alcohol. Damien’s hot—objectively so. He’s got the whole tall, dark, and handsome thing down to a science and I’ve seen the outline of his cock through his sweats once or twice. Dude could ruin me well .
It wouldn’t be the worst idea.
“You’re actually considering it,” Luca says, nudging me. “Holy shit, I didn’t think you’d actually go for it.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, holding the whiskey bottle out for Killian.
“You should do it,” he says as he takes it from me. “Get it out of your system. God knows you need it.”
Damien smirks and hands his joint over to Luca before standing up. “Alright, Bishop, let’s make it happen.”
“Wait, what?” I ask, but it’s too late—he’s already pulling me to my feet.
Luca raises his beer in a mock toast. “Have fun, boys!” He calls after us and I flip him off over my shoulder, but my heart is pounding harder than the bass.
The house feels even more packed as we weave through the bodies. People are glancing at us as Damien leads me toward the stairs, some laughing, some cheering as if they know exactly what’s about to go down.
“Relax,” Damien says over his shoulder. “You’ll thank me later.”
I don’t even argue because the alcohol buzzing in my system makes it easier to go with the flow. And honestly? I think I fucking need this.
By the time we get to my room, I’m already half-hard from the adrenaline of being dragged here. Damien kicks the door shut behind us and pushes me up against the wall next to my bed, removing his shirt and grinning at me.
Then he drops to his knees without preamble, sliding his hands up my thighs and peering up at me with a cocky grin. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I mutter and he doesn’t waste time making quick work of my jeans and boxers, tugging them down mid-thigh. My fully-hard cock springs free and I watch Damien licking his lips.
His hot breath ghosts over my cock and the corner of his mouth curls like he knows he’s about to ruin me. Before I can even process what’s happening, his mouth is on me.
“Holy shit,” I hiss and my head falls back against the wall with a dull thud as he takes me in. His lips stretch wide over my length and slide down slowly, the heat of his mouth making my stomach tighten.
He doesn’t gag—not even a flinch—as he takes me all the way to the base, his nose brushing against my pelvis. The tight heat of his throat squeezes me, and I swear I feel every inch of him around me.
“Damien, fuuck ,” I mutter as his throat tightens, swallowing around me, and a broken moan tears from my throat. He hums, the vibration sending sparks down my spine, and pulls back just enough to breathe before taking me again.
His other hand slides down, cupping my balls, rolling them gently in his palm as his mouth works me over. The combination of his tongue, his throat, and the pressure of his hand has me gasping.
It’s filthy, and he knows it. I curse under my breath, my hand twitching at my side as I fight the urge to grab his hair.
“Go ahead,” he says, after pulling back just enough to speak. His voice is rough and his lips shiny and swollen. “I don’t mind.”
I let out a shaky breath and tangle my fingers in his hair, guiding him back down as he takes me in his mouth again, his teeth grazing just enough to make my stomach twist. My breath hitches as his tongue teases along the underside of my cock.
“What did Luca mean about—oh, fuuuck .”
He presses his thumb into the base of my cock, holding me steady as he tilts his head and swallows again, his throat fluttering around me in a way that makes my entire body tense. His eyes flick up to meet mine and the heat in his gaze is enough to knock the air out of my lungs.
It’s not just that Damien’s good, it’s that he’s confident about it—unashamed and in control.
His tongue flicks against the sensitive spot just beneath the head before he sucks me back down, his throat tightening around me so fucking perfectly. His hand on my balls squeezes just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through me, and my hips buck, forcing him to take me deeper.
“Goddamn,” I groan, my fingers tangling in his hair again, tugging hard enough to make him groan around me. “You’re gonna kill me.”
His throat constricts around my cock, and any coherent thought I had disappears. I close my eyes, letting the feeling consume me. My head spins, my hips straining against his grip as he moves faster, his cheeks hollowing out with every pull.
When I open them again, my gaze drifts to the door—and I freeze.
Damon is standing there.
His dark curls are slightly messy, his green eyes sharp and fixed on me. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, and there’s no mistaking the intensity in his stare. For a second, I think I’m imagining him. That maybe the alcohol and the adrenaline have finally fucked with my head.
But then he tilts his head, his lips curving into a faint smirk. Our eyes lock, and everything else fades. The music, the heat, even Damien—it all blurs into the background as Damon stares at me like he’s daring me to look away.
I don’t.
The knot in my stomach tightens, the heat building and spreading as Damon’s gaze pins me in place. There’s something dark and knowing in his expression, like he’s fully aware of the power he has over me in this moment.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t fucking move.
And then the tension snaps and I tumble over the edge, my body jerking as I climax.
“Damon,” I breathe, my voice wrecked and raw.
Damien doesn’t notice the slip, too focused on finishing what he started, but I see the way Damon’s smirk falters for just a second. Then he turns and walks away, closing the door silently and leaving me staring with my chest heaving and my mind racing.
“See?” Damien says, pulling back and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Told you I’d make you feel better.”
I don’t respond, my gaze still fixed on the door like Damon’s going to reappear. But he doesn’t.
“Roman?” Damien says, standing and tilting his head. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, forcing a weak smile. “Luca wasn’t fucking joking.”
“Told you,” he says, grinning as he throws his shirt on again. “Let me know if you ever need a repeat performance.”
He leaves the room, and I collapse onto the bed, my heart still pounding.
Because I didn’t just say Damon’s name.
I wished it was him on his knees.