20. Damon
Damon
The coffee in my mug has gone lukewarm, but I don’t care. I’m standing by the window, staring out over the hazy morning skyline, but my focus keeps drifting back to bed.
Roman’s still asleep, his body tangled in my black sheets like he was always meant to be there. He looks so peaceful; it’s hard to reconcile him with the guy who lets himself get beaten to shit for fun. Thank fuck I gave someone a ride last night, or I wouldn’t have had the extra helmet so I could bring him here.
I take a slow sip of my coffee and let the bitter taste ground me as my mind replays everything that happened last night. Right up until I coincidentally walked into that bar, not knowing Roman would be there.
He finally gave in after that sharp-tongued defiance he’s always throwing around when it comes to me. It was like he’s been waiting for me to claim him.
And, fuck, did I.
The thought sends a strange heat through my chest, one I don’t know what to do with yet. Roman Bishop—the guy I thought was responsible for Caleb’s death, the guy I was supposed to hate—was mine last night. Completely and utterly mine.
I’m not quite sure how to feel about this yet.
My new apartment is quiet and a massive upgrade from the shitty place I had before, thanks to my mom. She refused to let me keep living there after she came down a few weeks ago, claiming it was “unfit for anyone, let alone my son.”
Honesty, I agree. My headspace really went to shit when I wasn’t on my meds and I won’t be making that mistake again.
So now, here I am, in a place that could actually feel like home. It’s still got my touch, though—art supplies scattered everywhere, canvases propped up against the walls, along with the smell of turpentine, coffee, and cigarettes in the air.
I glance at the bed again, my eyes raking over Roman’s sleeping form. He’s sprawled out on his stomach with his head turned to the side. The sheet is low on his hips, just barely covering him while the marks I left on his body are visible. His hair is a mess, and those gorgeous full lips are parted.
God, he’s beautiful.
Watching him sleep makes it hard to hold onto the anger I had. I suppose I just needed someone to blame for Caleb’s death, and Roman was the closest to my little brother. Hell, what I feel for Roman isn’t anywhere close to anger anymore.
I don’t even know when my feelings started to change. Maybe it was when I realized how much he hates himself and the guilt I can see in his eyes. Or maybe it was when I saw how much pain he’s willing to take because he thinks he deserves it.
The coffee sloshes against the sides of the mug as I set it down on the windowsill. I lean with my head against the frame and breathe out a long sigh, fogging up the glass. The memory of how he gave in last night is on a loop in my head and it makes my chest ache in a confusing way.
I hear a faint rustle behind me, and when I glance over my shoulder, I see Roman’s starting to stir. His arm stretches out and he groans softly as he buries his face deeper into my pillow before opening his eyes and squinting against the light.
Our eyes meet and my heart wants to leap out of my fucking chest.
“The fuck are you doing all the way over there?” he mutters, his voice thick with sleep.
I smirk and grab my coffee again as I walk back toward the bed. “Watching you drool all over my pillows.”
“Fuck off, I don’t drool,” he grumbles, then lazily lifts up his hand to flip me off before pulling the sheet over his head.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take another sip of coffee. “It’s Saturday and I’ve got nowhere to be. You planning on lying in my bed the whole day?”
“Maybe,” he mumbles from under the sheet. “Especially when the bed smells like you.”
I reach out and tug the sheet down just enough to see his face and I can’t help but smile when I notice him blushing. His eyes trail over my shirtless body and I watch as his eyes heat.
“You good?”
He blinks up at me, his hazel eyes searching mine before he nods. “Yeah, I’m good.”
That weight on my chest eases some, and I can’t help but stare at him again. His hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction, and the evidence of the fight he was in last night is plain as day on his face. I draw my hand toward his mouth and run my thumb over the cut, watching as he flinches.
“You need to stop this shit, Roman,” I say with a sigh. “I told you to come to me if you need the pain.”
He scowls and swats my hand away as he sits up. The sheets pool around his waist and he runs a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t need a fucking lecture this early,” he says, but there’s no bite in his tone.
“It’s not a lecture, smartass, it’s the truth,” I say, taking another sip of my coffee. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing when you walk into those fights? You want to get hurt, and fuck if I know why.”
He looks away and I watch as he clenches his jaw while his fingers toy with the edge of the sheet. “I don’t need you to fix me, Damon.”
“I’m not trying to fix you,” I say, setting my mug on the nightstand. “But this can’t lead anywhere good, and you know it.”
“Why do you care so much?” he asks, and I catch the slight defensiveness in his tone.
I don’t bother answering; instead, I grab him by the back of the neck and press my lips against his, catching him off guard. He freezes for half a second before melting into it, his lips opening for me as he lets me in.
The faint taste of blood hits my tongue, and it makes my chest tighten. I break off the kiss and pull back just enough to meet his gaze and cup his jaw. “I care because it’s you,” I murmur, shaking my head. “If you need to bleed, if you need the pain, let it come from me.”
His lips twitch, and he tries and fails to hide a smile. “You’re such a possessive asshole.”
“Yeah,” I admit, leaning in to kiss him softer this time. “I am.”
The soft kiss turns into something deeper, and the sounds he makes head straight to my cock. God, this guy and what he does to me. I spent so much time hating him that I didn’t bother seeing what was underneath.
“You’re so fucking reckless,” I say against his lips. “I fucking hate that it makes me want you more.”
Roman leans back and doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying and it fucking kills me. “Did you mean it?” he suddenly asks and I can’t help but frown.
“Did I mean what?”
“Last night,” he says, his gaze locked on mine. “About… about me… and us.”
I nod and draw my hand to his jaw, cupping it. “Yeah, I was serious. I want us to be together, Roman.”
He turns his head and looks away from me causing alarm bells to go off in my head, especially when it looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and disappear. I narrow my eyes at him and lean back slightly. “What’s that look for, Hotshot?”
Roman hesitates and those alarm bells turn into sirens. Fidgeting with the edge of the sheet, he breathes out a sigh and looks at me again. “If we’re going to do this. If this is… if we’re going to be a thing, then there’s something you need to know.”
“Alright,” I say as the tension in my chest tightens like a vice. “I’m listening.”
He swallows hard, and I watch his jaw clenching as if bracing himself for a fight. “Caleb and I weren’t just best friends.”
The words hit me like a punch to the throat and, for a moment, all I can do is stare at him. He just confirmed what I’ve always suspected about my little brother.
“Three years,” he continues, his voice quieter now. “We were together for three years before he… before he died.”
A spike of irrational jealousy twists so hard in my gut that it nearly takes my breath away and I hate myself for it. Caleb had someone who obviously loved him before he died, and here I am, being a jealous asshole about it.
While Roman is looking at me like he’s waiting for me to lose it. I can’t do this to him.
Forcing the feeling down, I let out a slow breath, then take his hand in mine and kiss his fingers. “I figured.”
Roman’s head snaps up toward me, his hazel eyes wide. “You… what ?”
“I suspected,” I say with a shrug. “You guys were too close for it to be only friendship, and I saw the way he would look at you. I didn’t have proof, but I wasn’t blind, Roman.”
His gaze drops back to the sheets and he twists his fingers around mine. “Does it—”
“It doesn’t make a difference to me,” I say, the words surprising even me, and Roman looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You loved Caleb when he needed it, and I’m thankful to you. But it doesn’t change anything for me.”
“What… what the hell does that mean?” he asks, looking at me with disbelief.
“It means,” I say, leaning closer, “that I still want you, despite what you had with Caleb. And if that means dealing with the ghosts you carry, then so be it. You’re worth it for me.”
Roman’s breath catches, his lips parting like he’s going to say something, but I don’t give him the chance.
I lean in and kiss him again, harder this time, my hand slipping into his hair to hold him in place. He responds instantly, his body arching into mine as his hands clutch at my sides. The kiss deepens, turning messy and desperate, and I climb on top of him, pressing him into the mattress. His legs part to make room for me, his hands sliding up my back as he pulls me closer.
“You’re mine, Roman,” I murmur against his lips.
He shudders beneath me, his hard cock pressing against mine. “Yeah,” he breathes, his voice wrecked. “Yeah, I’m yours.”
I don’t know what this is—what we’re doing or where it’s going—but I don’t care. Because right now, in this moment, Roman Bishop is mine. And I’m not letting him go.
I can feel the way his breath hitches beneath me, his body arching into mine like he can’t get close enough. His hands grip my back and fuck if it doesn’t light something primal in me.
But then his hands move, sliding down my sides and pushing at my hips, and I pull back just enough to look at him. His face is flushed, his lips are swollen, and his eyes are glazed over with want.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He smirks, his hands slipping under the waistband of my sweats and tugging them down a couple of inches. “What’s it look like?”
“Bold of you to assume you’re in charge,” I mutter, but I roll to the side, letting him up, and I sit back against the headboard, my chest rising and falling as I watch him. Then he crawls toward me with a heat in his eyes that makes my cock twitch.
His hands land on my thighs, and he leans in, his gaze flicking over my body. “You’ve got a lot of ink,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing over the black and gray designs etched into my skin.
“Yeah, and you’ve got a lot of piercings; what’s your point?”
He chuckles and his touch lingers on the spider tattoo on my pelvis, his eyes narrowing as he studies it. “This one,” he says, tracing the intricate legs of the black widow. “What’s the story?”
I shrug, trying to keep my breathing steady. “Got it after I moved out of my parents’ place. Felt… fitting.”
“No shit,” he says, his smirk widening. He leans in, his breath warm against my skin as he examines it closer. “I fucking love it. It suits you.”
“Suits me how?”
He glances up, his eyes gleaming with something wicked. “Dangerous. Deadly. Hot as fuck.”
“Glad to know you’re a fan,” I murmur, but my breath catches when his lips press against the ink, his pierced tongue flicking out to trace the edges and leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Roman doesn’t stop there. He kisses lower, dragging the waistband of my sweats down farther until they’re barely clinging to me. The anticipation coils tight in my chest, my hands balling into fists as I watch him.
The intensity in his gaze makes my throat tighten, but I swallow it down, letting the heat between us take over instead. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll never let you leave this bed.”
“I told you I don’t want to leave,” he says, and when he finally pulls my sweats off completely, his eyes go wide, his lips parting slightly as he stares at my cock. “Damon, what the fuck?”
I snort, my lips curving into a smirk. “That a complaint?”
“Fuck no,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “Just… fuck.”
“You’re staring,” I tease, but the way his tongue flicks out to wet his lips sends a shiver of want straight through me.
“Can you blame me?” he mutters, finally meeting my eyes. “Your cock is going to tear me apart.”
I can’t help but laugh, the sound rough and full of pride. “Think you can handle it?”
His eyes snap up to mine, and the challenge in his gaze is unmistakable. “Try me.”
He doesn’t give me time to respond before his hands wrap around my thighs, holding me steady as he leans in, his breath ghosting over my cock. The heat of it sends a shiver down my spine, and I grip the sheets to keep myself grounded.
His tongue flicks out, dragging a slow, deliberate stripe along the underside of my cock, and I let out a low, shuddering breath. The metal of his tongue piercing catches against my skin, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through me.
“Don’t fucking tease,” I grit out, my fingers twitching at my sides, aching to grab him.
Roman just smirks up at me, his lips brushing the head of my cock. “Where’s the fun in that?” Then he wraps his lips around me, the wet heat of his mouth swallowing the words right out of my throat.
“Jesus fuck, ” I groan, my hand flying to his hair as he slides further down, inch by inch, his tongue pressing flat against the underside of my shaft. The balls of his piercings contrast with the warmth of his mouth, the sensation making my hips jerk forward involuntarily.
Roman hums around me, the vibrations sending a shock straight to my spine, and my grip tightens in his hair. I don’t push yet, but my breath stutters as he takes more, letting me press against the back of his throat.
His venom bites drag over my cock when he pulls back, and I nearly lose my mind. “Fuck, Roman,” I groan, my fingers clenching hard enough to make him shudder. He looks up at me through dark lashes, his cheeks hollowed, lips flushed, eyes gleaming with mischief as he takes me deeper again.
Fucking show-off.
“Goddamn,” I growl, my hips rocking forward despite myself. “You look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth.”
Roman glares but doesn’t stop, his nails digging into my thighs as he moves faster. He gags slightly when I hit the back of his throat again, but instead of pulling away, he moans, and the sound nearly does me in.
My chest heaves as I watch him—swollen lips wrapped around my cock, spit slicking his chin, his pupils blown wide with concentration. God, he looks hot as fuck and wrecked just for me, especially when I notice the way that split in his lip opens.
A rough, shuddering breath escapes me as he gags when I push a little deeper. But instead of pulling back, he moans again, his throat tightening around me like a fucking vice and that’s all it takes for the last of my restraint to snap.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, my grip shifting as I fist a handful of his hair and yank his head back just enough to make his eyes snap up to mine.
“Open up, pretty boy,” I rasp, my free hand cupping his jaw and my thumb swiping over the mess of blood and spit on his lips. “I’m done letting you tease.”
Roman’s tongue flicks out, swiping against my thumb, and then he smirks—right before I shove him back down.
He gasps, his throat flexing as I thrust up into his mouth, his hands flying to my thighs for balance. I don’t stop. I can’t fucking stop. My fingers tighten in his hair, holding him still as I fuck up into his mouth, forcing him to take me deeper with every roll of my hips.
The slick, filthy sounds of him taking it all go straight to my head, and my free hand grips his jaw, holding him steady as I fuck his mouth properly. “That’s it,” I groan, my head falling back as his throat tightens around me. “Take it. I know you can.”
He gags, choking slightly, but when I glance down, his pupils are huge, his cock hard against his stomach, leaking all over his boxers. His eyes flutter, his hands trembling as he grips my thighs, letting me use him however the fuck I want.
It’s the most perfect fucking sight I’ve ever seen.
“You’re such a mess,” I growl, my grip on his hair tightening as I thrust deeper, feeling the way his throat constricts around me. “Drooling all over yourself, choking on my cock like you were made for this.”
He moans, a garbled, desperate sound, and I swear I feel it everywhere. His fingers tighten, his nails biting into my skin, and I thrust deeper, holding him there just long enough to make him squirm and choke.
But he doesn’t stop me—doesn’t even try. Instead, he moans around me, his throat vibrating, and my whole body shudders.
“Fuuuck,” I groan, thrusting again, the pleasure coiling tight in my spine. “Gonna ruin you, Roman. Gonna fuck that throat until you can’t talk, until all you can do is moan my fucking name.”
His hands shake where they grip me, his nails digging into my skin as he takes everything I give him. I can feel his tongue working against me and his spit running down the length of my cock and his chin. I pull back just enough to let him breathe, my fingers still twisted in his hair as I guide him back down.
“That’s my good boy,” I murmur, my voice nothing but gravel. “Now let me see how much more you can take.”
And then I push him down again, his nose brushing against my skin as I bottom out again, his throat flexing around me as he gags. The sound is filthy, raw, and it sends me fucking spiraling.
“Roman,” I warn after a few more thrusts, my voice breaking. “I’m— fuck —I’m gonna—”
He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he digs his nails in harder, shoving me even deeper until I’m spilling down his throat, my whole body shaking with the force of it. My head tips back as a wrecked groan tears out of me, my muscles locking up as he swallows around my cock.
When he finally pulls back, he’s panting, his lips red and slick, his eyes hazy with satisfaction. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks up at me.
“Still think I’m reckless?” he asks, his voice teasing.
I bark out a laugh, shaking my head as I reach for him, pulling him up and kissing him hard. The taste of my cum on his lips mixed with his blood should feel strange, but it doesn’t. It feels like claiming him, like sealing whatever the fuck this is between us.
“Yeah,” I say against his mouth. “But you’re my kind of reckless.”