Chapter 2 Sev #2
I feel him inhale, then exhale.
I can see through the holes in his mask up close, now, too, but he’s refusing to look at me.
His gaze is cast downward, staring at my chest, maybe looking at my tattoos.
He smells clean, like the kind of expensive aftershave I’d usually hate, but it’s faint and there’s something intriguing about the scent.
I can picture him putting that scent on earlier, knowing he’d be coming to this party.
“So,” he finally says, his voice coming out a little hoarse.
My cock throbs.
“God, you’re so nervous.”
“Fuck you.”
I feel him swallow as I let my fingertips drag over his Adam’s apple one more time, then I relent, pulling them away.
“Get on the bed,” I tell him in a low whisper.
He cocks his head to one side. “Or you could get on your knees.”
I frown behind my mask, turning away. “I’m not getting on my knees for you.”
It still makes my chest tighten when I remember all of the ways my body is limited, after my injury.
I’m healing, and technically I could drop to the ground.
But it would hurt. It wouldn’t be ideal for the healing process.
Just another goddamn reminder of how I should have been at my prime right now, yet it was stolen from me.
Walking again has been the best feeling I’ve had in years, but when I remember how I used to be able to do anything… none of it feels fair.
I will fully heal again. It just takes time.
The guy doesn’t protest, for once.
Instead he obeys me, dropping his dark denim jeans to the ground and revealing black boxer briefs that hug him close.
The outline of his erection is easily visible in the moonlight peeking through the clouds. It’s massive, and my mouth waters as I watch him get on the bed and spread his legs for me, running his palm over the outline.
I never used to think I liked dick, and I still don’t consider myself attracted to men in any real way.
But a thick cock isn’t something I can deny when it’s late at night and I’m craving close contact. Even better when the cock is attached to a guy who’s completely out of his depth.
“Not going to take off that dumb hoodie?” I ask, stepping toward the edge of the mattress.
“Want to feel your mouth on me first.”
“Demanding for a newbie.”
I get on the bed between his legs, lying on my stomach so that there isn’t much pressure on my lower legs. I can see goosebumps forming on his skin the moment I’m lying down.
“Hi,” he says softly, and something about it makes my cock throb again, pushed up against the mattress.
It’s like he’s suddenly trying to have some light pillow talk with a stranger. Who the fuck is this guy?
I gently push my palm against his balls, feeling his warmth through the soft, black material of his briefs.
“Take it out,” I tell him.
“Already?”
“Jesus, do you want me to sing you a song and braid your hair first? Take your dick out.”
“You’re an asshole.”
I move my palm and grip his inner thigh hard. “You don’t even know who I am. Don’t come to a party to get sucked off by a stranger and expect him to hold your hand.”
He finally reaches down and shoves them off, tossing them at me. They land on my back, and I’m too distracted to punish him for it because I’m suddenly looking at an eyeful of very impressive cock.
It’s long, dusky pink, and already very hard for me. There’s a bead of clear precum at the tip that glints in the low light.
Being alone in my room for months while my legs healed must have turned me into a fiend. I want to tease him for longer and reach up to shove that damn fleece hood away from his head, but I don’t have much patience anymore.
I push up my mask just enough to expose my mouth, and I lean over and take his tip into my mouth, giving it a slow suck.
“Oh, God,” he utters as soon as I touch him. “So warm.”
I take him deep, unceremoniously.
The moment his cock hits the back of my throat he moans loudly, like he wasn’t expecting so much contact at once.
I take him to the hilt and bury my face near the soft hair at the base, which smells just as fresh as the rest of him does.
He’s whispering a string of curses, barely audible.
He loves this.
And I’ve barely done anything to him yet.
His cock throbs in my mouth as I push the pad of my tongue up against his underside, and he sighs as his hips buck up, pushing him into my throat again.
You needed this even more than I did, didn’t you?
It dawns on me how much power I’m holding over him right now, how I could take all of this away and leave him wrecked.
In a minute, though.
Right now I’m enjoying this.
As I run my hands along the smooth skin of his thighs, it becomes obvious that this guy is strong.
His thighs are densely muscled, and he’s almost as fit as I was right before my injury. It’s clear he works out, or maybe he’s even an athlete of some sort. Certainly not totally helpless, like I assumed when we were out on the stairs.
I flick the tip of my tongue on his tip as I slide upward, then swirl it around.
“Fuck, Sev,” he utters.
The words tumble from his mouth and for a moment, it doesn’t register.
In fact, all I feel is a surge of pride.
Yeah.
It’s that good.
And I’ve barely even deep-throated you yet.
But then his body freezes up, and I take a beat to realize what just happened.
This stranger just called me Sev.
My actual name.
“The fuck?” I ask, pushing up on my elbows between his legs. “What did you call me?”
“Fuck,” he utters.
“How do you know my name? What the fuck is going on here?”
He pulls away and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, like he’s getting ready to flee.
I reach out and clasp my fist around his wrist instantly.
“I’m sorry. You’re a pretty recognizable person. You can’t blame me for that. Just let me go.”
“That’s not how Zenith works. None of this is how it’s supposed to work, actually. You realize there are consequences in a place like this, right?”
He tries to pull out of my grasp and I yank him back down harder.
In the struggle I manage to get my hand near the top of his hoodie, and finally the hood gets pulled back.
Not all the way, but just enough.
I rip off my mask and toss it away, because if this asshole knows who I am, I’m not holding back.
I look at the lock of hair that’s fallen out of the edge of his fuzzy hood.
Golden hair.
Dark blond at the roots with streaks of golden blond, a little shaggy, like he had a preppy cut but now he’s letting it grow out a little.
Kind of like someone else I’ve seen growing out their hair a little this semester.
Someone who usually acts like he has a rod shoved right up his ass.
Like a fucking sheriff, who acts untouchable. Like he’s better than the rest of us.
There’s no mistaking it now. He has that same impossibly thick hair that’s kissed with blond, in a swoop he pushes to one side.
Just like Knox.
Wes.
Fucking.
Knox.
“No fucking shot, Weston,” I say under my breath.