Chapter 6 #14
His hand moves again.
It starts at my neck, then lower. Across my chest. Down my sternum. Further, over my stomach.
He stops right above my waistband. "You'd let me," he says, lips brushing mine now.
"You'd let me do it right here, wouldn't you? If I told you to. If I pushed you down and—"
I choke out a breath. My hands dig into the stone beside me.
My dick is throbbing.
For him.
Again.
He is so close I can taste him.
"I'd let them cut my fucking legs off just to do it," he says softly.
I make a sound. I don't even recognize myself anymore. I turn my head, just enough.
Our lips brush.
One breath. That is all it would take.
One slip, and I'd be gone.
But then he smiles, and pulls back.
He stands. He doesn't look at me as he throws his jacket over his shoulder. "Stay out of trouble, Rava," he says. And then he just leaves me there.
That's... perfect.
Now it's just me, hard as fuck, on a random roof overthinking about a person I'm not even allowed to have thoughts about.
I laugh under my breath.
It's kinda stupid.
Because... who's gonna stop me from thinking?
Literally no one.
Boom. I just pictured him kissing me again.
Easy. Too easy.
I can think about him doing other things, too.
Why? I don't know. Maybe out of spite. Maybe because I'm touch-starved. I have no idea.
I push myself up, brush the dust off my pants.
I need a cold shower. Urgently. Ice, preferably. I have to get it together. Slow my heart, cool my head.
I go downstairs and Gio is already gone. I walk fast, almost running. When I finally get home, I head straight upstairs.
No eye contact, no nothing. I'm not ready for conversation. I don't want to be ready for a conversation. If anyone tries to talk to me right now, I might actually combust.
I shut my bedroom door, then go straight into my bathroom and lock that one too.
Finally. Two doors between me and the world.
I can breathe.
I turn on the water and step under it.
I start scrubbing hard. Too hard. My skin goes pink, then red, but I don't stop. If I just rub hard enough, maybe I can wash it off.
Maybe if I scrub enough, the sponge will somehow wipe away the not-very-straight thoughts that are currently haunting me.
It doesn't. At all. If anything, it makes it worse. The hotter the water gets, the worse my head gets.
Every pass over my chest makes me think of his hand there instead. I'm pretty sure all the dirty thoughts are at their peak right now.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Seriously. Like what the actual fuck. I am thinking about him. Again.
I hate him again. I literally hate him. Yet I'm so hard it hurts.
My hand is already down there before I can talk myself out of it.
Fuck. No. Nope.
This is fucked. I should not be doing this. I shouldn't.
I should be thinking about literally anyone else. Literally.
Anyone. Not Gio. Please, not Gio.
My hand curls around my dick and I gasp before I can stop it. God, it feels good. Too good.
It's not fair how good it feels when I think about him.
Why does he look like that?
Why does he move like that?
Why do I know what his back looks like when he stretches after a long ride?
Why do I remember it? In detail.
God. I'm disgusting. I hate this. I hate him.
I stroke myself, again and again and again. I roll my hips into my palm and choke on my own breath.
And it's not even something cute. Like holding hands.
No.
I imagine him spitting in my mouth.
I imagine him biting my collarbone.
I imagine him saying "you like that, don't you?" because that's something he would definitely say.
This is so wrong. I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't crave this. I shouldn't need this.
But I do. God help me, I do. I clench my teeth.
And the worst part is? It's the best I've felt in days.
It's almost here. This is actually happening. I'm gonna cum because of him.
I feel sick. I feel amazing.
I wanna cry and jerk off at the same time.
This is hell. Literal, actual hell. And he'd laugh if he knew. He'd fucking laugh.
He'd say something like, "Told you. Closet cases always hate me the most."
And he'd be right. Fuck.
No.
I need a lobotomy.
I need to never see that asshole again.
I want him gone. But I also want him. And I'm not ready for what that means.
…
The walk from the bathroom to my room feels like the walk of shame. Except... it's not shame. Not exactly.
I'm not horny anymore.
That burned out under the water.
What's left is worse. Something heavier. I've been dodging this thought all day, pushing it away every time it gets too close.
But today? Today feels like the universe took me by the back of the neck and shoved my face into it.
I feel wrong. Inside my skin, inside my head, inside fucking everything. My brain keeps looping the same sentence: I might like Gio Fontana.
And every time it pops up, it's like an alarm going off inside my head.
An annoying one, that stresses me out more than it should.
Wanting guys in general? Okay, I guess. I can almost work with that. People exist. The world is big.
It's not that crazy anymore, probably.
But wanting him specifically? That feels like I just picked "hard mode" on life.
Because it's not just about me.
It's him.
It's who he is.
It's who I am.
It's everyone around us.
I press my forehead to my knees. No one would ever look at us and think, "Oh, yeah, that makes sense."
They'd think, "What is he doing with Gio?!"
"He's too soft for him."
"He's stupid."
"He's just a phase."
And I can already hear my dad's voice in my head, so loud.
"You want to be a teacher and you show up with him?!"
"You think anyone will take you seriously?!"
"You think our family will accept that?!"
I feel sick. Even if I wake up tomorrow and say, okay, hey family, I like guys, I still can't picture a world where I show up to dinner holding Gio's hand and everyone says, "Nice choice, we're happy for you."
That's not my family. That's not how they are.
They already think I'm dramatic and difficult just because I don't want their business.