Chapter 23
FEbrUARY - THE ROAD / DETROIT / SEATTLE
Now playing: Slow Down - Chase Atlantic
The last two weeks had been a blur of airports, arenas, and agony.
We had fallen into a new, dangerous rhythm.
On camera, we were rivals building toward a triple threat war.
In the locker room, we were professional colleagues who barely spoke, maintaining the “kayfabe” of our tension for the boys in the back.
But the second the hotel room doors closed? We were voracious.
The problem was, we hadn’t actually had sex. Not the kind we both desperately needed. Not the kind that settled the score.
Lena was the sweetest, most unintentional cockblock in history. She viewed Cal as a father figure, and now that we were on the road loop together, she was constantly in his shadow. She was there for breakfast. She was there for the drive. She hung out in his room until late at night.
I watched Cal with her, his patience, his protectiveness, and it made my chest ache with how much I loved him.
But it also meant I spent half my time hiding in the bathroom or sneaking out, only to sneak back in at two in the morning for quick, desperate handjobs against the doorframe or dry humping him until we both came in our boxers before crashing from sheer exhaustion.
We were teenagers again, fumbling in the dark, terrified of getting caught.
And Cal… Cal was making it worse on purpose.
He was leaning into the frustration.
He started sending me photos.
It started innocently enough: a picture of his coffee, the gym setup. Then it escalated.
I’d be in catering, surrounded by producers, and my phone would buzz. I’d open it to see a photo of him fresh out of the shower, water droplets clinging to the V lines of his hips, the towel hanging dangerously low, implying everything but showing nothing.
Then, three nights ago, the nude came through.
Full frontal. Hard. Unapologetic.
I had choked on my water in the middle of a production meeting, earning a glare from Presley.
I thought I was crazy. I thought it was all in my head, but through the many frantic handjobs and touching sessions over the last few weeks, Cal’s cock seemed…
bigger. I brushed it off. I figured it was my own inexperience; after all, Cal was the only man I’d ever been with.
It wasn’t like I really had a roster of dicks to compare it to.
But right now, looking at this picture saved in my hidden folder, he didn’t just feel bigger in my hand. He looked… bigger. He had always been big, but he was definitely thicker now. He filled out the frame in a way that made my stomach swoop with a volatile mix of lust and genuine intimidation.
Jesus, That looks… You look huge.
Scared?
Honestly? Yeah. You look bigger now. And I haven’t been with a guy since you. I don’t know if I can take that.
The dots bubbled for a long time. When the reply came, a shiver rattled my bones.
You really haven’t been with a guy since me?
No. Never. I told you that already.
Yeah but I didn’t think you were being serious.
I’m going to fucking ruin you. I’m going to wreck you for anyone else.
That text had been living in my brain for seventy-two hours. He was stroking his ego, loving the fact that I was nervous about his size and inexperienced with anyone else, and I was eating it up. He wanted me anxious. He wanted me dreading it just as much as I was craving it.
It was a travel day. We had a short two-hour flight from Detroit to Seattle for Showdown.
I was packing my carry on when Cal let himself in with the spare key. He didn’t say hello. He walked over to the bed where my open suitcase lay, his presence instantly sucking the oxygen out of the room.
He reached for my toiletry bag, but his hand brushed against a bundle of clothes, knocking it to the floor. A ball of black fabric unrolled as it hit the carpet.
Cal froze. He reached down and picked it up.
It was an old black hoodie. On the back, in cracked, faded white lettering, it read: NO ONE LIKE US.
His hoodie. The one he gave me all those years ago. The one I wore when I first went down on him. The one I clung to when I thought my life was over.
Cal held it up, inspecting the fraying cuffs. He didn’t look smug; he looked soft. The hard lines of his face smoothed out, revealing the boy I fell in love with.
“You still travel with this?” he asked quietly.
“It’s comfortable,” I lied, looking away, folding a T shirt aggressively. “I wear it when the AC is too high.”
“You wear it because you missed me,” Cal corrected gently, tossing it back onto the pile of clothes. “Need to wear it sometime. I like seeing you in it. Reminds me of the balcony.”
He turned back to my bag, rummaging through the side pocket. He pulled out a small black velvet bag. He opened it and slid the contents into his palm.
A medium sized black silicone plug.
My face went hot, a flush creeping up my neck. “I… I forgot that was in there.”
It was a total lie. I’d bought it online and tucked it away, waiting for the right moment to tell Cal I had it. But judging by the look in his eyes, I think he’d known it was in there the whole time.
Cal looked at the plug, testing the weight of it, then at me. A slow, predatory grin spread across his face. It wasn’t the soft look from the hoodie. This was hungry, depraved.
This was the man who wanted to break me.
“You forgot?” he teased, stepping into my space. “Or were you saving it for me?”
“Cal, we have to go,” I deflected, trying to zip the bag.
He caught my wrist. His grip was firm, grounding. “No. We have twenty minutes before lobby call. And you look entirely too composed for a travel day.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs wide, patting the space of carpet between his boots. “Come here. On your knees.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. I dropped to my knees between his thighs without hesitation. The submission was automatic.
Cal grabbed my hair, his fingers tangling in the strands, and tilted my head back until I was looking up at him. We hadn’t done this in the last two weeks. I wanted to, I wanted him to, but between the exhaustion and Cal turning this into a wicked fucking game, it hadn’t happened.
“Open.”
He leaned forward and spat into my mouth.
I gasped, the shock of it vibrating through me, but I swallowed it instantly.
The thick saliva coated my tongue, and the sheer filth of the act made my dick twitch violently in my jeans.
I realized instantly that I loved it. I loved being beneath him.
I loved that he felt entitled to mark me like this.
He unbuttoned his jeans, shoving them down his thighs, springing free. He was hard, heavy, and twitching. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me forward.
He didn’t wait for me to get ready. He shoved his cock into my mouth, gagging me instantly.
“Take it,” he growled, his hips snapping forward.
He fucked my face. It was rough, rhythmic, and possessive. He gripped my hair, steering me, forcing me to take him deeper than I thought possible. His cock hit the back of my throat, making my eyes water, tears streaming down my cheeks as I tried to accommodate him.
“That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough, looking down at me with dark satisfaction. “Take it deep. You like choking on me, don’t you? You like being used like this.”
I couldn’t answer, only whimper around his girth, my hands clutching his thighs.
“Swallow it,” he ordered, his hips stuttering as he got close. “I want to watch you swallow every fucking drop like a good slut.”
He groaned, a guttural sound, and he came down my throat. I swallowed desperately, taking everything he gave me, feeling the warmth slide down my throat, the taste of him filling my senses.
When he pulled back, he was breathless. He wiped a stray line of spit from my lip with his thumb, smearing it across my cheek.
“Stand up,” he ordered. “Drop your pants. Turn around.”
I hesitated, blinking up at him in a daze, wiping my mouth. “Cal, the flight…”
“It’s two hours, Silas,” Cal said, slicking the plug with the lube he’d found in the same pocket. He squeezed a generous amount onto the silicone, the wet sound echoing in the quiet room. “You can handle two hours. You made me wait seven years.”
I stood up, trembling, and shoved my jeans and briefs down to my ankles. I braced my hands on the mattress, presenting myself to him.
He didn’t warn me. He pushed it in.
“Fuck!” I hissed, my back arching as the wide base stretched me open.
“Good,” Cal whispered, bringing his hand down hard on my ass. Smack.
I jumped, a sharp intake of breath hissing through my teeth, but the sting sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my groin. I loved it when he did that. It made me feel owned.
“Now get dressed,” Cal said, admiring the red handprint blooming on my skin. “And try not to walk like you’re full.”
The ride to the airport was agony. The plug shifted with every bump in the road, a constant fullness stretching me, reminding me who I belonged to. By the time we got to the gate, I was sweating, my skin prickling with overstimulation.
We found Evan sitting near the window, sipping a coffee. Lena wasn’t there yet.
“Finally,” Evan groaned, checking his watch. “I was about to send a search party.”
“Traffic,” Cal lied smoothly, dropping his bag next to Evan’s. He looked cool, collected, utterly unbothered.
Evan looked up. His eyes scanned Cal, looking relaxed, smug, and then landed on me.
I was flushed, shifting my weight from foot to foot, trying to find a way to sit that didn’t drive the plug deeper.
Evan’s eyes narrowed, landing on the side of my neck where a deep purple bruise peaked out just above my collar.
I made a poor attempt of hiding the evidence, tugging the fabric up.
“Jesus, Silas,” Evan hissed, nodding at my neck. “Stop with the trophies. We have a show to do. You look like a teenager.”
I flushed scarlet.