Chapter 9
DAKOTA
I’m hot and sticky all over, but especially between my legs. I haven’t felt lust like this in a long, long time—no, scratch that. Ever. I’m not saying he’s some magic man with a magic dick. But the tension is thick, excitement thumping through me as I wait for his next message.
He types, and I let out a squeak I’m not even embarrassed about.
TheRealCreator: I’d start with your perfect mouth.
Those lush, expressive lips. It’s only been a week, but I’ve thought about kissing you a hundred times.
A thousand. The noises you’d make—the little moans, maybe nervous at first, then sinking into it.
As we kiss, I’d glide my hands down your body, over your wide, thick, sexy hips, then around to your ass.
A few days ago, on stream, you were wearing those shorts…
I fucking leaked, beautiful, fucking burning with precome just thinking about that.
I stare at his message, first as it hovers above his character, then in the chat box in the bottom left. The ache in my core is unbelievable, a throbbing urgency that has my head spinning and my mind bringing his words vividly to life.
I imagine my hand wrapped around his throbbing length, because in my imagination, there’s no way this man isn’t packing. The groaning, needy noises he’d make. His stiffness pushing against my stomach as he struggled to contain himself.
TheRealCreator: Dakota?
TheRealCreator: You better have gone quiet because you’re too busy rubbing your hand between your legs. Focusing on my words and imagining me there, with you, our bodies slick, hot, and so fucking ready for each other.
DakkyDuck: What do you mean—busy?
I type.
TheRealCreator: Don’t play games with me. You know what I mean.
His reply is totally hypocritical. But for some reason, I’m in the mood to give him a pass.
DakkyDuck: Maybe I want you to say it.
TheRealCreator: Busy rubbing your hand into your underwear, over your needy, swollen clit, down your hot lips, to your entrance, I just fucking know it, wet and sticky and ready as fuck thinking about me taking you. Hard. Repeatedly, over and over again.
DakkyDuck: Is that what you want, then? My hand to be busy?
TheRealCreator: I don’t WANT it. I’m fucking DEMANDING it.
I should tell him I don’t play that shit. I should tell him that one of the cornerstones of my entire personality, in fact, is not playing that shit. But there’s something about the context and the man saying it and the heat that’s already got me firmly in its grip that makes that… impossible.
I breathe hard, typing out a message.
DakkyDuck: As a FANTASY, that turns me on a lot. As a FANTASY.
TheRealCreator: In the spirit of a FANTASY, I need for your hand to move between your legs, to rub your clit, your folds, your entrance, or whichever hot-as-fuck part needs attention.
And as you’re doing that, I need you to imagine us on this bed together.
Just us, the wind howling outside the cave, my body pressed firmly against yours as years of repressed, furious hunger come bubbling out.
I want to slide my hand down there badly. I’m aching for it. Maybe it’s the small-but-real chance this isn’t Jackson Cross. Mara said it’s 100% him, but with technology these days, deep fakes, identity theft… what if I’m being played? And also, there’s the control thing.
I want to give in. To sink sinfully into his control, it’s embrace. But my history stops me.
And yet, hypocritically, I don’t want him to hold back.
DakkyDuck: Are you rubbing your cock for me?
TheRealCreator: I wasn’t. But I am now. Rubbing my hard dick, thinking about your thick, beautiful, round ass. Thinking about those juicy tits bouncing for me as I slide inside, as I claim you, fuck you like I can’t stop, like I never want to stop, and you beg for more and more each second.
I squeeze my legs together, shivering, my clit furiously pulsing in a way it never has before.
DakkyDuck: I want you to come for me.
I picture Jack Cross, his fist pumping, his dripping length, every part of him aimed at me, and only me.
DakkyDuck: I want you to explode for me.
TheRealCreator: Fruck
TheRealCreator: SadsdxaqsdxAZX
I smile with a sense of power that makes my head spin. I feel a little guilty, knowing I’m not doing the same. I squeeze my keyboard and mouse so hard, it’s a miracle they don’t break.
TheRealCreator: Did you… too?
This is a little white lie. For both of us. Right?
DakkyDuck: Yes. My legs are still shaking and I’m dripping all over my computer chair.
I’m shocked at the words flying from my fingertips so casually. My temperature rises just thinking about him emptying his thick cock with my image firmly held in his mind.
In the game, he climbs onto the bed and then lies down. I smile, then lie down next to him.
TheRealCreator: I might be into this roleplay stuff.
His character wraps his arm around mine. A window pops up on my screen, asking me if I’d like to push him away or cuddle closer. I cuddle closer.
DakkyDuck: Can I ask you something?
TheRealCreator: Anything.
DakkyDuck: Is there a reason you haven’t tried to see me in person?
TheRealCreator: Yes.
I wait with bated breath for his response.
TheRealCreator: I feel real.
I laugh in delight, surprised by this sudden emotional depth. In all the years of being aware of Jack, he’s seemed grumpy, distant, and sometimes cold. I never would’ve guessed there was all this humanity running beneath all that.
DakkyDuck: Do you feel realer here, in the game and over text, than in real life?
TheRealCreator: The way you ask that question makes me think you know exactly what I’m talking about.
DakkyDuck: Maybe. Me and my friend, Mara, we started playing this game on release. We had someone else, too. They had a big impact on us, on our attitude to the game. But they don’t play anymore.
TheRealCreator: That’s a shame.
I swallow a lump of emotion.
DakkyDuck: Yeah. It really is.
TheRealCreator: I’m sorry—and yes, beautiful. I feel realer here sometimes.
DakkyDuck: Why?
TheRealCreator: That’s complicated. And it makes me sound ungrateful.
DakkyDuck: If you can’t be honest here, in a cave in an impossible level, after we just made virtual love, when can you be?
His character chuckles beside mine. For a moment, it’s like we’re actually in bed together. Like I can feel his warm arms beside me.
TheRealCreator: I was a loner for most of my life.
From when I was a kid to the age of thirteen, it was just me, my books, and my computer.
My father worked away a lot, and my mother, God bless her, was trying to get her jewelry business off the ground.
I liked being alone. Invisible. Then, at thirteen, I won a State science competition.
When I came back to the school, I was being…
seen. Noticed. Not in a bad way. But I hated it.
I hated people having ideas about who I was then.
That there was an image of me in their minds.
So, for two years, I failed science on purpose.
I stare at his message in complete shock, sympathy hot on its tail. Of all the images and ideas of Jack in the public eye, I’ve never even heard of this side of him. He always seems so confident, so in control.
DakkyDuck: I want to say you should’ve been proud. Because you deserved to be. But being a kid is tough. All I can say is: I’m sorry you had a hard time, Jack. Really, genuinely sorry.
TheRealCreator: Thank you.
DakkyDuck: You said you failed on purpose for two years. What happened after that?
TheRealCreator: My dad stopped working away. He was furious when he found out I was failing. And even more furious when he found out the reason. After that, there wasn’t much of a choice. It was either submit my actual work or face his wrath.
DakkyDuck: It’s hard, not wanting to be seen. I tried to stream so, so, SO many times before I finally took the plunge. Even now, people are surprised when I tell them I still get nervous.
TheRealCreator: Are they?
DakkyDuck: Does that surprise you?
TheRealCreator: The first moment I saw you, you reminded me of me. Outwardly confident, taking no crap, but inside, there’s still a scared little kid.
I swallow.
DakkyDuck: Isn’t that true for everybody?
TheRealCreator: Maybe it is. But I didn’t feel any kind of connection with anybody else.
A pause. I lean back, looking at us on the bed together. Outside, the wind is howling. I feel cozy and closer to the fantasy goblin than I’ve been with any real man. Probably makes me crazy, buuuuuuuuuut… I’ll think about all the implications later. Maybe.
TheRealCreator: I want to see you for real. But I have to be careful. Everywhere I go, there are people who want a piece of me. Taking photos constantly. Being seen together in public means your life being unfairly turned upside down.
DakkyDuck: Let’s not ignore the elephant in the room.
TheRealCreator: You’re right. It’d make my life more difficult too.
I’m forty-two this year. You must be twenty-three, twenty-four?
I’ve never had much reason to think about age gaps in relationships before, and it doesn’t mean a thing to me, but people will judge.
It’s just the way the world is. And with all the bad PR from my Emerald Cove blunder…
I smile. Is he flattering me, or does he really mean that?
DakkyDuck: I’m thirty, but thank you.
TheRealCreator: THIRTY?
I laugh, then quickly type in the command to make my avatar laugh too.
DakkyDuck: Have you lost interest now?
TheRealCreator: Shut your beautiful mouth. This makes things better. Ten years is better than fifteen.
I laugh again at his comment.
DakkyDuck: True, and thanks for the compliment.
TheRealCreator: If I can find a way for us to see each other, will you cringe at some secrecy? I don’t want to disrespect you.
I consider this, unsure. He’s telling me it’s because of PR, but what if it’s because he has other girlfriends? He could be saying this exact thing to half a dozen other streamers of Empire’s Fall.
DakkyDuck: I don’t know. Maybe we should have a few more e-dates?
TheRealCreator: Fine by me. But eventually, we’ll get sick of pixels. We’ll need the real thing.
DakkyDuck: I thought you felt realer in the game?
TheRealCreator: I do, usually. But something tells me you’re going to be the exception to that rule.
DakkyDuck: Hey, Jack. That’s so nice. I’m sorry, but I actually have to run.
TheRealCreator: Join me tomorrow to give your opinion on some other pieces?
DakkyDuck: Definitely. I’d love to! Catch you then!
TheRealCreator: See you, gorgeous.
I’m about to log off when a message comes through.
TheRealCreator: WAIT!
DakkyDuck: Whoa, what’s up?
Heart beginning to pound a little harder.
I imagine a twisted follow-up message, I’m not actually Jack, I’ve been lying to you…
TheRealCreator: I didn’t give you the full story before.
My father didn’t just stop working away.
He came home because my mother had died.
She died… by her own hand. When her business failed.
Dad came home, and he learned about me failing on purpose as we were grieving.
He dragged me to my mother’s grave and made me promise her I’d never dim my own light just because I was shy or self-conscious.
I promised, and since then, I’ve done my best to honor her memory.
DakkyDuck: Oh, Jack, that’s awful?—
I stop typing, the message unsent, when a message pops up in the chat window.
TheRealCreator has left the game.