Chapter 5 Damian
DAMIAN
It happens in slow motion, but all too fast for me to stop. I’ve no choice. I have to watch again, and again, while my feet are stuck, frozen in unrelenting concrete.
Will is there. Of course he is. Always fucking Will, with his hands sliding into places they have no business being.
How dare he? How fucking dare he?
Will angles his head down, his stupid, floppy hair falling over his face as he steals what’s mine. Takes what doesn’t belong to him.
I can feel my blood boiling. It pulses through my body until it rings through my skull, a possessive voice screaming…
Mine, mine, mine.
But then, I’m there, just a breath away, my arms full of the rich, spiced scent that haunts my pillow every night.
I sigh in relief. Or was that breathless longing his? Everything’s finally right. I can stake my claim.
In the next moment, I’m surrounded by blue, frozen once more in familiar icy depths that lance my soul and splay me open. I can do nothing but offer up everything I have. I shiver, drawing the boy in my arms closer, closer, closer.
He has all of me.
“It was meant to be you…” a voice whispers from above, behind, and all around us. The melodic tune lures me forward, urging me on.
Then, the ice melts, and I along with it. I submit to the snare around my heart, following the thread to the person who cast the line all those years ago.
I can’t wait a moment longer. I surge forward until my lips crash with his. He instantly opens for me, inviting me in with a beckoning tongue that tangles with mine and draws me closer.
Yes. Fucking yes.
Want rushes down my spine, smouldering in my stomach before coursing through every vein in my body. I need this. I need him.
This is how it’s meant to be. I’ve finally found what I’ve been missing. It’s been right under my nose this whole time, hidden in plain sight and tight jeans that are growing tighter with every brush of our lips.
I devour him, and he devours me. We’re caught around each other, banishing the chill of the night with our fierce kiss.
He moans against my lips, the desperate sound igniting something inside me that chants more, and please, and give me fucking everything.
I grab his hips and pull him closer, rutting against the hardness that feels so familiar yet so different from the soft, feminine flesh I’m used to. Then, he shudders violently, and my last ounce of restraint snaps.
I wrench my lips away and push at his firm, flat chest. He falls down, falling, falling until he’s saved by a cloud of navy blue. And I fall too, in a heady descent of entwined hands and shredded clothes, frantic to unwrap my prize but hindered by my trembling fingers.
“Damian,” the body beneath me gasps, writhing as I tear streams of material from his body.
“Kit,” I groan over and over again. “Kit, Kit, Kit!”
I wake with a start, my back arched in ecstasy as my hips press into something warm and soft…
And sticky.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no!
Pushing away the soiled pillow, I scramble off my bed and away from my dreams as quickly as I can.
What. The. Fuck.
What the fuck!
I squeeze my eyes tight and try to shake away the memory of my stepbrother, my best friend in the whole world, pinned beneath me and moaning my name.
But it’s no use. Even now in the cold light of dawn, I can still feel him, hear his needy breaths in my ear.
I can even smell him on me, like he’s in the room…
Wait.
Shit, where is Kit? The last thing I remember is dozing off beside him after the date that shall never be mentioned again. Oh my god, did he go back to his room? Please tell me he left before I started committing indecent acts with a pillow.
Panicked, I race around my bed, stubbing my toe on the frame. Maybe Kit’s huddled on the other side, completely traumatised by what he just witnessed.
I sag in relief when I find my room empty, a neat pile of clothes the only evidence that my stepbrother was here last night.
Running my fingers through my hair, I collapse on my bed, narrowly avoiding the evidence left behind by my treacherous subconscious.
I know dreams mean nothing, that they possess as many hidden messages and echoes from the future as a broken eight-ball.
And, if it were any other person, or even any other man, I could brush this off as an odd night’s sleep.
I’d strip the sheets, go back to bed, and never think of that kiss again.
But it wasn’t any other man. It was Kit. My Kit. And that alone has the power to change everything.
In a desperate bid to get a hold of myself, I tumble into my shower and try the only thing I can think of to reverse time and undo the shift I can already feel settling in my chest. I take my cock in hand and imagine every smart, beautiful woman I’ve ever had the privilege to see naked.
Sure, it works for a while. The thought of pert breasts and soft bodies is enough to keep my dick from losing interest. For a moment, I even manage to convince myself that my dream was just a fluke, a one-off that doesn’t have to mean anything.
If I can make it so my last release was because of a woman, I can reset the board.
Dreams might not have meaning, but fantasies do.
There’s intent there, and that has to count for something.
I tighten my grip, frantically working myself to an end that’ll override my night.
But when I come, my mind betrays me once more.
Kit’s there, eclipsing every fantasy I’ve managed to cling to.
They pale in comparison. My body finds its release, but it’s Kit’s ass I picture gripping my cock. It’s his name that falls from my lips.
And then it happens again. And again. And again, and again, until Dad starts pounding on my door and yelling something about draining the Thames.
It’s hopeless. I’ve failed. I slide down the tiles and bury my face in my hands. How did I not see this before? How could I have been so blind?
Kit is mine. He’s always been mine and always will be. I love him more than anyone else in this world.
I love him.
Does that mean I’m in love with him? If you’d asked me that last week, I’d have laughed in your face. But now, I’m not so sure.
I tear at my hair, barely resisting the urge to scream into my lap.
Shit, shit, shit.
Obviously, the smart thing to do is to bury this deep, deep down and never let it see the light of day again.
For one thing, I’m straight… I think. And even if I wasn’t, Kit clearly doesn’t feel the same way about me.
I’d know if he did. Kit’s never looked at me as anything more than a brother. And I’ve always loved that.
Hell, yesterday I loved that.
But now, after watching him with Will, I’ve seen all the pieces of Kit I don’t possess, and that brotherly love doesn’t feel enough anymore.
There’s something missing. I hold all the fragments of his heart except one, and without that last piece, I can’t call him mine.
I can’t own him. Not forever. Not completely.
And that’s the feeling of wrongness that plagues me.
Fuck, what am I going to do? And, more importantly, how am I ever going to look my stepbrother in the eye again?