Chapter 11 Damian
DAMIAN
There’s a skip in my step that’s not been there for days. Kit came home! Even after I ran out on him and spent the night at Jasper’s, he still wants to spend the evening playing with me.
I’m fucking ecstatic. Elated. Over the bloody moon.
I’ve bought two tubs of chocolate ice cream and a fancy cookie dough creation to celebrate.
And some Maltesers. And some strawberry cables with that white filling in the middle that Kit is obsessed with.
Our night is sorted, and we’re either going to crash after a sugar high like no other or be awake for a week.
I can’t hear Kit’s shower running when I pass his room, but I don’t bother to disturb him.
He said he’d be ready in twenty minutes, and he still has a couple to spare.
So, I go to my room to wait for him instead of barging into his space like I want.
I should get a medal for my restraint. I’ve spent a whole evening and day away from Kit, and I’ve fucking missed him.
It’s a date, Kit said earlier. I’d nearly fainted when those sweet words passed his lips, even though he didn’t mean them like that. I’m not an idiot, I know it’s just a turn of phrase.
Still, I use these few minutes before our not-a-date to spruce myself up a bit.
I quickly put on a fresh T-shirt, apply some more deodorant, and walk through a mist of aftershave, something Kit taught me to do when you’re aiming for a “nonchalant” scent.
I didn’t understand what he meant at the time, but I do now.
I don’t want Kit to think I’ve made an out-of-the-ordinary effort for him.
Even though I have.
I want him to notice I smell nice, but not so much that he thinks I planned it.
Nonchalant.
Bloody hell, I’m getting a headache. Maybe I sprayed too much cologne after all.
Thankfully, Kit’s quiet knock on my door interrupts my internal meltdown. Then, all of a sudden, it becomes apparent that my previous overthinking was a good thing, because looking at Kit as he edges into my room, it’ll be the last coherent thought I have for the rest of the night.
“Hi,” Kit says, his big blue eyes peering up at me from beneath his lashes. Fucking hell. Does he always look so innocent? It’s like he’s begging to be ruined.
Tonight, he’s wearing a short blue robe made of silk, clutching it tight around his body like the satiny material is the only protection he has from the world.
And that’s it. That’s all he’s wearing…
“Hullo,” I finally manage to choke out, unable to drag my eyes away from his never-ending legs.
“I thought you might want to see this for yourself,” Kit purrs, stalking towards me. I think he might say something else after that, but I can’t be sure because my mind has snagged on the way he’s worrying his bottom lip between his perfectly straight teeth.
“Sorry, what?”
Kit laughs coyly. Too coyly, really. “I said, do you want to see what I’ve got on underneath?”
“Er… sure?”
Kit fixes his gaze on mine before reaching down to tug sharply on the sash holding his minuscule ensemble together.
The soft material glides down his body to pool at his feet, and I quickly realise that I was wrong.
The robe was not all he was wearing. In fact, the robe was demure in comparison to the intricate thread that Kit has somehow wound around his taut body.
Oh, fuck me. Fuck me all the way to hell.
Kit’s a maze of cream and gold, scraps of lace and knotted twists that signpost a lickable path from the smooth muscles of his obliques all the way up to his chest.
“So,” Kit says, a slight tremor in his voice as he sways his body from side to side. “What do you think?”
I don’t say anything. I can’t. My tongue has physically fused itself to the roof of my dry mouth. All I can do is hold my breath and cast my eyes downwards, past the solid abs and the dip of his hips, until I’m confronted by the firm proof of Kit’s manhood barely contained by the coarse material.
Fuck, he’s hard. Kit’s hard. He came to my room and undressed for me, all while his erection was weeping against his floss of an outfit.
And shit, if my own cock doesn’t throb in sympathy. Yet still, I can’t move, can’t even breathe for fear of what will come out of my mouth.
“Is… Is this okay?” Kit’s hands fall to his sides as he takes a small, tentative step away from me.
“Oh, god. It’s not okay, is it?” he whispers, his eyes growing wide as innocence turns to panic.
“I’ve got it all wrong, haven’t I? I’ve made a complete fool of myself.
You’re straight, of course you’re straight. Shit, Damian, I’m so sorry, I’m so—”
He cuts off midsentence, and for a split second, I can’t work out why. Then it hits me.
Kit’s not speaking because he can’t. He’s not speaking because I’m kissing him. I’m. Kissing. Him! I don’t remember moving, but it’s probably the best decision I’ve ever made.
Kit’s lips are soft beneath my own, parted in shock and as silky as the robe now strewn across my floor.
“Damian,” he breathes in disbelief, the sound stoking the embers nestled at the base of my spine.
Kit pulls away, running his shaky fingers across his lips while his eyes devour the moisture he’s left on mine.
I can see the exact second he understands what I’ve done, how I’ve just changed everything about us.
Then, Kit moves like a man possessed, throwing himself at me with such force that I only just catch him before he wraps his arms around my neck and slams his mouth to mine.
This kiss is more of everything. More frantic, more desperate. It’s not just a peck, it’s an invitation to trash our brotherly love, to own every last piece of each other, and we both heartily accept.
Kit’s fraught moan begs for entry, and I slip out my tongue to meet his. My knees practically buckle as we taste each other for the first time. We fit perfectly together, moving as one, even as Kit tries to climb me like a tree.
Then, his hard cock grazes over mine, and my entire world ends, then begins again, now with Kit as my guiding star.
“Oh, fuck, Kit!”
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” my stepbrother pants before consuming me once more. He’s heavy in my arms, a perfect weight that grounds me as my heart soars and my cock rallies, the thick length pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans.
My mind collapses in on this one monumental moment, my consciousness nothing more than Kit’s fingers tangled in my hair and his tongue entwined with mine as I drag us down to my unmade bed.
The soft duvet welcomes us, surrounding our combined forms and protecting us as we irrevocably change our lives.
Kit’s body is shadowed by my larger frame, but I can still feel the power in his bunched muscles, feel the control he has over me, even as I tower above him.
“Please, Damian,” he gasps, his long legs falling apart on either side of me. “I need to feel you.”
And, well, I’ve never denied him anything. I reach behind my head to yank off my T-shirt and toss it to the floor while scrambling with the button on my jeans.
“Yes,” Kit moans, his hips bucking beneath me as I free my aching cock.
The sight of his flushed length leaking against delicate lace fuels me as I tear down my jeans and underwear, and stumble over Kit’s thighs, all without parting from him for even the briefest second.
The horse has bolted, the floodgates have opened, the train has left the station, all the metaphors possible for the fact that the earth could hurtle into the sun right now, and it wouldn’t be enough to pry me away from my stepbrother’s prone body. Nothing can stop me, stop this.
Well, nothing except…
“Wait, wait,” Kit gulps, his panicked hands pushing at my chest. His words hit me like a bucket of ice, and I fall back instantly, collapsing on my heels to put as much space as I can between us.
“I’m sorry, Kit. I’m so sorry—”
“What?” Kit asks, his immaculate brows knitted in confusion. “No, I just want to look at you.”
Oh, thank god. I sink back on top of him, my hands landing on either side of his head. “Do you want me to stand up? Maybe flex a little bit for you?” I ask, dipping down to bite at his chiselled jaw.
“Don’t you dare move,” he snaps, grabbing at my shoulders in case I make good on my threat.
I laugh against him, nipping at his soft skin before sucking at his neck in an apology.
I must have hit a particularly sensitive spot, because he melts beneath me, sinking further into my mattress and enticing me to follow.
And why wouldn’t I? I rake my hands over the complicated strings surrounding his body, plucking at the various strands as I try to figure out which one I need to pull to make the outfit unravel.
“Just leave it on,” Kit moans, quickly grabbing the complicated bottoms and dragging them to the side. His slim length bursts free, jutting up towards his stomach with a slick, pearlescent crown.
“Yep, that works,” I croak. My cock throbs so insistently at the mouthwatering sight that I can’t ignore it any longer. I wrap my hand tight around my base to stop myself from coming too soon.
Kit pouts, his pale eyes darkening as he backhands my death grip and replaces it with his own. “This is mine now.”
My eyes flutter closed as his hand locks around my cock, his grasp sure and firm as he slowly pumps my length.
It’s too much and nowhere near enough. I need more, faster, rougher, harder, and all the while I’m afraid that he’ll give me just that, and this will end too soon.
I will never have Kit beneath me for the first time again, and I’m terrified that I’ll miss something, a little moan or strangled breath that happens too quickly for me to memorise.
I luxuriate in his confident strokes, probably for longer than I should if the tingling in my spine is anything to go by.
But doing nothing while I take whatever Kit sees fit to give me isn’t how I want to come.
So, after a particularly teasing squeeze, I pull myself out of Kit’s hold and collapse on top of him to take his mouth once more.
So far, I’ve managed to keep my hips an inch away from his.
It was a necessity because I knew that the second I felt Kit beneath me, I’d never want to leave.
But still, nothing could have prepared me for the onslaught of need that overcomes my body, the insistent want, and pure, unbridled lust that swamps me at the touch of his hard length against mine.
“Fuck, Kit, fuck!” My strained voice fills my bedroom, and I send up a silent thanks that we’re home alone tonight.
“Oh my god, Damian!” Kit echoes in kind. His dick weeps against mine, submitting to me as I make my first, tentative thrust. It’s like all the stars align above us. They burst behind my eyelids as sinful pleasure radiates from the point where his smooth cock brushes with mine.
After that, my hips take on a mind of their own, moving against Kit’s with incensed, frantic thrusts as we both chase a climax that we know will be like nothing we’ve ever experienced before.
Kit buries his fingers in my hair, urging me to move faster, faster, faster until he’s arching beneath me, his neck corded as he reaches his peak.
“Damian!” he screams, throwing his head back. His body is overcome by his release, his ropes of cum soaking my fevered cock and pushing me closer to the precipice.
My eyes lock with icy blues as my orgasm crashes into me. There’s no slow build, no gentle climb to ecstasy. Instead, my body surrenders to the pleasure, blinding me as I unload onto Kit’s tensed stomach.
For a moment, all I can hear are Kit’s laboured breaths, his heaving chest pressing against mine as we struggle back down from our intense high.
Fucking hell, how have we wasted so much time not doing this? How could I not see what was right in front of me?
I push myself back up, lifting my weight off Kit but making sure to keep our bodies plastered together from the waist down.
He looks wrecked, his jaw reddened with stubble burn, his pupils blown, and his usually styled hair in complete disarray.
I want to beat my chest at the evidence I’ve left all over him. I did that. Me.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I whisper.
But my words don’t have the intended effect. Instead, I watch as wariness bleeds into his eyes. “And you’re straight,” he accuses quietly.
I shrug. “Yeah, not so much apparently. Turns out a man can only ignore what’s right under his nose for so long.”
“So, this is really happening?” he asks cautiously. “You’re not about to have some big freak-out on me?”
“Nope. I’ve pretty much spent all week wishing for exactly this. I just didn’t imagine it would come true. Like I said, I don’t think I can claim to be straight anymore. Especially if the not-so-straight dreams I’ve been having about you are anything to go by.”
Kit bites his lip, almost like he’s trying to stop himself from smiling. “What kind of not-so-straight dreams?”
I laugh against his shoulder, peppering the hot skin with kisses until I reach his ear. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
It turns out that yes, yes, Kit does want to know, or at least relive the experience first-hand. However, our fresh make-out session is over before it begins when the cum starts to dry between us. Gross.
I mop up the worst of our combined mess with my T-shirt like a gentleman. Kit definitely fared worse than me, because, you know… gravity. I’ll get up later and grab us a flannel, but for now, I just want to savour this moment, to lie with Kit and pretend we’re the only two people in the world.
“Thank you,” Kit whispers, burrowing himself deeper into my arms.
I yawn, pulling him close. “What for?”
“You know what for,” Kit laughs, knitting his fingers with mine and skimming our hands down the length of his heated, lace-covered body.
Well, I suppose I did make the first move. I all but jumped on him…
“You’re welcome. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
Kit sighs contentedly. “I hope so, Damian. I hope so.”