Chapter 5 Voss
VOSS
Sqush, sqush, sqush. The sound of the large exercise ball as it moves on the ground under me is as rhythmic as the wsgggg of the spinner between my fingers. In a way, they make music all their own. I could probably convince my computer to add vocals to the sound.
The sound isn’t from rolling a few inches back and forth as I move. It’s from the bounce. Like I’m riding something fun.
I’m not sure I’m ready to ride something. I’m hoping Brek will be up for bottoming first.
Sighing, I look away from the computer and rub my eye with the palm of my hand. It pushes my glasses up, and for some reason, that unleashes a whole bunch of yawns. Like a freight train, they just keep coming. Car after car.
I get to my feet and stretch. The ball rolls away. The spinner in my hand stops whirring since it’s no longer in balance.
My computer continues to stare at me with the article open. The same article that’s been on my screen for the past hour. The time reads past ten, which is probably why I’m not finding anything of interest. Or it could be that the article is ninety-two pages long. Scientific articles for you.
The job I told Brek I do flits through my head. It wasn’t a complete lie. I do both of those things, but they’re mostly interpretations of my job. My PI work is actually verifying the target of the contracts for my brothers. I work with facts. Not feelings.
The cybersecurity stuff? Well, I do perform what I said for companies, but I mostly flex my muscles and break in through back doors when I need to. Nothing and no one is safe when I need information. Especially when someone in my family needs whatever is behind that virtual wall.
I’ve found a new issue, though. AI is getting a little too good. There’s now such a video quality that’s AI-generated called a deepfake, and that’s when an AI-generated video is so damn real that you can’t find the typical tells that it’s fake.
I came across my very first one the other day, and it’s still plaguing me. There was something about it that nagged at the back of my mind, but no matter how many of my programs I ran it through, they came back stating that they couldn’t detect any AI generation.
Yet eventually I found the evidence that it was indeed fake. Not just because the subjects in the video made public statements proclaiming as much, but because the skyline in the back was wrong. That’s what the nagging voice in my head was trying to identify as being off.
The scary part is that the skyline wasn’t wrong enough that people would necessarily notice.
It was recognizable as L.A. It had all the identifiable buildings, but unless you were looking at them specifically, you wouldn’t realize they were out of order!
As if we were looking at a building-blocks model and someone picked up three of the skyscrapers and moved them to new locations.
It’s freaky. Concerning.
I tell myself that deepfake videos aren’t my job, nor do I need to continue thinking about them tonight.
AI has been allowed to run rampant, with most governments not caring what’s going on.
It’s going to take these deepfake videos with prominent government officials in them before something is actually done to restrict AI usage.
Not my problem. Now that I’ve learned skylines are like building blocks, I know to look for that. It’s going to become more problematic when we’re looking at videos inside personal homes and shit, though.
“Not my problem,” I insist out loud and lock my computer down for the night.
The office is dark and silent when I step into the hall.
I’ve been here far too long. When I’m handed something intriguing, I tend to get lost in research validation.
That was the case today. It had nothing to do with the deepfake video, but it’s been bothering me, which is probably part of the reason I haven’t been able to focus on the article.
Whatever.
I’m alone in the elevator. Alone in the parking garage. Alone driving through the roads on Van Doren Estate. And alone as I walk the halls of the big house.
I pause at the room Lorissa is occupying. The door is closed, but I push it open and peek in. She looks up from her phone, meeting my eyes.
“Everything okay?”
She smiles, but I can tell she’s done with this whole pregnant lady bit. “Yes. Uncomfortable being fat.”
I chuckle. “Almost done, Lor.”
She sighs and sets her phone in her lap. “I know.”
“You need anything before I head to bed?”
Lorissa shakes her head. “Nah. I’ll hobble my way down to the kitchen if I need a snack.” She inclines her head at the nightstand where I count no less than four glasses of colored liquid. “Already have a plethora of drinks.”
I snort. “Wasn’t sure what you wanted or…?”
She rolls her eyes, but her smile gives her away.
“Jalon brought me a drink an hour ago. Levis brought me a drink right before that. I brought one upstairs, but I’d been asking about apple juice in the kitchen and was told they were out.
I said it wasn’t a big deal and chose grape juice.
Twenty minutes later, Casey was bringing me a glass of apple juice since she was able to track some down for me. ”
“So you’re not being taken care of is what I’m hearing.”
Lorissa grins. “You have a great family, Voss. Baby boy is going to be so damn spoiled.”
“He’s going to be fucking loved,” I insist. “You can interpret that as spoiling if you like, though.”
“He is,” she agrees. “I’m glad.”
“You can change your mind, you know,” I offer for maybe the hundredth time.
“I know. Maybe I will.”
She won’t. That’s okay. I get it. Parenthood isn’t for everyone, and that’s completely okay.
I cross the room to kiss the top of her head and place my hand on her stomach. Baby boy is fast asleep, though. Just like his mama should be. “Good night.”
“You’re up late,” she comments as I head back for the door.
“Always work to do,” I say, shrugging. “Lost track of time.”
Lorissa shakes her head. I wave as I close the door behind me and cross the hall to my own room, stripping on my way to the closet where I toss my day clothes into the hamper and slip into a pair of shorts.
Then I stand over my bed and stare. It’s empty and cold. My gaze wanders to the door. I wonder if Brek is awake.
Licking my lips, I decide I’m going to check on him. You know, just in case he’s lonely. Or horny. Perhaps our horny cycles have synced, and he’s horny right now, too.
That’s a thing, right?
I leave my bedroom again and head down the hall to where Brek’s room is sandwiched between Jessica’s and Levis’. I don’t knock, but as I did with Lorissa’s, I push it open just enough so I can peek in. Unlike Lorissa, the room is dark and silent.
This means I should return to my room, right?
Instead, I silently step further into his room and shut the door behind me. For just a minute, I let my eyes adjust and then make my way to Brek’s bed.
He’s sleeping in the middle of it. This enormous bed, and he’s smack in the middle. I wonder if that was a decision or just where he ended up.
I take my glasses off and set them beside his on the nightstand before kneeling on the bed so I can poke him. Brek startles awake.
“What?” he mutters, looking around the dark room for the emergency.
“Oh, good, you’re awake. I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you before you fell asleep.”
He huffs and rolls away, giving me his back.
“Is that an invitation?” I tease.
Brek huffs. “Just shut up and get into bed. You’re letting the cold air under the blankets.”
Close enough to saying he wants my body. I shove the blankets down, making him squawk at me. Which only has me laughing, of course.
I scoot over to his back and curl around his warm body like another skin. Once I have him firmly in my arms, I press my hard-on to his ass. Just to make sure he understands that’s not a test tube or anything.
Brek shakes his head. “Seriously.”
“I’m disappointed our horny cycles haven’t synced yet,” I lament.
He twists in my hold to look at me skeptically. “You making shit up now, huh?”
“Aren’t you a little horny?”
He doesn’t answer for a minute, though he continues to look at me shrewdly. “I don’t know. I was asleep. I wasn’t having a particularly sexy dream, but if you want to make out for a bit, maybe I’ll be horny.”
There’s something in his words that I should be paying attention to. I’m not sure what they are, and honestly, my cock is controlling half my brain cells right now. But I did hear the suggestion that we make out. That I can totally do.
I grip his chin, making him twist a little more so I can reach his mouth. We kiss somewhat awkwardly until he eventually pulls free of my hold and turns his body toward mine. Much better. Far better access.
His hand touches my stomach. It’s almost a tentative touch.
I’ve never truly taken Brek as someone shy, but I’m positive his touch is hesitant.
Maybe he’s just playing with the short dusting of hair there.
I’m convinced of this when his fingers trail up to my chest, and it feels like he’s playing with my hair.
Okay, that’s good enough for me. I grip his hip and pull him close.
We’ve made out on the couch twice, which led to horny rubbing, but we didn’t go so far as getting each other off. Our touch didn’t move under our clothes. I haven’t even touched his dick through his pants with anything more than my thigh.
It’s strange. The urge for this man is something incredibly new, and I’m so fucking here for it. I’m excited to touch his dick and his hole. I can’t wait for his hands on me.
But I can be patient. If he’s less sure than I am, I will respect that.
However, when I bring his body to mine, I’m so thrilled that his cock is getting hard too that I’m practically vibrating. Something Brek must realize because he laughs into my mouth.
“You feel like you’re ready to explode,” he muses.
“I’m so damn ready for you,” I say, and then backtrack quickly before that sounds like I’m putting pressure on him. “That doesn’t mean we can’t take our time. I don’t care if this is all we do tonight.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I’m ready for more, but if you’re not, that’s okay, Brek. Really. This isn’t all about me.”
Now that my eyes have acclimated to the darkness of the room, and because he’s right here in my face, I can make out his smile. “Thanks.”
“I’m glad that I’m such a good kisser that I can turn you on, though,” I say, attempting to lighten the mood.
His laughter makes me grin. Glad that worked.
“You do,” he agrees. Once again, there’s something in the words he says that I should be paying attention to. Not his words this time, but the tone of his voice. The way he said them.
The thought slides away when his mouth covers mine. I’m obsessed with his taste. With the way his tongue moves against mine. With the difference in how his body feels against mine than a woman’s.
I’m not sure if it’s preferable or if I’m simply in awe of the newness. There’s a very good chance that it has nothing to do with Brek being a man but the man himself.
Since beginning my study of gender and sexuality at a young age and determining that everyone is a little bi, I’ve waited for a guy to do it for me. I didn’t go out looking for one, of course. That felt a little… weird.
The thing is, Brek kind of came out of nowhere. I didn’t realize I was attracted to him until a few months ago, and even then, Brek is so incredibly shut off from anyone outside his friends that I couldn’t determine whether he was open to my advances until recently.
I wasn’t convinced he was when I first took his hand in mine. Thankfully, he hasn’t punched me in the balls yet. That’s not the touch I want from him on my balls.
Our kissing is never filthy. It’s probably one of the cleanest make-out sessions I’ve ever had, which isn’t all that shocking knowing Brek. It never stops, though. Our kissing is continuous and thorough. I taste his entire mouth.
When his hand moves down to my hip, I decide that maybe he’s okay with a little more touch so I slide mine down his waist and around to his ass where I grip his sexy ass cheek, pulling his body closer so I can grind against him.
I’m rewarded with a groan, and his hand tightens on my hip. His fingers bite into my skin through my shorts. Beautiful.
Once again, I think I begin vibrating with excitement when he lifts his leg over my hip. To get closer? To open himself up for more touch?
I bring my hand back around and touch his stomach. Slowly, I bring my hand to the waist of his pants. He doesn’t stop me. In fact, his hips rock forward.
“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” I say.
He nods. Our lips hover over each other as we pant, and my hand trails down over his shorts. Hmm. Underwear. He’s not wearing anything else.
Which means they’re snug enough that I immediately feel his cock just below the waistline. Hard. And dripping. There’s a wet spot at the crown.
Brek grunts, his hips moving forward again as soon as my fingers skim his length.
Emboldened, I cup his junk through his underwear and rub him with more purpose.
He’s got a nice dick. Right? I don’t fucking know.
I like it, and that seems to be all that matters right now.
I like how hard he is. I like his length and how thick he feels.
Is he thick, or is that just my blind impression?
“Voss,” he grunts, and if I keep hearing that tone, I might just mess my shorts from this. With nothing but my hand on him.
“Okay?”
He nods and slams his mouth to mine. I rub his dick through his underwear until he gets off. His orgasm sounds are going to fill my dreams for the next month.