Chapter 29
Letting Scott run out of here was hard, and now I wait. Giving him space to process, to miss me, to need me.
I’ve questioned my morals in having tattooed my name.
It was unethical and certainly unprofessional.
I’m not thinking straight. Crossing a line, sucking him off after, but I lose my mind around him.
It’s like he’s a drug, and I’m just a junkie.
I lie in the darkness of my room, staring at the ceiling.
I constantly check my phone, longing for him to reach out, but I can’t be the one to push him.
He needs to make this decision for himself.
I need to be the one he wants, not pressured into, not manipulated into, just wanted, needed.
I close my eyes, trying to let the reality wash over me of what I’ve done.
He may never forgive me. He may never choose me.
Fight night is looming over me. It will make me a hell of a lot of money when I win. Cocky? Maybe, but I’ve studied Widowmaker’s fights. I know I can beat him. And when I do, what then?
I sit up, dangling my legs off the bed before I climb to my feet and head into the shower.
After turning the water on, I step under the spray; it beats down on me.
My mind flicks to thoughts of Scott. The moment everything changed.
When I walked in on him naked in his room, the look on his face.
The hurt. Before the need, the longing as he threw himself at me.
In that moment, I wanted to take his pain away. I wanted to wrap him up and protect him. I wanted to make him feel better, but the anguish in his eyes shattered everything. What I thought I knew about us disintegrated; the kid I knew was gone.
The man he’d grown into stepped forward, and I wanted to bend the knee right there. I wanted to worship him, to take him as mine. It’s like I was seeing him clearly for the first time.
I really saw him. The boy I’d teased relentlessly and pushed around, but fiercely protected, vanished.
The man he was now stepped up in full colour.
The recognition that he was my past, my present, and my future.
I lose myself in the thought of his body against mine, the way he fits me like a fucking glove.
My hand is already strangling my dick. I lean into it and close my eyes, picturing the way he whimpered and groaned for me.
The most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.
The way he shuddered as I pleasured him.
My hand grips my dick as it slides over it.
It feels good, but I fear it will never feel as good as having him wrapped around me.
I squeeze harder, wanting to push through.
I let the breath rush out of me, my hand sliding over my shaft, the tingling spreading across my skin as I picture him coming for me.
The way he gasps my name. I grunt as I come, his name falls from my lips, and I curse.
Cum spills into the bottom of the shower, and I rest my head against the wall, panting as I lean against the tile.
I turn the shower off and step out, standing in front of the mirror, wiping my hands, clearing the steam, and staring at myself. What the hell am I doing? Chasing someone who is twelve years my junior, but everything’s changed now.
All I know is that I want him so badly. I want to wake up next to him. I want to be the one he turns to. I miss him, and I hate this uncertainty. But I resign myself to needing to let him figure out what he wants, who he wants. And I’ll have to be okay with it, however long it takes.
Leaving uncertainty wallowing in the bathroom, I decide to give him time, but I also need an escape plan.
I can’t be here if he chooses Dickhead. I dress and snatch my phone off the bedside table and start scrolling, searching for apartments.
When I win my fight, if he hasn’t chosen me, I’ll leave.
I’ll sell up and start fresh on the other side of the city, far enough away that I won’t have to see them or bump into them.
I find a few apartments, and I arrange viewings.
Maybe a little premature, but I want to have a focus, a direction if it all comes crashing down.
Dickhead is so much closer in age to Scott.
I’m a lot older. I’ve lived; Scott is just figuring out who he is and what he wants.
If I’m not it, I need to be okay with that.
I need to be mature and bow out gracefully, but the reality is, I know I won’t.
I can’t, so I’ll leave. I’ll give him until the fight, but then I’ll be gone.
My gut churns at the thought. But I know it’s the right decision. I have to do this for both of us.