Chapter 11
The troll turned out to be a straight dude assuming the flyers were distributed by a girl and looking for an easy way into her pants. Just like the next five trolls.
Something neither I nor Cass have taken into consideration.
I couldn’t be happier, but it took Cass three days to decide that the whole idea was stupid to begin with and gather as many posters as he could.
But that didn’t stop new messages from coming, and at this point I feel sorry for him. It’s a shame he’s upset by this in the first place, but also annoying that I feel like I’m competing with a man who doesn’t exist when there’s a perfectly awful adversary in the form of Logan.
In hope of cheering up Cassian, I bought two slices of cake from the Rainbow and ignored my last class of the day to be home early. Who needs geospatial analysis anyway?
The apartment welcomes me with loud music, and I look around as I place the takeout box on the kitchen counter.
It’s already getting dark outside, but the light is on in Cass’s open room and casts a bright spot on the floor in our hallway.
That’s where the music is coming from too, and I smile, ready to surprise him.
I toe off my sneakers to be quieter, but as I approach, the light reflects off a mirror in the corridor and distracts me for a moment.
What I see next, will distract me forever.
I freeze, unable to move a single muscle at the sight reflected to me.
Cass is sitting in his swivel chair, illuminated by the sharp light of the lamp on his desk.
He’s leaning back and I see everything. His jeans are open and lowered, his T-shirt is pulled up enough for me to see his navel.
My gaze follows the dark hair trailing down from it, to the erect cock in his hand.
I might go to hell for this, but when I hear a little grunt, I know I’ll keep watching.
He’s a work of art at any time, even with a mouth full of foam when he’s washing his teeth, but seeing him this unguarded, with closed eyes and a deep flush on his olive skin has my hands trembling.
I’ve never seen him with a hard-on. Well, not unclothed anyway, and his cock looks better than any I’ve seen in porn. It has a gentle curve to it, and while it’s not massive, it still appears substantial between Cass’s fingers.
The world starts spinning when my Cass, my best friend, licks his thumb and then swirls it over the bulbous head. His hips push forward, his frown deepens, and he opens his mouth ever-so-slightly as pleasure takes the reins.
I shouldn’t be watching, I really shouldn’t, but here I am, staring at his reflection, hypnotized. It’s like seeing a new side of him, a sexual aspect that I’ve never been allowed to witness.
Up till now I considered him the most handsome man on the planet, craved to kiss him, and had a vague notion of wanting to rock against him until I come. That vision now seems so innocent in comparison to the filth flooding my brain.
I want to go in there, kneel between his spread legs and suck his cock until its salty juices fill my mouth. Giving head has been a theoretical concept I was toying with in my head. But would I really want to do it? How do I feel about it? What if I ended up disliking it?
When I stare at Cassian’s cock as he strokes it, I’m certain I would like it. I would very much like it in my mouth right now.
My own dick hardens, as if the reflection in the mirror caused a chain reaction.
Before I know what’s what, my pants are uncomfortable, and my head is clouded with smoke.
I squeeze myself through denim to relieve some of the tension, but the touch goes straight to my head when Cass pushes his hand under his T-shirt and strokes his chest.
His hand gets to work, stroking the hard dick faster.
I’m not even touching him, and I’m already out-of-my-mind horny.
The picture he makes is more exciting than anything my imagination could have come up with.
He leans back with a heavier grunt, and I slide my hand into my pants. I want to jerk off at the same time as he strokes that perfect dick. I want our pace to match. I want to come at the same time. I want to come with him.
My brain becomes fuzzy and it’s almost like I’m standing between his legs and rubbing my dick right in front of him. Would he like that? Would he lick my cock? Would he let me blow my load on that sexy stomach of his? And if I spilled a bit on his T-shirt, would he wear it all day?
I want him to smell of me. I want to taste his tan skin and fall asleep with my head on his muscular thigh, playing with his body hair.
The instrumental music blasting from his speakers keeps me from hearing his gasps, but as he drops his head all the way back, overcome with whatever fantasy is playing out on the backs of his eyelids, I imagine him making soft, little whines and whispering my name.
Mattie... please... I want you...
My cock has never been harder, and I rub its sensitive length, staring at the mirror as Cass’s hips rise. His legs tense when he goes to his toes while resting his back in the chair, and when the pace he pleasures himself at becomes frantic, I know he’s about to come.
I speed up too, all too aware that I’m gonna finish in my pants, but that’s what the washing machine is for. Issues like that belong in reality, and I’m now in a wet dream.
Cass’s louder grunt is audible over the music, and hearing him sends a zap of arousal to my balls. The way his lips part in a moan makes me want to barge in there and kiss him, roll my tongue against his and let him finish on me.
Or better.
I could grab his dick, he could wrap his fingers over mine. We could jerk each other off at the same time. I’d tell him to open his eyes. Look at me. And then he’d come.
My toes curl when cum erupts from his pulsing dick, spraying his T-shirt and bared stomach. His head rolls over the backrest of his chair, but all I can see are those thrusting hips and the tension passing through Cass’s handsome face.
How did I not see this before? How is it that I never acknowledged his beauty and never once thought of kissing his dark lips?
I’m such a fool.
I almost feel the throbbing of his cock in my hand, but it’s only my own dick longing for release. To think that Logan had him, touched him, kissed him when I could have.
I get angry, but also confused, because now I’m thinking about Logan, and losing my focus, and the last thing I want to think about is goddamn Logan.
Cass pulls off the stained T-shirt, drops it into his laundry basket, and gets up, pulling up his jeans after a brief clean-up. It’s happening all too fast.
I have enough brain power to pull my hand out of my pants, no matter how desperately my dick begs to be stroked. He’s stepping toward the door, shirtless, so, like a sleepwalker, I force myself to move to the kitchen.
My bare feet tap the floor, but the music is still on, masking any sounds the floor might make.
Alarms are still ringing in my head like there’s a signal tower in my skull.
I nearly yelp when his door makes noise, but by the time his form looms in the mouth of the hallway, I stand in front of the cakes I brought from Rainbowology, and my hard-on is obscured by the counter.
“Mattie?” he asks loudly enough to be heard over the music, and I snap my head up, pretending he’s the one who surprised me, not the other way around.
“Oh hi, I just came in! My last class was canceled,” I lie.
Cass’s form is dark against the backdrop of the glow coming from his bedroom, and oh, I love the contrast between the width of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips so fucking much.
“What are you doing in the dark?” he asks, and moments later, the light goes on, presenting him standing there barefoot and wearing only his jeans.
The flush of excitement still lingers on his skin, and while I forbid myself from staring, I swear I can see some cum on the hair leading down his stomach.
Or it’s just my lust-filled brain imagining things.
I laugh. “I was hungry, okay? All I could think of was grabbing something in the kitchen. I got us cake!” I smile, all too aware of the rock-hard erection throbbing in my pants.
There’s a sexy sway to his shoulders as he comes closer and I swear I can smell his spunk, his sweat, his gorgeous cologne… I want to rub it all over me.
My throat is as dry as the Sahara when he takes another step closer, leaning over the box of cake like he’s not the god of sex gracing me with his presence.
“Which ones did you get?” he asks, his green eyes sparkling with joy.
I want to kiss him so bad it hurts, but I manage to mumble coherently enough. “The banana cream pie and the chocolate and cherry cream cake.”
He smirks and scratches the hair in the middle of his chest. I can recognize the musky scent of his pheromones as he pushes aside the canvas bag to look at the food container.
“You look… happy with yourself. Did anything happen?” I ask, as innocently as I can when my mind wants him to be truthful with his answer.
Maybe then I could make a comment like Oh, you know I had this really hot fantasy and got hard. Look. He’d laugh, but then his eyes would gloss over, and he’d touch my throbbing erection for the first time.
I’m such a terrible person.
Unaware of my thoughts, Cass pours himself a glass of water. “I finally found the right troll!”
At least my hard-on falters a little at that. “Um… Say what? I thought you were done with all that?”
And who the fuck is messing with my Cass? Again.
He leans close to me to grab a spoon from a drawer, and I can’t look away from the glorious, meaty pecs I’d lick given half the chance.
“I know, but then this guy contacted me, and I think it’s him this time,” Cass says with conviction before letting his eyes roll back at the first taste of the cream cake. “We had such a good conversation literally like twenty minutes ago.”
And this is when I know it wasn’t me Cass was fantasizing about when I came home.
It makes me feel like shit, but it’s not like I gave him any indication that I could have been the guy he kissed on Halloween. Can’t blame him, but I do want to strangle the guy using him like this!
“Are you sure it’s not another straight guy? Did he use the right pronouns when texting you?” I start eating my consolation cake.
Cass snorts. “Oh, Mattie… He didn’t text. He called me. And his voice is really sexy.”
I laugh nervously, but I kinda wanna call the jerk myself and tell him exactly what I think about his lies, but it would be too weird if I asked Cass for his phone number, so I shut up and watch him consume half the cake to recharge the energy he’d lost jerking off to fantasies of a guy who’s lying to him.
And I feel terrible about knowing all this yet not being able to warn him.
“Do you want me to go with you as the two of you meet up? You know, just in case?”
He frowns but has to swallow a mouthful to speak. “In case of what?”
I roll my eyes. “In case he’s a psycho who wants to wear your skin?”
Cass’s laugh is so wholesome my dick throbs all over again. He spreads one arm to the side, showing off his buff body. “Don’t be stupid. Do I look like someone who can’t defend himself?”
“I guess he should watch out then,” I mumble. “Is Lollobrigida hungry again?”
Cass goes red but manages to swallow the food without choking with laughter. “If he looks anything like he describes, he can feed my whole herd for months. And on that note, I gotta run,” he says and slaps my arm before putting down the spoon. “I’m meeting him in an hour.”
My blood goes hot and cold at the same time. Even this bit of touch is electrifying when I’m hard, but I’m also terrified of him liking this scammer. Aaron was right. I fucked this up.
“Good luck!” I say with a neutral smile like some brainless puppet.
Good luck? Seriously?
More like, I hope he burns in hell.
Stuck with my grim thoughts, I remain half-hard as Cass puts on socks and a new T-shirt, and then spends a painfully long time picking out which shoes to wear before settling on his usual hiking boots.
Waiting for him to go takes forever when I’m stuck behind the kitchen counter.
When he finally approaches the door, all I want is for him to stay.
“Thanks for the cake!” Cass yells on his way out while I’m stuck in the kitchen with my inadequacy.
I consider punishing myself with not jerking off, but my will is not that strong. I head for my room, but Cass’s open door invites me in silence.
Cass would never know if I…
I step inside, and my dick is interested again when I glance at the chair in which he made such a pretty picture. I guess it’s me who’s going to hell, not Cass’s liar troll, because I grab the dirty T-shirt out of Cass’s laundry basket and smell it.
Oh fuck.
I’m rock-hard again, and I drop to his bed with the fragrant cotton pressed to my face. Within seconds, my hand is on my dick, and I work it as I inhale the scent of his cum and sweat.
There’s no way to describe how I feel realizing that the shirt is still a bit damp. So maybe I am a creep, but can’t care less when my cock’s back out, and my hand strokes it without any conscious input from me.
Images of Cassian arching in the chair and watching me as I jerk off are saturated not only with color but also scent, and by the time I take a big inhale of the T-shirt, the imagined Cassian leans forward to take my cock in his mouth.
Cum jets out of me so fast it almost hurts, and I drop to my knees with my face buried in his dirty top. I spend a good minute panting, but then carefully clean myself with the T-shirt.
What? It's going in the laundry anyway.
Is it weird that I find it hot to see my cum on his?
The comedown from this orgasm is surprisingly upsetting. Once the elation is gone, I’m left with emptiness, because Cass is not here. He’s gone to see some guy.
There’s only one person I can share this with, so I choose his number as fatigue overcomes me.
“Aaron, we have a situation,” I say when he picks up.