Chapter 6 #3
Damien leans closer, his shoulder brushing mine.
“We should probably go,” he says.
I nod, even though I don’t immediately move. “Yeah.”
We make our way out of the bar slowly, saying quick goodbyes, ignoring the teasing comments that follow us out. The air outside is cooler, quieter, grounding in a way the inside of the bar wasn’t. The second we step outside the bar, Damien grabs the front of my jacket and pulls me into him.
I barely have time to register what’s happening before my back hits the side of my car and his mouth is on mine again.
The kiss is immediate and messy in the way only drunk kisses can be. There’s nothing careful about it, nothing measured or restrained. Damien crowds my space like he’s already decided this is happening, and I react without thinking, my hands finding his waist and pulling him closer.
The cold night air clashes against the heat still lingering from inside the bar, but I barely notice it.
All I notice is him—the lingering taste of tequila, the way he exhales sharply against my mouth when I grip his hips tighter, the fact that every time we touch, it escalates faster than the time before.
My hand slides into his hair without thinking, tilting his head back so I can kiss him deeper. Damien responds immediately, grabbing fistfuls of my shirt like he’s trying to hold himself steady.
Someone whistles from farther down the street.
Neither of us reacts.
At this point, I don’t think either of us would notice if the city caught fire around us.
Damien breaks the kiss first, breathing heavier than before, his forehead briefly pressing against mine. “You taste like tequila,” he mutters.
I bite his lip playfully. “Yeah, I wonder why.”
He snorts quietly, and the sound hits me harder than it should. I wonder if he’d let me take him home. If he’d be cool staying up all night making out on my couch like teenagers.
“Oh,” I say slowly, blinking once as my brain catches up to the rest of me. “I’m way too drunk to drive.”
Damien stares at me for a second. “You’re only realizing that now?”
“I was distracted.” I lean in for another kiss.
He pulls his face away playfully. “You’re an idiot.”
I laugh, still holding his waist because I don’t entirely trust my balance right now.
“You can stay at my place,” he says. “We can walk from here.”
I glance down the street. “How far?”
“I don’t know, like thirty minutes?”
I stare at him. “Thirty minutes?” I repeat. “That’s not walking distance when I’m drunk enough to think your personality is charming.”
“My personality is charming.”
“Your personality is deeply concerning.”
He grins, and I immediately lose track of what I was about to say. That keeps happening around him.
We start walking. The city is quieter now than it was earlier, the streets less crowded as we move farther away from the bars and restaurants. The adrenaline from the game and the alcohol still buzz under my skin, making everything feel a little too sharp and too soft at the same time.
Damien walks close enough that our shoulders keep brushing.
But neither of us moves away.
“I think the team’s genuinely scared of you,” I finally say.
He glances over at me. “Good.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“You enjoy it?”
He shrugs slightly. “Keeps people from asking questions.”
I look at him for a second too long before dragging my attention back to the sidewalk. “You know, people are going to think we’re insane after tonight,” I say.
“Why?”
“Because I basically ate your face in front of everyone.”
“Fair.”
We pass a small park a few blocks later, the path dimly lit by scattered streetlamps. The trees cast long shadows over the pavement, and the farther we walk into it, the quieter everything gets. I’m trying very hard to focus on literally anything except the way Damien looks tonight. I fail.
Spectacularly.
Because he keeps glancing at me with that slightly flushed expression that only shows up when he’s been drinking, and every time he does, my brain stops functioning properly.
I make it another thirty seconds before giving up.
“Alright,” I mutter.
Damien looks over at me again. “What?”
“I’m tired of pretending I’m not going to do this.”
Before he can ask what that means, I grab his arm and pull him off the path, toward the darker area near the trees.
“Atlas—”
I push him gently against the trunk of a tree and kiss him hard enough to cut the rest of the sentence off immediately.
He makes a startled sound against my mouth before melting into it, his hands grabbing at my jacket again. My hands roam down to the crotch of his pants to already find him hard against me.
“There you are,” I murmur against his mouth.
“Shut up,” he breathes.
I laugh softly and kiss him again, rubbing his erection.
The park is dark enough to feel hidden from the rest of the city, and that thought only makes everything worse.
Or better.
Definitely better.
My fingers fumble with the zipper as I try to concentrate, keeping him quiet with my mouth.
“Atlas—”
I swallow my name as I work his cock in my hand.
My free hand slides down his waist and into the back of his pants as his head tips back against the tree. I kiss along his jaw, then lower, and the quiet sound he makes nearly ruins me.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
“You started this in the bar.” I nip at his neck.
“You started this in the shower.”
“That’s fair.”
I kiss his neck again before he can answer, and his grip tightens in my shirt hard enough to wrinkle the fabric. I slip a finger into his asshole. He gasps against my mouth, bucking into my other hand like he’s trying to get away.
I try not to focus on how I’ve never fucked a guy before. I want Damien. No, I fucking need him right now, and this hunger won’t be quelled by anything but him.
“Oh fuck.” Damien’s fingers dig into my shoulders as I work him from both ends. “Atlas, I’m so close.”
The alcohol is making me too reckless, because I shove his pants to his knees. His eyes widen at being exposed in public, but I don’t give him enough time to consider it. I spit into my hand, slicking it up and down his shaft.
“Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck.” Damien’s cock sputters in my hand, leaking cum down my wrist.
“Oh, thank God.” I release Damien and turn him face-first into the tree trunk. I undo my pants with one hand before pulling myself out. “I needed something to help me fuck you, so thank you, baby.”
I bite his neck, making Damien arch his back. “Wait…here?”
His cum feels amazing on my cock. It’s warm and wet in all the ways I need it to be. “Yes. I can’t fucking wait any longer.”
I press myself against his entrance.
He gasps at the intrusion, clawing his fingers into the tree.
I scatter his shoulders with soft kisses. “You can take me.”
Damien nods eagerly, spearing himself with my dick.
I groan into his hair. “Jesus, you’re so tight.” I keep pressing until he’s fully wrapped around my thick shaft. “You okay?”
“Shut up and fuck me, Connors,” he growls.
My eyes glance down to his penis—it’s hard and ready again. I smile and start to move.
Yeah, this is really fucking good.
My hands yank his hips toward me, sheathing myself fully into his ass. He bows back against me, his face melting into a look of pure pleasure that makes my dick twitch inside of him.
My fingers slide underneath his jersey, finding his nipple. I let the pads of my fingers scrape over the sensitive bud until Damien is gasping against the tree, touching himself like a dirty slut aching for more. I’ll give him more.
“You’re fucking perfect,” I groan in his ear.
Then out on the path, I hear footsteps. Fast ones. Who the fuck goes for a run at midnight?
My brain catches up just before the jogger rounds the curve in the path. I react without thinking. One hand slides over Damien’s mouth while I press closer, turning us more into the shadows. I don’t stop moving my hips, though. I don’t think I could if I wanted to.
The runner passes by without slowing down, headphones in, completely oblivious. Damien moans into my hand, unable to keep quiet. That’s what undoes me.
I suck Damien’s earlobe into my mouth, kissing his neck between words. “Can I come inside? Please say yes. Please.”
I know I must sound pathetic, but I don’t fucking care. All I can think about is Damien’s taste, Damien’s skin, Damien’s pleasure.
“Yes.”
A whimper escapes my mouth as I drive into him, one, two more times before orgasming.
“Atlas. Jesus Christ.” Damien comes again, this time against the tree and onto the grass.
Both of us are breathing heavily. I close my eyes against his shoulder, trying to urge the stars in my vision away.
“Fuck,” I grumble.
Damien starts laughing silently against my palm. The feeling vibrates warm against my skin.
“You think this is funny?” I whisper.
He nods immediately.
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “You are such a problem.”
His teeth graze my hand in retaliation.
“Alright,” I mutter, pulling my hand away. “Now you’re definitely doing that on purpose.”
I step away, buckling my belt while watching him.
He smirks, pulling up his pants. “Maybe.”
The word comes out roughly, and I swear it goes straight to my head. I lean back in again before I can stop myself, kissing him slower this time, just enough to feel him relax against me little by little, enough to feel the tension leave his shoulders as my hands settle at his waist again.
For a moment, everything else disappears.
No cameras.
No team.
No pretending.
Just this…something that feels real.
And judging by the way Damien kisses me back, I don’t think I’m the only one feeling it.