6. Rurik
SIX
RURIK
Ash is so easy. I check my watch, and sure enough, down to the minute, the door handle turns, and he walks into his room. His little schedule makes following him a walk in the park. I’m enjoying the fresh air and the view. Is this what my brother meant when he told me to get a hobby? He was right.
Now if only I didn’t have pesky classes, commitments, and my damn brothers up my ass, I could really get to know him.
But I’m fighting for my life to get free time to ease my way into his life.
I need to put some more antisocial in this antisocial personality disorder I have.
Not my fault people like me, but I could really use an excuse to get them off my back.
Not like I can tell them I’m engaging in a little light stalking, no matter what our mother does for a living, or what we’re being raised for.
When it’s a job, it’s all ‘you’re a savant’ and ‘doing the family name proud,’ but when it’s a guy you want to fuck suddenly, it’s ‘concerning behavior’ and ‘everyone is worried about you’.
He goes through his usual routine, emptying his bag, placing things in order on his desk, lining them up. Does he realize he’s so precise in his actions? Homie has got to be diagnosable. For real.
But I’m a psychopath, so I’m certainly not judging anyone.
When he finishes, he strips off his shirt, revealing his toned chest. Someone get this man a bra.
He’s got spectacular tits, and even after a week of seeing them, I’m staring.
The rowing is doing him good. He rolls his shoulders and neck before going into his ensuite.
He doesn’t close the door, but the shower is just out of view of the window from my vantage point.
Rude.
I get a flicker of movement in the mirror, but not enough to satisfy anything. Which annoys me. But he’s quick. Utilitarian with the shower. He’s clearly not having enough fun in there. I could change him.
He does his little calisthenics workout, which I, of course, watch, wishing I could take a photo.
If I’m going to take this newfound Ash Stalker? (got to make it official) identity thing seriously, I should get one of those high-powered lens cameras for research, obviously.
The photos I have are not so great so I add new camera to my mental to do list. I don’t do anything by half.
I take all my indulgences seriously which means no bad blurry photos of my baby.
He runs his fingers through his hair, standing in front of the mirror for less than a minute before he shuts off his lights and gets in bed.
I sigh, now it will be hours before I see his pretty face again.
I should probably go home and show my face so no one starts asking questions, or maybe get a few hours of sleep, but I have a much worse and better idea.
I’m shoving out of my comfortable position in the tree to climb down.
Once I’ve made up my mind there’s no stopping it.
I should be keeping my distance outside of our hobby time but I need to get close to him.
The time on the river isn’t enough. I need to be in his space and inhale his scent again.
I’m tired of waiting for answers. I need to know why I can’t get him out of my head.
Usually once I fuck someone my attention wanes, but with him I’m even enjoying the river time.
It’s weird. But it’s not all just getting to know him, my mind keeps going back to him pinned under me, dirt on his face, lip bloody and completely at my mercy, disarmed and angry.
The helpless struggle and fighting back even after he knew he lost.
Fucking delicious.
Maybe I want both. A guy I can fight and fuck? If that were the case I’d fall in love with my best friend. This is something else.
If I weren’t a psychopath, it might be concerning how much I like to fight. It’s fine. Everything is fine. I’m just using a grappling hook to scale the side of a building to get a look inside his room.
My brother is going to love this if he ever finds out.
My phone is going off like crazy when I get to the ledge. I sit on it and pull the damn thing out of my pocket to silence it. Can’t be waking him up with all the vibrating. I’ll save that for when he gets to know me better.
It’s just the family group chat. There’s enough competent people in there to handle whatever is blowing it up. If anyone needs me, they can call me.
I hug the side of the building as I edge closer to his window. He must assume safety on the second floor, because he leaves his window open all night and never closes the curtains. I love the view, but when I think of all the people who could be watching I get angry.
My eyes adjust slowly, but there is enough light in his room to combat the ambient city light on campus.
The window eases further open without a sound.
A half an inch at a time, finally giving me the full view into his room.
I have the layout memorized, so it’s easy to slip in without disturbing anything.
I lean through the window, straining my eyes to get a better look at his angelic face.
He’s sleeping. Ash lies tucked under a light sheet, blond hair tangled on the pillow, with another hugged to his chest. His blanket is half thrown off, revealing long tanned legs and the outline of briefs under the sheet.
His knee is pulled up in that position with his ass on full display, like he knew I was coming.
Fuck. My dick definitely takes notice.
Why did he have to be this attractive? This would have been so much easier if he were some fifty-year-old man with saggy balls. Then I could have just killed him, gotten over it.
The old frames are big enough for even my broad shoulders.
I ease onto the old hardwood with care as to not make it groan.
One foot and then two and I give my weight over, but the wood betrays me, creaking loud enough to wake the dead.
But Ash keeps dreaming. He’s sleeping deeper than a corpse and not even stirring.
And I like that so much more than I should.
I creep closer when I don’t see any movement in the room.
Ash whispers something, and I freeze.
Had I woken him?
While I do think our forced hobby time is making him warm up to me, I don’t think we’re quite at the show up in his room unannounced stage of dating, since he doesn’t even know we’re dating yet.
Technicalities. We’ll get there. Each couple takes their own path.
Grandma says it all the time. She’ll be on my side damnit.
I wait for him to freak out.
A minute ticks by like molasses, and he murmurs another unintelligible word while gripping his sheet.
Is he a sleep talker?
“Are you talking in your sleep, pretty boy?”
How fucking cute is that?
His perfect, full lips part with another mumble. Why does all of this make me want him more? Usually, I hate all this crap and am only interested in the fuck portion of relationships, but not with him.
I move through his room, fingertips skimming over the rough edges of books stacked on his desk, photos in frames. I move them. Ever so slightly, but enough that he’ll know. I flip through his mail and unplug his phone. With the way he craves order, it will drive him up the wall.
I don’t rush, wanting to know my prey. I study the little scraps and faces, snapping pictures of things to look up later.
He made it too easy. I’d learn all his friends and clubs.
I’d know them all by the end of the night.
All the places he liked to hang out that I didn’t figure out following him.
Even locked social media didn’t matter when I’ve been in his room.
When I’ve touched his things and seen the faces he loves.
There would be a weakness somewhere. A friend of a friend.
I’ll work my way in and gain access to anything I want.
I want to play with him. I want to be a fly on his wall when he wakes and finds the little bit of chaos.
Would he think of me? I want to taste the fear on his lips when he realizes someone has been here.
I need him to feel me in spirit before he feels me in flesh.
And boy am I getting ready for him to feel me.
He’s going to like me. He doesn’t have a choice.
I’m rock hard standing over him. It’s just a little light stalking. Why am I so turned on? I’ve never wanted anyone as bad as I want him.
His full pink lips part again, and all I can see is my dick between them.
What fucking spell does he have over me?
I brush my thumb over his lips before bringing it to my mouth. I suck his taste like it’s my last fucking meal.
“Stop fighting this. You know you want to let me in, baby.”