11. Chapter 11
It's been a couple of days since our coffee date and the mind melting kiss, but now I'm standing in the shadows of Cassie's garden, waiting for Emery and Harris to leave.
They've been shuffling around going room to room gathering their things, but finally they're both heading out, leaving their house mate all alone.
After walking me home like the gentleman he is and kissing me stupid on my porch–Micah had witnessed the entire thing and squealed through the letter box–we’d arranged to see each other in the week, but I wanted more.
After class today, I’d headed home to finish one of my reading assignments, but couldn't resist scrolling the good bank of videos Inkedreaper had now.
Jesus, Cass was so fucking hot. There sat a new post that I hadn't seen and it had me feeling feral, a common theme amongst all his followers.
Trust me, I didn't anticipate how quickly a masked thirst trap account would grow, and we were both climbing the numbers closer to our goal.
I didn't foresee how commenters would offer themselves on a platter either, but I was only interested in one other human being.
People begged to be interacted with and whilst I did like some comments, I thought it best to set the rule to never reply or private message.
Keep the boundary, in case anyone tried to dig into who was behind the mask.
Cass on the other hand had fucking commented back to someone, and I didn't know whether I wanted to throttle them, or him.
Username Ladywhiskers–I don't even want to know–commented on the new video of him dripping water down his abs, the lilac glow of his mask the only thing illuminating the scene, to say she’d lick him dry. He replied with a cat emoji.
Not. Fucking. Acceptable.
The moment I see both the guys get into one of the cars parked on the street, I step away from the back fence and bushes, taking the opportunity to slip into the house because Emery certainly did not lock the door after himself.
I can hear the hiss of the shower through the closed door, as I slip once again into his bedroom.
Cassie is neat for a guy in his twenties at university; his room is comforting, which just won't do for what I have planned.
Unknown to how long I have, I drop the backpack I brought with me by the double bed, wasting no time in setting up for my perfect revenge.
He might not love it at first, but I'm going to edge him till he's past the point of begging.
Maybe then he'll understand not to flirt with random people on the internet via emojis.
Grabbing a battery powered light source, I turn out the lamp by his bed and cast the room into a hellish red glow.
The shadows seem to grow bigger, nails racking along the floor ready to nip at my feet.
I keep the rest of my supplies in the backpack, but I pull out the ghostface mask.
I don't have any tattoos or weird scares that he could trace back to me, so I take off all my clothes apart from my trousers, before slipping the mask over my head.
The mouthpiece is bulky and annoying against my cheek, but I've read enough stalker romances to know it gets a little weird when the masked guy can't speak in fear of giving himself away.
Duh–rule one of the hidden identity trope; don't get caught.
Only seconds after I've slipped the mask on do I hear the water shut off and it's go time.
Positioning myself at the end of the bed with my legs spread wide, I patiently wait, hoping to god he notices the red light emanating from his bedroom and doesn't come in here frightened for his life.
Yeah I want to scare him a little, but only because I've seen how his pupils dilate and his body becomes so eager for me in this mask.
Him being scared isn't what gets my dick hard, it's the eagerness I see coming out of him piece by piece in this little masked game we have going on.
His bedroom door isn't fully shut, and my heart picks up when I hear the soft pad of bare feet on carpet and the door slowly creeps open.
I noticed Cassie's damp curls first, dark as night, before inches of tattooed skin only stopped by a pair of tight black boxers.
He looks like he's risen from the underworld, naked just for me.
I've seen his body obviously in the thirst traps, but in person he's a piece of fucking art. God damn!
He can't see through the mask, but finally I focus on his eyes at the moment it seems to register who is in his bedroom.
“Boo, Baby.” I wiggle my fingers in a hello, and his eyebrows hit his wet hair line. His foot lifts and I assume he's going to take a step back, but to my giddy delight his body seems to pull him forward.
“What are you doing here?” He stammers, his voice husky from the effect this clearly has on him.
He flexes a little too; his brain at war with his body which very much wants to dive onto the bed and play.
I’m officially a Casper body language analyst and can confirm it would be in his best interest to do so.
“We should play a little game.”
“Yeah I'm not into those types of movies.” He says, closing his bedroom door and locks it, the click echoing. I cock my head and watch him walk across his room, less skittish than when we were both here last.
“Not a horror movie fan?” My voice is distorted from the voice box, the drawl crackling like I'm straight out of scream.
He shrugs, “Not really. I like thrillers, classic movies, maybe ghosts or Frankenstein? Not gore though. Not my thing.”
I'm surprised, especially since I assumed wanting to be a vet meant he wasn't squeamish. There must be another reason for his dislike, but I can't ask him or mention I know he's training to be a vet, without giving it away that I know him personally.
“Why not?” I ask instead, keeping it simple.
He doesn't answer straight away and I just watch him fiddle with some wires on his desk, connecting his phone. Quiet music starts to filter out of two speakers placed on either side of his closed laptop, THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND by Bad Omens.
Well fuck me, he's setting the scene. Swoon.
“I don't like seeing people hurt or in pain. Horror films just make me…sad.” Even in the low light I can still see when his cheeks blush, and I don't think he realises the little piece he's just showed his masked stranger.
The real Miles knows Cass is selfless, kind and just fucking adorable, but here with his masked Miles, there's been nothing but lust and occasional rage.
“Come here.”
I'm expecting him to fight, give me resistance or sarcasm, but to my surprise he keeps his eyes on my mask as he approaches, stopping in front of my spread legs.
Slowly I lift my index finger and drag it down his clothed bulge, which by how firm it feels, is ready to start the party.
I don't know if it's the soft but ardent look in his eye, but tilting my mask up to look up at him, my entire plan formed in jealousy goes out of the window.
With that look, he's turned me into a doting puddle. I’d give him anything he wanted, even control if he asked for it.
“Kneel.” Again I expect resistance, but without hesitation his knees hit the carpet in-between my spread legs.
His hands even come to rest on both my thighs, his thumbs pressing in, then rubbing circles against my trousers.
That little connection soothes not only him but me, making this far more intimate than I thought possible. “Do you have any hard limits?”
He pauses to think, his eyes drifting to my own hard dick already straining in my underwear. “I don't want to fuck…yet.”
I can't hide my hum of approval and it's a distorted grunt. Yet means he wants more of this. “That's good, because I plan on dragging this out. I want to explore how I can make you go mad with pleasure, before I fuck you.”
His mouth opens with a little pop and he just stares into the black sockets of the mask. I think he won't say anything, until he nods. “Ok.”
Well colour me ecstatic.
“I’ve never done anything with a guy, so I might not like it…”
I shake my head, gently gliding my thumb across his sharp jaw. “Then we stop. At any point you hate it, you tell me and we stop. You can fuck me and if you hate that, again we stop.”
“Do we need a safe word?”
“Do you want a safe word?”
He thinks this over too, his thumb still rubbing circles on my leg and I drag my thumb over his cheek in the same rhythm. “No. I trust you to stop.”
“Ok, Baby. Swap positions with me.”
As Cass takes the spot on the bed I was occupying, I walk over to where I’d dumped my backpack and keep it out of eye level so he doesn't see the familiar patches all over it. Pulling out a silk sleep mask and a soft tie, I head back to the bed and stand between his legs.
If only he could see my smirk.
Holding up the items, I let him eye them. “I was going to edge you as your punishment, but I have a better idea.”
His eyebrows scrunch together, “Punishment for what? I haven't done anything.”
“Shh, don't remind me or this won't be a treat after all.”
Brushing my fingers through his damp curls, I lift the sleep mask and place it over his eyes, adjusting it around his head so that it won't slip at the slight movement.
“Is this ok?”
He nods, clearing his throat before giving me the verbal confirmation I need. “Y-yes. I've never done anything like this.”
“Again if you don't like it, you say stop and it ends.”
He pouts, but doesn't say anything more. I'm wondering what that's about, but then my horny mind just gets stuck on how I could kiss those lips stupid so he stops the expression.
Gliding the tie over his hands which hang in his lap, I gently take both his wrists, holding them together whilst I wrap the fabric around both and secure it.
I don't plan on attaching them to anything or having them behind his back.
This is just so he doesn't whip off the blindfold, and so I can safely take my mask off for what I plan to do next.