Chapter 30 - Hunter

I t's been hours since I started playing Call of Duty , and somehow these two fuckers are still giggling in Oliver's room. I shoot a glance toward the hallway, even though, realistically, I can't see them or the bedroom door. And, great , someone just killed me. Fucking hell, I was on level twenty too.

I lean my head back on the couch and close my eyes, debating how the hell to get James Murdock out of Ollie's room. Also, what the fuck is Oliver doing hanging out with the Lion's quarterback? Does he only go for jocks now? Dylan, James, me ? How fucking predictable.

They seemed to be getting pretty cozy at the coffee shop. Ollie even sketched him, for fuck's sake. That was something he only did with me. If it weren't for them literally giggling like hyenas this entire time, I'd be worried about why they're locked in his room. Then again, he could kiss or fuck Murdock in the blink of an eye and there's nothing I could do about it except listen in.

Bullshit.

I'd stop it, just like I did with Dylan.

Thankfully, I already ordered Oliver's favorite food, and when it gets here, Murdock will have no choice but to fucking beat it. At least, that's my hope. I don't know why I want him out so badly. It's not like I'm going to spend time with Ollie. It's not like I want him—I can never have him again, and I know that. So why does it feel like I want to keep him away from everyone else? I feel like one of those dumbass clingers who are like if I can't have him, then no one else can . Yeah, that's me right now. Fucking pathetic.

The doorbell rings, and I smile. I place the controller on the couch and open the door. A girl with dark hair and light brown eyes stands there with my food, and I give her a once-over. Ever since Malia accused me of my dick not working, I've felt the need to prove myself. Who better to do it with than a complete stranger? Yeah, this girl will do.

"Hey, sweetheart." I smile at her, my teeth on full display. She immediately returns my smile and twirls her hair around her finger. Bingo . "How's it going?"

"Better now." She grins. "Aren't you Hunter Hartman?"

I'm taken aback by her knowledge of who I am, but I shouldn't be. I mean, I am the captain of the hockey team, and that shit matters around here. "Yep." I grab the bag of food from her, and she hands me my receipt so I can tip her. So I do. One hundred dollars. "Here's my number," I say as I scribble it on the back of the receipt, then pause, looking at her expectantly. "Call me."

"Leanne," she murmurs, taking the receipt back. "That's my name."

"See you around, Leanne." I grin, then wait for her to turn around and walk away before I close the door.

I lean against it, trying to catch my breath. I'm not nervous about giving her my number, though what if my dick really doesn't work anymore? Do I want to embarrass myself? And who the fuck am I trying to prove shit to? Malia or myself? Fuck.

Scrubbing a hand down my face, I take another deep breath before putting the food on the table. I ordered Ollie's favorites—chicken fried rice and shrimp Pad Thai—as well as my orange chicken and steamed rice. You know who I didn't get shit for? James fucking Murdock.

"Stop it, Jamie!" Oliver cackles, and my spine stiffens. "I'm fucking ticklish there!"

Oh, hell no.

I speed walk to Oliver's door, banging on it and hold my breath as I wait for him to open it. Sure enough, when he does, he's wearing nothing but low-slung sweats—no shirt on—and a massive grin on his face. It drops as soon as he sees me, but that's not what bothers me. No, it's the miles of bare skin, muscles , and ink. He has a full sleeve with intricate designs for which I'm sure he's responsible. I look down at the ring on his right hand—the one that matches my own—and my nostrils flare with the effort to not kill him. How can I hate and love looking at someone in equal measure?

"Yes?" Oliver asks me with a bored expression on his face. "Need something, or…?"

I smirk, but I don't look at him. No, I train my gaze on Jamie instead. "I got you your favorite food." Oliver clears his throat, and my eyes snap to his face. He looks confused.

"Why?"

"Because I figured it would be rude to get something for just myself?" Murdock's expression is one of amusement, but he's not going to be too amused when it's time for him to leave. I'm not fucking stupid. He wants Oliver's ass.

"Since when do you give a fuck about being rude to me?" Oliver's eyes are still narrowed on my face, and I roll mine. Fuck, why is he making this so hard?

"Can't you just be grateful?" I mumble, walking away.

Footsteps follow me to the kitchen, and Oliver grabs my arm and twists me around. I only know it's him because his little boyfriend would never touch me in this fucking lifetime. He knows I'd beat his ass.

"What, Oliver?" I snap, and he rears back like I slapped him. He hates how I say his name, so I keep doing it—even if I hate it too. He's never been Oliver, only ever Ollie. Or Blue— my Blue.

"Thanks," he says, staring at the food on the kitchen island. "You didn't have to."

I wanted to.

James needs to get the fuck out.

"I know." I smirk. "Now tell your boyfriend to get out so we can eat."

James chooses that moment to clear his throat, and Ollie peers back at him. They seem to share this unspoken conversation that makes my blood boil. I look back and forth between them. "He's staying," Ollie says, shattering my composure.

"He needs to leave," I growl, and James chuckles. I twist toward him, about to rip him a new one, when Oliver jumps in front of him with his hands up in surrender. "I haven't approved of him as a guest. You can't just bring whoever you want here. This is my place."

This time, Oliver laughs, throwing his head back until it meets Murdock's shoulder. Then he wraps an arm around Ollie's bare chest. Fuck, I'm going to kill him. "This is our place now, Hunt." He smirks. "And I will bring my little boyfriend if I want."

My nostrils flare, and my fists tighten at my sides. I'm about to turn around and say fuck it, but then Jamie's hand finds Oliver's chest and he squeezes once.

I. See. Red.

"What the fuck—" I growl, but Murdock is just smirking.

He takes a step back, presses a soft kiss to Ollie's temple, and whispers in his ear. I can't make out what he says, except whatever it is makes Oliver grin and shake his head. I think seeing him smile at the expense of the cocky little asshole pisses me off more than anything.

"Bye, babe," James says, blowing a kiss to Oliver. My Oliver. "See ya tomorrow."

An awkward silence descends over the apartment as soon as Murdock shuts the door on his way out, and it takes me about thirty seconds to make a life-altering decision.

Why the fuck am I like this ?

But I can't let this happen.

James fucking Murdock can't take Oliver away from me. He can't. Especially ‘cause that's not the Ollie I know. The Ollie I know doesn't lock himself in his room with a stranger and laugh with him. No—the Ollie I know only does that with me . He's not willing to share his favorite food with a stranger. He's not willing to sketch him. No, my Ollie doesn't do those things with anyone except me.

So who the fuck is this guy standing across from me, staring at me with wide eyes?

"Are you in love with him?" I blurt, unable to stop myself. Is he going to take him away from me? Am I going to let him? "Is that what this is?"

" In love? " Ollie laughs. "I just met him five minutes ago, Hunter!" It's my turn to flinch at the way he spits out my name with disdain. "And you have no fucking right—you hear me? I can be with whoever the hell I want."

"The fuck you can," I growl, closing the distance between us. I grab him by his arm and turn him around, slamming his upper body onto the marble countertop of our kitchen island and pressing my hardening cock against his ass. "I have every right." You're mine.

Ollie chuckles, pressing back when he feels my cock twitch. "You have a really fucked up way of telling someone you hate them." I breathe in deeply and hook my thumbs into his sweats. He's not wearing any underwear. Fuck . "Because, right now? I don't believe you hate me at all."

"Believe what you want." Just let me have this. "I don't actually fucking care."

"Are you waiting for my permission?" Oliver asks me as I rest my thumbs against his hips. "Because you're not gonna get it."

"I don't need your permission to take what's mine," I growl, as his sweats hit the ground.

Surprising me, Oliver steps out of them and kicks them away, then rests his whole upper body over the island. He's staying still just for me, giving me what I want. And even though he just said he's not giving me permission—he doesn't have to say it. His body language is enough.

One of my hands descends on Ollie's ass, smacking it hard until my palm stings. He sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out roughly. "Such a fucking brat, Ollie." He whimpers when I say his name. Fucking whimpers for me . And my cock grows stiffer. "Are you gonna give me what I want?"

"What do you want?" he whispers.

You.

Rather than replying, I spread his ass cheeks and look at his tight little hole. "Did you get all pretty for me, baby?" I breathe, tracing his rim with my fingers. He's groomed to perfection, not one hair in sight.

"Don't be flattered." Ollie chuckles. "It's not for you."

Smack .

My hand lands on his ass once more. "Who the fuck for?"

" Me ."

Good answer. "You look so fucking pretty," I say softly, then spit on his ass. "Fuck, I want to be in this ass so bad."

"Stop playing games with me, Hunter," Ollie growls, bucking his hips.

"Who said I'm playing?" I smile and spit on his hole again, then nudge it with two of my fingers. "Relax for me."

I feel Oliver relax against my fingers, and even though they're not lubed up, he takes them. For me. Because he wants to please me. And, let's be honest, he likes the pain a little bit.

My cock leaks in my own sweats as I bury my fingers up to the knuckle, feeling his tight heat envelop me. Fuck, I wish it was my dick. I guess it's not broken after all, if the raging boner I'm sporting is any indication. Plus, it hurts . So I do the only logical thing—I push my pants down and wrap my hand around my cock, tugging it sluggishly as I begin to finger Ollie's hole.

Ollie's ass clenches around my fingers as I thrust in and out, and I feel around for his prostate. When I finally find it, I'm rewarded with the most guttural groan I've ever heard, making my dick jump in my hand.

"Oh, fuck." Ollie moans as I keep hitting the same spot. "Fuck, fuck, fuck ."

My hand speeds up around my cock, and I chase the high, the euphoria, as I watch my fingers thrust in and out of his hole. I know it has to hurt a little considering I only used spit, but you'd never think it from how he's pushing back and fucking my fingers himself. "You like it when it hurts, baby? When I hurt you?"

"Yes," he moans, and more pre-cum leaks from me. " Harder ."

I oblige him, thrusting harder, pushing up on his prostate, and I feel his ass begin to flutter around my fingers. Only I don't want him to come, so I pull out completely, then jack my length faster.

A shiver runs down my spine as I brush the head of my cock against his hole, pushing it in just slightly, and the way his heat wraps around me so snugly has my hips stuttering. I pull back just an inch and come all over him, his back—his hole.

"I'm coming," I groan. "F- fuck ."

Rubbing it in, I'm transfixed at the way I want to thrust my fingers back in, so I do. They're finally so fucking wet they slide right in, and he moans for me again. "This is mine," I murmur, rubbing my cum over his tight little hole as I pull my fingers out. "Only I get to fuck this."

"What the fuck— Hunter ."

"What, Ollie boy?" I ask him with a grin, my hand smearing my cum all over his back and ass.

"Make me come," he growls, pushing his ass back against me.

I think about it for a second—but only one—before I make my final decision. "Brats don't get to come."

"Fuck off, then." I take a step back as Oliver gathers his sweats from the floor and leaves the room, stomping away with a pissed-off air about him.

"You're not allowed to touch yourself!" I yell after him with a smile on my face because, goddamn, this is the most alive I've felt since I last touched him.

And hours later, even though I told him not to—even though I know he's a fucking brat who's going to do whatever he wants, and I should be pissed about it…I still lie down in my bed and listen to him make himself come.