Chapter Nineteen

Damn Headless Dickpig Ass

Dan

I was always, unsurprisingly, in a great mood the morning after I'd had some sex, but for some reason I was feeling extra chipper when I got into work on Tuesday.

It must've been obvious, because when I sauntered into the backstage area and Vince looked up from the couch where he was wolfing down oatmeal, he huffed in amusement around his mouthful.

"Someone got some last night."

I shrugged with a tiny grin as I made my way to the counter. It had only been some light frotting—pretty tame on the grand scale of things—but I'd enjoyed it immensely.

Rafe was hot. He'd turned into such a needy little thing on top of me, just like I'd hoped he would. And that long, pierced tongue… Shit. I adjusted my cock in my loose shorts as it twitched. I wanted to feel that tongue sliding over my dick while he gazed up at me with those big green eyes.

Maybe he'd be up for another friendly social call from his neighbour sometime soon. I damn sure hoped so.

There weren't too many people I fooled around with more than once, but I wouldn't mind getting naked with Rafe a few more times. Fully naked, not just shoving our pants down far enough to free our dicks.

I wanted to see him bouncing on my cock with the same frantic desperation he'd been filled with last night. Shit, just imagining it was getting me going.

"So who was it?" Vince stood from the couch and wandered over with his bowl as I made a protein shake.

I grinned to myself. Oh, just our grumpy new IT guy. Spent a bit of time last night with his sexy long tongue trying to fuck my throat.

"Just someone I met at the grocery store," I told Vince casually, and he snorted and shoved my side.

"You're such a dog."

I smirked. I was—unapologetically so. I just liked fucking, and I wasn't interested in anything more than that. I loved my life exactly how it was.

I wasn't an asshole about it to the people I hooked up with though. I liked to think I was pretty clear that I was just interested in having some fun, and nothing else was going to come of it.

And I was definitely interested in having some more fun with my surly ghoul neighbour.

I hadn't noticed that Crossbody was in the room, but he suddenly appeared at the sink, tossing back his long hair.

"You really picked someone up at the grocery store yesterday and took them home," he said flatly as he filled his water bottle. "So your standards are… what, they can afford to buy groceries?"

I rolled my eyes. He was such a pompous ass. "Guess so," I said lightly.

When he scoffed and parted his lips to speak, I hit the button on the blender to drown out whatever snooty remark he was going to make. His mouth snapped shut again, nostrils flaring.

"C'mon Crossbody, don't be jealous of Dan just because people actually want to fuck him," Vince drawled when I turned off the blender, leaning his hip on the counter and crossing his arms. He snorted. "Besides, you'll have to have the gigantic stick up your ass surgically removed if you want anyone to fuck you ."

Crossbody's jaw clenched. He shot Vince a seething look before turning and stalking away.

I sighed, screwing the lid onto my beaker. "You shouldn't rise to it, man."

Vince shrugged stiffly. "He's a monumental prick. Someone needs to remind him often that he's not any better than the rest of us or he'll end up even more unbearable."

"Just ignore him. He tries to rile you up the most because you react to it. He's just a troll."

Vince snorted, mouth twisting into a grim smile. "Bet he'd fucking hate to hear you call him that, seeing as he thinks trolls and literally everybody else are beneath him. Except maybe Corey."

I grunted in agreement, chugging my shake.

"I mean, he's been here years and he still forces us all to call him by his stage name?" Vince continued incredulously, his lip curling as he looked over at Crossbody, who now had earbuds in his ears as he tied his hair up into a ponytail by the treadmill, getting ready for a run. "Like we're so far beneath him that we're not even allowed to use his real name?"

I shrugged, not really caring enough to have my own opinion. "Don't think I know what his real name is."

"Me neither." Vince's frame had stiffened as he scowled at the royal fae. "Don't think any of us do. He's such an arrogant asshole."

I eyed my friend oddly. "You're getting real worked up about it, bud."

He shrugged jerkily and turned his back on Crossbody, then rubbed his neck. "Just feels like he's been getting worse recently. I don't know." Sighing, he cracked his neck and shook out his hands. "Maybe I just need to get laid. Been a while."

"Probably."

Vince had a lot of restless energy all the time, and I knew he was pretty dominant and somewhat aggressive when it came to sex. We'd never fucked—I'd been honest with Rafe about that—because we just weren't attracted to each other, but I was pretty sure we wouldn't mesh too well in bed if we ever did attempt it. His tastes veered a little darker than mine.

At the reminder that Rafe had gotten all drunkenly surly the other night over my supposed foursome with my fellow wrestlers, my mouth quirked.

I wonder if he might be up for having a little fun in the office.

That could be pretty hot. Maybe he could keep my head under his desk for a while, using my mouth as a cock sleeve for a nice, slow blowjob while he worked.

My nuts tingled. Well, that was my plan for the morning sorted. Just as I was about to make an excuse to Vince and start heading for Rafe's office, the doors to the backstage area opened.

"Alright, ladies," Hogbody, our pig shifter wrestling coach, barked as he shuffled into the room, cigar already clamped between his stubby teeth. "Holt has sent over the line-up for this weekend. I want the dullahan and the moth in the ring in the next ten seconds."

As Kit lazily flew down from the pipes in the ceiling, yawning and scratching their chest, Val piped up from the rowing machine in the gym area.

"We talked about the sexist name-calling, Boris," she called flatly.

Hogbody grunted, not even looking up from his clipboard. "I say it with affection, Val."

"We have all asked you to stop." Kenneth looked up from his book on the couch, his brow rising sternly over his monocle.

Hogbody let out an impatient snort. "It doesn't even mean nothin'. It's just a word."

Heidi stood from the bench and strode closer until she was looming over him. Her huge biceps flexed as she placed her hands on her hips. "It implies that women are weaker and is therefore an insult. Want to get in the ring with me and see how true that is, coach?"

Hogbody seemed to be getting a little flustered, because he snorted again, puffing smoke from his big flat nostrils. "Enough of this malarkey. You," he barked, pointing a stubby finger at me, "cowboy. In the fucking ring. Now."

"I dunno," I drawled, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "Maybe you should do some practice with Heidi first, coach."

She grinned wide, staring down at him as she cracked her knuckles menacingly.

Hogbody let out a series of irritated snorts before eventually spluttering, "So none of you maggots want to do your damn jobs today? Should I go tell Holt that this weekend is going to be a fucking flop because his bratty-ass wrestlers are acting like a bunch of little gi—" He stopped, his pink pig face paling as he shot Heidi a wary glance.

"A bunch of little what?" she asked, the hint of a threat in her voice.

"Babies," he quickly amended. "Like a bunch of snivelling little babies."

Kenneth sighed and removed his monocle as he looked up again. "I don't really feel that any insulting names are necessary, Coach Boris. It isn't the most effective way to motivate us, nor is it needed. We're all already motivated to perform well."

"Yeah," Kit piped up, nodding eagerly as they bounced on one of the training ring's ropes. "What Kenny said."

"You wouldn't like it if we started throwing ‘dickpig' around as an insult," Vince added, then snickered and nudged my arm. "Even though Ewen here definitely is one."

I smirked. "It's what your dad calls me, anyway."

Vince cackled and slung his arm around my neck to get me in a headlock. "Fucker."

Hogbody grunted. "Don't know what that fuckin' means, and I don't give a shit. Moth, stop fucking around on the ropes. Dullahan, get your damn headless dickpig ass in the ring. We got a show to train for."

—

A couple of hours later, I made my way to the other end of the building, intent on seeing if my prickly neighbour would be interested in fooling around a little in his office. I was pretty sweaty from practising with Kit—Hogbody always pushed us extra hard—but I didn't care.

Maybe Rafe will like it , I thought with a dirty grin as I rounded the corner.

Seb wasn't standing outside the door to Holt's office like he always used to. Since he and Larkin had got together, we rarely saw them apart, so he was probably sitting inside with him. He was definitely a loyal, protective wolf when it came to the hyperactive fae.

It was cute. I'd probably hate it, personally, but each to their own.

I turned down the other corridor and beelined for the door Rafe had vanished through the last time I was here. Behind a door opposite that had a plaque with Taylor's name on it, I could hear the human typing away on his computer. He paused a split second before I heard the distinct sound of a squeaky fart, followed by a relieved sigh.

I pursed my lips and suppressed a snort, gently rapping my knuckles on Rafe's office door. After a few seconds, I heard him say, "Come in," in a distracted voice.

I opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind me so Taylor wouldn't hear anything. When I looked at Rafe, he was frowning at his monitor, a pair of black-framed glasses on his face.

Damn, that was doing it for me. Hadn't known he wore glasses.

"Hey there," I rasped, my cock already twitching at the thought of sucking him off under his desk while he was wearing those sexy glasses.

His head jerked up. He froze when he saw me, his body stiffening and expression growing a little tight and pinched. My brows twitched.

Kind of a weird response to seeing me after we'd had such a good time last night, but he was probably just in work mode. Preoccupied thinking about nerdy computer shit. Memory or RAM or whatever.

After glancing around to make sure Frank and Beans definitely weren't in here—it was unlikely, but I was on high alert around those two—I shifted into my true form and popped my head off my neck, tucking it under my arm.

"Didn't know you wore glasses, handsome." I smirked at him.

His lips pursed, thin fingers tightening on his mouse and making it click. Returning his attention almost dismissively to his screen, he flatly said, "I do when my eyes get tired."

"Right, right. Makes sense."

I would have hated to stare at a screen all fucking day, sitting on my ass alone in an office. I'd lose my damn mind.

When he didn't say anything else or look back up at me, I took a step closer to his desk. "Hair looks real good."

"Thanks," he said, voice just as flat as before, eyes still on his screen.

I held back a chuckle. Damn, someone was extra grumpy today. Was this how he usually acted after a nice frottage session followed by nutting in someone else's mouth? He really wasn't good at just letting himself enjoy the pleasurable moments in life, was he?

I'll just have to up the ante today , I thought slyly, running my gaze over his lithe body behind his desk. Make him blow his load even harder.

I could give him my headless head special—that was always a hit.

Maybe I could even sit myself down in that desk chair of his and have him bounce on my dick while he used my head as a cock sleeve. I'd have to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep him real quiet. I'd found out last night just how loud he got, and hearing his desperate moans and cries had made me come into my own mouth like a damn fountain.

Unfortunately, I'd have to table that idea for the time being. I highly doubted my uptight neighbour kept lube in his desk drawers. Taylor probably had some, but I didn't particularly want to enter the fart zone that was his office to ask.

Plus, it probably wasn't all that professional to ask the marketing manager for lube so I could fuck the IT guy in his office.

Headless head special it is, I thought, taking another step closer to the desk as I eyed Rafe hungrily. But maybe we can try the other thing at his place later.

Just as I parted my lips to proposition him, Rafe huffed and flicked his eyes over. "What do you want?" he asked tersely, glaring at me.

I stopped and blinked in surprise. Damn, that was… overly surly, even for him.

Was he still feeling rough from his hangover? Was he having an extra stressful workday? He didn't seem to be—he didn't appear frazzled or frantic. In fact, he'd gone back to calmly clicking his mouse and occasionally typing on his keyboard, effectively ignoring me.

I frowned, fidgeting with my head, for once not sure what to say.

I was kind of hurt, actually.

I'd thought we'd had a good time together yesterday. We'd hung out all afternoon. I'd dyed his hair for him. I'd sucked the cum right out of his dick.

I'd thought we were on our way to becoming friends, or at least friendlier neighbours, but apparently I wasn't even worth looking at if I wasn't busy making him come so hard that his fingertips left faint bruises on my shoulders. Bruises I'd noticed in the mirror this morning and grinned at.

Actually, I wasn't just hurt. I was fucking offended.

At the very least, he should have been angling for a repeat, right? I was damn fucking good in bed. I mean, we hadn't actually made it to a bed, but I'd still done some great work.

And I knew I'd blown his mind last night. He'd been all trembly and dazed, barely able to string a sentence together when I got up to head home once we were done.

I realised I hadn't answered his surly question, so I hesitantly parted my lips to speak, still not all that sure what to say now.

"Uh… I was just—"

"I'm busy," he said brusquely, making my mouth snap shut again.

Well now. That was just outright fucking rude.

I bristled, shoving my head back on my neck just so I was a little taller. It took a fair amount to work me up, but Rafe seemed determined to get my temper going today.

After I'd made him come last night and everything. What the hell?

"What's your problem?" I asked, my own voice growing terse.

Rafe huffed out a sardonic little laugh. "I don't have a problem. What's yours?"

"I don't have one either," I said, getting a little confused.

"So why are you in my office?" he asked flatly.

"Uh…" Again, I didn't really know what to say. I looked around in confusion, wondering why we were griping at each other when we'd finally started getting along pretty well yesterday.

I'd practically deepthroated his tongue at one point, but apparently I wasn't even worthy of a quick chat in his fucking office?

Ignoring the ember of hurt still flaring in my chest, I let out a hard bark of laughter. "Damn, kitten," I began, my voice a little curt, "you sure are—"

"Don't call me that." His jaw clenched.

I squared my shoulders and glared at him. "Didn't seem to mind me calling you that last night, when you were—"

A knock at the door abruptly cut me off. I ground my teeth as I looked back and saw Taylor popping his head inside. He blinked in surprise at the sight of me.

"Oh, hey, Dan." When he looked at Rafe, he blinked again. "Wow, cool hair, Rafe. Very snazzy."

Despite my irritation, my mouth twitched into a smile. Taylor was such a dork.

Rafe was staring at him blankly, like his brain hadn't caught up yet, before he finally gave him at tight smile. He was breathing a little fast, and his eyes flicked briefly to me. "Hi. Thanks."

"Ready for our catch-up?" Taylor asked brightly, then gave me an uncertain look. "If you're busy—"

"Not busy." Rafe offered Taylor a more genuine smile and gestured at the chair in front of his desk. He didn't even acknowledge me still standing there.

"Uh… I guess I'll go?" It came out as a question, because I was a little bewildered by what had just happened and how off Rafe was being, even for him.

Maybe I didn't blow his mind as well as I thought I did , I found myself thinking as I stared at him, feeling strangely and uncomfortably vulnerable for the first time in goddamn years.

"So, have you seen the line-up for this weekend?" Taylor asked me chirpily. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, expression a little concerned but mostly intrigued as his eyes bounced between me and Rafe.

I got the distinct sense that sweet, unassuming Taylor was a little bit of a gossip hound.

"Seems like a good one," he continued cheerfully. "I'm excited to see you go up against Kit. Don't get that pairing often."

"Should be fun." I composed myself and flashed him my charming grin, then started walking slowly to the door. "Well, uh… see you later. Bye, Rafe."

"Yep. Bye." He still wasn't looking at me.

A frown creased my forehead as I stepped into the corridor and shut the door behind me. I stood there for a few seconds, then looked down at myself.

Maybe I wasn't looking so hot right now? I was pretty sweaty from training. But I thought I looked damn good all sweaty—I looked especially good naked and sweaty—and after a workout my muscles were always extra pumped and rock hard.

Nah, it wasn't about how I looked. Rafe was being weird and extra grumpy for some other reason, despite our fun evening together.

What the absolute fuck?