6. Sebastian

6

SEBASTIAN

Tipping my face up, I relaxed against the tree I was leaning on. A soft breeze moved over my skin, rustling the leaves just enough I could hear them over the muted sounds of the party filtering through the trees.

Why had I even come tonight?

Ben and I were good friends, but I hadn't really kept in touch with anyone else in town after grad. I was still friends with Ezra, who was Jesse's best friend, because of course he was, but he and Ben were pretty much it.

I shouldn't have come. I'd known exactly what would happen, because it was the same thing that happened every time I came back for a visit.

Maybe I'd hoped things would be different because I was back for good?

I was used to people being curious about life on the road and used to the invasive questions people had no trouble asking when you lived in the public eye.

Usually I could shrug them off and deflect enough of them that they'd either come to their own conclusions and leave it alone, or they'd get bored when they didn't get the info they wanted and move on to something else.

Tonight hadn't been any worse than usual, but after dealing with this bullshit all week at the shop, I stupidly thought I'd get a break if I was among people who knew me. Or at least used to know me.

I didn't mind the requests for autographs or selfies. I preferred people didn't come to the shop and bug me at work, but I understood why they did. And Ben did too, thank fuck. Otherwise I'd be out of a job and wouldn't be able to continue my apprenticeship.

But the constant intrusions into my personal life were the exact reason I'd kept my sexuality a secret all these years. And why I'd done my damnedest to keep my private life private while in the industry.

Being out would have put a target on my back. Not necessarily a bad one, but my entire public persona would have been overshadowed by the fact that I liked dick. Every male musician or vocalist I worked with or had any sort of professional relationship with, or was even just friends with, would have to deal with the "are they, aren't they" questions in the media, and I would've had to constantly field questions about who I was fucking instead of talking about my music.

And as much as the music industry was progressive, there were enough people in the biz and the fandoms who weren't. Metal was getting better when it came to inclusivity, but it was way behind a lot of genres in being accepting of LGBT+ people.

I'd hoped that being back home and out of the spotlight would mean I could shed all that cloak-and-dagger mystery bullshit and be open about who I was. Or at least stop actively keeping it a secret.

And it wasn't like I was looking for a boyfriend or to walk in the Pride parade. I just wanted to be able to go to a club or find a one-night stand without having to worry about who might find out or if whoever I hooked up with would talk to the press about me.

I wasn't so arrogant to think that anyone really gave a shit about me now that my band had broken up and I'd announced my retirement, but there were still a few publications that would pay for proof of me being queer because outing people sold papers, or whatever the digital equivalent was called.

It was too soon. I needed to wait until the ink was dry on our dissolution documents and wait for people to forget about me. It shouldn't take too long, six months to a year, and I'd be nothing more than a footnote in the annals of music history.

Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath and held it. I'd been in a mood for over a week now, and I couldn't shake it.

I should have told Ben I had plans tonight and bailed. Sitting in my apartment alone, or being up at the cabin by myself, was preferable to the shit I had to deal with when I was out among people.

A snapping twig and the crunch of shifting rocks caught my attention. Cracking one eye open, I scanned my immediate vicinity.

Another snapping twig, then the sound of a rock skittering over something hollow, rang out. A moment later, Jesse stepped out from between two huge trees.

"You suck at sneaking up on people."

"What if I wasn't trying to sneak up on you?" He leaned against one of the trees.

"What do you want?"

It was nearly a full moon, so even with no light sources, I could still make out Jesse's features as he studied me.

"Why are you out here and not enjoying the party?" he asked.

"Why aren't you?"

"Because I'm here checking on you."

"Well, you checked. I'm good. You can go back to your admirers."

He let out a bark of laughter that was so loud it made me jump.

"What?" I grumbled, hating that he'd startled me.

"My admirers?" His grin was wide but still mocking. "I wasn't the one holding court like a royal."

"Holding court like a royal?" The corner of my mouth tilted up in an involuntary smile. "You've been talking to Ben, I take it?"

He chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning more heavily against the tree. "Are you waiting for someone?"

The glimmer of a good mood faded at his question. "No."

"No?" He kicked at something on the ground in front of him. "Not Ally or McKenna?"

"No." I turned my face from his and stared into the darkness.

"What was that venue like?" he asked after a long silence.

"Venue?" I slid my gaze back to him.

"The one in the old opera house."

"You want to hear about it?" What was his angle?

He shrugged. "Why not? It sounds interesting."

"Interesting? Never took you for an architecture fan."

"My dad is a Realtor, and my stepdad is a contractor who would have been an architect if college had been an option for him. And my older brother owns a contracting business and literally builds houses for a living. We talk about buildings a lot in my family."

"The only buildings my family talks about are investment properties." I settled against the tree, my hackles going back down.

For whatever reason, Jesse didn't seem like he was here to antagonize me.

I had no fucking clue why he was here or was asking about the venue, but I could play nice if he was.

"We only played there once, and it was a last-minute booking. I found it by accident while I was wandering around after learning that our original venue had to cancel because of a plumbing issue." I paused, trying to gauge if Jesse was listening or even interested. No point talking if I was just telling myself this story.

"What made you go in?"

"Someone came out just as I was walking by, and I could hear the music they were playing through the open door." I flicked my gaze to his. "It was one of our songs. A B-side release I figured no one except hardcore fans would have ever heard of, let alone play in a bar. So I went in."

His stare was intense, but not in a judging or "hurry the fuck up with your yapping" kind of way. I didn't know what to do with that look, so I shifted my gaze upward and focused on the stars.

"I didn't even have to introduce myself to the bartender. He recognized me right away. I don't speak a lot of French, just enough to get by, but I mentioned that we had a free night, and I could bring the band by if he wanted to meet everyone. An hour later, me and our manager were in the owner's office signing a contract to play a show that night."

"How does that work, bookings and tours?" he asked. "How do you decide where to go or where to play?"

"Depends on the type of tour, but back then we were doing small venues. Bars, clubs, that sort of thing. We planned the tours around the bookings. If we could get enough interest in a city to make it worthwhile to go, we'd add it to our tour."

"What do you mean, make it worthwhile to go?"

I rubbed my thumb and first two fingers together in the international sign for money. "We had to make enough to cover our expenses, otherwise it was a no-go. With small venues, especially back then, we didn't get paid by the actual venue. We got a small cut of the bar and some of whatever cover they charged, but most of the money came from merch sales. Thank fuck metalheads love their merch. It was the only reason we were able to spend so much time on the road when we were starting out."

"Did you ever not make your money back on tour?"

I nodded, then added a "Yup," since it was dark and I had no idea if he'd seen it. "We usually broke even when it was all said and done, especially those first few years, but it's the same in any royalties or performance-based industry. Some shows we made bank, others we went deep into the red."

Some of the tightness in my chest lifted when he made a thoughtful sound like he was actually listening to me.

This was the part of my job I enjoyed talking about. The venues, the logistics, even how shitty touring could be. Anything except my sex life or the party scene.

"So, the venue," he prompted.

"Right." I shook my head to get back on track. "The building was incredible. Old and Gothic. That stereotypical European look you don't see anywhere else. The opera house was built in the Middle Ages. I forget how old it was exactly, but it had the most incredible vibe. You could feel the history when you stepped inside. The bar was in the basement, and it reminded me of a medieval tavern."

"Yeah?" he asked. "Like how?"

"The whole building was like a castle. Old stone, lots of wood accents. Even the lighting was done so it looked like the place was full of candelabras and torches and didn't run on modern electricity."

"Okay, that sounds awesome."

"It was. I loved everything about it. And it was our first acoustic show."

That show had been one of the best on the tour. The crowd was amazing, and we spent over two hours doing unplugged versions of our songs and taking requests from the audience to do covers of some of their favorites. It hadn't felt like a show, not really, more like a jam session we'd opened up to our fans.

"How does a metal band do an acoustic show?"

"By not using our amps." I smirked at him.

"I got that much, genius." I could hear the eye roll in his voice. "I just meant it doesn't seem like your type of music would work without all the noise and screaming."

I chuckled. "Tell me you haven't listened to any of my songs without telling me you don't listen to my songs."

"Am I wrong?"

"Little bit." I kicked at one of the tree roots where it stuck up out of the ground. "You think metal is just screaming and noise?"

"Isn't it? I mean, I know Ez and Ben listen to other types that don't make my ears bleed, but that's the shit you were doing in high school."

"High school was a long time ago. Different band, different sound." I didn't bother explaining how heavy metal was a blanket term and had dozens of subgenres. It wasn't just what people pictured when they heard the term heavy metal.

"So why are you out here and not regaling the crowd with your stories?" he asked.

"Because they want to hear stories about things I'd rather not talk about."

"You're saying you don't like the attention and having everyone fawn over you?" he asked incredulously.

"Nope." I popped the P and flicked my gaze to him to see his reaction.

Predictably, he scoffed. "Liar."

"You think?" I asked tiredly.

"I know. You were always an attention whore."

"Or was I really good at faking it?"

His silence said he wasn't expecting that answer.

"You faked it?" he asked quietly.

"Mmmmhmmm." I scuffed the toe of my sneaker against a patch of dirt next to the root I'd been poking at. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not an extrovert. I don't really like being the center of attention, not when I'm not performing."

"You're not an introvert, no fucking way."

"Never said I was. I'm an ambivert. That's why I'm here, in the woods, instead of out there being a royal, or whatever you said. People are exhausting. I can fake it, but only for so long."

Even in the dark, I could see that he was studying me.

"Why are you out here?" I asked. "You're definitely an extrovert. Get mad that everyone was ignoring you and paying attention to me?"

"You wish." He huffed out a laugh. "I thought…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?" I repeated. "What did you think?"

"That maybe you were…"

"That I was what?" I snapped, his evasiveness dampening the neutral mood I'd fallen into. "Shooting up? Doing a line?"

"Jesus, no." He sounded genuinely shocked. "I thought you were meeting someone."

"So you wanted to watch?" Some of the anger left my voice, as did some of my defensiveness.

Another fun part of being a musician was that a lot of people assumed I was into drugs. I liked weed and had indulged in MDMA when I first started in the industry, but I'd never messed with anything else. I'd seen too many lives destroyed—or ended—by drugs to ever let myself get caught up in them.

"Don't flatter yourself." His tone was mean as he pushed off the tree and stood straight.

I did the same, my entire body going taut as a weird sort of energy filled me. It wasn't restlessness or excitement, not exactly. More like anticipation, maybe?

"You saying you don't find me hot?" I said incredulously.

"Fuck off."

"You wound me." I put both hands over my heart. "However will I live knowing you think I'm repugnant?" I dropped my hands. "But not too repugnant. Your dick proved that the other day."

Why had I brought that up?

The last thing I needed was to think about that right now. I'd spent the last week thinking of little else.

Jesse made a sound that could have been a growl, but not quite, and took a step closer to me. "My dick wasn't the only one proving things." He took another step. "You kissed me."

"You kissed me back."

Awesome. Even I could hear how childish I sounded.

"I did." He took another step. Now only about two feet separated us. "But I didn't start it. You did."

"It was a lapse," I shot back. "A mistake. My dick got confused because you unlocked my fighting kink. That's it."

"Is it?" He closed the distance between us, stopping when his toes were nearly touching mine, and our chests were close enough to bump if I'd taken a deep breath.

"Yes." I squared my shoulders, bringing myself up to my full height so I could look him dead in the eyes. "It had nothing to do with you. You just happened to be there."

His jaw worked as he gritted his teeth. "Next you're going to tell me you'd have done the same thing with anyone you found yourself rolling around the woods with?"

"Probably not."

Confusion flashed in his eyes.

Even in the dark, I could clearly see the outline of his features, all the way down to the sprinkling of stubble on his perfect jawline and the little scar above his left eyebrow. He smelled like something earthy and a little spicy, with just a hint of the beer he'd been drinking.

"I doubt anyone else would have pissed me off enough to make me start a fight with them. You bring out the worst in me."

"Hard same." He dragged his tongue over his bottom lip.

I tracked the move, my body tightening for a whole different reason.

Fuck. I was attracted to Jesse.

It seemed stupid to only realize that now, but for the past week, I'd been telling myself that whatever happened between us was because of the circumstances. That it had been inevitable after so many years of animosity between us.

But that didn't explain why I was getting hard just from having him so close now. Why his scent was affecting me as much as the flare of anger in his eyes.

Or maybe it was his anger I was attracted to and it had nothing to do with him?

That fight or wrestling match or whatever the fuck it was had been on my mind all week, and I couldn't shake it.

I thought about it at work when I was doing mundane things like chores or paperwork, but the worst was at night.

That's when I'd relive the encounter in vivid detail, and I'd be left with a raging boner that wouldn't go away unless I took care of it.

I hated that I'd jerked off to thoughts of Jesse, and all that anger hit at once, dark and wild and so exhilarating I couldn't stop the smile that split my lips.

"What?" he demanded.

"What?" I asked innocently.

"What's funny?"

"Absolutely nothing." I kept grinning at him. I probably looked deranged, but it was either this or glare. And this would piss him off more. "Except…"

"Except what?" He puffed out his chest, the material of his shirt brushing mine.

"Except whatever you've got going on now."

"Excuse me?" he asked, his voice dripping with derision.

"This growly angry version of you. It's fun watching your robot facade crack open and see you act like an actual human."

"My robot facade? What does that even mean?"

"The mask you wear around everyone."

"I don't wear masks."

"Not literally, dumbass."

His glare intensified and his breathing picked up.

"We all wear masks. Every moment of every day, we decide what we're going to show people, and we put on the mask we want them to see."

Something flickered in his gaze. Not anger, not really. More like vulnerability. But that couldn't be right.

"Everyone thinks you're this calm and collected guy. The voice of reason and the hero we need," I continued.

That flicker was replaced by anger. Adrenaline poured into my system as his breathing went a bit ragged.

I could feel his control slipping, and instead of shutting the fuck up and telling him to leave me alone, I kept going.

I needed his anger like I needed air. Needed to watch him snap and know that I'd been the one to make him lose control.

"But I know the truth."

"And what's the truth?" he practically snarled at me.

Oh yeah. He was close.

I could see it in how he kept balling his fists and shifting his weight from foot to foot. How his jaw cracked as he gritted his teeth, coupled with the death glare he was leveling at me.

Fuck yeah.

This was what I needed. It was messed up and didn't make any sense, but arguing with Jesse was the most alive I'd felt in a long time.

"That you pretend like you have your shit together and you're this perfect robot who feels nothing, but you're not. You're messy and imperfect and a little unhinged, just like me. You feel everything, but you pretend like you're above things like emotions because you think it makes you better than the rest of us."

"Shut up." His voice was low and even, his glare so intense I couldn't look away.

"No." I leaned the slightest bit closer. "And you're not better than me."

His eyes flared with something that didn't just look like rage.

"You're just better at pretending you are."

"Stop. Talking," he ground out, his voice as rough as sandpaper and his chest shaking.

"Why? Can't handle the truth?"

"You think you know so much about me?" he practically spat out. "You don't. You only know what I show you."

I laughed, the sound mocking and mean. "Sure, keep telling yourself that."

"At least I'm not like you." His hot breath fanned over my face as he shifted even closer. "I can control myself."

"Really?" I tilted my head so our lips were only inches apart. "I don't remember you controlling yourself when you were practically humping me in front of my cabin. When you had your tongue jammed down my throat. When you whimpered for me."

"Shut. Up."

"Make me."

I didn't know what I expected him to do, but shoving me into the tree and sealing his mouth over mine in a rough and dirty kiss hadn't been it.

The suddenness of the move took me by surprise, and the breath left my lungs as my back slammed into the tree.

The pain mixed and mingled with arousal, morphing into something incredible and addictive as Jesse pressed me against the rough bark and kissed the shit out of me, his thigh between my legs and his hand tangled in my hair.

My mind went utterly blank, adrenaline and lust taking over the last of my faculties.

On instinct, I kissed him back, biting his lips and clawing at his big body as we fought for control. He tightened his grip on my hair, holding my head in place, and bit my lip hard enough that the tang of copper filled my senses.

Instead of snapping me out of whatever had taken hold of me, the pain and taste of blood only inflamed my need to not just consume him, but to be consumed.

I grabbed at the back of his shirt, yanking and pulling on the soft material as he ravaged my mouth with bruising kisses.

I'd never kissed someone like this, never felt this kind of insatiable need. Thank fuck he seemed to feel it too, otherwise that would be one more thing he could hold over my head.

Most of my hookups had been lukewarm at best. I got off, they got off, but that was about it. Even the few casual arrangements I'd been in had more of a "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" vibe. No real passion, just mutual attraction and orgasms.

This was different. Wild and untamed and downright addictive.

He shifted his thigh, trying to force me to ride it. I pushed my hips out and dragged my dick against his. We were both as hard as steel, and stars exploded in my vision as I did it again.

He gasped into my mouth. I swallowed the sound and shoved my hands under his shirt, clawing at his back and scraping my nails over his skin hard enough I knew I was leaving marks.

He moaned and jammed his cock against mine, not quite frotting and not quite humping me. More like he was trying to punch me right through the tree.

Wanting more of his pleasure sounds, I sucked on his tongue and squeezed his ass through his jeans, the hard flesh feeling way too good in my hands.

He tore his lips from mine with another low moan that sent my nerves on edge and rained wet, open-mouthed kisses over my jaw, then down my throat.

My head was spinning, my brain barely registering that dozens of our high school acquaintances were less than a hundred feet away and anyone could hear or see us out in the open like this.

He fit his mouth over my neck and sucked hard. Heat bloomed out from under my skin as he ground our cocks together and hitched one of my legs over his hip.

The groan I let out was laced with need and way too loud. I hated how good he felt, but I was powerless to stop the energy between us. It was like being swept away in an avalanche. All I could do was hang on and hope I didn't end up buried at the end.

"Fucking hell," I muttered and jammed my hand between us to palm his cock. "Why does this feel so good?"

He growled deep in his chest and pressed into my hand, lifting his head to stare at my neck, his gaze hungry and a little triumphant. "No fucking clue."

It was pointless to try and pretend like I wasn't turned on, but that didn't mean I was about to let him see how much I needed it. Needed him.

"You like marking me?" I drawled, squeezing his shaft through his jeans.

I should be pissed that he'd given me a hickey where anyone could see it, but my lizard brain loved that he'd gotten out of his head long enough to slip up and leave proof of his desire on me.

"Like claiming me?"

His eyes narrowed. "Just like seeing you fucked up."

"You wanna fight me again?" I taunted. "Maybe fuck me up some more?" I batted my eyelashes at him obnoxiously.

He shoved my hand off his dick and grabbed the front of my shirt. I stumbled as he stepped back, yanking me along with him.

I braced for…whatever was coming next, but he just let go of my shirt and stared at me, his expression unreadable.

Was that it?

We stared at each other for a few beats. His eyes were searching, like he was trying to find answers to whatever unanswered questions were in his head.

Before I could figure out what he was thinking, his hands were at my waistband, his nimble fingers undoing the button and yanking down the zipper.

"What are you— ungh. " My question was cut off with another embarrassingly loud moan when he slipped his hand into my underwear and gripped my cock. "Fuck." I bucked shamelessly into his hand.

He grinned and pulled my dick free.

"Tell me to stop." He gave me a long, hard stroke. "Tell me to back off."

"Fuck you."

"That's not a no." He looked between us. "You're so hard for me."

I dropped my gaze. Seeing his big, rough hand circling my dick was a mindfuck, but I couldn't deny that it felt good.

"Fuck you," I repeated, but the effect was ruined when my dick pulsed in his hand.

His low chuckle was both insanely hot and infuriating.

Fuck that. I wasn't about to let him get the upper hand.

With slightly clumsy fingers, I ripped his jeans open, struggling with the fly for a second as the metal teeth got caught in my haste.

When it was low enough, I pulled his cock free from his underwear and squeezed hard.

Jesus, he had a nice dick. Long and thick with a big, flared head and a vein along the shaft I wanted to run my tongue over. Several droplets of precum gathered on his tip. I used my thumb to spread them around his broad cockhead.

"Why is that so hot?" he whispered, sounding as confused as I felt.

Nothing about this should be hot. We didn't like each other, and this wasn't even about pleasure. Having Jesse's hand on my dick should have been an instant boner killer, yet all I could think about was how much I wanted to see him come.

To bring him to his knees, hopefully literally, as he gave in to his orgasm—and to me.

"No fucking clue," I repeated his earlier words and started jacking him, my strokes firm and rough.

He gasped and sped up his hand, matching my movements.

"But you like it," I taunted. The silence was weird, unnerving. It was better if I didn't have a chance to actually think about what I was doing.

"So do you." Jesse squeezed my cockhead until a pearl of precum appeared on my slit. "You love having my hand on you."

"And?" I tried to sound bored but failed miserably when the word turned into a gasp. "It's not like I'm the only one." To prove my point, I let go of his dick and yanked his pants and underwear down so they rested around his massive thighs.

He didn't stop me.

"You don't want to want this." I resumed stroking him and cupped his balls with my other hand. "But you do."

"Fuck," he half groaned, half grumbled, as he worked my pants and briefs down until they were under my ass. "Of course it had to be you."

My retort was cut off when he gripped my base with one hand and rubbed the palm of his other over my tip.

"Jesus!" Pain and electric pleasure exploded deep in my body, blending into an intoxicating mix that left me gasping.

His low chuckle didn't even piss me off this time. Not too much, at least.

"Looks like someone's a pain slut."

"You think?" I managed to keep my tone mocking and not sound like I was losing my mind from how good everything felt. "Move your hand a bit lower."

He shot me a curious look, some of the intensity fading from his expression, and slid his hand to my balls.

"Holy shit. Is that…" He ran his finger over the small ring through my hafada piercing.

The contact sent a little shiver of awareness through me, but I had no idea if that was because of the piercing or because it was Jesse.

Unlike most genital piercings, the hafada, which just meant it was in the center of my sack, right under my shaft, wasn't considered a functional piercing. It didn't really enhance sex or masturbation in a meaningful way.

But right then, with Jesse's finger pressing against it, it felt like there was a direct link between the ring and my ass. I clenched around nothing, barely stifling my whimper of pleasure at the surprise.

What the hell?

I'd had the piercing for years, and he wasn't the first person to touch it. I'd never had this kind of reaction before. Not even when I played with it while jerking off.

His eyes went molten. "You really are a freak."

"Takes one to know one," I said with no real bite. I'd long since accepted that I was different, and being called a freak didn't even register as an insult anymore. Not even from him.

"Does this feel good?" He resumed jerking me and rolled the ring back and forth.

My strangled cry was answer enough.

He chuckled again, but it was throaty and strained. "Does anyone else know about this?"

I started to shake my head but stopped. My thoughts were a little cloudy at the moment. Did he mean here, or in general? I didn't publicize it or anything, but anyone who'd seen my dick in the past three years knew it was there.

"Anyone in town?" he clarified, pushing his cock through my fist.

When had I stopped stroking him?

"No." I dropped my eyes to his cock and how it looked moving through my hand.

He was big, almost as big as me, and so damn hard his skin was flushed red. Precum glistened on his tip and shaft, and the neatly trimmed hair at his base only made him look bigger and harder.

Thank fuck I'd done some manscaping in the shower this morning, so I didn't look like a 70s porn star in comparison.

"No? What about everyone you've hooked up with?"

Between his expert hand on my dick, the way he was casually toying with my piercing, and the hot look he was giving me, my already scrambled brain was having trouble remembering that I was supposed to be making his eyes roll back in his head, not the other way around.

"What about them?" I didn't bother telling him I hadn't hooked up with anyone in town since before I left. I'd heard the rumors about my sexcapades over the years but never bothered to correct them. People were going to believe what they wanted, and acknowledging the rumors would just give them credibility and make it harder for people to forget about them.

"They didn't see it?" He quirked one eyebrow and dipped the tip of his finger into my slit.

Another spark of pain/pleasure lit me up from the inside. I retaliated by gently tugging on Jesse's balls and was rewarded with a low groan.

I shook my head, too damn close to use my words.

Something flared in his eyes. Something akin to possession, maybe ownership?

No. That was impossible. This wasn't about anything more than getting one up on each other. It didn't mean anything to him.

That thought was enough to shake me out of my stupor and clear some of my arousal so I could string two thoughts together.

Jesse didn't like me, and he definitely didn't want to own me or anything ridiculous like that. He wanted exactly what I wanted—to win this fucked-up game of chicken we'd started.

His mouth on mine nearly knocked me right back into my lust-induced haze, but I managed to keep hold of my senses as we matched each other's strokes, keeping time and working each other in tandem as we kissed, panting into each other's mouths and biting at each other's lips.

It felt insanely good, but I refused to give in and let the pleasure take over. He'd already gotten one up on me when I'd told him about my piercing. I wasn't about to let him do it again.

I'd told him to shock him, but that had epically backfired on me.

Time to win for real.

Letting go of Jesse's dick, I pushed his hands off mine and dropped to my knees.

A week ago I would have sworn I'd never get on my knees for Jesse, but right now, I wanted nothing more than to rock his world the way he could so easily rock mine.

Jesse's eyes were like liquid cobalt as he stared down at me, his plump lips parted and his cheeks pink with arousal.

His hair was a mess, his shirt twisted and stretched out, and his dick was so hard it was almost touching his washboard stomach.

I'd done that.

I'd messed up his perfectly coiffed exterior and cracked his ironclad control.

Giving him a chance to say no or push me away, I paused. Our gazes locked as time seemed to almost slow down around us.

When he didn't protest, I swallowed his length until he was pressing down my throat, his girth stretching my lips. Not giving him a chance to get used to it, I sucked hard and swallowed around his broad head.

"Holy fuck," he groaned, his thighs shaking.

I moved over him, rolling my tongue against his shaft as I hollowed my cheeks.

"Oh, Jesus. Fuck. Bas."

The sound of my nickname in his lust-drenched voice was unnerving and shook something loose inside me, but I ignored it and doubled my efforts.

I needed him to come like I needed my next breath.

He pressed his hand against my cheek, the touch gentle, then slid it into my hair. He gripped the strands hard but didn't pull or try to force me to move.

His cock pulsed against my tongue, and a strangled cry fell from his kiss-swollen lips.

My own cock hung heavy between my legs. Giving in to the moment and how good it felt to have Jesse in my mouth and at my mercy, I worked my dick, stroking myself in time with the blow job I was giving.

"Fuck, Bas." His head fell back, his neck muscles taut and his chest heaving. "I'm gonna…"

He shifted his hips back like he was trying to pull out of my mouth.

Fuck that.

I surged forward, keeping him in the back of my throat, and managed to use my tongue to lick the very top of his sac.

His hips bucked, driving his dick even deeper down my throat.

I didn't have a ton of experience with sucking dick, but I'd never had trouble controlling my gag reflex and stuck with him, pushing through it as my throat spasmed around his cockhead.

"Fuck!" Jesse bucked again, his other hand grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling hard enough to hurt.

Pain and tingles exploded on my scalp, radiating down my body and lighting me up from the inside.

I sped up my hand, jerking myself faster as I chased my orgasm and moaned around Jesse's length.

He shuddered, his back bowing, his hands still buried in my hair. His dick pulsed against my tongue, then he was shooting down my throat.

I had to pull back so I didn't choke as my own orgasm hit, exploding out of me in a burst of white-hot pleasure.

We stayed locked like that, each of us lost in our orgasm. I managed to swallow most of his load, but a little trickled down the side of my mouth when I pulled off him with a loud gasp.

I had good breath control thanks to my years of singing, but I still needed oxygen, especially after that orgasm.

"Cheater," Jesse said dazedly, rocking on his feet a bit.

Standing, I wiped the side of my mouth. "Cheater?"

"Your mouth." He shot me a look that was probably supposed to be irritated but looked a little goofy with the haze of his afterglow still circling us. "Wouldn't have come first if you didn't cheat." He blew out a breath and looked at my spent dick. "You don't need…"

"I'm good." I tucked my dick away and did up my pants. "Is it cheating, or is it being proactive and using the tools at my disposal?"

He blinked at me, then huffed out a little laugh. "That's a lot of words for someone who just had my dick in their mouth."

"That's a lot of words for someone who loved having their dick in my mouth," I said sweetly.

Seeing him out of sorts and a bit goofy from his orgasm wasn't the win I thought it would be. Not really. It felt too intimate. Like this was a side of each other we were never meant to see.

"You're the one who put it there." He busied himself with putting his dick away.

"You didn't tell me not to."

"Why would I tell you not to?" He arched his eyebrow at me suggestively, his hands stilling on his half-open pants. "Seeing you on your knees for me is a core memory."

I let out a little snort-laugh. "Yeah, well, being on my knees for you is one for me. Just not for the reason you think."

"And what reason is that?" He finished fixing his pants.

"Because I'll never forget how you looked when you shot down my throat. How much you loved it."

"Funny, because I'll never forget how you looked when you came as I shot down your throat. You liked it as much as me."

"Maybe," I conceded. "But you have a nice dick. Anyone would be happy to suck it."

He scrunched up his face for a second, then burst into laughter.

After a moment, I laughed too. My brain was still soup from my orgasm.

"You think I have a nice dick?"

"You don't?" I scooted back a few steps and leaned against the tree that was still behind me.

"I know I do. Just surprised to hear you admit it."

I shrugged. "Gotta give credit where credit is due."

"Yours is pretty nice too."

"I know." I smirked.

"The piercing was a choice. What possessed you to put a hole in your sac?" He raked one hand through his mussed hair.

I shrugged, not wanting to get into the story. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

He pinned me with a look, the last of his afterglow fading, at least that I could tell.

"What?" I asked, my defenses rising as my afterglow disappeared and reality set in.

Jesus Christ.

I'd sucked Jesse's dick. I'd willingly gotten on my knees for him.

I might have made him lose control and come first, but I'd still done it unprovoked.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Why did I always escalate things with him?

His gaze shifted to my neck, something dark flaring in his eyes as they fixed on the hickey he'd given me.

"Admiring your brand?"

His look shifted into a glare as he lifted his eyes. "This never happened."

"Agreed." I crossed my arms and leaned more heavily against the tree. "I'll give you a ten-minute head start."

"You're just going to hang out in the dark?"

"I was doing that before I was so rudely interrupted."

"I don't remember you complaining about my rudeness or the interruption a few minutes ago." He quirked his eyebrow suggestively.

"That's because I had your dick in my mouth and couldn't talk," I said lightly.

"Whatever." He looked down at his shirt, gently pulling the material away from his body to examine it. "I look like I got mauled by a yeti," he complained.

"And I look like a yeti got frisky with me." I pointed to my neck. "I'd say we're square."

"Bas!"

We both swung our gaze toward the house.

"Who's that?" Jesse asked, his voice hushed.

"No clue."

"Bas! Are you out here?"

"Is that McKenna?" Jesse's voice went a little growly. "Were you waiting for her?"

"No," I groaned and let my head fall back against the tree with a hollow thunk . "I came out here to get away from all that crap."

He studied me for a few beats.

"Baaaa-aaaaas," she sing-songed, her voice getting closer. "Guess what I'm not wearing!"

"Fucking hell," I muttered.

"I'll tell her you're not out here." He glanced over his shoulder as she called my name again. "Get her back to the party so you can escape."

"Thanks," I said grudgingly.

He didn't have to help me. He could just disappear into the night and leave me to deal with her drunk ass. Sober McKenna was a great person. Drunk McKenna had major issues with boundaries, and I wasn't in the right headspace to treat her gently right now.

He upnodded me and disappeared the way he came.

A few moments later, I heard the muffled sounds of him talking.

"Are you sure?" McKenna asked in her too-loud voice. "Where'd he go?"

Jesse said something, the low rumble of his voice too low to make out any words.

"Why were you out here?" she asked, her voice sounding further away.

I tuned them out and closed my eyes.

Tonight had gone sideways in more ways than one.

At least this was a good reminder of why I stayed away from parties.

And why I stayed away from Jesse.

I had no idea what was going on between us or why we started it. But it was time to end it.

I won. Game over.