18. Dom

CHAPTER 18

DOM

There's something not right about Cam. He looks amazing, he always does. His movements seem flawless to me, but they lack the energy and brightness that usually flows out of him when he's on stage. I've noticed at the end of shows that the fabricated smile he plasters on his face as he waves and bows to the audience never reaches his eyes. But it's different when he's dancing. It's like he forgets there's an audience at all, and he becomes the performance.

Tonight, though, I sense something off. There's something about him that isn't connecting, and it worries me.

I didn't want to leave him this morning, especially after hiding him away like that. I was prepared to face the firing squad when my brother came in and found us like that, but Cam wasn't. I understand it. Honestly, I'm not ready either. We haven't defined what's happening between us, and I'd be lying if I wasn't second guessing every one of my actions and decisions over the last few months. The back and forth is driving me wild, though, and that's just in my own head. Whenever I'm far enough away from him to get some clarity, I can see all the reasons this wouldn't work. But the moment he's in sight, those doubts fall away and all I can see is how much I want him.

All the reasons for this not to happen stopped mattering the first time I touched him. And the moment I kissed him? I was gone.

I am gone for him.

I've never felt so completely consumed by another person in my entire life. I don't know what to do about it, how to fit this feeling inside my chest with everything else that lives there. I'm coming to terms with it not being a choice any longer, and throwing caution to the wind.

I'm not sure Cam is in the same place I am, though. And when he walks down the steps to greet the afterparty with Emile's arm wrapped around his waist, I realize I'm getting in way too deep before he's agreed to anything. Just because he kissed me, just because we touched… it might not mean anything to him.

Cam catches my eye as they come down the stairs. My gaze is burning into the hand Emile has resting on his hip. The same hip I kissed this morning as I explored my way down his body.

With a pleading gaze, Cam shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

I won't cause a scene or embarrass him. We haven't talked about any of this.

With a gentle nod in his direction, I mouth one sentence to let him know this isn't over. I meant what I said this morning.

"I'll be waiting."

It's after one in the morning by the time the music starts up in the studio. I'd hoped Cam would come directly to me, but I suppose this is close enough.

I don't bother slinking into the shadows this time, allowing the magnetic pull to lead me directly to him. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced now that the stage makeup is washed away. I swipe my thumbs over the skin beneath his pale eyes, then trace the hollows of his cheeks and beneath his bottom lip before bending down to kiss him. He rises to meet me, and I notice he's much taller than usual. When I step away, I see why. I'd been so captivated by his eyes and by being close to him, that I didn't register what he's wearing.

The pointe shoes. They're wrapped delicately around his strong calves. He's wearing one of my shirts and on him, it’s so large that it falls off his shoulder and covers him down to his thigh. Cam takes my hand and guides me to hold it above his head while he spins slowly for me. He's not wearing his usual leggings or shorts. Instead, all I can see is the waistband of this underwear, a silky looking… oh fuck me sideways, is that a thong?

As Cam completes his turn, I can't take my eyes off the firm globes of his ass. A perfect bubble of chiseled muscle.

I have the strange inclination to shove my face between his cheeks. It’s not that I haven't heard of ass eating. I know it's a thing. It's just never been something that was on my radar as a kink I wanted to explore. Until now. Because just looking at his ass makes my mouth water.

"You couldn't be more perfect," I rasp. Cam snorts in response, but I shake my head. "I'm completely serious."

It's too dim in the room to make out much more than the skin of his cheeks darkening when he averts his eyes. I'll be damned if that shyness doesn't do something to me, too.

"Will you dance for me?"

With a slight upturn of his lips, Cam nods and guides me to sit on the floor against the mirror. I lean back against the cool glass, resting my arms on my bent knees, watching as Cam fixes the music and lighting to his liking. Even doing such mundane things, he's graceful.

Cam walks to the middle of the floor flat footed but rises up on his toes before the first notes of the song begin. He's a little unsteady through the song, but I see how much the shoes elevate the dance, just like he thought they would. They take it from something beautiful to something otherworldly. It's sad and sexy and heartfelt.

I've never been harder in my life.

When the song winds down, Cam walks on the tips of his toes from the center of the floor to stand in front of me. The walk alone has me ready to choke on my spit, but then he lifts one leg, holding it straight up in the air, bending it near backwards. My mouth drops open enough to make him smirk. He does the same move on the other side, but this time, instead of putting his leg back down on the ground, he lays his foot on the barre and bends at the waist, looking down at me.

The stretch is a blatant tease, one that absolutely works to get my full attention.

"You're trying to distract me," I say, getting to my knees. I trace my fingers up the lace wraps of the shoes. One hand continues up along the inside of his thigh.

"Yes," he confirms in a breathy voice.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to talk about why this is a bad idea. I just want you."

"I think we’re past the point of turning back now, tiny dancer," I say, trailing kisses up the same path my fingers took. I pause at the crease of his groin and inhale, taking in the smell of vanilla body wash, muscle cream, and the sweet scent of fresh sweat. My tongue darts out to lick the crease, teasing just under the band of his underwear before slipping my fingers in and sliding them down over the top of his ass.

Maybe to get him to rest, I should help him relax first.

Cam removes his leg from the barre and takes a step back. Remaining on his toes, he pulls the shirt over his head, stretching out his lithe body as he removes the garment. He tosses it next to me, then loops his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and rolls them down his thighs before they fall the rest of the way. He kicks them at me, and I grab them without thinking, holding them to my nose like a complete weirdo. Cam barely raises an eyebrow, displaying himself in all his glory in nothing but his pointe shoes.

I stand and walk to him, moving around him so I can see everything. He stops me in front of him, holding my shoulders, then directs me how to move. He does a spin, then kicks his leg out and hooks it over my forearm. Pulling him closer to me, I drag him across the floor, then turn him around and lean him against the barre. I bend down to kiss him softly, then watch as he straightens his leg, holding it parallel to his head. I take his waist and turn him to look at the mirror.

Staring at his reflection, I reach up and run my hand down his leg until I get to his cock. Wrapping my fingers around him, I give him slow, leisurely strokes, watching him unravel for me. Eventually, he has to put his leg down, resting it on the barre. I get to my knees behind him, kissing along his cleft until I'm looking at the most beautiful and terrifying sight in the world. His tiny, perfect, brownish-pink asshole stares back at me, begging me to… I don't even know. I don't know what to do with it, only that I crave it. I shudder and drop a sweet kiss to the puckered flesh, hoping Cam will be vocal if he doesn't like something. Slightly embarrassed, I move in front of him and take his cock in my mouth before any questions can be asked.

I thought it would be more difficult to suck a dick. Or maybe I thought it would be unpleasant. I'm not sure I'm particularly good at it, but I surprisingly really like it. Especially when he makes those little moaning sounds. Or the way his abs contract when he's trying to hold himself back.

Cam's fingers dig into my shoulder. "Dom." I look up at him, finding hooded hazel eyes gazing down at me. "Take me to bed."

He doesn't have to ask me twice. I stand and immediately lift him up, throwing him over my shoulder like the caveman I feel like in this moment. I remember to grab his bag this time, but don't bother with any lights or locking up. I just carry him across the hall to my apartment, abandoning all pretext and dropping him onto the bed before draping myself over him.

Cam tears his lips away from mine to pull my t-shirt over my head, pushing my athletic shorts down with his heels. I'm naked in record time, rutting against the inside of his thigh. He meets me thrust for thrust until we're nothing but a sweaty pile of writhing limbs.

"Why can't I get enough of you?" "How come you taste so good?" "You're going to be the death of me."

It’s all I can mutter, although the words come out muffled, choked, and nonsensical. I'm a mess of pent-up need and the desperate desire to make him feel as good as he makes me feel.

Holding him close, I roll us over so he's on top, trying to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head when he sits on my cock with it sandwiched between his ass cheeks. He rolls his hips, pulling a garbled moan from me.

"If we had some lube, I could make you come like this."

"Another day," I say, noting that I need to get some supplies. I have lube in the bathroom, but I don’t want to leave this bed for even a minute. I don’t have any condoms. It’s been a while since I needed them, and I want to be prepared. I stare at his cock, jealous of the way he's stroking it. What size condom would he need? Does he have a preferred brand? These are all questions I need to get answers to, although it's possible I'm getting way ahead of myself. Right now, I have just one goal in mind.

Hooking my arms under his thighs, I lift Cam until I can reach my prize. I suck his cock into my mouth. Holding him like I'm doing arm curls, thrusting him in and out of my mouth.

His fingers dig into my scalp, trying to find purchase before falling forward, palms landing on the brick wall. It forces his cock farther back in my throat. I gag, but manage to keep it together.

"Fuck, Dom!" Cam cries, his legs shaking.

His hips are rolling with the motion of my arms, fucking into my mouth. He's got one hand on the wall behind us, one holding the back of my head, looking down at me with his mouth dropped open while he rides my face. His abs tighten, and he groans that he's close. Before his cock starts to pulse, he taps me gently, warning me that it's about to happen like there's anything else I want in the entire world but his orgasm sliding down my throat.

He comes on a cry, nails cutting into the skin at the back of my neck, head thrown back. I force my eyes to stay open and watch every second of the way his chest heaves and the muscles in his stomach contract as pulse after pulse of cum coats my tonsils. Once his cock has given its last twitch and I've cleaned every drop of cum from it, I finally lower him down. He droops against me, straddling my stomach with his face in my neck. Once I extricate my arms from under his legs, I pull a blanket around us and wrap him in my arms.

"Give me thirty seconds to get my brain back online, and then I'm going to suck your soul out through your dick," he says tiredly.

"Shhh," I soothe him, shaking with laughter. "Rest now, tiny dancer." My fingers trace up and down his spine, and he melts into me.

There's nothing in the world that I want more than this, right here.

Oh, God.

Oh, fuck.

That's so good.

Warm, wet heat engulfs the head of my cock. Something slippery and hot slides all around it, flicking against the sensitive underside of my cockhead. A tight grip around my base strokes my foreskin up and down my shaft. The heat sinks lower over my cock, taking me about halfway. Then intense suction pulls up my shaft, startling me fully awake.

"What the— Nyynghh —Oh, fuck. Cam? Jesus. "

I have no idea what time it is. It's still dark out, save for the usual streetlights and the moon that casts a beam of light through the window. There's just enough light to make out Cam going to town on my cock like it's his last meal. Once I can control my own breathing, I hear the wet, salacious slurping sounds of his mouth and hand working me over.

It's unlike anything I've ever felt before. I've had a lot of blowjobs in my life, but I have never, in the entirety of my existence, had anyone go at me with such precision and enthusiasm. Maybe I'm in shock, but I can't fucking move. All I can do is breathe through it and enjoy the ride.

Spit drips down my shaft, squishing into the movements of his hand, dripping down my balls. It's so wet and sloppy and perfect. Then the head of my cock meets the back of his throat, and I nearly come off the bed.

"Fucking hell, Cam. That's… fuck, you take my cock so good. So fucking perfect." My words and breaths are basically coming out as wheezes at this point. I'm overstimulated and overwhelmed and I might be dying right now. This might not even be actually happening. I might just be in the throes of some kind of wild halluci?—

Oh my fucking fuck.

Cam slides one slick finger into my crack, pressing the flat of his fingertip against my asshole. My instinct is to clench, but between the suction of his mouth and the tantalizing way he rubs back and forth with that one digit, I'm distracted enough to relax. The next time he takes my cock all the way to the back of his throat, my hips jerk and when they come back down, the tip of his finger slips inside me. I gasp at the intrusion. Not because it hurts, it's just different. A little strange, but not in a bad way. He pulses the finger in and out a little, letting more spit inside before slipping in farther. The way he works me to the edge and then distracts me with his finger moving deeper inside me is making my brain spin.

When his finger is all the way inside me, he moves it in a way that causes a pressure inside, like I need to pee. I squirm against the feeling, but I’m too lost in the warmth of Cam's talented mouth on my cock to try to get away.

"Relax, trust me," he says, his voice hoarse.

In the dim light that filters through the windows, I can see his already puffy lips are swollen and wet. He keeps one hand pumping my cock slowly while working his finger inside me. The dual sensation is admittedly fucking delicious, and I feel myself growing closer to the edge again.

"I trust you," I tell him as he leans back down to suck my cock back into his mouth. Fuck, that sight alone is enough to drive me over the edge. "I'm close."

Cam hums and repositions his hand a little, then he moves his finger again, pressing against what I can only imagine must be the magical prostate that I've definitely heard about but have never bothered to search out for myself.

And ohholyfuckingfireworksshootingupmyspineandexplodingbehindmyeyeballs. My body goes rigid and pleasure spikes through my entire body. I'm talking, radiating from deep inside me to the tips of my fingers and toes. I erupt inside Cam's mouth, gasping for air and clenching my jaw against the shriek that I can feel rising from my vocal cords. My vision goes funny. I'm pretty sure my eyes are crossed.

It doesn't stop there, though. Cam keeps going, bobbing and suctioning up and down my cock, while his finger rubs back and forth across that magic button. He milks me of every drop of cum, more than I thought possible, while my limbs tremble and I moan like some kind of farm animal. I want to be embarrassed, but I don't have the brain space for it. I don't have the capacity for anything outside of trying to catch my breath.

I swear, he literally sucked my soul through my dick.

"Are you okay?" Cam asks after several long minutes of silence.

Chuckling nervously, I try to think of how to answer him.

"Yes… Maybe? No? I'm not sure yet."

He tries to lift his head from where it's nestled against my chest, but I press it back down and hold him against me tighter, so he won't try to run away.

"I'm fine, Cam." I laugh. "Just trying to get brain function back."

"You're not freaking out, then?"

"Why would I freak out?" I ask, even though I know exactly what he means, and I know he's right. This is a lot to process. Or it should be. But I've been coming to terms with my unexpected feelings since the first time I laid eyes on him, and the more time we spend together, the more I realize that nothing else matters.

"You're awfully secure for a man who's never been with another man before." I can feel him smirk against my side.

There are some major obstacles to get through if this is going to be a real thing between us. Our age difference, for one. I have a hard time believing that Cam really wants to be saddled with some old guy when he's got so much more life ahead of him. And if things keep going like they are, I imagine we’ll have to tell Dwayne and Cora about us, and I'm not sure how they'll feel about it. It's honestly a clusterfuck, and I'm unsure about most of it. And maybe it is strange, but there are so many other things to think about and worry over, that the fact he's a guy hasn't been more than a passing thought. I don't know what I'm doing or how to please him—that's about where my worries about him being a man start and stop.

Pulling my arm out from beneath him, I turn on my side so we're facing each other. The room is still dark, but my eyes have adjusted to the dim lighting provided by the large windows. I can clearly make out Cam's soft features, his full mouth, the dark eyelashes that frame those haunting eyes of his. I cup his cheek in my hand and lean forward to kiss him lightly, before letting my hand fall to his waist. My forehead against his, I whisper all my truths into the sliver of space between us.

"I've come to terms with a lot of things," I tell him. "I'm just waiting for you to get on my level. I think you're perfect, Cam. Everything you do is magic to me. The way you make me feel. The way you lift up everyone around you without even realizing it. I'll never deserve you. I'm too old for you, too ugly and clumsy and grumpy, and yeah, I'm probably not experienced enough in the pleasing a man department." I blow out a harsh breath. "I mean, I'm definitely not experienced enough, considering I'm still reeling from how hard you blew my mind just now. I'm afraid I'll never be good enough. But if you give me the chance, I'd like to try."

"What about your brother and my mom?"

"I don't have an answer for that. Maybe we wait until we're both sure before we say anything? I don't want to keep you a secret, but I will if it's easier for you. For now," I amend. I don't want him getting the impression that I'd be able to keep him to myself for very long. I don't like pretending, and now that I've touched and tasted him, how can I ever act anything other than awed in his presence? Luckily, I already have a habit of acting like a spaz in his presence, otherwise it'd be much easier to tell.

"How about we keep trying each other out," he says, smirking at the way my dick makes an attempt to jerk back to life between us. "And see how we feel after the fight?"

The fight.

That thought is almost enough to put a permanent moratorium on my boner.

"Why are you doing it?" Cam asks, noticing my mood change. "If you don't want to do the fight, why risk it?"

"A lot of reasons that have nothing to do with me, and one reason that does." He doesn't say anything, only traces the line of my jaw with his fingers. "If I pull it off, Dwayne's gym could get a lot of attention. He'd be able to expand, hire more trainers, and put more into the management side of things, which is what he always wanted to do."

"I've heard them talk about it. My mom would quit her job and come do bookkeeping for the gym so they could be gross together all day, every day."

It's my turn to smirk. "You love it."

"Tell anyone and I'll never suck your dick again."

I gasp theatrically, holding my hand to my chest. Cam laughs so hard he snorts, and I don't know why, but it's the most joyful moment of my life. I'm staring at him like an absolute lunatic, thinking of how much I absolutely adore everything about him. Everything except the other man in his life…

Rolling us until I'm laying over him again, I look down at him like he hangs the fucking moon, because he might as well. As intrigued by him as I was the first time I saw him, as besotted by him as I was the first time we talked, as increasingly preoccupied I have been with every day that has passed since then—I'm well and truly obsessed now. Holding him like this, feeling him so close… I don't think I've ever felt anything like it.

"What about Alistar?" I ask, keeping my tone gentle.

The moment I say his name, I regret it. As much as I know we need to talk about it, the deep circles under his eyes seem to darken and his expression goes blank.

"You don't have to?—"

"No. It's okay. It's a fair question. If you were seeing someone, I'd—wait, are you seeing anyone?"

My chest rumbles with laughter. "No. I haven't been able to see anyone but you since that first performance." My head ducks to his chest, but he lifts my face with both hands, bringing me closer to him.

"I don't want Emile. I'm not sure I ever have. But I'm stuck," he admits sadly, a tear escaping from the corner of his eye. My thumb chases it, then brings it to my mouth to kiss it away. "He can stop me from ever dancing on stage again. I was going to do this competition this summer, but he found my application and told me I wasn't ready, that he wouldn't let me embarrass him by even applying. He more or less told me that he holds the keys to my entire future as a dancer. If I don't walk his line, I could lose it all."

My teeth are grinding under the pressure of my clenched jaw. I've never wanted to hurt someone more than I do Emile fucking Alistar. "What exactly is it that he thinks he can do to you?"

The helpless expression on his face helps me temper some of my anger. I can see that there's more to this, and I want him to feel safe with me. Flying off the handle isn't going to let him know he can talk to me about whatever is going on with him. I give him a gentle kiss and pull back. "It's okay," I whisper. "You can tell me."

He swallows and closes his eyes. "My partner for the last production, Marissa? She was going to move home to be closer to her family, or at least that's what she told everyone. She had a job lined up with the Houston Ballet, but Emile found out and sabotaged her."

"That motherfucker," I can't help but mutter.

"The dancer that didn't show up the night I took over as principal? Heath?" He's whispering, like he's afraid the walls might find out his secrets. "He was in a bad accident that night. And I'm not sure it really was an accident."

I want to ask more, but the pain in Cam's eyes is killing me. I gather him as close as I can, rolling us so I'm on my back and he's straddling my waist, so I don't squash him.

"I won't let him hurt you," I say. "I won't let anyone hurt you ever again.”