25. Cameron

CHAPTER 25

CAMERON

The bed feels cold without Dom's big, warm body curled around mine. I vaguely remember him whispering in my ear and kissing my head before he left the apartment. Once the door clicked shut, I was awake, but I've been laying here ever since, staring at the vaulted ceiling.

It's weird how codependent I've become on one man's company after just a few days. Having him to myself while he tried to distract me from my normal routine has been more than an adequate diversion.

This morning, Dom is having a sit-down meeting with his brother on neutral territory where they aren't likely to start a shouting match or worse. I hope it wouldn't come to that. I have faith that they can make it back to being friends as well as brothers eventually. They need to talk and sort out details for the next few days. They're supposed to get on a plane tomorrow.

Then it's back to the studio for me. Well, my personal studio. I won't be stepping foot into De Pointe Elite ever again. There's a chance I'll never step foot in any theater again, aside from maybe our community center. It's not ideal, but if the trade-off is escape from Emile and a life spent happy and laughing with Dom, then I think it will be worth it. I'll still put forth my best effort to apply to the World Ballet Competition, if only to show my family that I'm not broken.

Despite my current circumstances, I'm weirdly happy and optimistic about the future. And yes, okay, maybe it's not the best coping mechanism to hinge all of my happiness on one man. I know it's not healthy. I'd be a therapist's wet dream. But for once, I'm leaning on someone that builds me up and makes me feel good about who I am on the inside as well as the outside. He makes me believe in myself. And for now, that's a good stepping-stone.

I stare at the notebook and pen on the kitchen counter, waiting for me to draft out the cover letter for my application. It might be too much to hope that someone will actually read it and take my words into consideration, but I think it'll feel good to put in the effort to achieve something that I really want. With the words floating around in my mind, I get up and get ready for my day. Dom left some cut fruit and a jar of overnight oats for me in the fridge. After pouring the oats into a bowl and making a cup of tea, I sit down and stare at the notebook, drafting the words I want to say in my mind while I eat.

Finally, I set my bowl aside and pick up the pen.

To Whom It May Concern,

From the moment I walked in to my very first dance class, I knew I had discovered something special. It was a way to express my emotions and connect with the world around me when I'd often felt lost and alone.

It wasn't always easy to follow this path. When I was a young boy, my father tried on multiple occasions to stop me from dancing, to toughen me up, to force me into the mold of the person he wanted me to be. He thought being a dancer made me weak. Thankfully, Ihad the love and support of my mother, my aunt, and my cousin to help me get around the obstacles that my father put up for me. I have them to thank for the ways that dance has shaped, and in some ways saved, my life.

Dance has always been more than an outlet to express myself physically. It's an expression of my identity, my emotions—the embodiment of love and defiance against the constraints society has tried to impose on me, as it does so many others. The application video I have chosen to submit reflects this spirit. It may not conform to traditional expectations, instead it is my own form of protest in a world that challenges those who dare to go against the status quo.

I'm aware that my expression of defiance might turn you off from considering me for this competition. If it does, I will, of course, accept your decision. I hope you understand that it is in the spirit of dance, and not opposition, that I take my fate into my own hands. I recently faced a loss of autonomy and sense of self. This dance, my own original choreography, is my way of taking it back.

This dance is for me. Because, like it has been since I was six years old, dance is how I'll heal, and grow, and overcome.

Thank you for your consideration.

Cameron Rae Stevens

Even though Dom will be recording me later, I still set up the tripod and record my choreography on an old camcorder so I can watch and see what areas of the choreography need improvement. I'm a little shaky on my pointe shoes at first, but after stretching and warming up for an hour, I'm feeling confident enough. Part of recording the rehearsals is to compare the dance en pointe, and then in my regular ballet flats, to see which version is stronger. I really feel that the pointe shoes add something special, something refined, to the choreography, but if I can't make it look seamless, they'll just be a distraction. And as they're a statement of defiance against gender norms already, I don't want to overshadow the dance itself.

After each pass through, I watch the footage and make small adjustments before starting again. After going through the dance only twice, I'm convinced that the pointe shoes are necessary. I just really need to nail it. I need it to look like I've been dancing en pointe for years, not a couple of months here and there. So I run it again. And again. And again.

As the music fades on my fifth or sixth run through, someone claps. Multiple someones.

My stomach drops before I even look up to see who it is. Something in the atmosphere of the room shifts and turns cold, and I just know it’s him.

"You know, I think maybe I didn't give you enough credit. The choreography is unique. And the pointe shoes do give it a certain level of je ne sais quoi . It is very beautiful. Very sexy," Emile says, walking into the center of the room, circling me like a shark.

"What are you doing here, Emile?" I cut my eyes at Theo and Mark standing in the doorway. They're trying too hard to look casual, betraying the purpose of this visit—intimidation.

"You were not answering your phone, and I wanted to check on you after Sunday's little… incident ."

"Cut the crap, Emile. You shouldn't be here. I'd like you to leave."

"I cannot be concerned about my star dancer?" He pouts, not even bothering to hide his insincerity. "I hope you are feeling much better?"

"I'll be better once they figure out what you gave me. Now get the fuck out, all of you."

"Oh, they did. They called and left a message on your cell phone two days ago. They said that, with your permission, they can fax the information over to the detective so he can begin tracing. You just need to call them back."

The threat in his tone is obvious. I cut my eyes back to Mark and Theo again, who have moved further into the room. They're probably too stupid to figure out that the door rolls in and out, otherwise I'm certain they'd have closed it. It's wide open, I just have to get them far enough away from it so I can skirt by them. Either that, or I could run and lock myself in the bathroom until someone comes.

Emile follows my gaze and grins slyly. "You have nowhere to run, mon cheri ."

"Why are you doing this?" Keeping him talking is the only thing I can think of at the moment. I just need to buy myself time to think. Or maybe for someone to come up here and check on me. Surely the guys downstairs saw them come up? It'll be at least another hour before Dom gets back. He and Dwayne had so much to talk about, not even including the logistics for the trip tomorrow.

"I don't know, Cameron. Why did you make it so difficult for me to turn you into a star? All you had to do was follow directions. I made it so easy for you!"

"What are you even talking about, Emile? I did everything you told me to. I isolated myself from my friends and family. I changed how I dressed and walked and never opened my mouth, even when someone asked me a direct question. I let you degrade and humiliate me until I hated the version of myself that I became."

"Yes, I suppose you were a good boy until that heathen came into the picture. A boxer, really, Cameron? Could you really make a less civilized choice in men to embarrass yourself with? And your uncle, too." He grins and hums thoughtfully. "I wonder how long it'll take the press to catch on to that little tidbit. I left that part out of my initial communications. It's my own little game."

I try not to let the confusion and concern show on my face, but he sees it before I have a chance to mask it.

"Oh, so you haven't seen the news yet? Ugh, here I am gloating away, and you have no idea. That's okay, this is better. I want to see your face when you see it." Emile pulls his phone from his pocket, pulls something up from the internet search bar, then turns it towards me. He comes closer so I can see it properly.

" Dom Connor Caught With Male Escort ," I read. Then laugh. "Tell them whatever you want. They'll see who the liar is when the truth comes out."

Emile tsks, and the sound makes my stomach cramp. He's close enough that I can smell the overly floral scent of his body wash and cologne. It swirls around my head and makes my temples ache.

"It is almost unfortunate this dance will never see the light of day," he says, caressing a fingertip down my arm.“Maybe I will borrow some parts of it to use in my next show and dedicate it to your memory.”

I recoil and take a step back, but suddenly, Theo is right behind me, and Mark has moved in closer, too. He's standing only a few feet away, still blocking my way to the door.

"It didn't have to be like this, you know. It could have been easier than this."

"What could have been easier? Keeping my mouth shut and letting you rut into me with your pathetic excuse for a dick?"

Expecting the hit doesn't make getting backhanded any less painful. My head snaps to the side, jaw aching. When I touch my fingers to my cheek, they come back bloody from his rings.

"You fucking whore! You're nothing more than a puppet, with a little talent but not enough class and breeding to pull it off. A hole for me to use when I saw fit, but you weren't even good enough for that. If you weren't so disgusting, vomiting everywhere, you could have been more use to me."

"What?" I wipe more blood from my lip and stare into his wild, calculating eyes.

"That fucker Heath was blackmailing me, so I was going to use you to get back at him. Everyone knew he hated you. I made sure of it. Then at the afterparty for the show you stole from him, it was supposed to look like he drugged and lured you out of the building. Mark and Theo were going to leave you all used up on the curb where you belong. The entire thing was set up, but you were so disgusting no one would touch you." He spits at me, a fresh stream of wetness adding to the tears and blood dripping down my face. I wipe it away and flick my hand, spraying him with his own spit and drops of my blood.

This time when he rears back to hit me, I’m ready. Using some of the moves I’ve learned training with Dom over the last few months, I step forward and jab him hard in the eye. Whatever he or his little henchmen do to me next, he'll be leaving with a souvenir.

"You know what, you stupid little bitch, I'm not even going bother trying to make it look like an accident," Emile growls in my face. His face is beet red, and the sweat and heat of anger are making his gelled hair frizz up along his hairline. He looks deranged. His hand flies to my hair, gripping it by the roots and dragging me face first into the mirror. The barre stops me from taking the brunt of the hit to my face, but the air is knocked out of me before I'm on my back, heaving. Emile's foot comes down on my stomach, and I lurch, the breakfast I ate this morning threatening to make a comeback.

"Poor Cameron, are you going to vomit everywhere again? It won't stop us from making sure you never open your mouth again."

A kick comes from the opposite side, Theo or Mark joining the party to kick me in the back of the head. I flip to my stomach, vision fuzzy.

Emile tsks again. "Such a waste," he says. The pointed toe of his shoe digs into my groin from behind, then he uses it to push me over onto my back again. He snaps, and Theo is standing at the end of my body, his foot pressed against my ankle. Just as he starts to put pressure on it, I grit my teeth.

"Go ahead and cry, Cameron. No one is going to stop me from getting what I want."

"The hell there ain't," comes a gruff voice.

My head lolls to the side, and everything happens in slow motion.

Dom's long strides eat up the distance as he stomps into the room. He grabs Mark by his collar and smashes his head into his face. Mark slumps to the ground, but before he can even hit the floor, Dom swings wide and punches Theo hard enough that he seems to fly back, hitting the barre and falling to his knees. With those two out of the way, Dom sets his sights on his real target. Blinking hard, I turn my head the other way, watching the fear blow out Emile's pupils. He staggers backwards, mouth opening and closing, trying to get the words out to beg, but he can't spit them out in time. Dom's fist in his stomach makes him lurch forward, wheezing out a cry, then his head snaps back surprise. He barely has time to realize he's just been punched before the blood starts dripping down his face.

Dom crowds him, wrapping his big fist around Emile's throat and lifting him off the ground.

"You're going to pay for everything you've done. You sorry sack of useless?—"

"Dom!" Dwayne yells, rushing in and looking around the room in shock. "Shit. Cameron!"

"Dom—Camera," I choke out, wanting Dwayne to warn Dom about the camera that has recorded every moment of Emile’s attack. If Dom murders Emile right now, there’d be evidence.

"Police! Everybody hands up!" Detective Roman yells, charging into the room with his service weapon pointed.

Dom has already dropped Emile to the ground, threw him, really, like lightweight trash that he has no use for. He's on his knees beside me, running his hands over my face, neck, arms.

"Fuck, baby. Are you okay? Where are you hurt?"

"I'm okay," I say, trying to sit up. "I'll have a headache and some bruises, but I don't think anything's broken."

Once he's satisfied that I'm not going to break, Dom pulls me into his chest. There's a disturbance behind us, and I pull away to look around. Apparently, Theo tried to make a run for it, but Dwayne tackled him and is holding him down while the detective cuffs Emile. Mark is still unconscious on the floor.

"I'm sorry," Dom says, brushing my hair from my face. "You've had nothing but trouble since you met me."

"You?" I laugh, but it hurts my stomach. "It's my bullshit that started this. Emile went to the press, Dom. I'm sor?—"

"I know, baby. It's fine. I'm fine, I don't give a fuck. But they're spinning things in a really shitty way for you. I'm afraid it's going to fuck things up for you in the future."

"Dom. You are my future, okay? As long as you love me, I don't give a fuck about the rest of it."

"Yeah?" He asks, pulling me against him again, until I'm practically straddling him in the middle of the dance floor. A crime scene—because Detective Roman's backup has arrived, and the place is suddenly crawling with cops.

"Yeah," I say, ignoring them all and pressing our mouths together.

Seconds or minutes later, I don't know, Dwayne awkwardly pulls us apart so an EMT can check me over. I refuse to go back to the hospital, so I give my statement to the police while my wounds are cleaned and patched up. There will be more questions later, especially when charges are pressed, and we have the opportunity to make a statement to the press. I think it's a good idea to do it when everything is set in stone, and we know we'll be going to court. For right now at least, my fight is over. It's time to focus on Dom's.

"This one is perfect," Dom says, pausing the recording of my rehearsal this morning.

"Hmm. It's definitely the best one I have, but it's not perfect. I was thinking too much, I'm in my head and it shows in my extensions. I need the flow of the take before, but in the pointe shoes. Plus, I think recording at night with a softer light will give it more depth."

"When does it have to be sent in by?"

"I can upload it electronically as late as next Friday."

"That's not a lot of time."

Originally, the plan was to record the final audition video tonight, but thanks to Emile and his little minions, I need time to heal. I'm not in much pain. After being cleared by the EMT, I was given instructions to rest under supervision, and report to the emergency room if I have any dizziness, nausea, or severe headaches. I had a great nap, enjoyed a cook-out lunch with the members of Dwayne's gym that have rallied around us all in a big way, and then took a long, hot shower where Dom massaged all my sore muscles until I thought I'd either fall asleep again, or come. Other than a sore spot on my head where Theo kicked me, I've thankfully not had any issues resulting from head trauma. My ribs and stomach are pretty bruised and would affect mobility, though, so I think it's best to wait a few days to record and do it we get back from Las Vegas.

Yes, I said we.

"You know, I've never been to Vegas before."

Dom gives me an indulgent grin. Apparently, his magic sleepiness inducing massage was part of a ploy to soften me up. He was worried I'd be upset when he told me he changed his flight to include an extra ticket for me because he doesn't want to let me out of his sight. I was so excited I jumped right out of the bed and into his arms, kissing him dramatically all over his face and neck until he gave up trying to get away from me and collapsed on the bed. I haven't let him get up since. We've been alternating between making out and making plans.

"I wanted to ask you to come in the first place, but I wasn't sure if you'd be interested. I know you didn't love the first fight you went to, and Dwayne said you hate flying."

"I do hate flying, actually, and I also really dislike watching you get punched repeatedly. But I want to be wherever you are. I'm in your corner from here on out, if you'll have me."

Dom rolls us so we're side by side and he can stare at me adoringly, in that way of his that makes me feel on top of the world and incredibly unworthy at the same time. I want to look away, but I can't. I'm drowning in deep pools of onyx, basking in the reflection of how he sees me.

"This is going to be my last fight," he tells me. He doesn't sound upset or disappointed about it, it's just a matter of fact. "I'm not getting any younger, and I don't want to tempt fate any more than I have to. It was reckless to take this fight in the first place, but I didn't have as much to live for then as I do now. Not that I had a death wish, but I wasn't afraid of the consequences, either. Now, I feel a lot more fear about everything that I'd be leaving behind."

"You better not fucking leave me, Dom."

"I already promised Dwayne I wouldn't let that happen. I won't let my guard down for anything."

"Now it's my turn. Promise me, Dom." I climb over him, straddling his hips, pressing his hands into the pillow and staring down at him with all the intensity I can muster. Tears prick my eyes, but I don't look away from him. "Promise me."

He sits up, wrapping my legs around his waist and hugging me so close it's like he's trying to merge us together through our arms and chests.

"You're not getting rid of me so easily, tiny dancer. God himself couldn't pry you away from me." He rolls his lips and closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. When he opens them again, his dark eyes are watery. "For a split second today, I thought I lost you. And it made me realize I want to get to watch you dance every day. To follow you around the world and support you while you set the world on fire because I have no doubt that you're going to accomplish things beyond your wildest dreams. Nothing— nothing— could keep me away from getting to spend whatever time I have left with you."

"I'll keep you young," I rasp, a tear falling and splashing on Dom's full bottom lip. His tongue darts out to lick it away, and I chase it with my own tongue, the salty flavor of my tears mixing with his.

The kiss grows deeper and more desperate, our bodies overwhelmingly needy for the comfort that being truly connected can give us.

Dom grips my hips and rocks me in his lap, rubbing me against his hardening cock. The suction of his lips on mine is impossible to break, but I need out of this underwear now. I need to feel every inch of him against me. Skin against skin. Flesh to flesh.

Sensing my need and matching it, Dom lifts his hips and maneuvers his boxer briefs down his legs before helping me with mine. And by helping me, I mean he grips the fabric on either side of my ass cheeks and tears them in half so easily he might as well be shredding paper. The two halves of my briefs are pushed down my thighs, and finally our cocks are free. Dom wraps his hand around both of us, dwarfing my cock next to his, stroking us together until we're both dripping.

"Put me inside you," I pant. "Like this?—"

Repositioning our cocks so the tips are touching, I stroke his foreskin forward. Dom groans when he realizes what I'm doing, and takes over, stretching his foreskin over the head of my cock. I push into him, my cock sliding against his bare glans. His mouth drops open, and he moans, low and deep, before he strokes us excruciatingly slowly.

"Oh f uuucckkk . I didn't know— ungghh —I didn't know this was a thing."

"Anything can be a thing if you're brave enough," I say, grinning against his mouth as I twitch and try not to thrust too hard.

"Are you brave enough, tiny dancer?"

Oh God, please let that mean what I think it means.

"Fuck yes," I moan. " Please. "

"Soon," he promises. "Tonight I don't want to worry about hurting you," he says, thumb brushing over a bruise on my rib while his other hand continues to stroke us. "I want to feel your cum dripping out of my ass when we board that plane in the morning."

Like a light switch has gone off in my brain, I become feral with the need to get inside him. Right. Fucking. Now .

I reluctantly pull my cock from the warm cocoon of his foreskin, and push Dom back to the mattress. "Roll over and put these pillows under you." Once he's on his stomach with his ass propped in the air, I admire the view for a moment before remembering one of the surprises I brought with me from home. Smacking him loudly on the ass, and tell him to stay put, and run over to where my suitcase is propped against the wall next to Dom's clean laundry. I dig through until I locate my prize, hiding it behind my back so Dom can't see it.

"What do you have?"

"Nothing," I say mischievously.

He laughs and astounds me once more by relaxing back against his crossed arms, immediately trusting that I'm not going to do anything he doesn't like. Seriously, what isn't there to love about this man?

I reward his trust with my tongue, licking and rubbing that sensitive patch of flesh just behind his balls before sucking those into my mouth, too. Spreading him open with a firm grip on each meaty butt cheek, I flick my tongue over his pucker until he's soft and begging for me to put something, anything, inside him. My tongue, my fingers, my cock… or the vibrator that's resting on the mattress next to us. I introduce the vibrator with my tongue inside him, touching it lightly against his taint before turning it on. Dom jumps, pushing his ass harder against my mouth, and I laugh, kissing his ass cheek before continuing to play with him until he's so desperate, he threatens to flip me over and fuck himself on my dick. As much as that idea appeals to me, and as much as I'm dying to sheathe myself in Dom's tight heat, I take my time opening him up, stretching him around my fingers before I decide he's ready.

When I first touch the cool silicone to Dom's hole, he doesn't react beyond a visible effort to relax. As I push it further inside and turn it on, though, he lets out a shaky moan that gets me too worked up to keep going slow. I fuck him with the toy for a little while, angling it this way and that until I find that perfect spot. When I pull the vibrator out of his ass after massaging his prostate with it, he's moaning like he's ready to cry and his asshole is spasming. I position myself over him with a knee on one side of him, and my foot planted on the other side. I slide into him smoothly, throwing my head back and groaning with pleasure.

Look, I'm not saying that I'm not looking forward to bottoming for Dom. I want to take that big, fat cock more than I can properly express, but I'm not sure there is a better feeling on this earth than having my cock inside Dom's tight, muscular ass. It's fucking perfect.

I thrust inside him slowly, rolling my hips into each thrust, angling up to hit his prostate. I'm tempted to keep going like this, positive that I could keep going like this forever, but I want to feel him come apart. Slicking up the vibrator with more lube, I slide it in alongside my cock. Dom sucks in a breath, and his thighs tense. I alternate thrusting with the vibrator and taking turns with holding my cock inside him and turning the vibrator on in short spurts, but the sensation is almost too much for me to handle. Dom's hands are gripping the bedsheets so tight they're likely to pull from the corners or tear at any moment, and I'm overcome with the desire to make him come hands free.

Holding the vibrator still inside him and angled up to massage his prostate, I turn it on high. When his hips start to rock, pushing against my ass and rutting his cock into the pillows, I groan and bite down on my cheek to distract me from coming.

"I'm going to make you come so hard."

I pull almost all the way out, and then slam home, enjoying the feral grunt that comes from us both.

"Fuck! Again!" Dom demands.

"Yes, Daddy," I say breathlessly, barely holding my shit together as I pull out and slam in again, and again, fucking into him in hard, fast thrusts.

Within minutes, Dom is tensing so hard his entire body shakes, his guttural scream muffled into the mattress. I follow him over the edge, coming harder than I think I ever have in my life.

" Fuck fuck fuck —Cam, too much! Too much!"

His ass is still clenched so tight around my cock that I'm powerless to do anything other than rut into him, my pelvis bouncing off his muscular ass. I'm not even holding the vibrator anymore. I'm holding on for dear life, fingernails digging into Dom's hips as we both jerk and spasm and moan incoherently.

" Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuccckkkk!" Dom roars, and his ass tightens around me even harder, a second wave of pulsing milking my cum deep inside him.

Dom reaches back and pulls the vibrator out before I slump over his back, kissing and licking up the beads of sweat that have formed between the lines of defined muscle.

"God damn," I say finally, my voice coming out in a croak. "I really hope fucking me feels this good to you," I say dreamily, dozing with my softening cock still inside him.

" Mmmm," is all Dom can muster.

When I eventually gather the strength to push myself back up and pull out of Dom, I sit back and admire my handiwork for a few moments.

"I can't wait until you see your cum dripping out of me like this," I say, swiping my fingers through the mess and pushing some of it back inside with my index finger. "I want you to mark me like this, so you know who I belong to."