Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

SPARROW

I’ve got this man bent in half like a fucking pretzel on the couch as I fuck into him. His chin is pressed into his chest, being forced that way as I have him crushed into the couch. I have his ankles in my hands as I drive in hard and deep. Over and over.

The couch slams against the wall with every thrust, and he grunts with every drive home.

His eyes are locked on where my dick disappears inside his body, with his hands pressed to the back of the couch to try to absorb some of the impact. I love to watch him. To see his muscles flex under me. How his chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath.

I’m so fucking into fucking this guy. It’s more than just the pressure of his tight hole stretched around me. It’s beyond knowing I’m the only one who’s been inside this tight hole. I’m not sure what it is, but everything about him turns me on so fucking much that I lose myself and let go probably more than I should.

I can’t help myself because he feels so goddamn good. The sounds he makes. His expressions. The way he grips my arms to brace himself. How he comes for me.

His beautiful brown eyes flicker up to mine and fuck, I want to kiss him. I can’t like this. Instead, I drive harder inside him. He groans, one of his hands coming down to press against my stomach. I think that means he needs me to go easier .

“Okay?” I ask, pausing with my dick inside him.

Dak shudders, a quiet choked sound leaving his mouth. He nods but the movement is hindered by his predicament with the back of the couch.

“Need me to go easier?”

The shake of his head is far more pronounced than his nodding. “Fuck me how you want.”

It’s not the first time he’s said something like this. “If you’re not?—”

“Fuck me, Sparrow,” he growls.

Well, you don’t have to tell me twice. I ease my thrusts for a minute, but when he says my name, a warning in his voice, I drive home hard. He gasps, his fingers digging into my arm now. “Like this?” I ask and slam in again.

He grunts. “Yeah. Feels good.”

I shift him a little on the couch, giving his neck a break and bringing his ass in the air. Curling him in half, I lean over so I can take his mouth with mine. His noises are sexy. His hands cling to me before running down my body and gripping my ass.

“Come on,” he chokes out. “I know you can fuck me better than that.”

I sink my teeth into his lip and he winces. But I give him what he wants. I fuck him until I’m so lost in the sensation, I’m barely conscious of anything around me. Just the feel of him, the sounds he makes, his breathing, his heartbeat.

My orgasm surges through me and I’m left struggling to breathe with my forehead on his shoulder. Even so, I reach between us and jerk his cock. He’s sensitive, and I can tell he’s a little over stimulated because his hands grip my hair tightly. His jaw clenches.

Dak’s still folded in half, my cock still lodged inside him at this angle. His body tries to jolt with every stroke I give him. His grip on my hair is painful as he whines.

“Come for me, Risk,” I grunt. “Let me see your pleasure.”

It’s like I’ve edged him for hours and now I’m forcing his orgasm. When he lets it go, it’s with a sob. His body twitches under me with every spurt until he’s finally limp.

And now we lay just how we are as we try to breathe again. When I’m relatively certain I can walk without taking a nosedive, I gently pull my dick from his body and head to the bathroom. After discarding my condom, I clean up and then bring a damp cloth to Dak.

He hasn’t moved except he’s no longer bent in half. So I take a minute to clean him gently, though he still twitches under my touch. I toss the cloth aside and climb onto the couch with him. We weakly wrap around each other and spend fuck knows how long like this. Not speaking. Not moving. Just breathing and existing together.

“You okay?” I ask once we’re both relatively back to normal.

“Mm-hm,” he answers.

“I didn’t hurt you?”

Dak shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“Sore?”

A quiet amused huff puffs against my neck. “Yes, but I’m fine, Sparrow. I’m perfectly capable of telling you if I don’t like something or if it hurts too much.”

“Too much means that you have a threshold that maybe I’m getting near,” I counter, pulling back to look at him.

He’s still looking amused, but there’s also resignation in his eyes. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“You can’t just trust that I know my body well enough to understand when I’m within the range of pain I can handle and will tell you if you move beyond that?”

“While I want to say yes, you just admitted I did hurt you.”

His hand tangles in my hair again. Hard. I hood my eyes.

“Stop,” he says, then licks me. This fucker literally licks my lips like a damn dog. I scrunch my face before laughing. “Yes, it hurt. But not to the point where I wanted you to stop doing it.”

“Was it the angle? How hard? Or?—”

“Fuck’s sake,” Dak mutters, laughing. “Sparrow, seriously. I. Am. Fine.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t moved at all. When you get up and move around, you might find you hurt more.”

“I now understand the term mansplaining in a way I never thought I might,” he retorts .

I snort. “Fine. I’ll stop.”

Dak grins. His hand loosens in my hair, but his arms circle my neck, pulling me in close. “I like what we’re doing. It’s all still new, even if the mechanics are the same from one day to the other. But please understand I will tell you if you do something I can’t handle or don’t like. Okay?”

“You pressed against me. Your hand on my stomach. You needed me to stop,” I point out.

“And you did.”

“But I kept going after.”

“I wanted you to.”

I stare into his eyes, trying to understand if I’m pushing him too far and he doesn’t want to say so. He’d made it clear that he felt guilty for what he thought of as shitty behavior at Rumor. Leaving me hard and aching.

No matter how often I’ve told him it’s the name of the game I was playing, I can see the guilt that still surfaces sometimes. I don’t want to take a chance that the guilt is driving his actions now.

“Tell me what you like,” I say.

Dak sighs. “I like everything we do. It’s hot. It feels good. You’re really hot when you’re turned on. You know that?”

“Am I not hot outside of that?”

He grins. “You’re always hot, honey,” he coos mockingly.

I roll my eyes.

“I like what we’re doing,” he reiterates. “You don’t think I’d keep coming over if I didn’t, do you?”

“I suppose not. Even if your feeling guilty is what drove you here the first time, I guess maybe you wouldn’t keep coming back.”

“That’s what you think, huh?”

“That’s what I think.”

“I felt like shit for leaving you like that. So often. Yes, guilty, but also like the world’s biggest asshole. I waited because I wanted to apologize. I wanted you to know I did want to fuck, but I couldn’t do it there. Stage fright or camera shy or whatever. There was too much… pressure maybe? Too many people witnessing what I was doing. I don’t know exactly what the problem was, but Sparrow, I kept going back because I wanted to fuck you. You know that, ri ght? I didn’t ask to talk after to actually fuck. I wanted to apologize because I was being a dick.”

“You weren’t?—”

“Yes, I was. You’re not going to convince me otherwise, so don’t waste your breath. We both know I should have handled everything differently. I knew my issue was the cameras, and I let the idea that you, a presumed straight man, would scoff at me if I told you that I wanted to fuck outside of Rumor drive me to continue to push myself with something I knew I couldn’t do to try to get what I wanted.”

“Are you done reprimanding yourself?”

“If you’re done excusing my behavior.”

“All I’m saying is that you’re not a dick for saying no.”

“And I’m saying that every single person involved knew I was going to say no when I got to a point, and I chose to come back anyway and put you through that.”

“Dak, I also chose to come back. Every time they called to tell me you were there. Have you considered that in your self-scolding?”

He’s quiet as he looks at me. “No. Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted your ass, and you wanted to give it to me,” I say, laughing. “I knew the odds of me getting into your ass were minimal and shrinking with every visit, but you know what, Flight Risk?” Dak scowls at me. “I came back every. Damn. Time.”

“For a chance at my ass,” he says.

“Yes. And also, I liked the feel of you. The look of you. You have a perfect damn body, Dak. Did you know that?”

He rolls his eyes. “Hardly.”

“For me, you have a perfect body,” I amend. “Every little thing about you is perfect as far as I’m concerned.”

His breath catches. My eyes flicker down as I watch his tongue poke out from between his lips to moisten them. Something feels like it’s shifting right now. I can feel it. The heat is different from what I usually feel. Something heavier, deeper, is trying to settle around us. My breaths feel like they’re stuttering to come out, though I’m not sure why.

The moment is broken when my phone rings. I jump at the sound, making us both laugh.

We’re in the age where people rarely call. If it can be done in a text—and most things can be—that’s how everything is relayed. So if there’s a call, I’m inclined to answer. I lick his lips, just as he had mine, making him scoff and wipe his face.

I’m grinning when I pull away from him and reach for my phone. It’s Wyatt.

“Hello?” Obviously he’s not telling me that Dak is there. Maybe it’s the other guy.

“Hey. You want to earn some money?”

Most of the time, I’d say yes. I’m not sure I’ve ever declined. But I’m hesitant to say yes right now. I glance at Dak, take him in where he’s still lounging on my couch behind me. His lips curl a little when I meet his eyes.

“Uh,” I hedge, unsure why I’m hesitant. “Now?”

“We’re short on cameramen,” Wyatt says. “Tomorrow.”

Camera work. Yeah, I can do that. “I’ve never been on that side of the camera.”

He chuckles. “No. But you’ve been in enough to know where the money shots are. I don’t need an expert. Just someone to point and shoot.”

I snort. “Okay, cool. I can do that.”

“Awesome. See you tomorrow.”

I hang up the phone and turn to look at Dak. He’s not smiling now. In fact, he looks stiff. Tilting my head, I study his face. “What’s up?”

“You’re—Nothing.” He shakes his head.

I pull him up. Something that has him laughing since we get tangled as he struggles to sit. “Tell me,” I insist when his face is close to mine. Dak’s half on top of me now, and I can feel the tension in his muscles, especially when I once more address that something’s bothering him.

He glances at my phone. “They only call when they want you to come in?”

“Apparently, they’re short on cameramen and decided since I’ve been there often, I probably know how to run the camera.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Do they call for that often?”

I shake my head. “Nope. This is the first time.”

“Why not just shut down a room or something? ”

“I don’t know. I’m not part of the fraternity, so I don’t have any idea what their thought process is.”

Dak nods, and his eyes drift away. After a minute, I get the feeling that he’s trying to look anywhere else but at me. Taking his chin in my hand, I bring his attention back to me. “Does it bother you?”

“No. Why should it?” His response is a little too quick. Very obviously a lie.

“So you’re completely fine with me running the camera at Rumor, then?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. It feels as though you’re not a fan of that idea.”

Dak takes a deep breath. “Look. I’m not going to ask you not to do it. Not only do I not have a right to ask that of you, but because… well, I would never have that right. You’re allowed to do what you want. Freedom and all that.”

“And yet, you really, really hate the idea of this.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls away from me. “Can I use your shower?”

I nod and watch as he gets up. He doesn’t hide the twinge he clearly feels as he takes a few steps away. He has the gall to look over his shoulder at me with pursed lips, daring me to point out that he is more sore than usual.

“Don’t even think about it,” he mutters just before he shuts himself in the bathroom.

I stare at the door as if I can see through it. Is it the right thing to call Wyatt and tell him I changed my mind? I’m really not sure why he’s upset with this. It’s camera work. I won’t be there to fuck anyone.

I decide that if he’s not going to tell me the truth, I’m not going to jump through hoops to try to figure it out. I’m going to film because I just committed to it. And if Dak wants to tell me what’s going on with him and why he doesn’t like it, then we’ll go from there.

For the first time with Dak, I’m reminded that this man is younger than me by five years. I’ve never felt the age difference until just this moment. Five years isn’t huge but, in your twenties, it can be a chasm. There’s a chance I judged him wrong this entire time because I’ve been so obsessed with how his body feels.

This may be the beginning of the end. I have no interest in dealing with immaturity when it manifests in a lack of communication and expressing your feelings on something. Even something as stupid as running a camera.