10. Daemon

I often find myself wondering when the last time was, that I truly enjoyed any form of human contact. I mean, I can pinpoint the moment I began to hate it, the moment I began to bruise, and bleed, and fucking loathe it. I don’t have any problem recalling that, but when was the last time someone touched me and I didn’t recoil? Was it my mother? My brother? It certainly wasn’t anyone I fucked, considering I treat them more like transactions than human interactions, but when?

Of course there is hockey, which is a contact sport, so I am often bashed and battered all the time during practice and games, but my body is used to the violence. It craves it, like it remembers the days I suffered before. The ones where I tried to drown myself in drugs and alcohol to forget, but it never mattered how hard I tried, my body would always remember. As if the pain and hatred is a part of me, as if it runs through my veins, but what about love, sex, lust? When was the last time someone truly made me feel something other than the empty void that lives inside of me?

Except right now as my teammate’s hand trails along the edges of my jawline, and his thumb brushes across my lips, it’s all I can think about. His touch hurts just as much as all the others, yet this pain is more of a welcome ache. Like if he stops, my body will always remember the whisper of his skin against mine. An invisible scar to join the others. My heart crashes against the inside of my ribcage as I struggle to keep my breaths even, but I don’t move. Not when Archer Gray is touching me like he has the right to, not when I like it . Not when his hard cock is lined up with my own, and he is looking at me like I am the answer to fucking everything.

Truth or dare. Truth or fucking dare. A stupid child's game that now I find myself desperate to play, and the word leaves my mouth before I can stop it. Three years, three fucking years of taunts tainted in truth, of silence bathed in secrets, of Archer fucking Gray getting under my skin, and now here we are. I can’t keep it in any longer, not when he’s here, not when he’s pressing against me, begging for what I know only I can give him.

Fuck. The way he is looking at me right now has me wanting to drop to my fucking knees and worship him. To show him what every fucking word from his lips has made me feel, to torture him the way he tortured me, without coming up for fucking air, and I know he sees it. He sees it, and he likes it, and before I can do anything, he says six words that change everything.

“I dare you to kiss me,” he whispers against my lips, but then his mouth is instantly on mine, erasing any answer I could have given, and nothing has ever tasted so fucking sweet.

Archer Gray is kissing me. His lips are soft and hesitant as they move against my own, yet he feels better than any other has before. Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I kissed someone, the idea alone is usually loathsome, but as our lips move as one, I don’t know why I ever stopped. It’s been years since I enjoyed just the simplicity of kissing, yet right now I feel like I could survive on it forever, until his tongue dips out and traces along the seam of my lips, and I snap.

Pulling back, I grip my hands into his own jacket and spin us, slamming him back against the wall where he just had me, startling him completely. His lust-drenched stare meets mine, searching for an answer to my outburst, as maroon begins to stain his cheeks, in the most delicious display of art I’ve ever seen.

“Daemon,” he whispers, and my name has never sounded so fucking good. That one word is filled with so much yearning that I can barely control myself, and I can feel my temper burning beneath my skin.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” I spit, gripping him even tighter, like I’m afraid he might run away. “You think the whole world will just fucking fall at your feet, just because you deem it so?” I ask, sliding one of my hands up until it can close around his throat, squeezing it roughly. “Disguising your desires as some baseless dare just to get what you want,” I whisper, our warm breaths mixing together in the darkness, and it’s better than any high I’ve ever had. “I’m not one of your fucking toys you can bend and mold to your will, so if you’re going to kiss me, Gray, then fucking kiss me.”

My mouth is immediately back on his, and the second our lips meet, a tidal wave of heat floods my system, rippling through my entire body until I can’t feel anything other than him. There is no pain, no grief, no trauma, there is only him.

A low groan slips from the back of his throat in surprise, and I take advantage of it by slipping my tongue past his lips until I can tangle it with his own. Then I am fucking his mouth with mine, with one of my hands collaring his throat, using my thumb to tip his chin back, and the other pulling him against me as I press us harder into the wall. His own hands start to explore the planes of my back, both steady and sure, not caring about my rules against it, and fuck it sends an inferno through my veins. He’s touching me, he’s touching me and instead of anger or pain, all I crave is more. His hands explore me everywhere until they reach the back of my neck and one of them tangles with my chain, using it to hold me in place.

His cock is still pressed against my own painfully hard one, and when I roll my hips I am granted another delicious low groan from the back of his throat. I swallow it down, stealing any breath he could try and take as I control his mouth with mine, and I know I should stop. That literally anyone could walk this way and find us like this, but I don’t care, let them see. Let them watch as I make Archer fucking Gray moan with just my mouth on his.

The thought has me kissing and dry humping him even faster, harder, and more fucking brutal, until moans spill from his mouth like a damn symphony. When I pull back to take a breath, I am delighted by the black and white stains my face paint has left against his lips, and I can’t stop myself from dragging my mouth along his jaw and down his throat. I kiss and suck and bite, all the while grinding my dick against his, until his entire body is shaking, and his skin is thoroughly marked.

“Daemon,” he splutters my name once again, sounding like a desperate plea, and all it does is make me even crazier for him, for this moment, and all I want is more.

“Shut the fuck up,” I grit, sinking my teeth into the juncture of his throat and sucking until I know it will bruise. “Don’t fucking ruin this with your damn mouth,” I tell him, and a huffed laugh falls from his lips, but quickly turns to a moan, as I press my hips into his even more, grinding our cocks together in the perfect rhythm.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, dropping his head back against the wall, and giving me more access to his throat, yet he watches me through hooded eyes, a satisfied, drunken smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

There is a lightness to him that I can’t even fathom, even in a sordid moment like this one. A lightness I will never possess, and it’s in this moment that I know this is all we'll ever be. All we can be. Just a drunken fumble in the black of night. There is no world where someone like him can be drowned in the darkness by someone like me. So if the only thing I can claim from him is a kiss, I’d better make it count.

I slam my lips back to his, groaning at the sweet taste of him, as I fuck and grind my hips against his, and he meets me perfectly thrust for thrust. I steal every moan from his lips and swallow it down, committing it to memory, and desire pulses inside of me. His movements against me become more urgent, as his kisses turn sloppy, and I know he’s close. A thought that has me pulling back to watch him, as I rut us together faster and rougher.

“Daemon,” he chokes my name out now, his hands snapping to my hips, as he rolls his cock against my own, his eyes watching us move together in sync. “Fuck, I’m gonna…” his words trail off into a desperate groan, as his orgasm begins to take hold, sending my own jolting down my spine. Yet my hand grips his throat and brings his stare back to mine.

“Ah ah, eyes on me, Gray. I want to watch you fall apart knowing that I’m the reason why,” I tell him, and I swear I feel his entire body shudder beneath my command, and fuck, the thought of him enjoying that sends me over the edge with him. “Come for me, now,” I demand, rutting against his dick, as cum spills from my own, until he is choking on one final deep moan, and falling apart completely.

Our chests rise and fall in sync, as we crash back down from the high, and the reality of what we have just done hits me like a freight train. He kissed me, but worse, I kissed him back. I gave him something I vowed I would never give anyone ever again. Hope . When my eyes collide with his, I find just what I expected, confusion, lust, optimism. Panic curls in the pit of my gut, as I am transported back to the worst night of my life, to the last time I gave someone hope, and then lost everything because of it. Fuck . Archer’s hand releases my hips, slowly reaching up towards my face, and I pull away so fast that I almost stumble, slamming myself into the fence until there is a clear space between us.

My heart is pounding so hard that I can hear it in my head as I grit out, “Are you satisfied now, Gray?” I trail my eyes over the boneless state of his body, as he uses the wall to keep himself upright, and all he can do is smile.

“Satisfied?” he chokes out, still trying to catch his breath as he shakes his head. “Daemon, that was absolutely…”

“A drunken mistake,” I snap, cutting him off, and his eyes blink away some of the haze of his release, as my response washes over him.

“A mistake?” he repeats in question, forcing himself up off the wall, and before he can take a step toward me, I hold my hand out to stop him.

“A release is a release,” I reply with a shrug, no doubt crushing his precious ego, but it’s better this way. “Now I won’t tell you this again, Gray, stay the fuck away from me,” I spit with one last look, before I storm away from him without looking back. If I look back I will see the regret, and I already have enough of that in my life, I don’t need to add his too.

When I push into my house, I am quick to lock the door behind me, ignoring both Levi and Landon as they call my name from the kitchen, instead heading straight up to my room. I don’t stop until I reach my bathroom, and when I spy my reflection in the mirror, bile burns at the back of my throat. The perfect skull design is no more, now smudged by his lips, and I have to stop my fist from smashing the images into a thousand pieces.

Why the fuck did I let him kiss me? Why the fuck did I kiss him back?

Why the fuck do I ruin everything I touch?

Ripping off my clothes, I turn on the shower and step under the scalding spray, my head tilted down so I can watch the black and white paint swirl down the drain. Then I scrub every inch of my body, erasing his mark and scent from my skin, until there isn’t a trace of this night left. When I step out, I don’t look in the mirror. I don’t want to see the person who will be staring back at me. The one haunted by his past and mistakes, and instead just dry myself off and head back into my room to grab some shorts.

When I slide into bed, I pray that the alcohol will drag me into a quick slumber, but it’s no use. The sound of my name falling from his lips, and the look in his eyes as he came for me, is imprinted in my mind for eternity, and I’m not sure I will ever know peace again.

My phone pings, and I push out of bed to retrieve it from my jacket pocket, slumping back down as I open a message from Aurora.

Aurora: Inspired by you…

Aurora: **image attached**

It’s late, but I’m not surprised. We often find ourselves awake at this hour sketching, and it seems tonight is no different. The image is of a sketch she has drawn, and I almost shake my head in disbelief, as I stare down at an image of myself with half of my face decorated in a skull design. I sent her a picture of my costume before the party earlier, knowing she would appreciate what I had done, but I never expected this.

Daemon : Wow it’s amazing, Aurora, truly, I am blown away

She has captured me so perfectly that I almost can’t believe it’s me, and as we text back and forth she asks about my night, and then tells me about hers. Apparently the sketch of me is one of three she has drawn today, inspired by her friends, and I smile at the fact she considers me one of them, before I head to her social media account to check out the others. They are both just as good as the one she already showed me, and I double tap the image and leave a comment of encouragement.

I move to exit just as another comment pops up below mine, and when I recognize the account name instantly, I pause. My thumb hovers over the name, knowing I shouldn’t click on it, and praying his profile is private, but when I inevitably give in, I am greeted with access to all of his photos. Yet, it’s the image uploaded two minutes ago that has my heart once again pounding in my chest.

It’s of a strong muscular jaw line sloping down into an elegant throat, both of them marked in paint, but it’s the remarkable purple bruise now staining his neck that sends a jolt through me. A bruise left by me, now an image for all, and it’s titled with three little words.

@theARCHERgray: A drunken mistake…

Fuck.