16. Daemon

I ’m not one for the holidays, any of them really, but Thanksgiving is my least favorite one, and yes, it has everything to do with my demons. Josh usually helps, and he spent most of the day in and out of my room, complaining about his father, until he finally had to leave and attend his family’s annual Thanksgiving party. He finally picked a name off the list of approved women to become his wife, and it just so happens to be his sister’s best friend. So I’m sure things are going to get a lot more interesting around here if she says yes.

As per my usual routine for the last few years, I stay in my room alone, sketching, which is just the way I like it. So when my phone pings with a message from an unknown number, I internally groan. Who the fuck is texting me? I quickly respond by asking as such, and then stare at my phone until it lights up again. Only then do I groan out loud.

Unknown - **Image attached**

Unknown - Did you already forget what I taste like 47?

There in full color, is a picture of Archer fucking Gray, lounging in his bed wearing a fucking tuxedo and a smile. What the fuck?

Daemon - How the fuck did you get this number?

I don’t know why I ask that. I know the answer, and I curse myself for starting a friendship with his sister. I knew it would come back around and bite me in the ass. Yet, as pissed off as I am, I still save his number under a new contact in my phone.

Gray - I think you know the answer to that

Gray - How come you’re friends with my sister and not me?

His question doesn’t surprise me. People like him need to be liked by everyone, and I take great satisfaction in typing out my response.

Daemon - Because your sister isn’t an insufferable asshole

Of course I know that won’t be the end of it, he’s too fucking stubborn for his own good. Which is why, when my phone lights up with an incoming video call, I shouldn’t be surprised. I reject the call, tossing my phone back on the bed beside me, and hoping that’s the end of it, but I forgot just how insistent Archer fucking Gray can be.

My phone lights up with yet another video call, and I groan, before swiping across the screen to accept the call, his smug face appearing as I snap, “What?”

The smirk he is already wearing only widens, as his eyes trail over me, before he purrs, “If I’m such an insufferable asshole, then why are you answering the phone when I call?”

A valid question that only has me feeling more pissed off, as I grit, “Because I haven’t discovered how to fucking get rid of you yet.” My words light up his entire face, as he leans back on his bed, showcasing more of his tuxedo-clad form.

“Touché,” he replies with a smile, not deterred by my words in the slightest, and I can’t help but be as confused as always by him. “So, what are you up to?”

What am I up to? What the fuck is this guy on?

“Did I miss the part where we became friends?” I ask, not getting what this prick doesn’t understand about staying the fuck away from me.

“No, you didn’t, but you did stick your tongue down my throat, so I think that constitutes some conversation,” he tosses back without missing a beat, and I take a deep breath at the reminder of that damn kiss. “Now come on, tell me what you’re doing, or are you jerking off and that’s why you don’t want to tell me?” he adds with a wink, and the thought of him catching me jerking off snaps to the forefront of my mind.

Fuck. No. Don’t think about him near your fucking cock, Daemon.

“If you must know, I’m sketching.” I finally tell him, tilting the phone down until he can see the edge of my sketchpad. “It was a nice, peaceful night before someone ruined it.” I smile a fake ass smile, and he laughs, the sound deep in timbre, and it does something strange to my insides. So much so, that it almost turns my fake smile real, before I stop myself, finding the need to snap at him again. “Why the fuck are you wearing a fucking tuxedo?”

My question only makes him laugh, as he sits up in his bed and leans over, positioning his phone on his nightstand so I can see more of his room, and more notably, more of him. “My mom likes to go all out for Thanksgiving,” he starts, fully loosening his tie now, like he has been desperate to get out of it, until he can slide it from around his neck. “She creates a whole theme, decorations, flowers, the works, and then makes us dress up all nice,” he adds, his fingers reaching for the buttons of his shirt, and my heart starts to beat faster in my chest. “We all find it annoying as hell, but it makes her happy, so we just go with it,” he muses, his smile so genuine when he talks about his family, but I’m barely even listening.

My throat is dry as he peels off the black jacket, and then starts sliding the white shirt down his broad shoulders. “It’s nice that you do that for her,” I croak out, before coughing to clear my throat, and he eyes me with a smirk.

“What’s wrong, Forbes? See something you like?” He taunts, and my eyes flick back to him, finding him watching me, watching him. I don’t respond, but I don’t look away either, and when his hands trail down to his belt, my throat goes completely dry. “The rumors are true, aren’t they?” He asks, and I glance between his hands and eyes, unsure on which are more captivating.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I force out, as he stands, slipping his pants from around his hips, until he reveals his groin covered by black, fitted boxers, and his muscular thighs flexing as he kicks off his pants completely.

“That mouth has tasted my cum and kissed me until I couldn’t fucking breathe, and yet still it spills such pretty little lies.” He says the words so casually, as if he is still talking about his damn Thanksgiving, and I almost choke on my own breath.

“Don’t fucking start with that shit, it meant nothing,” I grit, but my lies only make him smile, as he leans back on his bed and brings his entire body in full view of the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, a drunken mistake, I know,” he purrs in delight, as if he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying, and I’m not sure I even believe it myself anymore. “Tell me, Forbes, if it was such a drunken mistake , why did you leave your mark on me?” he asks, and from the tone in his voice I can tell it’s something he has been wondering about for a while.

My eyes flick to his neck, where the bruise I left has now faded completely, and I find myself wishing it was still there. Especially when I let myself look at him, eating up the tattoos that stain his upper chest, in a way I have never let myself before. There are two swallows that mirror each other on either side, a crown behind one, and a mountain behind the other, and both lead off into a backdrop of trees. The whole piece is stunning, but I think it’s more to do with the man than the tattoos, and that’s the problem.

“I’m an artist, and anything can be a canvas,” I tell him simply with a shrug, reaching for my glass of whiskey, and praying it will chase away the dry ache in the back of my throat.

“And am I your muse?” He wonders aloud, and my eyes glance down to the sketch I was working on before he called, one that looks like him when I didn’t even mean it to.

“You’re my fucking damnation,” I curse, and the fucker blushes, as if I just gave him the biggest compliment in the world.

“Did you spend the holiday alone?” he asks, changing the subject, and for some reason I can tell that, as much as he loves bothering me, he is slightly concerned about asking that question, and I find myself shaking my head slowly.

“I spent most of the day with Josh, like I always do, before he slips away to the Mayor’s annual party,” I explain, and he nods, genuinely interested in what I am saying, so I find myself adding, “I cooked us a dinner, nothing too fancy, and now I’m just chilling waiting for him to get home.” I don’t know why I’m telling him all this, but the intensity in which he is looking at me and listening to me is unsettling, making me feel more on edge than usual.

I expect some sort of probing about where my family is, but he just smirks, as he replies, “On a scale of one to ten, how pissed is Peter’s that Cap is nailing his sister?”

His question is so unexpected that I huff a laugh, the sound captivating his attention like it never has before, as I respond truthfully, “About a hundred.” My answer delights him, because of course it does, and I stare at him in wonder and complete confusion.

What are we even doing here? We don’t talk, not outside of him attempting to get on my last fucking nerve, in which he always succeeds. Yet here we are conversing as if we are friends, maybe even more, and how did we get here? A drunken fucking mistake that’s how, but when my eyes trail over all of his golden skin on display, I can’t find it within myself to regret it anymore.

“Why did you steal my number out of your sister's phone, Gray?” I ask, causing his laugh to trail off, yet there is still a sparkle in his eyes as he looks at me.

“What makes you think I stole it?” he asks, mocking being offended. “How do you know Aurora didn’t just give it to me, because she knows you’re a miserable fucker and that I’d be able to make you smile, which I did,” he replies playfully, and I roll my eyes with a groan.

“Because I know you, and you really are an insufferable asshole,” I clap back, and the chaotic cunt only gets more delighted by my every word.

“Insufferable and an asshole I may be, yet you haven’t hung up the phone, so what does that say about you?” he asks, looking more intrigued than I have ever seen him.

“That I attract stray dogs that don’t know how to listen,” I remark boldly, knowing this whole conversation isn’t fucking normal, yet not wanting it to stop.

A thought that only intensifies, when Archer fucking Gray flashes me the now addictive fucking smirk, as he replies, “Woof fucking woof.”

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the slamming of my front door, and am cut off by the yelling of my name. “Josh is home, I have to go,” I tell him gently, not wanting to say goodbye for some reason, and I can tell from the look in his eyes that he is slightly disappointed too, yet still he nods.

“Okay, well, don’t think about me too much when you’re jerking off later.” He winks, flexing his muscles and making my eyes drop down his body once more, before he adds, “Happy Thanksgiving, Forbes.”

The call is barely disconnected, when Josh slams into my room without a word, his sights zoning right in on the whiskey on my nightstand, before he storms towards it and gulps down three deep swills. “How did it go?” I ask carefully, but fearing I know the answer based on the anger rolling off of him in waves right now.

“I’m engaged,” he spits, slamming one more shot, before turning on his heels and leaving without another word.

It isn’t until I hear his door slam, and I look back at my now dark phone screen, that I realize this is the first Thanksgiving I have smiled in over a decade, and it was thanks to Archer fucking Gray. Fuck.

Just a little over ten days later, I find myself sitting at my best friend’s bachelor party. How, you ask? Well, because Mayor Hugo Peters is a piece of shit, and his son wants nothing more than to take him down. His sister’s best friend, Hallie, agreed to be his fake wife, and after his father tried to force a huge society wedding on them, they secretly planned their own small ceremony, which is taking place tomorrow. That is how I find myself sipping whiskey in our kitchen, waiting for Josh to get home. It’s almost nine-o-clock by the time he strolls through the door, and I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve drunk nearly half the bottle to myself.

“Drowning our sorrows?” he asks, looking between me and the bottle with a smirk, and I shake my head.

“Celebrating actually,” I muse, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, before taking another sip.

“Well, that’s a change,” he smiles, pouring himself a drink, and I can’t help but silently agree, as he holds his drink up to mine and asks, “What are we celebrating?”

I almost roll my eyes at his question, because as smart as he is, sometimes he can be really dumb. “You,” I confirm, clinking our glasses together. “This is your bachelor party,” I tell him, gesturing to our drinks and the bottle between us, and he barks a laugh.

“No strippers and just us two present, what kind of bachelor party is this?” he asks, and now I do roll my eyes.

“Please, you haven’t touched any woman in months, and you basically hate the rest of the team,” I scoff, and I see his defenses immediately rising.

“I do not hate the rest of the team,” he denies, and I don’t bother pointing out his lies, instead I just shrug my shoulders.

“Fine, then I hate the rest of the team,” I reply with a smile, as I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, reminding me that as much as those words are true, there is someone very insistent on getting past my defenses.

I don’t have to pull it out to know who it is. Every time my phone has vibrated in the last week, it has been one person and one person only. From good morning texts, pictures of what he is eating, updates on his entire day, and my personal favorite, a shirtless picture of him in bed before he goes to sleep every night. Those are always sent as his final message, with the exact same words every night, without fail. Yes, Archer Gray has taken to not only stalking me at practice, but also blowing up my phone.

Doing my best to ignore him, Josh and I share a few more drinks with one another, talking back and forth as my phone continues to vibrate, and by the time I head up to my room, my phone must have gone off at least twenty times. I make quick work of getting undressed, changing into some shorts to sleep in, before forgoing my sketchbook for my phone and climbing into bed.

There are a few messages from Aurora, but it’s the multiple ones from her brother that capture my attention first, and I can’t help but rush to open them.

Gray - Cap just made me run 10 miles, he said I’m getting lazy

Gray - I just ate 5 tacos

Gray - Do you think that cancels out all those miles I ran

Gray - Here show this to Peters

Gray - **Image attached**

All of his messages are of the usual variety, including the last picture of Nova and Maddie kissing one another. He has been sending them for the last week, telling me to show them to Josh, and even though I don’t, I can tell Archer gets a kick out of sending them.

Gray - Did you know slugs have four noses?

Gray - Weird right?

Gray - Are you ignoring me?

Gray - Or maybe jerking off? ??

Gray - Would you tell me if you were jerking off?

I can’t help but smirk at his last message, as I type out my response.

Daemon - I was not jerking off

He reads and replies almost instantly.

Gray - Damn! Way to ruin my Friday night

Gray - So what were you doing?

I debate not telling him, but after discovering from Josh that Archer shares a class with Hallie, I am sure he is already well aware of their upcoming nuptials.

Daemon - I was throwing Josh a bachelor party

Gray - And you didn’t invite me? I’m outraged

Daemon - We don’t like you, remember?

Gray - You don’t have to like me to let me partake in debauchery

Gray - Didn’t you discover that when you stuck your tongue down my throat?

I guess he’s got me there, yet I won’t admit defeat.

Daemon - Aren’t you ever going to get over that?

Gray - Are you kidding?

Gray - I’ve jerked off to it at least 50 times

Gray - Great, now I’m hard thinking about it again

Gray - I better go and deal with it….

Gray - Unless you want to help ??

My heart is racing in my chest, my own cock thickening at the images he just painted in my mind. At least fifty times . Fuck. Why does he do this to me? Why, out of everyone, does it have to be fucking him that makes me feel something other than empty?

My hands shake as I type out my response…

Daemon - I think you know the answer to that

Gray - I do know the answer, I also know it’s bullshit, but whatever

His reply is almost instant, as if he is in a rush, just as two more messages pop up, and I am greeted with the words I read every single night before bed.

Gray - Don’t jerk off to me too hard, Forbes ??

Gray - **Image attached**

And as I stare at a picture of my teammate, shirtless and laying in bed, I can’t help but wonder if he is jerking off right now. Then I do the only reasonable thing I can do, the same thing I have done every single night since he started texting me.

I jerk off to images of Archer fucking Gray.