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21. Archer

T he party is in full swing, and I couldn’t give less of a fuck, because the one person I came here to see is locked away in his room like a damn pussy. If I knew he was going to be this hard to pursue, I wouldn’t have fucking pushed him in the first place. Okay, that’s a lie. My obsession with him is real, and I am only just starting to realize that it might have been going on for a lot longer than just the last couple of months.

Avoiding the multiple girls who have already tried to hit on me, I storm into the kitchen, pretending my mind isn’t assaulted by images of Daemon, sucking my cock like a man possessed. Internally groaning, I reach for a bottle of something to pour myself yet another drink, having lost count of how many I’ve already had, and spy Peters looking out on the party like he’s as pissed off as I am.

“You okay there, killer?” I ask, filling up my cup while eyeing him, not in the mood to piss him off. Well, no more than I already have today.

“I’m fine, Gray,” he lies, and I almost roll my eyes, no wonder he’s best friends with Daemon. The two of them are both grumpy assholes, the moody fuckers deserve one another.

“For someone who just gained himself a smoking hot wife, you look like someone pissed on your parade,” I muse, nodding to Alexander as he approaches us.

“Don’t fucking talk about my wife,” he grits, and I can’t help but smirk. Okay maybe pissing him off just a little more is fine.

“He’s right, Peters, you look miserable as fuck, do you want a cup of tea?” Alexander interrupts, leaning on the counter next to him, and this time I do roll my eyes.

“Not everything can be solved with a cup of fucking tea, Alexander,” I groan, sick of having this fucking argument with the British fucker, but he just smiles.

“That’s because you don’t appreciate a good Earl Grey,” he tosses back, still eyeing me like he knows something I don’t, before he adds, “It’s not my fault you prefer a darker blend.”

I open my mouth to respond, when Peters snaps. “What the fuck?” Making me turn my attention back to him, following his line of sight to Hallie.

She is surrounded by Brianna and her posse, and even from across the room I can tell she is uncomfortable. It was only a few weeks ago when we were in class together, and B was giving Hallie crap about her engagement to Josh. I thought we’d moved past it, but from the look on Hallie’s face right now, I can tell Brianna hasn’t.

“Oh fuck me, Brianna’s not starting her shit again is she?” I ask, tossing back my drink, not letting my stare stray from her for even a second.

“What the fuck do you mean again?” Josh snaps, turning towards me and looking like he wants to deck me, and I hold my hands up in defense.

“Hey, don’t kill the messenger,” I start, as he takes a step towards me. “She was giving Hallie shit in Econ a couple of weeks back, about you guys getting married.”

I've barely got the words out and he is already dumping his unfinished drink in the sink, storming towards the girls with a mask of fury. Alexander and I both curse, watching him go, before tossing our drinks back, and moving to follow after him.

“You know, for a man not in love , he certainly looks pissed off when someone is bothering his wife,” I muse to my goalie, and he flips me off.

After their engagement was announced in the paper, and the news traveled across campus, Alexander called bullshit, claiming their marriage was either political, or that Hallie was pregnant. I disagreed with the cynical bastard, and after we attended their wedding, and Josh confirmed they weren’t harboring a secret love child, the two of us made a wager. Alexander is still convinced their marriage is some bullshit scheme, but I bet on the two of them being the real deal and going the distance. And with the way he is defending her honor right now, I think my money is safe.

“Everyone has secrets, Archer,” he tells me, looking at me sternly, before he adds, “Maybe we just haven’t uncovered theirs yet.”

I don’t bother responding, as we push our way through the hoards of people now surrounding Hallie, and by the time we get through them, Josh is angrier than I have ever seen him.

“And if you come near me or my wife again, or even think about disrespecting her in any way, then you better be careful, because I will ruin you so badly, that even dear old dad won’t be able to save you. Now I’ll tell you again, get the fuck out of my house.”

Oh shit. His words cut right to the bone, and I can’t help but feel sorry for Brianna as she looks two seconds away from crying, but she got herself into this mess. If she would have just left Hallie alone then none of this would be happening, yet I know it must hurt when she spies all of the team who are present, coming to their defense.

Yet my sympathy is quickly dashed away when Brianna tosses her drink at them, and it covers Hallie almost completely, as she screeches, “Fuck you, Josh.”

Which is when all hell breaks loose.

Maddie steps forward to defend her friend, slapping Brianna across the face, and when B moves to do the same in response, Nova is there instantly, grabbing her wrist in his hand. They share a heated exchange before Nova eventually sighs, “You’ve crossed the line for the last time, so just go.” I can tell he doesn’t feel good about doing it, and out of all of us, he has probably been with Brianna the most, but that was before Maddie.

Protecting his girl also means protecting his girl’s best friend, and I have no doubt Josh is probably kicking himself right now for the fact that Nova came to have his back.

Everyone watches as Brianna tucks her tail between her legs and leaves, while Josh instantly starts guiding Hallie away from them all, when a lethal tone cuts across the room. “Turn the music back on. Now.”

My head snaps around at the sound of his voice, more than familiar with the tone and who it belongs to, and I smirk when I find Daemon, standing half way down the stairs, glaring at everyone in sight. Of course, he is quickly obeyed. The party once again comes alive at his command, and Josh taps his shoulder in acknowledgement, as he passes him with Hallie.

Daemon’s eyes dance around the room until they meet mine, and I swear I see something in them, yet before I can determine what it is, he is turning on his heel and running back upstairs. He’s no doubt heading to hide in his room again, but I am sick of this game of cat and mouse, and whether he wants to admit it or not, we are in this thing together.

I rush to follow him, not caring if anyone sees me, making it to the top of the stairs just in time to see what bedroom he is going into. I’m there before he can shut the door, blocking it with my foot, and only closing it once I have slipped inside with him. With my back against his door, I smirk, as his eyes widen in surprise, before he lets that stupid blank mask of his fall back into place.

“What the fuck do you want, Gray?” he snaps, not bothering to try and force me to leave, as my stare begins to take in his room.

It’s dark and moody, just like him, and I find it fits him perfectly, and my eyes greedily scan the space, taking advantage of being in here. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear what I want, Forbes,” I reply instantly, noting the overflowing bookshelves, and the open sketchbook on his bed, and smiling softly.

“I’m really not in the mood to have this argument with you again,” he replies, sounding tired, as he turns to face me, and I am there in an instant, forcing my way into his personal space, relishing in the way his eyes dilate as they meet mine.

“Are you really going to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me?” I force out, feeling the nerves building up the back of my spine, but holding his stare all the same.

Which means I don’t miss the tension in his jaw as he spits, “You’re Archer fucking Gray, everyone wants you.” I’m not sure he realizes the admission he just delivered with that statement, yet it has my heart hammering in my chest anyway.

“You’re right,” I nod, stepping close enough that I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against mine. “I could go downstairs right now, and probably take my pick of who to spend my night with, yet here I stand.”

I know I could turn around right now, and go return the attention of any one of the girls who tried their luck with me earlier. Hell, I could probably even find another guy. And that’s not me being cocky, it’s just a fact. A ridiculous and bullshit fact, because none of them would be him.

The bass of the music thrums beneath us, as his stare continues to search mine, and I can see he’s desperate, but for what I’m not sure. Especially when he whispers, “I told you to stop wasting your time.”

I reach one of my hands up slowly, placing it on his racing heart over his shirt, forcing an almost pained gasp from his mouth as I reply, “Don’t tell me this is all in my head, I know you feel it.”

“Archer,” my name falls from his lips in a one word warning, one meant to deter me, but all it does is drag me in even deeper.

“I know you feel it,” I repeat, desperate for another taste of him, licking my lips in preparation, his gaze tracking my every move. “I know this isn’t one sided, I know you want me, want this,” I add, reaching my other hand up to touch his face, but his hand flies out, snapping around my throat.

Again, I know it’s meant to warn me off, but all it does is turn me the fuck on.

“I don’t want you,” he forces out, squeezing my throat roughly in warning, but I lean into his hold, desperate for more.

“Such a skilled and wicked mouth,” I choke out, pressing into him and rubbing my erection against his own, smiling in delight. “Can you still taste my cum when you spill such pretty lies?” I ask, before slowly dropping to my knees at his feet and looking up at him. “Come on, let me show you how good it can be between us,” I purr, forcing bravado I definitely don’t feel into my tone, as my hands reach up and grab his belt.

Only then does his stare darken, his hand tightening around my throat, as he lowers himself onto the edge of his bed and pulls my face towards his. “You think you have what it takes to please me, Gray?” he laughs, a new look in his eye taking shape, and it sends a thrill through me, as he leans back on one of his hands and nods towards his belt. “Come on then, Golden Boy, do your worst.”

His command slams into me like an anchor, and my hands shake as I slowly but steadily unbuckle his belt. I’m not surprised that his black jeans hide black boxers, and I smirk as he lifts up, helping me pull them both down, greeting me with his hard cock. Fuck . It’s long, thick, and fucking beautiful, which is never something I thought I would think about a cock, but like every other rule I’ve always followed, Daemon Forbes seems to be the exception.

Leaning forward, I use one of my hands to lift his shirt slightly, revealing a jagged scar along his groin, it’s so deep below his waist that I have never seen it before. My eyes flash to him in question, but his stare remains blank. He’s not hiding, not running, yet I also sense that he isn’t willing to tell me the story behind it, not right now at least, but I need him to know I don’t care about the scars. So, I keep my stare on his, as I lean forward and drag my tongue along the mark on his skin, teasing and tasting it until goosebumps mark his thighs, and I pull a gasp from the back of his throat.

I pull back and marvel at the length of him, my hand gently stroking him softly, and relishing in the smooth weight of him in my palm. “You’re not scared, are you?” he taunts, even though his words are gritted through his teeth, so I already know I’m having an effect on him, and I can’t help but smirk.

“My worst is going to be the best you’ve ever fucking had,” I promise boldly, not feeling as confident as I sound, but still holding him firmly in my hand, without a fucking clue what I’m doing.

I stroke him up and down like I would to my own dick, and without warning he releases my throat, grabs my hand, and then spits into my palm, guiding it back to his dick. “It’s just like you would do with your own,” he tells me, guiding my now slick hand up and down his cock. “You want to get it nice and wet.” He releases me, letting me jerk him until he is grunting his approval, and when I lick my lips in anticipation of sucking him, he adds, “Now open your mouth.”

My jaw drops at his demand, dipping my tongue out to lash against his crown, lapping up his pre-cum, and before he can give me another command, I am swirling my tongue around his head, practically licking him clean. Fuck . He tastes raw and masculine, the unfamiliar tang exploding on my tongue makes me desperate for more. I think back to the porn I’ve been watching on repeat for the last two weeks, in preparation for ever being in this position, and without worrying too much, I slowly slide his head into my mouth and suck gently.

The feeling is strange, yet I tease and taste, using my hand and mouth in tandem to get him off, noting every hitch of his breath, as one of his hands comes to rest lazily in my hair, guiding me a little. “Come on, Gray, you can do better than that,” he challenges, his eyes turning almost black, as he watches me suck him, his words only spurring me on even more.

Taking him further, I grip him tighter in my hand and bob my head up and down, licking and sucking the same way he did me, as I try to get used to this unfamiliar act. I savor every little grunt of approval that slips past his lips, letting it guide and teach me, until my confidence begins to grow. His hand tightens in my hair when I try to take him a little deeper, earning another grunted praise.

“That’s it, choke on me,” he groans, making my own cock yearn for attention, as he almost hits the back of my throat and I gag, tears gathering in my eyes. “Hmm, looks like we need to work on that gag reflex,” he adds, stroking my cheek, as a tear falls, gathering it on his thumb and then sucking it into his mouth. “You taste good when you cry for me.”

My throat burns, but the need to please him outweighs anything else, so I just keep pushing, sucking, licking and jerking, until I know he is ready to snap, and only then do I pull back and taunt him. “Come on, Forbes, I know you’re itching to punish me,” I start, stroking him firmly. “So don’t hold back, I can take it.”

He eyes me darkly as I provoke him, before gripping my hair tightly to almost the point of pain, and guiding his dick back to my mouth, as he stands, towering over me. “Remember, you asked for it,” he grins, his smile intoxicating, as his cock slides against my tongue once more, pushing all the way to the back of my throat until my eyes begin to water and my lungs begin to burn. “Breathe,” he commands, holding himself there at the back of my throat, and I force air in through my nose, trying not to panic. “You look so pretty like this,” he grunts, thrusting a little, as if he expects to get deeper, and I gag, making him smile. “Look at you, so fucking desperate to have me, that you came in here begging to suck my cock when you don’t even know how.” He draws himself back as he speaks, only to thrust into my mouth again, even rougher.

Spit spills from my lips at his intrusion, my eyes watering even more than before, but when he hits the back of my throat again and moans long and loud, everything else is forgotten. I want him to fuck my mouth, I want my throat to fucking burn from his assault, reminding me he was there. I want to bruise and break and fucking bleed, just to see his eyes stained with lust like they are now, knowing I am the one to make him feel this way.

It’s what has me hollowing my cheeks and sucking harder, pushing further, gripping rougher, until the second I see his final restraints snap. His other hand comes up to join the first in my hair, gripping it at my roots, and then he is fucking my mouth, plunging between my lips until I feel like I might pass out. Yet as I watch him watch me, I am completely enthralled, so much so that I just take his assault without complaint, gagging and spluttering until I can’t fucking breathe, while silently begging for more.

Is this what it’s supposed to feel like? Not dull, something to pass the time and bring you a quick shot of pleasure, but like you are losing your goddamn mind and they are the only one who can find it for you? Like you are dying and they are the air you fucking need to breathe. Being with him is intoxicating and I never want to be sober again.

“I thought you could take it, hmm?” he asks, using his grip on my hair to tilt my head back, adjusting the angle and sending him even deeper. “Not so cocky now, are you, baby?” he grunts, cracking his neck and fucking my mouth even harder, probably not even realizing the term of endearment that just fell from his lips.

His thrusts are completely controlled, his cock never fully leaving my mouth, yet if I could, I would stay here forever, because the way he is looking at me right now is my undoing. His stare is possessive in a way that rips me apart, and when my scalp begins to sting beneath his grasp, I know he is getting close. I choke and gag, swallowing around his length, and pulling a deep masculine sound unlike anything I have ever heard from the back of his throat.

“Yes, that’s it, look at you taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his praise is like a fucking bolt of lightning, and fuck I want more. “So good,” he spits, rutting into me, his hips snapping roughly. “Going to train this mouth to take only my cock,” he adds, his words cutting off into a deep, guttural yell, as he finally finds his release. “Fuck, yes, I’m coming.” His thrusts become sloppy, as warm jets of cum splash against the back of my throat, and fuck it tastes better than I ever expected.

I don’t stop sucking until his body is shaking and he’s dropping back down onto the bed, his grip loosening on my hair. His hands soften it back down into place, as his thumbs swipe at the tears on my face, but I’m too far gone to care. Without warning I grab him, slamming my lips to his and spilling his salty release across his tongue, making him grunt into my mouth, before pulling back with a smirk.

“Now we’re even,” I gasp, my throat hoarse and dry, but I don’t care, as I rip open my jeans and fist my cock, fucking my hand roughly over him.

I’m so desperate to come that it doesn’t even take five strokes for me to get there, long ropes of cum exploding from my dick, covering both our hands and cocks. Only then do I pause and try to catch my breath, stumbling to my feet with my cock still in hand, until I can collapse onto his bed beside him.

“Mediocre at best,” he grunts, eyeing me where I now lie in his bed, like I am going to steal it, and I roll my eyes at his bold-faced lie.

“I’ll do better next time,” I tell him, feeling the mixture of satisfaction and exhaustion attacking my every limb.

“There won’t be a next time,” he snaps as he slips his cum-stained fingers into his mouth, licking them clean.

“Whatever you say, Daemon.”

And that’s the last thing I remember, before I drift off to sleep with the sound of the party still raging, and the imprint of my teammate’s cock in the back of my throat.

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