Page 4

CHAPTER 4

Geo

Hailee and Richie giggle as I fumble with my fingers trying to open my digital lock.

“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling the need to apologize for my behavior.

Hailee giggles as I lean against her.

“It’s okay, Geo. You’re allowed to have fun once in a while, you know.”

“What’s your code?” Richie’s voice is slightly raspy, and I know I’m not the only one who had fun tonight.

I tell him, and soon enough the door opens and Hailee helps me through the door.

“Thanks, Hailee,” I say, feeling the peak of my life’s choices this evening.

She rubs my shoulders.

“Of course. You know we got your back.” She flashes me with a sweet smile.

Her eyes are glassy, too, and I wonder how Mateo and Dare are faring.

I never even got to say goodbye.

“See you at the studio,” she says as she backs out the door, and when it closes, the resounding click echoes in my foyer.

I stand there, in front of my grand staircase, inexplicably aware of how quiet it is here.

Moments ago, there was noise.

Giggling, beeping, curse words, Hailee’s excitable voice.

And now there’s just nothing.

You think loneliness gets easier, but it doesn’t.

It just gets louder when there is no noise to drown out the truth.

I run my hand over my face, knowing I need to shower and go to bed.

Chances are, I’ll probably feel like shit in the morning, and I’ll be less likely to want to do it then.

I climb my steps, the gold and crystal accouterments of my big chandelier refracting off the beige walls like glitter.

The air is cool, and I can’t help but think of the temperature in the club.

All those bodies, all that sweat.

All that heat.

I saunter down the hallway, past my framed awards and photos.

Those first couple years on the label, I was doing pretty well.

Riding the whole purity ring wave didn’t hurt our sales then.

My cover of Real Life’s S end Me An Angel went platinum.

Twice.

It put me on the map.

I was no longer known as the nerdy Christian emo kid, Geo Graves.

I was Gravedigger.

I shed my thick glasses, got some contacts, bulked up, dyed my hair, got a big ass tattoo, and flaunted my little silver ring while showing off my abs, and suddenly, I was a hit.

For a little while, anyway.

I head for my bedroom, removing my clothes as I go.

At least on the plus side, being alone means I can technically walk around my house in my birthday suit if I want, pretty much whenever I want.

I traipse across the white marble floor of my bedroom to my en-suite bathroom, taking stock of myself in the oversized vanity mirror.

I stop for a moment, taking it all in.

How much I’ve changed.

I’m still paler than Vlad The Impaler, but the giant black cross that spans across my entire chest and torso only draws attention to my expertly sculpted hip bones, that wicked “V” that looks like a neon sign, pointing right to my damn dick.

In my black, tight boxer briefs, the contrast is more noticeable.

As is is the outline of my fucking cock.

I chew my bottom lips, my glassy eyes staring back at me as I turn to the side like Kevin told me to at the photoshoot.

These briefs are my favorite, because they have that comfy ball sac thing that feels like fucking heaven, but I guess I never noticed that it makes me look thicker.

Bigger.

I slide my tongue over my lips, channeling my best Mateo Starr impression.

Stoic, serious.

Sexy.

I cant my neck a little bit as I lean back, sliding my hand over my pronounced, sheathed cock.

My cock twitches from the touch alone, and I have to bite my lip.

I think about Kevin’s words, his instructions.

I grab my cock, opening my mouth just the slightest.

“Is that sexy?” I ask myself, but the mirror image of me doesn’t respond.

My cock jumps from my rough touch, and I slide my briefs off, taking a step back to really look at myself in the mirror.

I swallow at the sight of my erect cock, bouncing freely.

My dark hair is mussed from a night out on the town, my eyes glassy and dark.

I stand straighter as I stroke my cock, watching the way my hand glides over my shaft.

And I wonder if anyone will ever see me like this.

Naked with my cock in my hands.

My mind wanders to Saint & Sinner, to the pretty boy angel and his smooth, oiled skin.

His smirk.

Telling me my songs were on his fuck me playlist.

I mean, who has a fuck me playlist?

People who fuck, Geo.

That’s who.

My own lyrics fill my brain as I let my mind wander, as I watch myself.

It’s not like I’m at risk of anyone finding me or anything.

I’m a sinner, baby, and you’ve got me hellbent

I love the way you touch me, love the way you tease

Baby, you must be Heaven Sent

My mind is hazy as I let myself think of Rex and his warm, oiled skin, wondering what it would feel like against my own.

I bite my lip, picking up the pace.

Bracing one hand against the countertop, I shift my weight, thrusting my hips.

My cock glides through my fist easily, my fingers spreading my precum over my tight cockhead.

“Oh, fuck,” I curse, closing my eyes as I still.

I know this isn’t what I should be thinking about.

Not like I jack off a lot, but when I do, I don’t really think.

It’s more about clearing my mind and just taking care of business.

But this.

.

.

this feels different.

This feels good.

I swallow, following temptation.

Fantasy is just fantasy, right?

It doesn’t mean anything.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

I open my eyes, catching sight of myself, and I watch the way my hips move, slow and deliberate, as I pump my cock.

I swallow hard, but I don’t stop.

I can’t stop.

From this angle, it looks like I could be fucking someone.

“You like that?” I ask my reflection.

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to.

I close my eyes as I imagine sliding my cock into a wet, warm mouth.

My mind wanders to Hell.

Mateo said it was gorgeous downstairs, and I wonder what Rex would look like in the tight red shorts and black harnesses the devil attendants were wearing.

I look down at him in my psyche, at the way he kneels before me.

Waiting.

I’m so close.

So fucking close.

My pace quickens, but it isn’t enough.

I groan, because this is how it always is.

Getting there isn’t easy, even when I want to.

And I want to.

So fucking bad.

I miss you.

The voice that fills my head is familiar.

Soft, but masculine.

Different than the voice I remember, but somehow similar still.

Sparkling green eyes gaze up at me, and Rex disappears.

Bright green eyes framed by black eyeliner and thick lashes.

Eyes I knew very well, once.

I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut.

But it’s no use.

My alcohol-ridden brain chases the rabbit as my cock throbs and my rhythm starts to become a bit erratic.

“Show me how bad you missed me,” I grit between my teeth, chasing my elusive orgasm.

I come.

Hard, and fast.

“Fuck!” I curse as the guilt settles.

I open my eyes, my breath coming in rapid pants, my heart filling with panic and anxiety.

I catch my flushed face in the mirror as I hold my hand over my pulsing cock.

God, forgive me.

I try to stifle the guilt, the shame.

This is the part I hate.

The aftermath.

There’s no one here to hold me, to make it better.

There is only the deafening silence, and the harsh truth I don’t want to face.

That I am defective.

I let the water wash me of my sins, burying them in the darkest parts of myself.