Page 9 of Hamartia

He looks glorious on his knees, blonde hair hanging over darkly made-up eyes, pink mouth wet and fuckable. I glance at us in the mirror and have to choke back a groan at the way his back arches, his ass pushed out, thighs spread wide. His hands on my zipper are what drags my attention back, his perfectly long fingers peeling open my jeans and pushing them down my thighs.

“Have you been thinking about this?” he asks, stroking my dick against his cheek, his mouth, eyes closing in what looks like bliss. “About me being on my knees for you?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun…please.” My hand reaches out to fist his hair and he lets out this delicious gasp, mouth falling open wide.

“Feed it to me. Feed me your cock, Raphael. I want it so much.”

The instant I comply, pushing my cock into the warm, wet heat of his mouth, I’m coming. Endless spurts of my orgasm onto his tongue, down his throat.

It feels like divinity. And he’s my god.

I awake to the feel of something cold and wet on my stomach. Fucking hell that was intense. The first sex dream I’ve had about him in months, and I came from it. I’d fallen asleep naked after finishing a half bottle of tequila and playing guitar for a bit.

The clock tells me it’s 4am and Camille will be here shortly and I can’t have her finding me in this state. After hauling the sheets from the bed, I drop them in the laundry basket and climb into the shower to wash off the evidence.

As I play the dream over in my head, I’m hard again. I jerk myself off against the tiles before climbing back into the unmade bed, but Camille won’t notice anything out of the ordinary about that.

I hadn’t checked his Instagram after the nominations, so caught up in our own that I hadn’t had a minute alone to do it. I pull up his account now. There’s a pic of him kneeling, head and hands pressed against the floor. The caption reads: ‘Thank you to our fans, I’ll work hard to make you proud. Be happy. You did this.’ I’m not sure why, but it reads so utterly heartfelt, so completely genuine, that I feel something thick burning in my throat. Then I feel guilty for jerking off to him and dreaming about him, for making him this dirty-talking minx in my head, for this whole weird fucking obsession I’ve cultivated from a single meeting. I know nothing about this dude. He seems sweet, genuine, hard-working, and probably isn’t even fucking gay.

What am I talking about?I’m not fucking gay.

Iwake up with Camille’s mouth around my cock. It’s half-hard and getting harder as she swipes her tongue over the head the way I like, as she flicks at the seam that connects my foreskin.

I hadn’t heard her get home, had fallen back asleep while checking my phone.

“Fuck, baby.” I look down to find her eyes closed and her cheeks pink, nipples poking through the cream silk vest she’s wearing. “I missed you.”

She smiles around my cock and pulls off. “Did you? How much?” She takes me to the back of her throat and sucks up and down a few times, then she’s straddling me, pushing me inside her.

“Shit.”

I arch my hips up into her, thrusting as she falls onto my chest, peppering kisses across my throat up to my mouth starting to move slow and sensually over my cock. Her thighs clench and release as she rides me with purpose, the familiar scent of her perfume flooding my nose. Having her in my arms is warm and familiar and feels really fucking good and with my brain still half asleep I’ve not the energy to fight off the orgasm. I’m spilling into her a few minutes later.

“Fuck, babe, sorry,” I groan, wrapping an arm around her neck to pull her close to me.

She sighs. Disappointed. “It’s fine.” She presses another soft kiss to my lips and murmurs. “Missed you too.”

“Was it this stamina you missed? Cause no one would blame you. A sex machine you have right here.”

This makes her laugh and then she’s sliding off me and rolling onto her back on the bed.

“It’s the Grammy nomination. That’s sexy, you know.” Her smile is wide as she turns onto her side to face me. She looks fond and proud.

I grin. “You want me even more now, right?”

“A hundred percent more. I can’t wait to marry you.”

That weird feeling skitters down into my gut again. Like fear. Or dread. I avert my eyes to look at the ceiling instead.

“I honestly thought I’d fucked it up, Cam. That we weren’t gonna get it. I’ve never felt fear like it. I was so sure and then when we weren’t in rock, I was certain we were done.”

It’s always been easy to be this vulnerable with Cam. She understood me on a level most people didn’t. She never judged and never expected and it was easy to just be myself with her. It’s one of the reasons we’ve lasted this long. Idolove her.

“You really think the band would have imploded if you hadn’t gotten a Grammy nomination?” She sounds doubtful.

“I’m sure Crawford would have killed me, Zeke would have helped bury the body, so maybe they’d have found another singer. But Raphael Scott would have been dead. Buried.”

“Mason wouldn’t let them kill you, he loves you,” she says.