But there’s one message he sent afterward.
Later, around 2 in the morning.
The message is simple:
I’m going to have to fuck you, aren’t I?
Attached below it is a picture of his cock. It’s in dim lighting, clearly taken while he was in bed.
And I swear it looks even bigger than it did when I saw it in person. It’s obscene how good it looks, the dusky pink color, with perfect veins and Sev’s fist clutching it at the bottom.
“Goddamnit,” I whisper under my breath.
I’m hard already.
No one else in the house is awake, and under the covers, I grip my dick, pissed off that I’m doing this but knowing I’ll only feel worse if I don’t get it out of my system.
I stare at the photo as I pump my cock, tapping the screen every time it starts to go dim.
And I feel like a goddamn addict.
Like I have some illicit secret, here under the covers, a shameful, dark thing I can’t make sense of. My thoughts don’teven make sense to me, still bleary with sleep and alone under the covers.
I want his mouth on me again.
Make him finish the job, this time.
I want it again so fucking badly, and I hate more than anything that it has to be him.The way he fucking put his lips around me before he knew who I was…
“Fuck,” I breathe as I come hard, faster than I expected, spilling white streaks all over my own torso.
And in that brief moment, nothing feels better than coming to the thought of Sevan Berlant. My heart pounds and I catch my breath, thoughts swirling into nothing in my mind.
And then, a minute later, it’s like a fog has suddenly lifted.
I go through the texts from Sev and permanently delete every single one, starting with the picture. As I scroll past the text that saidI’m going to have to fuck you, I bite my lower lip, almost angry at how much it turned me on.
I block his number, clean up, and go back to bed.
6
Sev
Wes looks like a mess when he arrives in class Friday morning.
He’s late, first of all, which is surprising for a guy who acts like a teacher’s pet. He comes in a minute after class begins and nods apologetically to Dr. Sellwood. There are dark circles under his eyes, and the messy golden swoop of his hair is less perfect than usual.
He’s not in his hoodie today. His knit sweater is more form-fitting, baby blue and tight against his body, showcasing his shape as he moves through the room and finds his seat.
As Dr. Sellwood continues on with her lecture about the execution of Marie Antoinette, I idly watch Weston.
I don’t know if it counts as spying on him, or stalking him, or whatever the fuck Kieran asked for. In reality, I have no desire to “spy” on Wes or anyone else in Onyx Society.
But I watch him becauseIwant to.
And because the way he looked at me across the table last night made my cock hard again, and I’m far too curious for my own good.
He’s… careful.