Page 30 of Silent Damage

My vision blurs, the alcohol making my head spin—

Or is it just the intensity of it all?

The knowledge that he’s practically naked on a bed with just some flimsy wood paneling dividing us is driving me wild. All it would take is for me to walk in there and tell him, “I want it,” and he would be mine.

Mine.

“Oh, fuck me…”

My heart pounds as I rub my eyes, trying to wash that image away, but I can’t.

I could do it.

I could just walk in there.

What if I could have him…

Just once?

“Stop,” I warn my reflection.

Fuck it!

I can’t do it anymore. I tear off my pants and underwear to free my aching hard-on and release a wad of spit that lands right on the shaft.

“Just pump one out, dude.”

That’s it. That’s the solution.

This will fix it. I’m always horned up when I’m toasty, so if I just choke one out, I’ll be sane again.

My cock swells, precum leaking from the tip, as I close my eyes and pretend my hand is Gabe’s.

I see his thigh, pale and smooth, and that delicious crease where his ass meets his leg.

And those boxers.

They were old. Ratty. That trashy hat he wore…

The look in his eyes when he dropped his arms to his sides.

In my mind, I crawl up the bed again, but instead of stopping myself, I wrap my hand around his neck and stop just an inch from his face. His mouth falls open, revealing his tongue. I inch forward, teasing him with a kiss, but back away.

He’s mad…and pouty.

I love when they pout.

A little whimper escapes his lips, and that’s when I let him have it, sliding my tongue in his sweet mouth and giving him what he needs.

I can almost taste him.

His face is red because my hand clasps his neck, just tight enough to make him struggle, but not enough to cause harm.

Then my hand trails down his body, tracing the lines of his frame, before slipping past the elastic waistband of his boxers and gripping what’s mine.

Him.

He belongs to me in this moment, and not a fucking soul in the world could take him from me.