I want to fuck her face. I want to come in her mouth. I run my hand through her hair, pulling her down further onto me, so fucking turned on by the sight of her impaled in every hole, Dean and Cayde and I all taking her at once.
And then I have a sudden memory of her on the cliffside with me, her novice lips wrapped around my dick, scared and unsure. Her, before they poisoned her, before they took what I could have had.
If only I hadn’t been a fucking idiot.
The memory of Athena that night blurs with Natalie, and I jerk back, my cock still throbbing as it slides out from between her lips. I don’t know how I manage to stop, except that somewhere deep inside of myself, I know I can’t do this, not with Dean and Cayde, not while also thinking about my ex. I can’t come into Athena’s mouth while imagining a dead woman.
I barely manage to get myself stuffed back into my jeans before I run from the room.
My brain feels foggy, my chest aching, my heart pounding. I feel trapped in a vortex of lust and confusion, and hurt. I stumble back down the hall to my room, trying to ignore the sounds of them still fucking, part of me wishing Athena would come after me and part of me glad that she isn’t.
It just confirms what I already know, that she’s theirs. Not mine.
Never mine.
The moment I’m inside my room, I slam the door, leaning back against it and groaning as I shove my hand back into my open jeans, fisting my aching cock hard and fast. It’s not about pleasure or enjoying the act of getting myself off; it’s nothing but a means to an end, a way to stop the aching need that’s spread through me like some kind of vicious cancer.
I swore to myself I wouldn’t become obsessed with her like Cayde was. Like they both are, now. But all I can think of is her hot mouth as I stroke my cock furiously, her spit still on my skin as I bring myself to the edge and over it, coming into my palm in a hot rush that makes me nearly double over with the force of it.
As always, I feel vaguely unsettled when it’s over. When I feel a little more like myself again. The sounds coming from down the hall don’t make me feel a strange mixture of lust and confusion, just irritation and something that’s almost anger.
I put in earbuds so I don’t have to hear it, blasting the loudest, angriest music I can straight into my ears as I go to clean up and slide into bed.
It takes a long time for me to fall asleep. Eventually, I pop them out, hoping that the house will finally be silent, and it is. But even then, as I close my eyes, my sleep is anything but restful.
It’s all dreams ofher, dreams of that last night, of screams and blood on the asphalt, mingled with dreams of Athena coming into my bed, sliding under the covers and curling against my back. In the dream, I feel her lips at the back of my neck, her voice whispering my name, her hand sliding over my hip, wrapping around my cock. I groan aloud, my hips thrusting into her palm, and in the dream, there’s no question about whether or not we’ll keep going if I’ll let her touch me like this. I let her stroke me until I can’t bear it for another second. Then I roll over, pinning her to the bed in the darkness as her legs spread apart for me, her sweet pale naked body arching up towards mine. When I thrust into her, it’s the best thing I’ve ever fucking felt, but somewhere in my mind, alarm bells go off, screaming at me that I don’t know how Athena feels, that I’ve never been inside of her, that this is someone else. Not Athena, but a woman who shouldn’t be in my bed ever again.
But I can’t stop. It’s been so long since I’ve been inside a woman. In the dream, I keep thrusting, keep sinking into her sweet, warm body again and again, until I’m trembling on the verge of orgasm, my hands gripping the pillow on either side of her head.
And then, just as my cock swells, my body arching with the deep, throbbing pleasure of coming, my eyes adjust to the darkness.
The woman beneath me isn’t Athena at all.
It’s Natalie, her face crumpled, her skull bloodied, and she smiles her broken smile, wrapping her arms around my neck and whispering my name.
I recoil backward, screaming, but it’s too late. My body is convulsing, arching, thrusting, and I lurch backward, scrambling away from her as she sits up, still reaching for me, crawling towards me—
My eyes snap open as I wake up with a painful jolt, my head pounding and my thighs sticky. I’m sweating, and I realize dimly that I came in my sleep, something that hasn’t happened to me since I was a teenager.
I throw back the covers, scrambling out of bed, and rushing into the bathroom, flicking on the light in hopes that it will drive away the lingering scraps of the dream. Part of me wants to slip back into it, however horrifying, just so that I can hear her whisper my name again, feel her arms slip around my neck. But I know that what I’d see would be the version of her that I wish so desperately I could forget.
I wish more than anything that I could dream of her the way she was when she was alive, that I could see her beautiful face again, whole and smiling and looking up at me.
But I know, somewhere deep down, that I never will again. I’ll only ever see her the way she looked that last night because the guilt of what I could have done differently eats me alive, and it’ll never fucking stop.
If I’d never touched her, never loved her, she’d still be alive.
I can’t change that now. But I can keep it from happening again.
Which is why I have to fucking stay away from Athena.
Athena
Iwake up wedged under Cayde’s arm, which is honestly a strange place to be. Not all that long ago, I would never have imagined cuddling with Cayde St. Vincent. But now, his arm is under my head, probably as asleep as the rest of him. He’s snoring faintly, which strikes me as an oddly intimate thing to know about a man who not all that long ago I was terrified of and doing my best to stay as far away from as possible.
Cayde snores.
That’s a thing I know about him now.