Chapter 109: The Temptations Is Winning (18+?)
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"I...I have no idea what you’re talking about," I mumbled, focusing intently on the onion in front of me. My knife slipped dangerously close to my finger. "I just walked in by accident, totally normal roommate stuff. Happens all the time."
Damien chuckled, warm and low, inching closer under the guise of checking the pan.
"You stood there for thirty seconds, Oliver. Looked like you wanted a closer look, maybe even more than a look."
"What the fuck?!" My face was on fire again. "I didn’t! I was just surprised. You could’ve locked the d–!"
His hip nudged mine gently, the touch lingering just long enough to make my breath hitch. "I’d be happy to grant you the honor of a second look if you asked."
I turned too fast to grab a spatula and nearly fell over.
His strong hands caught me around the waist before I could stumble, pulling me back against his solid frame. Damien’s breath ghosted over my neck, his warmth radiating against me.
"Careful," he whispered, his voice lowering. "Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself because you’re distracted thinking about what you saw in the shower."
His hands lingered on my waist longer than necessary, his thumbs tracing small circles that sent tingles across my skin.
The closeness felt overwhelming, the scent of his body wash still clung to him, the warmth radiating off his body, and the way his fingers felt so sure against me. It brought back vivid flashbacks of that night and how easily he had unraveled me.
I twisted out of his hold, even though part of me wanted to stay there.
"You’re infuriating," I grumbled, stirring the sauce a bit more vigorously than necessary. "Always teasing, acting like it’s all a joke! I’m just trying to cook here, not... not whatever this is."
He laughed softly, not backing away. Instead, he leaned in to adjust the stove’s heat, effectively pinning me in place.
"I’m not teasing just for fun, Oliver. Your reaction is driving me crazy. You don’t have to say it out loud if you’re not ready, but I can see how you’ve been looking at me. And I like it."
His words hung between us, thick and charged, as we continued cooking.
Shame washed over me, of course he had noticed me practically drooling over him this past few days.
"Who’s been looking at you?" My hands trembled slightly as I chopped, distracted by the flex of his arms when he reached for ingredients and the occasional brush of his body against mine in our small kitchen. "You need to get your eyes checked, asshole."
"Oliver."
"Hmm?"
"You’ve been stirring an empty pot."
I blinked, and sure enough, there I was at the stove, wooden spoon in hand, stirring absolutely nothing, just the pot, swirling around like I was trying to conjure up soup with sheer willpower alone. While the pot I was supposed to stir was right beside it.
Fuck...
"...I knew that."
Damien leaned against the counter, arms crossed, looking at me with that amused expression he reserved for catching me doing something ridiculous (which happened every time sadly). "See? Your mind is elsewhere."
"Shut up, i...it was an experiment."
"Did it work out?"
I sighed dramatically. Of all lies, I had to choose the dumbest one yet.
"Thought so."
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help but let the corner of my mouth lift.
That was another issue altogether. Smiling around Damien had become way too easy lately.
I ended up burning the edges of one batch of vegetables because my mind kept drifting to the line of his jaw, the damp curl of hair at the back of his neck.
Damien noticed, of course, and simply smirked, dropping hints that he was ready for more whenever I was...never pushing, just always there.
By the time we sat down to eat, the atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken tension, this slow pull that made each bite taste richer than it should.
I still kept sneaking glances at him across the table, my mind spinning with memories of him in the shower alongside thoughts of how he had held me so thoroughly.
My pride still wouldn’t let me voice any of this, but the temptation was growing stronger with every passing moment, chipping away at my resolve.
That night, we climbed into bed like we always did. The apartment was quiet, settled into its evening calm, and city lights painted faint golden lines on the ceiling through the gap in the curtains.
Beside me, Damien had already started drifting off, his voice slow and relaxed. "Goodnight, Oliver."
"...Goodnight, jerk."
A few minutes later, his breathing settled into the familiar, steady rhythm I had learned to recognize without even trying.
But I remained awake, staring at the ceiling. My mind was racing way too much, like I’d taken up overthinking as my full-time job.
That accidental bathroom encounter replayed in my mind...not in any humiliating detail, but in the quiet realization behind it. I hadn’t run out because I was disgusted or uncomfortable.
I’d run because seeing Damien had completely caught me off guard, and my heart had reacted before my brain even had the chance to process what was happening.
That thought scared me. Because every day I spent with him made it harder to convince myself that these feelings would just fade away, like crushes were supposed to do if you waited long enough.
Every shared meal. Every sarcastic argument over who does the dishes. Every quiet moment in the kitchen with his shoulder against mine. Every laugh that escaped me without intending to. Every sincere thing he said that landed somewhere unexpected.
Each one chipped away, bit by bit, at the walls I’d carefully built around myself—walls that were supposed to keep this kind of thing from happening, the kind that leads to having your heart fully invested in someone you weren’t meant to let in this deep.
I wasn’t ready to admit what that all meant. Not yet.
But lying there in the dark, listening to Damien’s peaceful breathing next to me, warm and steady and completely unaware of the storm brewing just a couple of feet away, one truth was impossible to ignore.
The temptation wasn’t just inching closer.
It was already here, nestled in the apartment with us, sharing the blanket, the coffee mugs, and most of my waking thoughts.
And I was starting to wonder, looking at those golden lines on the ceiling, how much longer I could keep pretending otherwise.
I told myself I wouldn’t think about it, that I could bury it all to keep the fragile balance we had and protect this... ’friendship’ that had become precious to me.
But every time I shut my eyes, all I could see was Damien, naked in the shower, water cascading over toned muscles, and that overwhelming desire to do more than just look at him from a distance.
Without thinking, my hand drifted under the sheets almost out of its own will, wrapping around myself as quiet, guilty strokes brought every sensation back.
It built slowly, that pleasure mixed with shame, until I came silently, biting my bottom lip until it almost bleed to hid my sounds.
Afterward, lying after cleaning up...there in the dark with my heart racing and guilt swirling in my chest, I felt more confused than ever.
I couldn’t believe I had just...pleasured myself while laying on the same bed as my roommate.
The object of my desires.
Perhaps I was crazier than I thought.
The line between friends and something more was getting harder to maintain, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could pretend it didn’t exist.
Part of me wondered what would happen if I finally stopped running from temptation altogether. That thought both terrified and excited me more than I was willing to admit, even to myself.