Chapter 143: How to Shut Damien Up
•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•✾•⋅⊰∙∘☾✶☽∘∙⊱⋅•
I could feel my face getting warmer, a blush creeping up my neck that had nothing to do with the blanket and everything to do with the man beside me.
As if that wasn’t enough...
Damien’s hand had drifted down to my thigh under the blanket, resting there with a casual possessiveness that sent sparks dancing across my skin.
Each subtle shift of his fingers nearly unraveled me, the innocent touch feeling much more intimate than it had any right to be on a simple movie night.
He leaned in a bit, the way he did when he was about to say something just for me, his breath brushing against my ear.
"You look adorable when you blush like this," he murmured, teasing yet with a warmth behind it. "Look at you squirming under that blanket... is the movie getting a little too hot for you, Oliver? Tell me, I won’t judge."
"Shut it, the movie is fine," I replied, perhaps too quickly.
"Mm."
"It’s just, it’s b–because... I’m watching it with you that it’s the problem!"
Those words slipped out before I could second-guess them, and I instantly wished I could take them back. Instead, I buried my face in his shoulder for a moment, delaying anything further.
He tilted his head to look at me, wearing that look of amusement, affection, and something else quietly lurking behind it.
"Am I making you all hot and bothered, Oliver?"
My eyes widened..."Not really, It’s just... it’s hot in here with the blanket and all. That’s it."
Damien smirked and leaned in closer, "Hot, huh? Or is it because you’re imagining us doing that instead?"
"Shut up! I’m not— I’m watching the movie!"
Damien chuckled, his hand still stroking my thigh. "Sure you are. Your face is the same color as the red bra she’s wearing. Cute."
"You better shut your ass up or else–"
"Or else what?" He chuckled, his arm tightening around me, the teasing feeling easy and comfortable, the warmth completely genuine. "What could a shortie like you possibly do to me?"
There it was, that raised eyebrow. The calm demeanor of someone who had never been caught off guard by me in all our time together.
I felt a surge of anger.
For a moment, I thought about how often I’d been the one falling apart... the one with the racing heart, the flushed face, unable to form sentences after teasing me to no end.
He had always been there, steady and composed, clearly enjoying my struggles.
All those moments before...the handjob that had left me seeing stars, the grinding haze of that drunken night, Damien had always been the one in control, hard and wanting but never quite crossing into his own release with me.
I had always ended up cumming first, vulnerable and exposed under his touch.
But what if I could flip the script?
What if I could see him lose it, hear those low sounds turn into something raw and desperate... begging for release?
The thought sent a thrill through me, a mix of nervousness and excitement. I might not have much experience with guys, but I knew enough...knew him well enough, to at least try to bring him to that edge and watch him tumble over it.
Just once, I wanted to see him all hot and bothered too.
A sly smile crept onto my face, and I felt it.
"That’s your final warning, Damien," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "Shut up now. Or I’ll have to teach you a lesson."
He paused.
His eyes widened, just a bit, just the angle that told me he hadn’t seen that coming and a satisfying spark lit up in my chest at the sight.
But then that smirk returned, wider and more challenging. He grabbed my chin gently but firmly, tilting my face to his.
"Acting all bold now, huh? Like you’re not the one blushing like virgin in my arms."
"Go on then," he said, quieter than before. "I dare you."
Look at him happily walking into a trap he already knew was there.
I chuckled, the sound low and filled with anticipation, "You said it, not me."
And then I acted.
Without saying another word, I pounced, shifting up and over him in a fluid motion that caught him off guard.
My hands found their way into his hair, fingers threading through those soft strands as I captured his lips in a kiss that unleashed all the built-up tension of the evening.
It wasn’t tentative or sweet like the movie’s earlier scenes; this was heated, desperate, a collision of months’ worth of longing and playful frustration. His lips parted under mine almost immediately, warm and inviting, tasting faintly of the popcorn we’d shared earlier.
I pressed closer, my body molding against his as the blanket slipped down around us, forgotten in the rush. The world faded to just the feel of him, the firmness of his chest rising sharply beneath me, the way his hands gripped my waist, pulling me impossibly closer as if he couldn’t get enough.
Our mouths moved together with an urgency that made my head spin, tongues brushing in a dance that sent sparks racing down my spine.
I tugged lightly at his hair, drawing out a low groan from deep in his throat that vibrated against my lips and fueled the fire building inside me.
"Fuck, Oliver... you kiss like you’ve been starving for me."
"Shut up—ah— this is your fault...teasing me and shit." I said and pulled him pulled him for another kiss.
The movie droned on in the background, its passionate soundtrack perfectly underscoring the real intensity unfolding on the couch. Damien’s scent enveloped me completely now, his warmth saturating every inch of my skin where we touched.
I could feel the rapid beat of his heart syncing with mine, the subtle shift of his body as he responded, no longer the teasing observer but fully lost in the moment.
My hands roamed, one sliding down to cup the side of his neck, thumb brushing along his jawline, while the other stayed tangled in his hair, anchoring us together.
The line between friends and something more had never felt thinner, blurring into irrelevance as the kiss deepened, becoming almost frantic in its need.
I nipped at his lower lip, eliciting another muffled sound from him that sent a rush of satisfaction through me, this was it, the turning point where I could finally see him unravel, where the power shifted just enough to make my pulse race with possibility.
Fuck...that’s it, that’s what I wanted to hear from this little shit.
Pulling back just enough to catch my breath, our foreheads resting together, I looked into his eyes, dark and hazy with the same desire mirroring my own.
The room felt charged with it, the dim lights and the forgotten movie fading into mere backdrop for whatever would come next.
I wanted more...this wasn’t enough. This fucker definitely hadn’t learned his lesson yet.