THE FALL

Finn's pov

No. No way. This isn't happening. This can't be happening.

I stared down at the back of the dancer’s masked head, my mind spinning into pure, frantic panic. This shouldn't be possible. I don't like men. I’ve never liked men. I like girls. Big boobs, soft skin, long hair…girls!

If I didn't like men, then why the hell was I getting hard?

My thoughts scrambled wildly, desperate for anything to blame. Suddenly, Karl’s face popped into my head. My annoying, soft-spoken, gay roommate. It’s Karl. What did that freak do to me? Did he put something in my food? Did he mess with my stuff? It has to be him!

A second later, reality slapped me in the face and I felt like an absolute idiot. Damn it, Finn, you sound stupid as hell. What could he have possibly done? Cast a gay spell on you or something?

It wasn't magic. It was the guy currently sitting in my lap, twisting his hips like he was made of liquid, grinding his weight directly against my growing erection.

I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks burning up with intense, humiliating heat. The contrast between my disgusted mind and my traitorous body was driving me insane.

"Hey," I rasped out, my hands tightening on his waist as I tried to push him up so I could stand. "Hey, stop. I... I think I'm done here."

The dancer didn't push off. Instead, he slowed his movements, tilting his head back. His dark eyes sparkled dangerously behind his mask as his lips curved into a slow, mocking smirk.

"Done?" he whispered. His voice was infuriatingly smooth, laced with a subtle purr. "We just started."

"I said I'm done," I repeated, my voice cracking slightly. I tried to sound firm, like the guy who usually takes zero crap from anyone, but my pulse was hammering in my throat.

He didn't listen. He shifted his weight, grinding his hips harder into my lap, right over the prominent ridge in my pants. A sharp gasp hitched in my throat, and my fingers involuntarily dug into his soft waist.

"You don't look done to me," the dancer murmured, sliding his hand up my arm to rest lightly on my chest, right over my thumping heart. "You're hard."

My head shot toward him, my eyes wide. "I'm just…it's just a physical reaction, alright? It doesn't mean anything."

"Let me help," he said simply.

"Help?" I echoed, my mind going blank. "Help with what?"

Instead of answering, he slid smoothly off my lap. His movements were effortless, like silk, as he sank down onto his knees right between my legs. The leather of his boots creaked softly against the floor.

"Whoa, whoa, no, no," I said quickly, pressing my back flat into the leather chair, trying to pull my legs together. "No. I'm not gay, man. I swear to God, I'm not gay."

The dancer smiled up at me from the floor, his dark eyes fixed entirely on mine. "I understand."

"What do you mean, you understand?" I demanded, my breath coming faster now as sweat started to break out along my hairline. "I am not gay! I'm straight! I just came in here for a stupid bet with my friends!"

He chuckled softly, a quiet, low sound that vibrated right through my chest. "Okay."

"Don't 'okay' me like I'm crazy!"

Before I could even process what he was doing, his hands moved with practiced, terrifying speed. I didn't even realize my belt was unbuckled until I heard the metallic click of the prong releasing. A second later, the top button of my jeans popped open, and the zipper was sliding down.

"Hey—stop—" I reached down to grab his wrists, but my hands hovered uselessly in the air. My fingers twitched, paralyzed by my own cowardice.

"Relax," the dancer whispered, looking up at me through his long dark lashes. The dim red lights made his eyes look almost black. "I don't do this for everyone. But I'll make an exception for you."

Stop him, Finn. Push him away right now! Kick him in the face! What the hell are you doing? You're not gay! My brain was screaming at me, red alert sirens blasting in my head. If Leo or Marcus walk through that door right now, your life is over!

But my body completely betrayed me. I sat there like a statue, frozen to the leather seat, staring down as he pulled my jeans and boxer briefs down just enough to expose me.

"Wait…"

I gasped sharply as the dancer leaned forward, his warm, wet mouth wrapping firmly around my tip.

"Fuck..." The groan ripped from my throat before I could even bite my lip. The sudden, intense heat of his mouth hit me like a physical blow, completely shattering my train of thought.

"See?" he murmured against my skin, his hot breath sending shivers down my thighs before he took me deeper. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

I couldn't answer. I couldn't even form words.

Damn it!

I sucked in a harsh breath when his tongue flickered right over my sensitive tip, swirling around the sensitive skin before he slid his mouth down my shaft. A hot, heavy wave of pure physical sensation flooded my stomach, making my toes curl inside my shoes. My eyes shut tightly.

I can't believe I'm being mouth fucked by a…guy!

He moved with an agonizing, deliberate rhythm, sliding his head down slowly, taking me all the way to the back of his throat before pulling back up to the tip, leaving my wet skin exposed to the cool air of the room.

My hands acted on pure instinct. I didn't mean to do it, but my arms came down, my fingers gripping into his soft, styled hair.

"Ah... fuck," I choked out, my hips lifting slightly off the chair to follow his movement. "Shit..."

I gripped his hair tighter, another helpless moan escaping my lips as the air completely left my lungs.

Then, his pace shifted. He tightened his grip on my thighs, his head starting to move faster, taking me deeper and harder. I could feel the suction of his lips, the slick heat of his throat contracting around me with every push. The sound of his wet, steady rhythm echoed loudly in the small, private room, drowning out the muffled bass from the club outside.

Just as I felt the intense pressure building in my lower stomach, his hand reached up. His slender fingers slid under my shirt, traveling up my chest until he found my nipple, gripping it and pinching it firmly through the fabric.

My eyes flew open, my head rolling back against the top of the leather chair as my entire body went rigid.

The sharp sting of pain mixed with the overwhelming pleasure down below sent me completely over the edge. I lost control. I stopped caring about the bet, stopped caring about my car, stopped caring about who he was. I grabbed the back of his head, my knuckles turning white, pushing him deeper, driving myself down his throat as I finally released.

"Fuck!" I growled, my body trembling as the hot surge hit.

The dancer took every bit of it without flinching. He held me deep in his throat, his hands squeezing my thighs while his mouth suckled lightly, milking every last drop out of me until I was completely empty and weak.

My chest heaved violently as I fought for air, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was going to break out of my chest.

When he finally pulled back, he didn't immediately get up. He stayed on his knees between my legs, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked up at me under the dim red lights, a calm, satisfied smile resting on his lips.

"Better?" he asked softly.

I stared down at him, completely frozen, my mind blank, my pants undone, and my chest burning.

Fuck, I thought, my chest tightening with sheer, cold terror. Am I... gay?