I lifted my beer to my lips, ready to take a slow sip, when James elbowed me in the ribs. Hard.I barely stopped myself from spilling the damn drink all over my lap. "What the hell, man?" I muttered, scowling at him."That's him," he muttered, nodding toward the far end of the bar. "The pretty boy everybody's been talking about."I paused, my beer hovering midway to my mouth. That got my attention.Everybody had been running their mouths about some new student—whispers about how he didn’t talk to anyone, how he always sat alone, how he looked like he belonged on a damn magazine cover instead of walking these shitty college halls like the rest of us. I hadn’t seen him yet, but curiosity had been gnawing at me. Now, I finally had the chance.Following James’s gaze, I spotted him instantly.And Damn. The rumors weren’t exaggerating. He was pretty. No, scratch that—he was fucking beautiful. The kind of good looks that made people stare without realizing they were staring. His dark hair
"James," I said, voice tight."Yeah?""Shut the fuck up."He burst out laughing. Actually laughing. Like this was the funniest shit in the world.I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. My patience was already stretched thin, and James acting like this was some kind of joke wasn’t helping."You’re real fucking annoying, you know that?" I muttered."Yeah, yeah, I love you too, man," he said, still amused. "So what now? You gonna sulk about this all night? Or—wait—" He gasped dramatically. "Don’t tell me you’re obsessed with Pretty Boy now."I nearly threw my damn phone out the window."I’m not fucking obsessed," I snapped."Uh-huh. You sure? ’Cause you stormed out of the bar like a lover scorned.""James.""Like a princess whose hand was refused—"I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat.Fucking asshole.I focused on the road, but irritation burned under my skin like a low flame. My mood had already been shit when I left the bar, but somehow, James had made it worse. No
My thumb hovered over the screen for a split second, and before I could talk myself out of it, I sent him a message. A simple 'Hi'. Casual. No big deal but the second I did—Ding.A reply popped up.Anonymous69: Hey.I froze.The fuck?I stared at my screen like it had just grown legs and started dancing. There was no way. No fucking way.Anonymous69—the Anonymous69—replied me!My heart kicked up, a weird mix of excitement and panic slamming into my chest.Was this real? Did I hit my head at some point tonight? Was I hallucinating?I needed to sit down. No— I needed to move.With my phone still clutched in my hand, I booked it down the hall, shoving my apartment key into the lock with shaking fingers. The door banged open, and I stepped inside, slamming it shut behind me like I was escaping a fucking serial killer instead of a hot-ass OnlyFans creator sending me a message.“Holy shit,” I breathed, my back against the door.My phone buzzed again, and I nearly dropped it.I needed a sec
This day was supposed to be perfect.I was supposed to wake up, hit the gym, maybe grab a coffee, and then, the best part—meet up with Anonymous69. In the flesh. Finally.Instead, here I was, standing outside my apartment, staring down at a sniveling mess of a person I really didn’t have time for."Please," he begged, voice cracking like a cheap phone screen. "I swear it didn’t mean anything!"I groaned, dragging a hand through my hair. "Why today of all fucking days?"Like, seriously. I hadn’t heard from him in months, and now, the second I had somewhere to be, he decided to pop up like a goddamn fungus?He clutched my wrist, looking up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes. "I miss you. I swear I’ll do anything, just—just give me another chance. I’ll make it up to you."I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose. My patience was hanging by a fucking thread.I pried his fingers off me one by one, shaking my head. "Listen, dipshit." My voice was sharp, cutting through his pathetic
By the time I finally pulled up to the hotel, I was two seconds away from committing a felony.Yes, you heard me.Two fucking seconds!Traffic had drained every ounce of patience I had left, and if one more dumbass had cut me off on the road, I might’ve just abandoned my car in the middle of the street and walked the rest of the way.But I was here now.I parked, killed the engine, and took a deep breath before stepping out.The hotel was fancy—way fancier than anywhere I usually went. Glass doors, gold trim, sleek lighting. The kind of place that smelled like money.I adjusted my jacket and walked inside, the cool air-conditioning a blessed relief after the nightmare that was my drive.The lobby was all polished marble and overpriced modern art. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting warm light over the check-in desk, where a well-dressed receptionist was typing away at a computer.I strode up, planting my hands on the counter. "Hey, I’m here to check in. Should be a reserv
I shoved Andrew Parker away. "One shoot," I bit out. My pulse was already pounding, my temper hanging by a thread. "That’s it." Andrew barely stumbled, his stupid towel staying perfectly in place like it was glued to his hips. He just lifted a brow, "One shoot, huh?" His lips curled to a soft smile. "Sounds fair." Fair, my ass. But whatever. I was already here. And if I was gonna humiliate myself, I might as well make some cash while doing it. Andrew turned, walking back into the hotel room, and I followed, jaw clenched so hard I thought I might crack a tooth. The suite was nice. Plush carpet, sleek furniture, soft lighting. A huge bed with crisp white sheets—practically begging to be ruined. I refused to think about that. "Let’s get this over with." I said, crossing my arms. Without looking remotely phased, he ran a hand through his hair, and—of fucking course— let his towel drop to the floor like it was nothing. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I immediately looked away, my jaw lo
The door clicked shut behind me, and I exhaled like I had been holding my breath for a goddamn hour.Everything about that was awful.The heat still clung to my skin, every nerve buzzing like I had just walked through a live fire. My lips tingled, not from a kiss—but from how close I was to doing something stupid.I should’ve known better. Should’ve never agreed to the shoot after finding out that anonymous69 was the same dude that made me look like a fucking fool in that goddamn bar. I stalked toward the elevator, head down, fists clenched. Just needed to get to my car. Get some air. Get away.“Excuse me?” a soft voice called.I looked up just as the elevator dinged open. The receptionist. Same girl who’d been eyeing me when I first walked in. Wide brown eyes, overly plumped lips, and a clipboard clutched to her chest like it was a damn shield.She rushed toward me, heels clicking too loud on the marble floor.“Sir—wait—are you okay? You look…”“I’m fine,” I snapped, not slowing my
The drive home was quiet in that weird, unnatural way—like the world was holding its breath around me. Windows down, wind in my hair, cigarette smoke curling out into the dark. I let the radio hum low in the background, not really listening. Just static and soft rock and the occasional commercial trying to sell me shit I didn’t need.By the time I pulled into my building’s parking garage, my mood was dogshit. I parked, grabbed the grocery bag, and made a beeline for the front door.Of course, it didn’t help that I lived in a building full of friendly-ass neighbors.“Hey Captain!” some lady from the third floor waved, holding her dog like it was a damn toddler.I didn’t even glance her way. Just walked straight ahead, keys already in hand, boots hitting the pavement a little too hard.“Rough day?” some guy asked—pretty sure it was Steve. Or Stan. Or whatever.I ignored him too.I wasn’t in the mood for small talk or sympathy. I just wanted to get inside, lock the door, and forget Andre
I regretted it the second I walked in.Not the outfit—I actually looked good. Gray hoodie stretched perfectly over my shoulders, joggers slung just low enough on my hips to be both casual and cocky, and my white sneakers were still clean from barely touching grass in the past week.But the moment I stepped into that lecture hall, it was like someone hit pause on a movie. Heads turned. Eyes widened. A few people even had their mouths open like they were seeing a damn ghost.One girl actually gasped. Gasped. Like I was some lost celebrity that had returned from exile. It took everything in me not to roll my eyes.“Holy shit… is that Captain?”“I didn’t know he even took this class.”“No way he remembers where we are in the syllabus.”I heard every damn whisper.And okay—fair. I barely showed up to lectures. I could count on one hand how many times I’d been in this room this semester. But I wasn’t stupid. Just had… priorities. Like hockey. And shooting content. And spiraling over boys
“Fuck!” I groaned as Marco swallowed my cock between his lips. I clenched a fistful of his hair and thrusted deep into the soft mouth surrounding me, Marco shut his eyes at the impact.FUCK YES!That was more like it.I clenched my fingers and shoved my cock deeper into Marco’s throat, and kept thrusting deeper and deeper until I came.But before I even had the chance to bask in my orgasm, Marco raised his head, and licked his well-fucked lips.I smirked. That was cute.I flipped him over, ignoring the fact he was yet to recover. That didn't master, I was already revving it up for round two.Now flat on his stomach, he grunted as I came back down over him and pressed his head against the couch. My hand clamped a tight fist around the base of his neck as his ass squeezed my cock when I tunneled deep inside him.“Fuck! Captain!” He cried out.But I didn't say a thing.There was no need for words when the rhythm between us was loud enough. The sound of skin meeting skin, the rustle of cl
The ride home should’ve cooled me down. I’d just showered, just gotten out of practice, just rubbed myself raw trying to rinse Andrew off my brain—and still, I was burning. Maybe not from the heat anymore, but from that damn ache that refused to leave. Not the kind of ache a hot bath or a protein shake could fix. This one was deep, coiled low in my stomach and tight around my throat.I needed something physical to ease all this shit up.My hand slid over to my phone resting in the passenger seat.I hadn’t called him in a while. It had been months, actually. We’d hooked up back when I first started doing OnlyFans. He’d been easy—quiet, eager, always down to meet when I needed it and never texting afterward unless I initiated. No strings, no drama, no expectations. He barely even asked questions. Just a good body and a mouth that didn’t run.I scrolled through my contacts, thumb pausing over his name: Marco.I hesitated for a split second. Then I tapped Call.It rang once, twice. Then h
The locker room was thick with that sharp, musky cocktail of sweat, wet gear, and ego bruises. Everyone was either stripping down, chugging water, or dissecting their plays like they hadn't just barely scraped through with a win. I didn’t say shit. Just sat on the bench, jersey half off, chest still heaving from the final period, my eyes locked on the floor like it owed me something.Andrew had made a goddamn clown outta me. And the worst part? He didn’t even gloat about it.James dropped next to me, tossing a towel over his head. “Well, that was fun,” he said, voice light like he wasn’t soaking in the fact that a freshman just skated circles around his captain.I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. My mouth felt dry like cotton, and my head buzzed with too many curses and replayed moments.“Hey,” James nudged me with his elbow. “You alright?”“Yeah.” My voice was rough, gritted between my teeth.He gave me a look, one of those half-knowing smirks that said ‘you’re lying but I’m too tired to pu
I woke up with my sheets twisted around my legs, one arm draped over my eyes like it could somehow block out the reality of the day ahead. But it was no use. I could feel it crawling under my skin the moment I blinked awake.Game day.Freshman team.Andrew.Fuck.I sat up slowly, groaning as my back cracked in three different places. My throat was dry as hell and my head throbbed with that low, dull ache that only came from too much alcohol. The air was chilly, but my skin was already prickling with leftover tension, like my body remembered something my brain hadn’t even caught up to yet.I rubbed at my face and stumbled out of bed. The sun was slicing through the blinds in sharp little stripes, hitting the floor like prison bars. Not a great metaphor, considering I felt like a goddamn hostage in my own brain lately.I took a quick shower, half-assed my grooming, and yanked on my gear. The jersey felt heavy today, like it was carrying more than just the weight of my number.I didn’t e
The morning after drinking never hits me soft.I woke up with my mouth dry as the damn desert, tongue heavy, head pounding in a rhythmic thud that felt like someone was using my skull as a fucking drum. My sheets were twisted up around me like I’d been in a fight with them. My arm was hanging off the bed, fingers barely grazing the empty bottle of water I must’ve dropped sometime in the middle of the night.I groaned, rolling over to bury my face into the pillow, hoping it’d just knock me out again. No such luck.I wasn’t even fully conscious yet, and I already hated everything.For a good ten minutes, I just laid there, eyes closed, brain foggy as hell, letting the weight of last night sink in. Me, drunk off my ass. James sitting across from me looking like I’d told him I was secretly a lizard person or some shit.The way his jaw dropped when I said the word OnlyFans still made me cringe. I hadn't meant to tell him. I hadn’t meant to say anything, really.But liquor loosens lips, and
The bar wasn’t even that packed. Low lights, shitty country music humming from old wall speakers, and a few groups scattered around pretending their lives didn’t suck for a few hours. I should’ve been home. Shirt off, lights off, maybe filming something I would regret later for a quick confidence boost. But no. James, with his stupid grin and overly persuasive voice, somehow convinced me to get my ass out tonight.“You need a change of scenery, Cap,” he’d said. “Come on. Just a few drinks. Might even meet someone hot.”Right. Because nothing screams "emotional stability" like trying to flirt with strangers while my brain’s still locked on someone else's hands on my skin. Someone else's voice in my ear. Someone else's goddamn face.And now here I was. Elbow against the sticky bar top, drink number... shit, I’d lost count. Whiskey burned like a bitch going down, and I welcomed it.James had wandered off to talk to some girl earlier, but he came back eventually, dropping into the stool n
CAPTAIN ~I didn’t even feel the cold when I stormed out. Didn’t register the voices around me. It was all a blur. White noise.My pulse was roaring too loud in my ears.Slamming Andrew against the wall? Yeah, probably not my proudest moment. But the way he looked at me—like I was some stranger—set something off. My hand was still tingling from where I’d grabbed him. My chest felt too tight, like I couldn’t breathe properly. Each step I took was heavier than the last, like my feets were weighed down by the mess of emotions twisting in my gut.I rounded the corner and pushed open the side door, stepping into the biting afternoon air. It should’ve cleared my head but it didn’t.“Captain!”A hand grabbed my shoulder.I stopped mid-step, jaw clenched, stomach already dropping because I knew that voice.James.He was always too observant for his own damn good.“You alright?” he asked, voice low, cautious. Like I was some wild animal on the verge of snapping.And maybe I was.“No,” I almo
ANDREW PARKER ~“Gush—!” I stumbled back, clutching the wall behind me like it could explain what the hell just happened. “That scared me…”The words barely made it out of my mouth. My heart was racing like it wanted out of my chest, lungs dragging air in like I’d been running for miles. My shoulder throbbed where he’d slammed me—his hand like a damn vice, fingers bunching up the fabric of my hoodie before shoving me hard into the concrete hallway wall like he owned the whole damn building.Captain.That psycho.I rubbed my shoulder, grimacing. His grip had left a phantom imprint, like his touch still clung there. I could almost feel the exact shape of his fingers through the layers of hoodie and t-shirt underneath.“What the fuck is wrong with that psycho?” I hissed under my breath, voice shaking with a mix of fear and fury. My hoodie was all stretched and twisted from where he grabbed it, so I yanked it back into place and patted it down like that would erase what just happened. My