First Steps (Knox)

It took everything in Knox’s mind, body, and soul not to knock the literal teeth out of Aaron’s mouth. His left eye twitched as silence drowned out every thought from the garbage he’d just been forced to hear.

Aaron’s eyes twinkled with incomprehensible excitement. He grinned like he’d just dropped a prophet’s wisdom into Knox’s lap, except none of it made actual, logical sense. Knox would never dare think, let alone believe, that he’d suck Victor’s dick.

If anything, Victor Wallace should be the one on his knees for all the hell he’d put him through, and he should enjoy it too.

“The actual fuck, Aaron?” Knox hissed.

Aaron’s shit-eating grin widened. He leaned in closer like he was whispering a state secret into Knox’s ear.

“Think about what you’re setting out to do here, mate,” Aaron quipped. “You want to convince him Sandra wants him that badly, right?”

“You’re doing a piss-poor job of it, and that’s because you don’t know how a woman feels about a man. Sexually.”

“You’re just saying whatever pops into that messed-up head of yours,” Knox snapped, pulling back in disgust.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Knox’s brows furrowed. The poison Aaron was spewing should’ve made no sense, but disturbingly, some of it did. And that pissed him off even more.

A ping vibrated against the mattress. Knox looked down. Victor. The name flashed across his screen.

He sucked in a breath.

He hadn’t intended to get overly sexual in those godforsaken chats. The idea alone felt distasteful. Knox had subconsciously steered their conversations toward anything but sex, mundane topics no man would give a shit about. Especially not a lonely, sex-deprived, temperamental control freak like Victor.

Sex with Victor had never crossed any crew member’s mind. In all the years they’d worked under him, not once had Knox, or anyone else, shared a drink or a damn heart-to-heart with the man.

Victor was a wall. Closed-off. Rigid. Stern. Insufferable.

Knox could hardly imagine him ever getting aroused. Or fucking anyone. His personality was a goddamn curse, like it was hand-delivered by Satan himself.

“Knox,” Aaron breathed.

Knox sighed. He sank onto the bed, eyes shut. This dare was draining what little sanity he had left. When he finally spoke, he didn’t even recognise his own voice.

“Show me.”

Aaron, he piece of shit that he was, laughed. Knox lay completely still. The cramped room they shared suddenly felt too big and too small all at once. His heart wasn’t even in his chest anymore; it was somewhere lower, pounding beneath his ribs.

A strange, crawling sensation slid down his abdomen. He blinked his eyes open, snapped them open, like they could erase it.

“Relax, mate. I’m not gonna suck your dick.”

“Of course fucking not—”

Aaron laughed harder. Then shoved his phone close to Knox’s face.

P**n blared, loud and obnoxious.

It took everything in Knox again not to slap the phone away and punch him in the face.

On-screen, a man in uniform sat in a chair, fists clenching someone’s hair, shoving down hard. Viciously. The man’s throat worked relentlessly, rough and desperate, as his head bobbed. The abuse on the recipient’s throat must’ve been insane.

Then the angle changed.

A glossy pink mouth slid over a thick, veiny cock, wet, messy, taking it deep and smooth.

Knox slapped the phone away. It hit the mattress.

He turned and found Aaron leaning over him, this time dead serious.

No smile. No smirk. Just stillness.

“So… you wouldn’t mind after all.”

Knox shot up from the bed, breath catching. He snatched his phone and stormed over to his bag, grabbing a towel and soap.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that, Aaron.”

“I try, Knox. I try.”

“Keep that up and you’ll end up at the bottom of the sea.”

Aaron laughed again, low and entertained, while Knox felt every ounce of blood in his body rush south.

“I’m going to shower.”

“Lunch is at 12. Don’t miss it, mate!” Aaron called after him like Knox’s destiny depended on it.

“I won’t. So shut the fuck up.”