CHAPTER 6- I NEED TO GET LAID

Raphael’s voice dropped to a rough, intimate whisper, his breath hot against Liam’s ear. “Go on, Captain. Tell me how much you hate this…”

Before Liam could snarl a reply, Raphael’s lips pressed against the shell of his ear.  His wet tongue flicked teasingly over the sensitive lobe slowly, sending a sharp, traitorous jolt of pleasure straight down Liam’s spine and into his cock.

His hips jerked forward involuntarily, pressing hard against Raphael’s thigh for one humiliating second.

What the hell! No. Fuck no. What was that for?

Raphael chuckled, low and dark, the vibration shamefully hardening Liam's cock. “See? You want this too, pretty boy.”

Liam’s breath caught in his throat. Raphael pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet, then slowly, he leaned in again, his lips slightly parted and aiming straight for Liam’s mouth. The space between them disappeared sinfully. Inch by inch, till Liam could feel the heat of Raphael’s breath on his own lips, could smell the faint trace of whiskey and cologne.

What the actual fuck am I doing?

Reality crashed back in like a body check.

Liam shoved Raphael hard in the chest with both hands, putting all his strength behind it. “Get the fuck off me, you fucking faggot!” his face was burning red from shame and anger.

Raphael stumbled back but caught himself, a smug, heated smirk spreading across his face.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” Liam roared, voice cracking with fury and panic. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again, you disgusting piece of shit! I’m not like you! I’m not into that sick shit!”

He stormed past Raphael, bumping his shoulder purposely on the way to the bathroom. The door slammed behind him with enough force to rattle the frame. He locked it and braced his hands on the sink, staring at his flushed, wild-eyed reflection. His breathing was uneven and his hair stood at odd angles.

What the hell is wrong with me?

His heart was still hammering. His cock was half-hard in his jeans from that one second of contact. Shame burned through him like acid. He was straight. He’d always been straight. He liked women. Soft curves, long hair, pussy. Not… whatever the fuck Raphael was trying to pull.

He turned on the cold water and splashed it aggressively on his face, over and over again, as if he could wash away the memory of that wet tongue on his ear and the way his hips had betrayed him.

“This is his fault,” he muttered to his reflection. “He’s the one pushing all this gay shit on me. Invading my space. Twisting my fucking head.” He repeated the words to himself, trying to reset his head.

He stayed in the bathroom for a long time, taking deep breaths, gripping the edges of the sink until his knuckles turned white. When he finally felt steady enough, he stormed out, ready to confront Raphael with a straight head.

But he met the apartment dark and quiet. Apparently Raphael had gone out. Well, good. Fuck him. He knew he fucked up and should steer clear of me.

Liam didn’t bother turning on any lights. He collapsed face-first into his bed, still fully clothed, and prayed the alcohol would knock him out cold and he'd wake up a new Man.

The next morning, Liam woke up feeling like dying.

His head throbbed with a brutal hangover, each heartbeat sending fresh pain through his skull. His mouth tasted like stale alcohol and vomit. He groaned loudly, rolling over slowly as fragmented memories from last night slammed into him like punches.

Raphael’s tongue on his ear.

That humiliating jerk of his hips.

The almost-kiss.

The way he’d shoved Raphael and called him a faggot.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck,” Liam whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He cracked one eye open and peeked toward the other bed. Raphael was still fast asleep, lying on his back with one muscular arm thrown over his face, chest rising and falling steadily. The sight of him made Liam’s stomach twist. Shame. Red hot shame drowned him. He'd literally rode this dude's thigh like a white last night!

He started to crawl shamefully out of bed when he noticed the items on his nightstand. A small card of Advil tablets and a full glass of water, were neatly placed on his bedside cupboard. within easy reach.

Liam stared at them for a long moment. Raphael must have gone out last night after he locked himself in the bathroom and gotten them for him.

A strange, uncomfortable feeling stirred in his chest but he quickly crushed it.

No. Fuck no. Taking them would be like accepting a peace treaty from that asshole. Like accepting his advances and admitting last night affected him. Like Raphael meant something to him.

He ignored the tablets and forced himself out of bed, wincing at the dizzying pain in his head. He stumbled into the living room, then the kitchen, and chugged nearly an entire jug of cold water straight from the fridge, water dripping down his chin.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and leaned against the counter, breathing heavily.

There’s something seriously wrong with me. For real. Cos how the hell am I get hard for my fellow fucking man?!!!

This was all Raphael’s fault. Honestly! The guy was imposing his lifestyle on me, filling every corner of the apartment with his presence, his scent, his constant teasing and half-naked bullshit. That’s why Liam’s body was acting up. That’s why he’d had that disgusting reaction last night.

He needed to fix this. Immediately. He needed to remind himself of who he fucking was! A straight Man with a love for girls ONLY.

  He needed to get laid — properly, with a girl — and flush this bullshit out of his system.

He pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands and opened his contacts scrolling through dozens of willing girls.

He was the captain of a professional AHL hockey team. He could get any girl he wanted. Chloe,  the blonde ballerina who had been sending him flirty texts for weeks got his attention. Perfect. They'd met at competition few months back and she'd kept texting since then. She's the perfect girl for a quick hookup. She'd be glad he even looked her way.

He typed quickly: What you doing tonight?

The reply came back almost instantly.

Chloe: Waiting for you to finally text me back ;)

Told ya. Liam smirked.

Wanna hang out at mine? He texted after a few minutes.

Chloe: I thought you'd never ask.

Yeah. This was exactly what he needed. A real woman. A real fuck. Something normal to remind himself who the hell he was.