His callboy

Ethan Oliver Harrison’s POV

If reluctance were a person, it would be me. I checked the hallway three separate times before slipping out, praying none of my teammates noticed me leaving. Everyone else was warming up: stretching, laughing nervously, trying to shake off the pressure. Ten minutes until the big semifinals. Ten minutes until history. Ten minutes until I was supposed to carry everyone’s expectations again.

But all I felt was terror. Terror of what Kane could do to me with one text. Terror of losing everything, my career, my parents, my entire future.

I entered the abandoned locker room quietly. The air felt colder, and it was thick with dust. The lights weren't functioning, no surprise. People said the place was haunted, and no one bothered fixing anything. The single small window only let in enough light to show floating particles of dust.

Then his voice cut through the silence. “About time, camera boy.”

My heart jolted painfully. Kane stepped forward, the faint light outlining his sharp jaw and wet hair. He wore that same smug smirk, like my fear was amusing to him.

I clenched my fists. Anger, shame, humiliation, and dread mixed inside me until I felt sick.

But anger wouldn’t save me.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, the words tumbling out before I lost courage. “I shouldn’t have… recorded you. I’ll delete everything. All the pictures. All the videos. I’ll stay out of your way. You won’t even notice I exist.”

A rich, low laugh echoed across the room. Kane’s eyes swept over me slowly, like he was inspecting meat at a butcher’s table.

“Oh, Harrison…” He stepped close enough that I felt his breath. “Do you think deleting a few little pictures solves this? You think I don’t know you probably have my face printed out somewhere? No. You don’t get to hide from me. I must punish you first.”

“Punish.” The word slammed into my skull, each syllable like a hammer blow.

The wind outside whistled against the tiny window, and the smell of old wood and dust grew stronger.

“Punish?” I repeated weakly. “Fine. How much? Ten thousand dollars?”

The moment I said it, I realized how pathetic it sounded.

Kane blinked once, slowly, like I’d just told him a joke that wasn’t funny.

“Harrison,” he said with a drawn-out sigh, “I don’t need your money. If money were the goal, do you think I’d waste my time with you? I could blackmail any rich idiot in the VIP stands.”

Right. Of course. He came from a powerful political family. He was practically royalty in the rugby world. My ten thousand was pocket change.

My throat tightened, and I lowered my head. “Then what do you want from me?”

A dangerous smirk curved his lips. He held up my phone and tapped the screen, illuminating the gallery, his face everywhere.

“How do you think your precious fans will react when they find out you drool over your biggest rival?” he asked. “How do you think your teammates will treat you? Your parents… well. They’ll probably call you a disgrace.”

My chest tightened. ‘Disgrace’. The word echoed with my father’s voice, gravelly from years of shouting from the sidelines that should have been his: “This family’s future is on your back, Ethan. Don’t you ever forget what we gave up.” 

I saw my mother’s face, the way she’d touched the scar from my birth when she thought no one was looking, still dreaming of a newsroom she’d never enter. They'd both given up their dreams for me. My father should have been a professional Rugby player and my mother a successful newscaster. Every penny they had, every sacrifice, it was all a bet placed on me. In this career. On my straight, public, perfect image.

If this got out, the bet would burst into flames. And they’d be left with nothing. I’d be left with nothing.

A hot, shameful tear burned the corner of my eye before I forced it back.

Kane didn’t look away. He watched every emotion like he was documenting it.

My knees buckled before my brain caught up. I sank to the floor, bowing my head in shame. My palms felt cold, and I found it really hard to breathe.

This shouldn’t be happening. But it was, and I had no choice. I've never slept with a guy before. I don't even have the mind to watch gay adult tapes, so how can I fulfill his condition?

“Please,” I whispered. “Don’t release the videos. I’ll do anything you want… anything.” I promised, my forehead touching the floor's dust.

Kane scoffed, but when I raised my head, and he saw my teary face, his eyes flickered, and I saw traces of worry. “Why are you crying? I haven't even stated my demand! Is it because I asked you to go on your knees? Are you so emotional?” He asked with furrowed brows and turned away, purposefully avoiding my gaze. His smirk was gone, and his expression was unreadable.

I stood up, my legs trembling. I swiped my face, trying to compose myself. Kane threw my phone at me, the sound of it spinning through the air like a ticking time bomb. I caught it, my fingers numb. ‘Has he forgiven me?’ I wondered with renewed hope.

But as I scrolled through my gallery, my eyes widened. The pictures were still there, he didn't delete them.

I opened my mouth, but no word came out.

“Files successfully transferred!” A notification popped up on my screen. Kane had sent all the evidence of my stalking and obsession to his phone.

“Fuck! I'm dead?” My words caught in my throat, and I found it hard to swallow. It was like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. I was trapped, now he had all the bargaining chips from the comfort of his phone.

I stood there, frozen, my phone clenched in my hand, and I didn't know what to do next. The silence between us was oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of my ragged breathing. Suddenly, he pushed me into an empty locker, my back grinding against the cold wall. His face was in front of mine and he stared into my eyes. We both maintained eye contact. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. It was like his eyes were stripping me naked, and when his gaze fell on my lips, I hitched.

My lower half was starting to rise again, and my ears burned in embarrassment. I hate my body! I hate how it has forgotten about his threat and was responding to his advances. But I put my hatred aside. I had to do this, to survive.

Kane licked his lower lip seducingly, and my eyes followed his every movement, my mouth drooling at the majestic sight in front of me.

“I will keep your secrets. But the files I sent are my collateral,” he smiled before continuing. “I have saved my number on your phone, whenever I call, pick up, and don't ever think of ignoring me, else, I will press a single button, and the whole world will know,” he said with a calm voice, his eyes searching mine for reaction. I blinked twice.

“You will let me go….. just like that?” I arched my brows, wondering if he was playing games with me.

Kane's mischievous smirk came back, and he traced my jawline with his thumb. “Just like that?” He burst into hysterical laughter. “Harrison, I can call you in the middle of the night to demand your presence. Nothing comes so easily.”

I didn't reply. My hands had stopped shaking, and I released the breath I'd been holding for a long time. “I will do anything, I promise,” I blurted out, the words surprising even me.

His eyes lingered on my lips, and he played with them with his index finger. “You like my body, and in your phone's diary, you wrote how much you'd like to caress my hard wet dick with your bare hands,” he paused, and blew on my cheeks. “I will never force you to do something against your will. But since this is your biggest wish….” He placed my hands on his dick, and I involuntarily squeezed it, earning a gasp from him.

“How does it feel?” He asked with a smug smile. I quickly pulled my hands away, and tried to face another side, so that he wouldn't know how red I was. The room became hot, and I nervously fanned my face with my hand.

“Do I have to lose the match to you? Because I wouldn't. Winning is as important as those files,” I said to him, trying to lighten the intense atmosphere. His eyes were still on me, making me hot and uncomfortable.

Kane shrugged. “We'll play like we've always played .... fair and square. But don't think of winning, the Golden Cup is mine, Harrison,” he whispered, sending a shiver down my spine, but I looked him in the eyes, challenging him.

“Oh yeah? You sure?”

Suddenly, the speaker in the room interrupted my sentence. “Get your hopes high, people. The match you've all been waiting for will start in a minute,” the commentator announced, and I noticed I have unread text messages from my teammates.

“Fuck! I have to go, please! They're looking for me,” I said to Kane, and he nodded, knowingly.

“Let's make a deal then, if you win the semifinals, I'll avoid you for a week,” he said with a smile, but there was nothing friendly about it.

“What if you win?” I asked, arching my brows.

He smirked. “If I win. My room is 1865, pay me a visit by 8 o'clock tonight. And come with an open-minded heart. I wouldn't force you, you must be consenting,” he whispered into my ear, his warmth caressing my skin. 

I immediately understood what he meant. But I trusted my rugby skills, not seeing him for a week would mean a lot to me. And I'd be free from worries.

“Deal!” I agreed, stretching out my hands.

A menacing smile settled on Kane's face. “You're so predictable. I knew that all of this would happen, and two days ago I booked my hotel room right next to yours,” he said, shaking my hands before I could back out.

“Two days ago? He planned ahead?” My eyes widened.